God is not my accomplice

On Sunday I quoted a section from the end of Elizabeth Elliot’s novel, No Graven Image. In the novel, the main character (who is a faithful missionary attempting to translate the Bible into an unwritten tribal language) sees her entire life’s work destroyed. In the end, she confesses

“Now in the clear light of day I see that God, if he was merely my accomplice, he had betrayed me. If, on the other hand he was God, he had freed me.”

During the sermon (available here) I didn’t really expand on the idea of us being freed by God being God and not our accomplice. But I want to give you four things that placing God on His throne frees us from and also what that freedom allows us to do.

He frees us from idolatry (to Christian hedonism)

If God is our means and something else is our ends, we are engaging in idolatry. An idol is anything that captures our vision or our affections more than Christ. It doesn’t matter if that something is pleasure, wealth, family or ministry success, it is an idol. If God is our accomplice, He is a means to some other ends. If He is our God, He is the ends and everything else is the means.

And, because we were created by God and for God, ultimately it is only when God is our ends that we experience true joy and fulfillment. John Piper’s call to Christian hedonism (the pursuit of pleasure in God instead of the pursuit of pleasure in things from God) is just as true today: “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him.” But if God is our accomplice – no matter how “righteous” the pursuit is – we are not being satisfied in God. It is only when God is our ends that we are seeking fulfillment in Him. And it is only then that we are operating as we were created to.

He frees us from identity building (to identity rest)

Our sin-twisted world basis identity on our action. We are what we do. But that is not how God approaches the world. The gospel teaches us that we are not what we do. Rather, we have been given a new identity, not one based on our success or our failure but on the complete, total, unblemished success of Christ. We are not what we do, we are who we have been remade to be. Though we were enemies, we are now children of the King. 

But if God is our accomplice – if He is ripped from His throne in heaven and tossed into the passenger seat of our lives – our identity cannot be built on Him, it is built on what we do. Every day, the justification of our purpose, the core of who we are is on trial. Like Harold Abrams in Chariots of Fire we stare down the track knowing we have 10 seconds to justify our existence. But this ultimately destroys us doesn’t it. How can the weight of our whole identity and existence weigh on our performance. We just can’t handle that.

Imagine being on a first date. You really like this person from a distance and they finally agreed to go out with you. You gotta give your best, right. You gotta be perfect. You plan out conversation starters in case things drag. You but a new outfit. You comb your hair. You pull out all the stops. You want to be yourself … but maybe not all of yourself. Now imagine it goes well. Really well. Imagine you get married. But imagine you are still who you were on that first date. Always batting 1.000. Never a hair out of place. New suit every day. And you have to be. Because you don’t have a guarantee that the relationship will exist tomorrow if your aren’t perfect.

That’s what it's like if our identity rests on our performance. We are never sure who we are. We are never sure if that’s who we will be tomorrow. But that is what is so great about the gospel. We are who we are because of what Jesus has done. Our name is His name. And that won’t change.

He frees us from success (to glorifying)

If our whole identity depends on our performance and we succeed, that will continue to enslave us. For one, there is no such thing as reaching the top. There is no such thing as being done. Remember J.D. Rockefeller’s famous retort to how much more money he needed? “Just one more dollar.” Enough is like tomorrow, it never comes. You see, even if we succeed, that quickly becomes yesterday’s success, which just looms against today’s challenges. Today you don't just compete against everyone else, you compete against who you were yesterday.

But even if we can navigate around that, we still need to be freed from success, because success can twist our souls. You see if God is our accomplice, that means our success is ultimately up to us. And if it is up to us, that means that we did it. And if we did it, that means that we did something that others who failed didn’t. We are smarter, or we work harder, or we are better visionaries. And the more we see this and believe this the more we take pride in our accomplishments and the more we look down on others who have less. And that eats away at our grace and it eats away at our compassion and it isolates us further and further from everyone around us.

