Bossing God Around

Prayer, by its very nature, is predicated on both a sense of humility and a sense of power, for prayer is asking for something.

Humility is built into the fabric of prayer, for when we pray we are recognizing our complete inability to change circumstances, be they big or small. We can’t change our attitudes, so we ask for help. We can’t heal sickness, so we ask for help. We pray because we know this about ourselves.

At the same time, we pray because at some level we believe that what we cannot do, God can. Otherwise, why would we ask Him? At a base level, then, prayer simultaneously embraces the powerlessness of me and the great power of God. It’s a moment when humility and power meet.

That’s why it’s very curious when we come to the most famous prayer ever recorded – the prayer by which we are to model all our prayers, that we find Jesus not so much asking as commanding:

“Therefore, you should pray like this:

Our Father in heaven, Your name be honored as holy. Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us today our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And do not bring us into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one. For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen” (Matt. 6:9-13).

Notice the lack of “please” in Jesus’ words. It’s one thing for the Son of God to speak in such a declarative way, but us? Who do we think we are, to boss God around like this?

And yet Jesus advised us to pray like this. To pray with confidence like this. To pray with boldness like this. To approach the throne of grace like this.

Now it’s possible to look at such statements, such declarations, and immediately corrupt them to our own ends. Like a 5th grader, we might look at these words and then pray, “God give me a bicycle.” I doubt that’s what Jesus had in mind when He spoke these words.

And yet there is a sort of sanctified bossiness that’s visible here. But it’s the kind of bossiness that is built on what we know to be true of the character of God. Take a look at what exactly Jesus advised that we tell God to do:

Make your name holy.

Bring Your kingdom.

Provide for us, Your children.

Forgive us.

There aren’t any bicycles in these statements. Rather, each and everyone of them is built on what God has already said. Or to put it another way – we are telling God what He’s already told us. This is safe ground for bossiness in prayer. We aren’t asking for bicycles or money or comfort or ease. We instead are praying from a heart that has been transformed by the gospel – one in which the deepest desires line up with the deepest desires of the heart of God.

So it’s okay to boss God around. As long as we are bossing Him around with what He’s already told us He wants to do.

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A Compilation of Treadmill Accidents

There is no real value whatsoever to this post. Except that you will be laughing and cringing over the next 4 minutes. Enjoy.

(HT:22 Words)

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A Challenge for Dads on the Way Home Today

20 minutes. Maybe less, maybe more, but that seems like a reasonable estimation of the amount of time an average dad has between the time when he leaves work and arrives at home. There’s a myriad of different ways you might spend that time, some more profitable than others. You can break the law and text. You can listen to the radio or a podcast. You could continue to work and make phone calls until the very moment your feet cross the threshold of your home.

But let me, if I could, challenge you to try something else with your 20 minutes:

Consider what you’re bringing into your house this afternoon. Because you are bringing something.

To put it another way, it’s realizing that the temperament of your wife and your kids is going to be altered in some way upon your arrival. It might be that you’ve had a hard day, and you want nothing more than to sit down and watch the news because, after all, you’ve earned it. It might be that you’ve been missing your family all day and you’ll bring laughter and joy with you. Whatever the case, you’re going to bring something. Here, then, is where we get to the challenge.

On your ride home, think about one word. Just one word. It’s one word that you’re bringing with you into the house. And ask the Lord to help you with it.

Now I’m not talking about some mystic sense where the word writes itself on your dashboard; I’m talking about using your God-given wisdom and intuition under the guide of the Holy Spirit to consider what one, key attribute you are going to bring to the table tonight. And chances are it’s going to be different every day:

Discipline.

Understanding.

Celebration.

Patience.

Love.

It’s not that hard to come up with a list, and frankly, it’s not that hard to know what you need to choose to be. You’ve talked and texted with your wife during the day. You know how the kids have been and what their activities have been like. You know. This is just actively verbalizing and committing to what you already know to be true.

Has your wife had a hard day? You bring understanding. Have the kids gotten good report cards? You bring celebration. Has someone been picking on them at school? You bring protection. Is your family worried about finances? Your bring provision.

One word, Dads. What’s it going to be today?

