what I'm listening to: you can trust that man

It's one of my favourite stories about Jesus.

A woman, who's been bleeding for 12 years, touches the very edge of his cloak, and feels in her body that she's been healed.

He asks, "Who touched me?" She comes trembling, and falls at his feet.

He says, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.” (Luke 6:40-56)

In Annabel Nixey's talk about this woman,* she asks, do we really want this woman's faith? Or do we want something more exciting?

Jesus lifts up this woman as an example, and he says, "See her faith." ... Faith is the guts of how we relate to God. ...

The faith that this woman had in this moment, we are to have in every moment.

So what was it? It's that she had empty-handed trust, and that this trust was in Jesus.

This woman came to Jesus with nothing, and she knew it. She was no great achiever. She was a receiver.

But if I'm honest, even when it comes to God, I want to be independent. I want the glamour faith. I want the independent dependence.

There's no such thing! There is simply no such thing.

When you look at this woman trembling in front of Jesus, do you want to be like her? I'm happy to learn from her. I don't know that I want to be like her.

And yet she is the example that Jesus holds up of how to treat him. 

Me too. I'd love the glamour faith, not the broken faith. But only when I'm broken do I learn what it  means to cling to Jesus. Yet my faith is no more perfect than this woman's:

But here's the comfort. This woman is held up as an example of faith, but her faith wasn't perfect.

It was tentative at first. It was wrapped up in the superstition that she had to touch Jesus. Jesus heals her anyway.

Maybe you look at your Christian friends and family, and you longingly think, "I wish I had her faith."

Look at this woman. She didn't have some mysterious quality. She simply trusted in Jesus. 

Maybe you look inside yourself, and maybe you ask yourself, "Do I have faith? Do I have enough faith? Do I have the right kind of faith?"

It wasn't about whether she had perfect faith.

It's about who her faith was in.

Instead of examining my own faith, I am learning to look away from myself and to Jesus:

We need to lift our eyes, look to Jesus, stop the self-analysis, look at Jesus.

Do you trust that man? Because we have even more reasons to trust in Jesus than this woman did.

You can trust that man. He went on to die for his people. Right after this, he raised Jairus' daughter from the dead. Who does that? He went on to punch through death himself in the resurrection. He gave us his Spirit.

And so we know that he is going to come back, and he's going to bring a whole kingdom where there will be no more bleeding. There will be no more need for doctors. There will be no more dying.

We need to lift our eyes and look forward to that kingdom.

I've been wondering what this woman would say to us. I don't think she'd say, "Look at my faith." I do think she'd say, "Look at him!"

Look at Jesus. You can trust that man.

* This is from Annabel Nixey's talk from Equip 2013. I wrote about another talk from this conference - Anna Moss on Mary and Martha - here. I highly recommend these talks. I found them very encouraging.

in times of change

I wrote this back in May this year. I'm not sure why I didn't post it. I remember feeling a little unsure about its value to others. But it seems helpful to me now, and it encourages me as my life continues to change, so here it is.

The other day we took our kids to the local park and let two helium balloons, which the kids had given me for mothers' day, drift into the sky. The pale blue balloon soon disappeared behind the trees, but the yellow one twisted and turned on the high winds, growing smaller and smaller until it became a shining dot in the late afternoon sun, winked, and vanished.

As I watched the balloons disappear, I felt like they were carrying a season of life away with them. I've been checking out high schools for my 11 year old daughter, the same daughter I remember sitting with for hours as a 2-year-old, reading picture book after picture book. Every time I look at my 3-year-old, I'm reminded that in a couple of years he will go to school, and I'll be alone during the day - something I long for and dread in equal measure - and that a year or so after that, there will be no more small children at our house.

This is a time of change for me. I'm uncertain about the future. I don't know what shape life will take in a year, or 3 years, or 5. You don't realise how dependent you are on a carefully sculpted future until it's no longer certain.

