God's Response

Genesis 3 . . . 

We left off with Adam and Eve cowering in the bushes--fig leaves crudely patched together to cover their new-found nakedness and accompanying shame.   It is the cool of the day, and they are hiding from God.  They expect to hear him coming at any moment.

Meanwhile, the all-knowing, all-present, all-powerful creator and sustainer of the universe has been watching the whole episode.  His head sunk into his hands as he watched each of them bite into the fruit.  His heart broke as he watched them pick the fig leaves and find their hiding spot. . . . 

At this point in time God has options.  He can justifiably wipe them out (He promised them death in Genesis 2:17, " . . . when you eat from it you will certainly die.").  He can swoop down into the garden on a white horse with thousands of angels and put the fear of God in these two rebels' hearts.  In his disgust he could send an angel down to deal with them and not even waste his time.  God always has options.  So what does he decide to do . . . 

He chooses mercy.  He comes down in the cool of the day searching out those who broke his heart.  He walks through the garden calling out for Adam and Eve.  He calls out to them not with the voice of a policeman, but with the voice of yearning love.  In one of our first images of God interacting with his creation we see a merciful God seeking out lost sinners.  The beginning of redemptive history is played out here as God reveals himself in mercy coming to seek and save that which is lost.  He is heartbroken, but not vengeful.  He is offended, but not repulsed.  And as we will soon see, he is loving, but not indulgent.

This is one of my favorite moments in all the stories of the Bible.  What a beautiful picture of God's initial response to humanities sin.  So often we become aware of our sin, and we cower in the shadows trying to hide from an angry God who we assume is coming to slap us on the hand.  When in fact he is seeking us out--calling out our name.  He wants more than anything for our relationship to be restored.

But how will he restore the damaged relationship?  That is next week's blog . . . 

Fig Leaves

Time to get back on the horse--it has been a few months, but here we go again. . . .


Last weekend I preached a message on Genesis chapter 3, and discussed the glimmers of the gospel that we can see in Adam and Eve's fall from Eden.  I plan to highlight certain aspects of the fall in the coming blog posts.  This week--the fig leaves.


Genesis 3:6-7
 ⁶ When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. ⁷ Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.


Adam and Eve eat the fruit that God told them not to eat. And in that act they commit the first sin--the fall--the first rebellion--the first selfishness--the first act of putting one's will above the will of God.  Then, for the first time, Adam and Eve experience guilt and shame as they realize they are naked.  Their innocence is lost, and they feel the need to hide the shame of their nakedness.  They feel the need to try and cover up their guilt.  So, what do they do?  They try and fix the problem of their sin themselves, and they use fig leaves to do it.  I imagine they are reeling from the experience.  I imagine they are confused by what they are feeling, and they are trying to do anything they can to try and ease their conscience--anything that will hide their shame--anything that will cover over their guilt.  And it just so happened that they turned to fig leaves.


Our lives today are no different.  Every day we put our will above God's will, and every day that guilt and shame just builds with each instance of our self-centerdness.  We call the shame and guilt by different names, and many of us don't even have a name for it.  It is a hollow feeling deep down that we don't ever talk about.  We know there is something missing, there is something off, something intangible yet very real disconnected in our soul.  So the question is what do we do about it?  Often times many of us do just what Adam and Eve did--we try and fix the problem ourselves.  We don't use fig leaves to hide our shame.  Instead we turn to our careers--and we become determined to drowned out the shame with success in the marketplace.  Or we turn to our families--and we become focused on burying the guilt by raising a picture perfect family full of good, over-achieving children.  Or we turn to entertainment--and we hide from the shame in our t.v. shows, trips to the lake, and fast cars.  Whatever the case: fig leaves or speed boats, we all try and solve the problem of our sin ourselves.  And as foolish as I imagine Adam looked cowering behind a tree with fig leaves crudely secured around his waist as God walks by--I imagine I look just as foolish cowering behind my self-righteousness with morality and success ineptly fastened around my waist as God walks by.


Nest post, God's response . . .

suffering

"For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too." II Corinthians 1:5


My last post dealt with the seeming contradiction in the teachings of Jesus--that life with him is easy yet difficult.  II Cor 1:5 helped me make sense of the seeming contradiction.  It is both--as we suffer the costs of following Jesus, he comforts and carries our burdens.