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Fridays Are For One Question

There’s a rumor going around that Burger King is beginning the testing phase of a bacon-flavored sundae:

I’m not sure what to think about this. On the one hand, I think our society is probably big enough, and we don’t need bacon and ice cream together.

However…

I have long held the hypothesis that bacon is one of those foods that, when added to anything, makes that thing better.

What can I say? I’m torn.

So on the subject of bacon, here’s today’s question:

“What’s the greatest dish you’ve ever had that involved bacon?”

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5 Things the Gospel Has to Say About Disappointment

Disappointment is almost a daily part of life. You know the feeling – at its core level, disappointment is about unmet expectations. You have in your mind the way a relationship, a situation, an interview, a meeting, a conversation – pretty much anything – should go, and then it goes differently from that. You walk out of that situation feeling wronged somehow. Slighted.

There’s a couple of ways it can go from there. One way is very bad. You can dwell on the way things should have been, and in so doing, feed the beast of bitterness inside you. Or, you can actively think on the truth of the gospel. You can apply what you know to be true about Jesus to that situation of unmet expectations.

So what might the gospel have to say about disappointment? Here are a few suggestions:

1. Your worth is determined not by the outcome of this situation. It’s determined and set by the cross of Jesus Christ. So regardless of how this turns out, you are secure in Him.

2. Because you feel so disappointed right now, you can ask the Holy Spirit what that disappointment reveals about your heart. Perhaps you have placed this hope, this relationships, or this job in higher esteem than you ought. Repent, and return to your first love that still passionately loves you.

3. Praise God! Evidently, there is some pitfall in your future that you are not aware of. God, who is working for your good, sees and knows all things. Thank God that He is protecting you from yourself, for surely you would fall into some kind of sin or trouble had things worked out the way you thought they should. Thank God He’s wiser than you are.

4. You do not have to be ruled by your emotions in this moment. You can choose joy in Christ. But learning how to do that only happens during seasons of disappointment. You are free, in Christ, to be okay in Christ.

5. Jesus loves you. He really, really does.

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“Faith Limps” Bible Study

I wanted to tell you today about a Bible study that has been released based on my book, Wednesdays Were Pretty Normal: A Boy, Cancer and God. It’s called Faith Limps: Trusting a Good God in a Broken World.

Whereas the book delves into the personal story of our family’s battle with childhood cancer, Faith Limps is intentionally written toward a more general audience. It talks about difficulty and suffering that inevitably enters into any life, and how we might view that kind of difficulty through the lens of faith.

Here’s the description from the back of the leader kit:

Pain, discouragement, and hardship afflict everyone, ravaging your sense of well-being and challenging your assumptions about life. Suffering brings you face-to-face with questions like:

- Where is God?

- Did I do something to deserve this?

- How can I trust a God who let this happen?

- Will life ever be normal again?

The Bible study includes a six session DVD in which I do some teaching on each session, a workbook, and a copy of Wednesdays Were Pretty Normal. My hope is that maybe you will pick up Wednesdays and immediately think of others in your church or community who might benefit from the message, and then be willing to lead a study that details some of the general principles you’ve found there.

If you’re interested in learning more about the Bible study, you can find it here.

 

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The God of “No” or the God of “Yes”?

I have lived much of my life thinking that Christianity can be summed up in a single word:

No.

The negative is the mark of the mature Christian. Or to put it another way, you can measure a person’s devotion by what they are willing to say no to. Alcohol, drugs, sex, cursing – no, no, no, no. And if you are really good at saying no, then you are a good Christian. The issues with that kind of measuring stick are numerous, but the question I think for this morning is where does it come from.

Pride? Yep.

A desire to quantify your spirituality? Absolutely.

But also this – those who approach their faith like that do so because they are reflecting what they perceive to be the modus operandi of God. We are a people of the no because God is a God of the no. Now you can look through the Bible and see plenty of times when God says no about different issues of conduct. But the no is only the beginning point. It’s not the end.

But wait, our hearts say. The Ten Commandments are all about saying no. Saying no to idol worship, saying no to adultery, saying no to Sabbath corruption. Where is the positive in these commandments?

It’s on the other side of the no – in the love the commandments point us to. Jesus pointed us this direction in His commentary on these commandments, making sure that we understand that the physical act of saying no isn’t enough. We need to not just say no; we need a new heart of love that looks past the love to the yes of the gospel.