My sister in Christ reminded me the other day that God doesn't change. The God I pray to is exactly the same God as the one who spoke the world into being - who spoke to Moses out of the burning bush - who watched his Son die on a cross. She talked about how, sometimes when she's praying, she thinks of this and can't wrap her mind around it.

Like a balloon unattached, I'm floating, drifting. Unsettled, afraid. But I remind myself that my certainty doesn't rest in the things around me. My certainty is anchored in Christ, seated at the right hand of the Father, unchanging, praying for me before the throne (Rom 8:34; Heb 7:25).

Whatever else gives way, he is certain.

image is from incurable_hippie at flickr

how we change (11) strategies that support change

Remember that long-lost series on change? No, I haven't forgotten it! We were working through Tim Chester's You Can Change. Now we come to chapter 8: strategies that reinforce faith and repentance (and yes, I'll try to finish the series by the end of the year if you want to read along!).

A few years ago, I planted a lemon tree. By now, it should have produced its first fruit. But it's a stunted, sad excuse for a tree. It's rarely watered and never fed, and it's shoulder-deep in weeds.

The one who sows to please his sinful nature, from that nature will reap destruction; the one who sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life. (Gal 6:8)

Change is like my tree. It grows in the soil of the Spirit-changed heart, from the roots of faith and repentance. But it only thrives when you water it and pluck the weeds. Temptation and harmful influences are two weeds that stunt change; God's word, prayer, Christian community, service, and (surprisingly) suffering, all feed change and help it grow.

Tim Chester says,

Not sowing to sin = saying "no" to whatever strengthens my sinful desires = reinforcing repentance.

Sowing to the Spirit = saying "yes" to whatever strengthens my Spirit-inspired desires = reinforcing faith.

But wait a minute. Isn't change about grace, not rules? To grow, do we have to forbid pubs, parties, and popular movies? Do we have to practice certain disciplines: 30 minutes' prayer and Bible reading every day? Of course not! Dos and don'ts can't change our hearts. So how do these things fit into change?

Sowing to the Spirit (watering change).

The longer I'm a Christian, the more I realise that things like prayer and Bible reading aren't a matter of rules, but a natural response to God's grace. It's hard to imagine a relationship with God that doesn't include listening to his voice (the Bible), seeking his help (prayer), encouraging his people (Christian community), and reaching out to others (service and evangelism).

I think of these things not as "spiritual disciplines" (as if there's a set of disciplines I do to gain God's blessing) but as outworkings of faith that grow my faith. Yes, doing them requires discipline; but I don't do them to get close to God, or to get God's grace - I have these already! I do them because I love Jesus, and long to grow deeper into his grace.

Not sowing to the sinful nature (weeding change).

It's the same with things that provoke or strengthen sinful desires. What matters is not whether a certain practice is "forbidden", but the impact it has on me. I'd be crazy to do anything that jeopardises my growth. If a book fills my mind with impure images, why read it? If a certain place leads me into sin, why go there? Am I trying to be wiser than Jesus, who said to cut temptation out of my life? (Matt 5:29-30 cf 1 Tim 6:11; 2 Tim 2:22)

As Chester says, we'll want to be aware of two things: places, people or things that provoke sinful desires by exposing us to temptation, perhaps because they appeal to our particular weaknesses; and places, people or things that strengthen sinful desires by influencing us, perhaps by subtly shaping how we think.

Some practical steps to take.

How do I make these guidelines personal? Here are two suggestions. (When I'm struggling, I do this as well as the kind of heart-work we've already talked about).

1. Take a close look at when you're tempted. What mood are you in? Where are you? What are you doing? What have you been viewing or reading? Write a list of situations, people,* places and things that it may be helpful for you to avoid.

2. Think about how to support change. Are there some Bible passages you could memorise? Would it help if you got more sleep and exercise? Is there someone you can call or text when you're tempted? Write a list of positive steps to take to support godly attitudes and actions.