But I still have one growing concern.  As I look at my pleasant, middle-class life with all its comforts and safety I struggle to relate to "sharing abundantly in Christ's suffering."  I feel God's blessings and comfort all too well.  I was raised in a loving home. I have been blessed with the best wife imaginable.  I have been given a beautiful daughter.  I have supportive friends.  God is meeting my needs.  I feel his comfort all too well.


God give me the boldness to live a life for you that is costly.  A life of sacrifice--a life of self-denial--a life that shares abundantly in your sufferings.

Yankee Doodle Dixie

Matthew 11:28-30
 ²⁸ “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. ²⁹ Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰ For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Apparently, Jesus gives us comfort and rest.  Following Him is easy.  He is gentle and has a humble heart.
Words that stand out to me:  rest, gentle, humble, easy, light
General tone: inviting

Luke 14:26-27
²⁶ “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple. ²⁷And whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.
Apparently, Jesus gives us a cross to carry.  Following Him is costly.  He is demanding and has high standards.
Words that stand out to me:  hate, carry, cross, does not - cannot
General tone: sobering

So, what are we to make of Jesus' message?  Which is it?  Is following Jesus easy and full of comfort and rest?  Or is following Jesus costly and difficult?  Do we feel the weight of the cross or don't we?

Unlike other blog posts, I am not going to try and answer these questions today . . . but I think the answer lies in music . . . is it possible for 2 different songs to be harmonized together?  Click here to find out

Lazarus

I had the honor of attending a memorial service the other day for a local boy--19 years old--that died in a tragic motorcycle accident.  The turnout was tremendous, hundreds squeezed into the church and overflowed out into the foyer.  It was a stunning testament to the love and friendship that marked this man's life.  

One of the scripture passages that was read in the service was John 11, the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead--this story has brought hope and comfort to many as it has been told and re-told for thousands of years.  

When I think about this story I like to think of it from Lazarus' perspective.  

What must it have been like to be Lazarus--lying there sick, looking up into the eyes of his loving sisters as they weep by his bedside.  He feels the pain and knows that death is near.  He knows the prognosis and knows that his only hope lies in the one, Jesus.  Lazarus knows word has been sent to Jesus, and he clings to that hope--his only hope in being saved from the despair of approaching death . . . and Lazarus dies with that hope in his heart . . . 

What must it have been like to be Lazarus--lying there dead.  His eyes shoot open to the back of a burial shroud.  He struggles to his feet and stumbles out the entrance of his tomb.  His eyes, blinded by the sun make out Mary on her knees weeping; Martha comes rushing toward him, and finally his eyes lock with the confident, caring eyes of Jesus--flush with tears.  I imagine the days and weeks unfold, and Lazarus soaks up every day as a gift from God and cherishes everyone.

I don't think Lazarus' experience is too removed from our own.  Have you ever felt the world bearing down on you?  You know you need help--you ask for help--but no help comes . . . You feel abandoned even by Jesus . . . Have you ever turned to God for help and it feels like nothing changes?  So, you assume God doesn't understand or simply doesn't care.  But Jesus cared for Lazarus.  Jesus wept with Mary and Martha at Lazarus' grave.  We may never understand why God works the way he does, but we can see from this story that even in the worst of situations we can take comfort that God is in control and he can orchestrate any circumstance for his glory--and we can take joy in that.

And what about Lazarus?  God gets the glory but what does poor Lazarus get?  Lazarus is given the free gift of new life through the power of God in Christ Jesus.  And just like Lazarus through faith we have been given the same (Romans 6:3-11). "Or don't you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? . . . just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life."  Laz's resurrection is a picture of our own new life in Christ.  Christians can live each new day with a grateful spirit, confident that in their darkest moments they possess the hope of Lazarus--the hope that comes with the gift of new life through the power of God in Christ Jesus.

What do hopeless situations look like through the eyes of a man who has experienced the ultimate power of Christ in his life--taking him from death to new life?  Does anything phase him now?  How does he respond to tragedy?  Does he remember that gift of new life 5 years later, 10 years later? I don't know, you tell me . . .