WASTING TIME WITH GOD

We often talk about spending time with God, but it's one of those things that can easily feel like a chore, something that we have to do rather than yearning to do. It's not that we don't want to connect with God. No doubt we long for greater intimacy with Him. But then why does that quiet time still feel like a chore? 

Perhaps it's because that time doesn't feel productive. We don't come away with a profound insight about God or ourselves. We don't get immediate answers to our deepest questions, so that time can feel pointless, like we're wasting time we could otherwise use more productively. It just doesn't feel like an efficient use of our time. 

But, as David Benner points out, "productivity and efficiency miss the point. What God wants is simply our presence, even if it feels like a waste of potentially productive time. That is what friends do together - they waste time with each other. Simply being together is enough without expecting to "get something" from the interaction. It should be no different with God." (The Gift of Being Yourself, p.19)

I wonder how our perspective of quiet time would change if we stopped looking for the payoff and instead looked at it like spending time with a close friend. What if we stopped carrying an expectation of getting something from Him and instead simply came with a longing to be with Him? 

This week, try approaching your quiet time like you're coming to hang out with a friend, and see how that changes your perception of that time.

The Shepherd's Story

It was a quiet, peaceful night on the outskirts of Bethlehem. The sky was clear and the air was heavy with dew. Several flocks of sheep were scattered throughout the fields, sleeping contentedly despite the bitter temperature. At least the cold night air gave them a reprieve from the flies that incessantly swarmed during the heat of the day.

Eli gazed out over the field, his eyes accustomed to the darkness. Though the moon was hidden below the horizon, the scattering of stars in the heavens provided just enough light to see by.  This was Eli’s favorite time of day: the sheep were resting contentedly and the earth still held a bit of warmth from the afternoon sun. 

He was laying on the ground, wrapped in his heavy wool cloak, using a stone for a pillow. His son lay nearby, curled up under his heavy outer cloak. They boy shifted uncomfortably in his sleep. At 7 years old, this was his first year in the fields and he was not yet accustomed to sleeping in the dirt. He would get used to it soon enough.

Eli contemplated waking his son to help him keep watch. After all, this was the time of night when the predators were on the prowl. But he decided against it. “Let the boy sleep,” he thought. “He’d earned it after a long day of chasing down stray sheep.” Eli remembered how exhausting it had been his first year in the field helping his own father tend the flock.

A cold breeze rustled the tufts of grass that sprouted from the rocky soil.
Eli pulled his cloak tight and began to reminisce about his own childhood.
He never chose to become a shepherd. Truth be told, he hadn’t much of a choice in the matter. His father was a shepherd, as was his grandfather. In a way, he was born to be a shepherd. But Eli didn’t mind. He loved being under the stars, surrounded by the sheep.

Admittedly, shepherds were looked down upon by city-dwellers. They treated them like dirty, uneducated outsiders. But he’d love to see one of those “civilized” folk give up the comforts of their straw-lined beds to spend even one evening out here in the dirt.

Even the local priest gave him a hard time for failing to darken the doorway of the synagogue, but someone had to watch the sheep. And besides, these sheep were being raised for the Feast of Pentecost. In a way, keeping them safe was his act of worship. Eli smiled at the thought.

Suddenly, he was startled from his reverie by a blindingly bright light in the night sky. It was as if the heavens had split opened to reveal a being clothed with sunlight. Eli could hear startled gasps from the other shepherds tending their flocks nearby, so he knew he wasn’t imagining this. But the sight of this radiant man caused his heart to freeze up in fear. In all his years, he’d never seen anything like it. He must be an angel, an emissary of Yahweh.

The angel spoke with a deep, powerful voice that broke the silence of the night: “Don’t be afraid. I come bearing good news that will cause great joy for all people.” Pointing towards Bethlehem, the angel continued: “Today, in the town of David, a Savior has been born – He is the long-awaited Messiah, the Lord of Life. Go see for yourself. This is what you are to look for: a baby wrapped in a blanket and laying in a feeding trough.”

Suddenly, a great angelic choir filled the sky. If Eli thought the first angel had been bright, this crowd was blinding. He used his hand to shield his eyes from the radiance. As he and the other shepherds watched in trembling awe, this angelic choir cried out in a joyful chorus:

“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and peace on earth to those on whom his favor rests.”

Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the angelic multitude disappeared.
Eli lay there in silent shock for several moments, his heart racing in his chest. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see angelic silhouettes burned into his vision.

“Abba, what was that?!” his son timidly asked, his voice heavy with sleep.
Eli looked over at the boy, not sure how to answer. After a moment, he admitted, “I’m not sure, son. Stay here with the flock while I go find out.” With that, Eli quickly made his way over to the center of the field where the rest of the shepherds were congregating.

But none of the other shepherds had an explanation. Even Jacob, the oldest of the shepherds, admitted he had never heard of anything like this happening. But one thing was certain – the angel had told them to go to Bethlehem to find a baby wrapped in a blanket and laying in a feeding trough, so that’s what they would do.