He frees us from failure (to sacrifice)

If God is our accomplice and our identity is dependent on our performance then failure is a death blow. If we fail, we are crushed. But it isn’t even just failing, it is the fear of failure. How many people refuse to take risks because they can’t handle the prospect of failing? It causes us to stand still and to hoard what we have.

It isn’t a surprise to me that it was a child that offered the 5 loaves and two fish that Jesus multiplied to feed the 5000. It doesn’t surprise me that that wasn’t an adult. I think any adult would be afraid of being mocked that what they have given pales in comparison to the need.

But if God is God and the results are up to Him, we don’t have to be afraid of failing, we just have to be faithful. And we don’t have to hoard what we have afraid that if we give it away we will come crashing down, rather often being faithful is being willing to sacrifice. Compared to God and compared to the need in the world, all that anybody has to offer is 5 loaves of bread and two fish to a multitude. It isn't how much we give, but who we give it to.

You see, God is God. He is not our partner. He is not our accomplice. And because of that we are free. We are free to pursue pleasure in Him, not just from Him. We are free to rest the whole weight of our being on Him and our identity as His children. We are free to have His glory be the main concern of every fiber of our being. And we are free to sacrifice for the extension of His Kingdom. God, free us.

Thirst

I’m a runner … well, I used to be. I’m not sure how long after your last race you are allowed to call yourself a runner. For me it’s been … awhile. So I’m a former runner. But some habits die hard. The clearest example for me is my water bottle. When you are running, hydration is important, it’s vital. So I would carry a water bottle everywhere and I would drink liters everyday. I needed to because I had had the experience of stepping out for a training run or even a race and not being hydrated. It becomes apparent immediately that your body is just not willing to do what it usually does when it doesn’t have the water you need. Your mouth is dry, your breathing labours, legs cramp. Your whole body is desperate for water. So you give it what it needs. If you are running regularly, your drink water.

But when you stop running? Well, water is more of an accessory. I still bring my bottle with me everywhere I go. I have one at the office and two at home (I tend to misplace them, so I need a back-up). But they are always full. Every night I fill up my water bottle with fresh cold water … and every morning I sip that water, warm from sitting (untouched) all night. It’s there, it’s at an arms length, but it is rarely consumed. Why? The desperation simply isn’t there.

Now, in the Bible, a thirst for water is often a picture of a thirst for God. And you know what, we often approach Him like I do my water bottle. We know He is there. His word is close to us. We (at least cognitively) know His Spirit is inside of us. But we don’t drink. Why? Because we aren’t desperate. We aren’t thirsty.

This became apparent to me recently. I had a desperate week. A whole bunch of unrelated things all came together and everywhere I turned I was faced with a workout. Not crises, not even all negative things, but in each circumstance was something I needed to think through carefully. And as I strained to run the race well through these circumstances, I was parched. I was desperate. And I cried out to God, “I need you, lead me, I trust you.” My thirst led my to run to the water. Now, maybe it shouldn’t be like that. Even if we aren’t active, we should stay hydrated. Even if we aren’t stretched, we should pray without ceasing. But the reality is, the thirstier we are, the more water we drink. The more we feel a need for God to direct us, the more we go to Him.

We have a stated desire as a church to reach out to our community. One of the biggest concerns we heard as we spoke about this was a fear that in reaching out, we would neglect those already in. But here is the thing. When we reach out, when we put ourselves in these uncomfortable situations, we realize our thirst. We get more desperate for God.

My great desire for our church is that we live life-on-life, life-in-community and life-on-mission. Life-on-life means that we share our lives together. That we share our thoughts, our doubts, our fears, our successes – all of our lives – with others. We invite another person in to who we are and those parts of our lives that we normally exclude people from – they see us parent, they see us rejoice, they see us struggle and they see us argue with our spouse. Life-in-community means that we invite others into our daily rhythm. We make others family and take an interest in all that they are. And life-on-mission means that we think how our regular rhythms can be used to connect with others and demonstrate and declare the gospel to them.