Here are some examples from my own life:
- impatience and irritability: I try to get enough sleep
- gluttony: I don't buy food that is a weakness for me
- introspection: I find ways to serve others
- poor time management: I pray about my day before it begins
- perfectionism: I keep accountable to good friends
- shopaholism: I stay away from shops when I can
- anxiety: I've memorised verses about God's loving sovereignty.

Of course, none of these things replaces dealing with the deep-seated unbelief and idols of my heart. Only God's grace, working through faith and repentance, changes me on the inside. But doing these things feeds my faith, buys me time, starves sin, and supports my repentance.

If I want the tree of change to grow, it may be time to pull out some weeds and do some watering.

*I'm not saying we should avoid all the people that rub us up the wrong way, or we'd have to live on a desert island! People help us grow as we learn to love them. But we may need to stop spending time with a friend who consistently leads us into sin.

Today's post is based on chapter 8 of Tim Chester's You Can Change.

images are by GasBombGirl, Kit Keat, ashley.adcox and Flying House Studios at flickr

women of the Bible (3) Rahab - a remarkable woman

I met a remarkable woman the other day. To be honest, she's not the kind of woman I normally feel comfortable with. She's had an immoral past, a pagan background, and a life of change and crisis. She's brave, shrewd and outspoken. I might as well come out and say it: she was once a prostitute. But I reckon she knows more about God than any number of women from safe Christian backgrounds (like me).

Her name is Rahab. You might have heard her story—how she opened her doors to two Jewish spies (try explaining that choice of accommodation to your mum!), and hid them when the king's men came to call. The spies saved her life because she saved theirs: when Jericho fell to the Israelites, she and her family huddled safe inside her house, protected by the sign of the scarlet cord hanging from her window (Josh 2, 6).

It's a story worthy of a Hollywood blockbuster. But until you've spent a couple of weeks in Rahab's company (the way I did, because I wanted to introduce her to our women's Bible study), you have no idea how impressive she really is.

Her fear of God outshines us all. God's people saw him divide the Red Sea, destroy Pharaoh's armies, bring water from the rock and rain food from the sky. But when they got to the borders of Canaan, they shook in their shoes because of a few overly large soldiers! Rahab had only heard rumours of Israel's victories, but every other fear—fear for her family, fear of a gruesome death if her treachery was discovered—was insignificant compared to her fear of God. Here's what she told the spies:

“I know that the Lord has given you the land, and that the fear of you has fallen upon us, and that all the inhabitants of the land melt away before you. For we have heard how the Lord dried up the water of the Red Sea before you when you came out of Egypt, and what you did to the two kings of the Amorites who were beyond the Jordan, to Sihon and Og, whom you devoted to destruction. And as soon as we heard it, our hearts melted, and there was no spirit left in any man because of you, for the Lord your God, he is God in the heavens above and on the earth beneath.” (Josh 2:9-11)

Amazing, isn't it? And here's me not telling my friends about Jesus because I'm more scared of offending them than of displeasing God (Luke 12:4-7)! I could do with a dose of Rahab's kind of fear.

If that was all, it would do neither her nor me much good: she'd be dead, buried under the rubble of Jericho. But she not only feared God like there was no tomorrow, she had greater faith in God than anyone else I've met. She didn't just cower behind those walls; when she got the chance, she reached with both hands and threw herself on God's mercy! No wonder she's become a byword for faith: our Bible teacher James (who is always one for vivid illustrations) used her as an example of true faith—a faith that doesn't just believe, but also acts (Jas 2:17, 25). I could do with more of that kind of faith—particularly when I say I believe but don't want to give up my comforts!

Another of our Bible teachers once gave us a great list of men and women of faith (actually, I'll be honest, they were mainly men), and yes, you guessed it: it included Rahab the prostitute alongside all of those mighty men, heroes, patriarchs and kings (Heb 11). If faith is being “sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” (Heb 11:1 NIV), then Rahab has got it in spades. This woman never saw God's salvation in Jesus, but she knew exactly where to seek mercy. She's an inspiration to me—a reason to persevere through the weary days as I keep my eyes fixed on the saviour I've never seen.