Eli made his way over to the flock and, with the help of his son, they roused the sheep and began to quickly make their way back towards Bethlehem.
It was slower going with a flock in tow, but he couldn’t just leave the sheep in the fields unattended. So their journey into the town was accompanied by the confused bleating of sleepy sheep.

As the shepherds led their flocks through the narrow streets of Bethlehem, they began to knock on any door with its oil lamp still burning in the window, hoping someone knew where to find this child laying in a manger. But nobody seemed to have any idea what they were talking about. Door after door was shut in their face, and as they moved deeper into Bethlehem, they left scores of irritated people in their wake grumbling about drunken shepherds disturbing the peace.

It wasn’t until Eli knocked on the door to the village inn that they finally caught a break. The inn-keeper admitted that he’d turned away a pregnant woman and her husband earlier that night, but he said they might be sleeping in the stable where they housed the guests’ livestock. Eli quickly turned and motioned for the other shepherds to follow him around back.
He didn’t even notice as the inn-keeper abruptly slammed the door shut, a look of contempt on his face.

When Eli rounded the corner, he found a small cave cut into the hillside that was being used to stable the livestock of the inn’s guests. And there was light inside. Eli and his son left their flock with another shepherd so that they could come closer. As they drew near the entrance, they saw a man tending to a young woman who was resting in the hay. Next to them was a wooden feeding trough that had been converted into a makeshift cradle. Just as the angel had said!

Surprisingly, there were no other visitors, no dignitaries there to welcome the long-awaited messiah. Not even the local priest, who Eli figured would have been the first to find out.

They entered the stable slowly so as not to frighten the new parents.
People were typically standoffish towards shepherds on a good day,
let alone a young couple with a newborn baby in the dead of night.

The couple was surprised to see them, but Eli quickly explained that they’d been commissioned by an Angel of the Lord to come see the one born to be the Messiah. He also told them that their child’s birth had been celebrated by an angelic choir. Eli would have laughed at the surprised look on the young parents’ faces if he hadn’t been so overwhelmed himself by everything he’d seen tonight.

As he spoke, Eli’s eyes kept drifting back to the tiny, olive-skinned baby laying in a feeding trough. Was this really God’s chosen redeemer, the one the prophets of old had had spoken of? Eli found it ironic that for centuries, the people of Israel had been waiting for this night, for this child’s arrival, and when he finally came the only ones there to greet him were a bunch of uneducated shepherds!

He couldn’t help but wonder why God would have sent His angels to share the good news with them. Or why Yahweh would allow His redeemer to be born in a stable instead of a palace!  It was unexpected to say the least, but Eli couldn’t argue with what he saw before him. It was just as the angel had said.

Not wanting to overstay his welcome, Eli thanked the young couple for their hospitality and then he and his son began to drive their flock back through the streets of Bethlehem. But as they went, they didn’t go silently. That night, they shared what they’d seen with anyone they met in the streets. And as they made their way back out to the fields, they joined with a heavenly choir, glorifying God and celebrating the birth of His son, Jesus, the Messiah.

This morning, I woke to the sound of thunder and it brought me back to one of my very first childhood memories.

It was nighttime and I was laying on a futon in my parent’s guest bedroom, watching lightening light up the sky during a torrential downpour. I remember being awed by the raw power of the storm, the blinding flashes of lightening followed by the deafening rumble of thunder. In a world that often felt safe and sanitized, it was uncontrollable, uncontainable power.

My mom was watching the storm with me and at some point, our conversation turned to God. She pointed to the lightening and told me, “God’s like that. He’s more powerful than you could ever imagine. You can’t control Him. Can’t contain Him. But you don’t need to be afraid of Him, because He loves you more than you could ever imagine.”

As I lay there watching the rain fall, my small understanding of God began to expand. He was far more than some genie in a bottle that I could call upon to make my wishes come true. He was the author of Creation, the one who spoke the world into existence and who holds it together by the power of His will. You can’t control someone like that. You can’t dictate what He does. And yet, as powerful as God is, He not only knows me but He loves me. That night, in the middle of a thunderstorm, I made the decision to call the God of the universe the LORD of my life. And that decision has shaped every day since.

Now, almost four decades later, I know a lot more than I did that night. I know about the natural dynamics that cause thunderstorms, and yet I’m still very much awed by the raw power on display. Similarly, I’ve learned a lot about the one who created me. And yet, the more I learn the more I’m awed that the one who spoke the world into existence would call me by name. And that no matter how much I misunderstand and misrepresent Him, He still loves me.

He feels the same way about you. You may never fully understand God and you certainly can’t dictate what He does. But He loves you more than you could ever comprehend.

 

GIVE GOD WHAT IS GOD’S

There’s this wonderful interaction between Jesus and some spies recorded in Luke 20. These spies have been sent by the religious power brokers to catch him saying something that could discredit him, either in the eyes of the people or the eyes of the law. So they ask him a question about a divisive issue of that day:

“Is it right to pay taxes to our Roman occupiers?”

The trap is pretty obvious. If He says yes, the Jewish people would be upset. If he says no, the Roman authorities would be upset. So which way will Jesus lean?