But here is the thing; all of this is like Spiritually working out. When we live life-on-life we are confronted with sin in our lives and in the lives of others that we need to confront. If living life-in-community means living like family, we quickly realize that families fight. And being on mission constantly puts us in situations that we don’t know what to do. Like now, close friends of ours are opening up about Spiritual things and we don’t know how to best lead them – particularly because they are moving in two months. Living like this makes us thirsty. It makes us desperate. And that is a good thing.

Because the more we thirst, the more we drink.

Everything is Worship

We say that one of our core values is that Everything is Worship. That means that each thing in our life can be used to bring honour and glory to God through Christ. But what if we don't want to worship God in the place He has put us. What if we want to worship God by being more successful, more compelling, more put-together.

Jeanne Harrison convicts and encourages while confessing how she doesn't want to serve God where He has put her (click to read the rest of the article):

"Last night I looked at the week ahead and realized I wasn't excited about anything I had to accomplish. As a matter of fact, I was the opposite of excited. Deflated. Weary. Discouraged. Through my tears, I told God, "I don't want to serve You this way! Please, let me do something bigger! Let me do something better."

Syria and The Samaritan

Unknown things are scary. I think that's just a universal truth. That's why we can have so much fear about things that are different from us. I think that's a contributing factor to the fear surrounding Syrian refugees. But Jesus has a lot to say about that. How we should respond to those who are different?

Probably Jesus clearest teaching on the subject was in the form of the story. A parable. One we often call the Good Samaritan. Jesus tells the story in response to a nice Jewish man who asks Him, “Who is my neighbour?” What Jesus describes in the story pushes every rational boundary of who we call our neighbour.  

You see in the story, a nice Jewish has been robbed and left for dead. It's when were in this state that we can best tell who our friends are. But in Jesus story, the friends (the neighbours) of the men are not the ones who are like him. Both a priest and a Levite purposely cross the road to avoid the man. So who helps? A Samaritan. Now, if you've ever heard this story taught, you know that the Jews and the Samaritans hated each other. The Samaritans were racially impure, they were different from the Jews. They were heretics, they believed different things. Samaritans and Jews weren’t just different, they hated each other. No Jew owed Samaritan anything – and the opposite was true as well. And yet, it's the Samaritan who helps.

But he didn't just help - he risked. You see the man was laying bloodied on the side of very dangerous road. The two Jews who saw him were very to not help. There were only two options as this man bleeding out on the side of the road. Either he was dead and they risked becoming ceremonially unclean by touching a dead body OR if he was still alive, his attackers were very likely still close by and any helpers would be putting their own safety at risk.

But despite these dangers the Samaritan - a man from a different country, with a different religion, who owed the man nothing - risked his life to not only save the man, but make sure that he was nursed back to health. He put him on his donkey and carried him to the village. He pledge to pay for his ongoing care.

So what do we learn from this? Well first, Jesus teaches us that neighbouring is not restricted by danger or by difference. Our call to be good neighbours extends to people who are much different from us and to situations where we are put at risk. These are not acceptable excuses.

But there is something much more in the story. We note that the man who was attacked was a good Jewish man. Much similar, in fact, to the man the story is being told to. It is not a Samaritan bleeding out on the road, but one like us. And it is not us on the donkey who is called to help, but rather one who is much different from us - one who does not owe us anything. We are not merely given an example, we are shown a Saviour.

On this side of Calvary we see the depth of this parable. For we lay dying. And a man who owed us nothing – a man from a different country, of a different character - not only risked his life, but willingly gave it up. Not only to save us, but to bring us into His family and to give us what was rightfully only His. And we were not only refugees, but in fact the enemies of God when Christ came to save us. “For while we were yet gods we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son.” And, because Jesus has laid His life down to bring us into His Kingdom, the command of Jesus at the end of His parable is ever true for us, "Go and do likewise".