You should hear her testimony! You won't find a clearer picture of the gospel. We often think of fear and faith as opposites, but Rahab shows us how the gospel brings them together. She escaped God's judgement by throwing herself on God's mercy, hiding in her house as destruction came to all around her, just as we hide in Christ to escape God's anger. It's fear of God's judgement that drives us to faith in God's salvation. We don't lose this fear of God when we trust in him: fear of God is itself an expression of faith.*

One final thing: did you know that Rahab was one of Jesus' great-great-grandmothers? Brother Matthew shared the genealogy of Jesus with us, and there she was, along with Tamar, Ruth and Bathsheba—an unprepossessing bunch of women (Matt 1:1-16)! I guess it shows that God has little interest in using the self-satisfied do-gooders of this world (that is, I have to admit, somewhat uncomfortably, women like me) and more interest in using the downtrodden, dirty sinners who throw themselves on his mercy (that is, women I tend to scorn. But not any more, I hope! 1 Corinthians 1:27-29).

Fear of God: a fear so great that it defeats any fear of man. Faith in God: faith that trusts in the unseen and obeys. The gospel: fleeing from God's anger into the arms of his love. Rahab represents all these things to me. I can imagine Jesus saying of her, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith" (Luke 7:9b). I only hope and pray that God will give me a tenth of her faith.

* Christian fear is the fear of a son for a father, not a slave for a harsh master (Rom 8:15). Tim Chester says rightly that “To fear God is to respect, worship, trust, and submit to him” (You Can Change, InterVarsity Press, Leicester, 2008, pp. 92-93). I would add the word ‘love’. Honoria Lau borrows from Hebrews 12:25 to define the fear of God helpfully as “not daring to refuse him”. See also Deuteronomy 10:12-13; Exodus 14:31; Psalm 2:11, 115:11, 130:4; Acts 9:31; 2 Corinthians 7:1; Peter Hastie's interview with Jerry Bridges; and my posts on the fear of God.

This post first appeared on Sola Panel last Friday.

final image is from Christian Dare Art

the princess follows her thread

Have you read George MacDonald's The Princess and the Goblin? It was one of my favourite books as a child - and a great one to read with your kids, not least for the hidden messages about trust and obedience.

In the following passage, the princess follows a magic thread that her "great-great-grandmother" has said will always lead to her and safety, but which takes the princess into the dark passages at the heart of a mountain.

But presently she came to a huge heap of stones, piled in a slope against the wall of the cavern. On these she climbed, and soon recovered the level of the thread only however to find, the next moment, that it vanished through the heap of stones, and left her standing on it, with her face to the solid rock. For one terrible moment she felt as if her grandmother had forsaken her. ... She threw herself upon the heap, and began to cry. ... At length the thought struck her that at least she could follow the thread backwards, and thus get out of the mountain, and home. She rose at once, and found the thread. But the instant she tried to feel it backwards, it vanished from her touch. Forwards, it led her hand up to the heap of stones - backwards it seemed nowhere. ... She burst into a wailing cry, and again threw herself down on the stones.

In his talk Praying our Fears Tim Keller uses the princess's story as an illustration of obedience in the face of fear. When the princess follows her grandmother's thread, it leads her into dark places and she's tempted to go back; but when she tries to go back, the thread disappears.

When God calls us to obey, there are only 2 possible responses: obedience, which is hard; and disobedience, which is impossible. Obedience may seem to take us into danger, but backwards lies disaster: and so we face our fear and go forward.

That was just to whet your appetite! Tomorrow I'd like to follow up on last week's post and share what I learned from Tim Keller's talk on fear.

untethered

Written two days ago.

It's 1.51 pm when our car turns into the driveway after our seaside holiday.