As he so often does, Jesus avoids the trap altogether and answers their question with a question of his own. Referring to a Roman coin he asks, “whose image is on it?”

“Caesar’s,” they reply.

“Then give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s.” (Luke‬ ‭20:25‬) ‭

Boom! The spies are astonished at his response and they realize they can’t trap him in anything he’s said. Jesus wins!

That’s usually as deep as my thinking goes, but Jesus’s response raises another question: if we are to give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s, then what is God’s? Whatever bears his image. Just as the coin bore Caesar’s image, we are to give back to God whatever bears His image. But what bears God’s image?

You do.

In the very first chapter of the Bible, we are told “God created mankind in his own image” (Genesis‬ ‭1:27‬). You and I bear the indelible fingerprints of the Creator. We were made by Him and for Him. This means that when it comes to giving God what is rightfully His, all He wants is us - every part of us, not just a small piece.

He’s not satisfied only being acknowledged for an hour on Sunday. He is with us in every moment of every day. He’s not content being invited into certain portions of our lives, the parts we deem spiritual. He wants access to every part of our lives, including how we invest our time and money, and how we work and play and rest.

You are an image bearer of God, a uniquely beautiful representation of His heart in this world. So give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s.

Who's in Your Chariot?

When a Roman general won a great military victory, he was rewarded with a celebratory parade through the streets of Rome. This parade, called a Triumph, would start with the captives and spoils of war, followed by the general riding in a gold-encrusted chariot, then his troops following behind. It was a glorious celebration and the citizens of Rome would line the streets to witness the spectacle and shout the general’s name. But one unexpected detail of the Roman Triumph is that someone would always ride in the chariot with the general throughout the entire parade. This person would hold a victor’s crown above the general's head and whisper in his ear, “Remember, you are still mortal.”There is something profoundly beautiful about this picture. A person who stands beside another in their moment of triumph in order to both honor and humble them. We all need people like this in our lives. We desperately need people who can celebrate our victories while still being willing to speak the hard truths. People who care for us enough to build us up, even if that means calling us out when our ego is getting in the way. King Solomon, one of the wisest leaders to ever live, wrote, “wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses” (Proverbs 27:6). In other words, be wary of people who will affirm you to your face and mock you behind your back, but cherish those true friends who love you enough to say the hard truths to your face. To clarify, he’s not talking about people who just want to throw stones. The world is sadly full of critics who revel in tearing others down. Avoid them. But surround yourself with people who care for you enough to call you out when you’re being a jerk. Because while their words might sting, they are a testament to their love for you.So who is in your chariot? 

Dying to Live

Transition can be pretty painful. The weekly cadence of your life no longer fits and you’re left struggling to learn a new rhythm. In the solitude, your mind can wander down some dreary paths.    

Human beings are naturally resistant to change because it’s so uncomfortable. It requires us to step out of a place that is comfortably familiar and willingly walk into the unknown, a place which is often lonely and confusing. It also requires the death of one way of living so that we might learn to live another way. And while this process is both natural and necessary, it’s also incredibly scary. That place can feel awfully dark. 

And yet, if God has led you to this place, then you can be certain that there’s a reason. He isn’t in the habit of abandoning his flock. And He has this remarkable ability to work all things together for good. So if you find yourself in a dark and lonely place, don’t despair. Though this place may feel like the grave, it’s really the place of your rebirth. You haven’t been buried. You’ve been planted. 

“Listen carefully:  Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you’ll have it forever, real and eternal.” - JESUS
(John‬ ‭12‬:‭24‬-‭25‬ ‭MSG‬‬)

Finding Rest

 

Lately, my shepherd has been asking me to lie down and rest so that He can do some deep soul restoration. And yet, I’ve struggled to do this. I find myself resisting slowing down, resisting letting a day pass where I don’t do something productive. I like to chalk this up to my personality, but I suspect it’s something deeper.

No matter how green the pasture, a sheep won’t feel comfortable resting if it feels insecure or unsafe. Even if the sheep is laying down, fear and anxiety can keep it from experiencing true rest. It may have a full belly, but if the sheep is worried about where it’s next meal will come from, it won’t be able to relax. And the shepherd may say it’s safe, but if the sheep doesn’t trust the shepherd to protect it, it will still be fearful of what lurks in the shadows.

True rest requires deep trust in our shepherd. As long as we think we are the ones who protect and provide for ourselves, we will never be able to truly rest. We will always have to sleep with one eye open. But when we recognize that we’re under the care of a really good shepherd who loves us deeply and is perfectly capable of caring for our needs, we can finally go off duty and rest.

The fact is we have the best of Shepherds. We may not know where our next meal will come from, but He does. We may not know what lurks in the shadows, but He’s fully capable of protecting us. And we may not know where He’s leading us, but He does. He knows what lies ahead and what we need far better than we know it ourselves.

So I pray that you would exchange your fear for faith in the one who calls you His own. I pray your anxious worrying would give way to a restorative rest as you learn to trust your Shepherd and follow His lead, even when He tells you to lie down. And I pray the same for myself.