God doesn’t have us say no to adultery and stop there. He has us say yes to a love and grace filled marriage that is so fulfilling that we need not look elsewhere.

God doesn’t have us say no to covetousness and stop there. He has us say yes to our riches in Christ that drive out our desires for trivial material things.

God doesn’t have us say no to lying and stop there. He has us say yes to the truth and the freedom that it brings to all situations.

When Jesus commanded us to take up our cross and die, it wasn’t so that we would lose our lives. It was so that we would find our lives, for Jesus knows that true life is only found on the other side of death. The glorious yes is the flip side of the coin we often leave with the “no” facing upward.

The path of self-denial is one that must be walked. But it’s only the path. The destination is of self-fulfillment. Self-fulfillment when, having denied oneself, Christ is your all.

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The Dark Knight Rises Lego Style

This is absolutely amazing. Someone – some brilliant, bored person – has recreated the entire trailer for the third installment of the Batman franchise entirely in Legos. So two videos: first of all, the trailer for the movie, followed by the Lego version:

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I Am Barabbas

He’s barely mentioned in the Bible, and yet his story, maybe more than any other, serves to explain the gospel. He is Barrabas.

Or rather, I am Barabbas.

Here is what we know about this man:

1. He was a rebel. One of his crimes was insurrection; he led a rebellion against the rulers of the land, the Romans.

I, too, am a rebel. Despite the benevolent rule of my King, I have both willingly and by my very nature participated in heinous acts of rebellion against the rightful rule of the God of the Universe.

2. He was a murderer. Apparently during his rebellion against the ruling authorities, someone died, perhaps at his very hand.

I, too, am a murderer. Not just of my fellow man, having wished them harm, but of Jesus Christ whose life I have chanted for through my varied and sundry acts of despicable sin. I have chanted along with the crowd, “Crucify! Crucify!” for I saw Him as a threat to my commitment to my own desires.

3. He, though guilty, was released and an innocent was punished in his stead. Barabbas was shocked to find that somehow, some way, all charges against Him had been dropped. Someone other than him was to die that day, though surely he deserved the punishment.

I, too, have been released. The punishment that was rightfully due to me has been handed down to another. Someone – an innocent man – has been crucified in my place.

I am Barabbas.

You, too, are Barrabas.

And now we stand with this man. Suddenly freed from condemnation. Blinking our prison-darkened eyes in the light of the sun of liberty. Facing the penalty of death, we now surprisingly stand free. Free to work. Free to enjoy. Free to live.

What will I do with this freedom?

And what will you?

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When “Abba” Became “My God”

Yahweh.

We say it now with some casualness. It’s another name for God, albeit in another language. It’s become a helpful tool for sounding smart or spiritual – like a more official title for deity or something like that.

Not so to the Hebrews.

This was a holy name. THE holy name. The name that was so holy – separate – that it was never uttered. Never wholly written. In fact, we might even be pronouncing it incorrectly because it was never said out loud in ancient times.

Can you imagine, then, the outright scandal with some upstart rabbi showed up on the 1st century Palestinian scene not using this name, but referencing the God of this name with utter and complete familiarity.

Jesus called Him “Abba.” Daddy. A term of affection.

No wonder they called Him a blasphemer. The gospels record again and again Jesus calling God His Father, all the while the onlookers marveled:

Where is the fear?

Where is the respect?

Where is the reverence?

Oh, they were all there, but something else was there too. There was love – both given and received. But there is one instance when Jesus didn’t use this name for God. There was one moment when “Abba” became “My God.”

As Jesus was suspended in the air, nailed to two cross beams, He felt the broken relationship with His Father as sin was thrust upon Him. The unthinkable happened, and Jesus responded by quoting Psalm 22.

“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”

“Abba” became “My God” at the cross.

But gloriously, “My God” also became “Abba” at the cross.

The unthinkable happened. Those held at a distance from God because of their sin suddenly had access into the unseen realms of glory. The far were brought near. The alienated were brought inside the house. The enemies became children.

And we now cry, “Abba, Father,” precisely because He cried “My God.”

That’s what we celebrate today – this Good Friday. We remember today, of all days, that now we can gratefully approach God in the way Jesus did – as children do to their loving Father.

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