Somehow, the house looks shabbier than when we left. I see it half with the eyes of an owner, and half with the eyes of a stranger, as if I'm wearing 3D goggles.

The grass is shaggy and overlong. A faded brown Christmas tree lies at the foot of the driveway. I'm relieved to see that the two pot-plants near the front steps are still green and healthy. Two unopened parcels are propped next to the front door (the postman, at least, knows we've been away).

We open the door, and we're greeted by the detritus we didn't have time to tidy away before we left. The house smells comfortingly familiar, but also like it belongs to someone else. The Venus fly trap we gave our son for Christmas is holding onto life by its dry root tips.

I stand at the sink, and for a flickering moment I see a view of rolling green seaside hills through the blank tiled wall. I look out the back window, and the view of gum trees looks dry and yellow through the lingering perspective of breaking waves in a deep blue sea. I feel unbalanced, as if my feet are reaching for sand through the smooth floorboards.

The holiday recedes like a wave tugging on my legs, and the year's responsibilities threaten like dark clouds on the horizon. Three and a half more weeks' bobbing on the lazy waves of school holidays; twenty-five days (but who's counting?) until we're dragged into the rip current of term time.

The year feels frail and uncertain, as if I don't want to rest my full weight on it quite yet. Last year was hard, and I'm a little nervous about this one. I've cut down on my responsibilities to avoid last year's burnout, but I've also lost some of my confidence and enthusiasm. I'm not yet sure of the me I'm stepping into this year with.

Earlier this afternoon, on the boring road from Geelong to Melbourne, I opened The Time Traveler's Wife and read its first pages. I feel like a time traveller myself, lost between times, floating through space. I know God holds the other end of this string. I know I'm tethered. I know it, but I don't feel it, not yet.

All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
Psalm 139:16

It's true even when I don't feel it.

image is from amangupta at flickr

CS Lewis on love, feelings and the will

On Monday I mentioned that it's not just our beliefs that change our behaviour, but also our behaviour that changes our beliefs.

Actually, it's not so much that our behaviour changes our beliefs (change is from the heart) but that our behaviour strengthens our beliefs when it comes from a changed heart.

If a small, weak, faltering faith acts in love and obedience, this love and obedience will rebound and grow that faith. Faith and repentance grow stronger as they express themselves in love.

Here CS Lewis says something similar: that the choice to love grows the feeling or attitude of love.

Love, in the Christian sense, does not mean an emotion. It is a state not of the feelings but of the will ...

Do not waste time bothering whether you 'love' your neighbor; act as if you did. As soon as we do this we find one of the great secrets. When you are behaving as if you loved someone, you will presently come to love him. ...

This same spiritual law works terribly in the opposite direction. ... The more cruel you are, the more you will hate; and the more you hate, the more cruel you will become — and so on in a vicious circle for ever.

Good and evil both increase at compound interest. That is why the little decisions you and I make every day are of such infinite importance. The smallest good act today is the capture of a strategic point from which, a few months later, you may be able to go on to victories you never dreamed of. An apparently trivial indulgence in lust or anger today is the loss of a ridge or railway line or bridgehead from which the enemy may launch an attack otherwise impossible. ...

On the whole, God's love for us is a much safer subject to think about than our love for Him. Nobody can always have devout feelings: and even if we could, feelings are not what God principally cares about. Christian Love, either towards God or towards man, is an affair of the will. If we are trying to do His will we are obeying the commandment, 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God'. He will give us feelings of love if He pleases. We cannot create them for ourselves, and we must not demand them as a right. But the great thing to remember is that, though our feelings come and go, His love for us does not. It is not wearied by our sins, or our indifference; and, therefore, it is quite relentless in its determination that we shall be cured of those sins, at whatever cost to us, at whatever cost to Him.

from CS Lewis Mere Christianity chapter 9

images are from Divine Harvester and ' B a r c a at flickr