God and the Lake

I have been on a silent retreat for about the last 20 hours. We were at a camp on Lake Michigan about 25 minutes from my home. The weather was perfect: mid-70’s, sunny, with a mild breeze.

Over the years, Lake Michigan has become a place where I often feel God’s presence in a unique way. For me, it is one of those places that Celtic Christians might identify as a “thin place.” A thin place is a place where it is thought that heaven and earth come close, where God’s presence can be keenly felt. While I sometimes get this feeling at the top of a mountain, I nearly always get it at the shore of Lake Michigan or at the ocean.

There is something about being on the shoreline of a vast body of water that pushes one’s mind toward the Infinite. The perceived lack of boundaries combined with the uncontrollable power of the lake reminds me of God. Like the powerful lake, God is not a being you approach without due caution. As the Beaver’s in C. S. Lewis’s classic tale say of Aslan, he is not safe, but he is good.

And indeed that is true of both God and the lake. To not respect the lake is to court death. And so it is with God.

This past summer I learned to sail. It was a beautiful, thirty foot boat (that’s the technical term J), with a single mast. As I looked at the lake this morning and at a sailboat on the lake, I thought of my experience. In a sailboat, the captain can make decisions about the direction the boat will take to some extent. But she cannot tell the lake or the wind what to do. To try to ignore the currents and the wind and do her own thing would be foolish.

The first thing the captain must do is submit to the wind and the lake. Only then will she make progress.

Unfortunately, as I thought about my relationship to God, it seemed to me that I spend much of my time fighting with him, rather than submitting to him and his will. Perhaps that is why my progress is limited.

Sailing can be a struggle when the wind and the lake seem to be against you. You can get stuck in one spot if the wind suddenly stops. Or you can get blown in a direction you did not intend if you are not paying close attention. It can be frustrating. And God’s ways in my life can be frustrating too. But deciding to do it my way will inevitably be even more frustrating.

The key, of course, is trusting the One who knows me better than anyone, the one who knit me together in my mother’s womb and loves me more than any human ever will. Trusting a God who is not safe can be hard. But remembering that he is good and will always do what is best for the kingdom can make that task just a bit easier. I am so glad today that my life, my future, my hope, is in his hands.

Camping and Daily Bread

I like to camp.

When the children were young, camping allowed our family to travel to a variety of places on a limited budget. Plus, kids really like being able to fool around in the woods with sticks, stones, leaves, and whatever else they can find. Boring and camping just don’t go together in our experience.

And we were not the sort of campers who had to bring along everything from home. We didn’t bring bikes, television, or toys. We did bring books, board games, and marshmallow sticks but other than things like that, entertainment was as wide as our children’s imaginations.

Over the years, we probably tented the most, although we did have a nice little pop-up camper for about seven years. It was pretty basic as campers go with very few comforts of home. But it was more comfortable than a tent.

A few years back, having camped in a tent for about six more years, I decided I had done enough sleeping on the ground. I also thought that, unlike our old pop-up, I would like a bathroom on site. Midnight walks to the bathroom can be scary. So I bought a new little trailer.

And it has some bells and whistles. It has a fridge with a freezer, a small bathroom, an oven, and even a microwave (although we so rarely have electricity where we camp that the microwave is more of an extra cupboard than an appliance). It is really nice.

I love camping because I love waking up in beautiful places and going to sleep with the sounds of the woods all around me. But I also like camping because it reminds me of what is necessary in life.

In this modern world, it is so easy for me to think that I really need this or that new thing. Maybe it’s a new phone, or an iPad, or a pair of shoes, or a new countertop. But when I camp, I realize how little I really do need. In fact, back in our tenting days, I realized that I could get by with the barest of necessities. Even my new little trailer, although much less work than tenting, still has very few of the things that people at home would think they could never live without.

And that is the best reason for me to camp. It reminds me that when I pray for ‘daily bread,’ it is a prayer for necessities. My mind tends to have a list of banquet-like “needs,” but Jesus’ own prayer helps me remember that not only should I be sharing the abundance that God has entrusted to my care, but that my ultimate need is not for more stuff, but for more bread from heaven. Jesus said “I am the bread of life.” That is what I most need. And having little, even if only a few times per year, keeps my true need in focus.

Rainbows

It is not new news that much of the United States has been experiencing record heat and drought-like conditions this summer. In Michigan, my home state, this has also been true.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love our generally sunny summers with wonderfully warm temperatures, usually in the mid-80’s with occasional jumps into the 90’s. And I don’t really mind our humidity unless it becomes particularly high and oppressive. I actually much prefer it to the skin-shriveling dryness of some western states.

But this summer we have experienced numerous periods of above 90 degree heat, often with high humidity, and even several short periods (3-5 days each) of temperatures that soared above 100 degrees. Given that a good part of the year in Michigan we live with our windows closed because of cold temperatures, I detest having to turn on my air conditioning and live with my windows closed in the summer as well. Under these conditions, however, I did exactly that. Our newlywed daughter and her husband even moved home for a few days at one point because they simply could not stand their upstairs, un-airconditioned apartment for one more day.

At least as strange as the high heat were the weeks on end with no rain and no prospects of rain. Rarely does a week go by in Michigan where there are not at least some clouds in the sky. A “Pure Michigan” sky is a beautiful blue with a few white puffy clouds hanging around to add interest.

It got to the point that I felt like Elijah after the showdown on Mt. Carmel. If I saw a cloud the size of my fist in the west, I hoped it was bringing rain. But even when we did have a few clouds, they managed to scuttle by without dropping any moisture at all. There was frequently not even any dew on the ground in the morning.

About a month ago the sky was quite dark because of some clouds that were passing over but, as usual, not producing rain. I was feeling a bit glum that day. Some circumstances of life were getting me down. Some prayers I had been praying seemed to be hitting heaven and bouncing back down. I was having a bit of a pity party.

That morning, I walked out of my garage to let my dog out and saw the most beautiful rainbow stretching from just above the house across the street all the way to the farmer’s field to the west (or so it seemed). It was beautiful not just in color, but because I knew that somewhere close by it was raining.

And then I thought about the occasion for the rainbow: God’s sign of his promise to Noah and Noah’s descendants. A promise God has kept. And I realized that just as God has kept that promise, so also has he kept his promise to be a God to his people, to be with them, as the divine name suggests. That, of course, meant that he was with me, and listens to me, and loves me, despite my feelings to the contrary. I felt as if that rainbow was placed right there, just for me.

And maybe it was.

Grace

As I walked today, I was thinking about how people change or rather, if they change. It seems that humans by nature—fallen nature, that is—choose to act more like beasts than images of God. Everything in culture pushes in that direction: science, advertising, movies, ‘that’s just the way I am’ mentalities, to name a few examples.

But Scripture offers quite a different picture of humanity. Scripture radically claims that we are not animals; we are not just the most developed being on the evolutionary trajectory. Genesis 1 already makes this clear in the structure of the chapter, a structure based on separation. Each component of creation is separated from the next with the aim of preparing a place for the grand finale: humans. This final creative act is clearly different from those that precede it in both form and function.

So regardless of the messages that culture sends, and regardless of the ways our own fallen nature tries to convince us that we are nothing more than naked apes, the Bible is clear that we are intended to be so much more.

And this is where grace comes in. Proverbial wisdom tells us that a zebra can’t change his stripes. Or, we might say, a human can’t change their fingerprints. The point of this proverb is, of course, that people don’t change and you shouldn’t trust someone who says she has changed because, after all, ‘zebras don’t change their stripes.’

Grace, however, in fact changes our ‘stripes.’ Grace picks us up, turns us around from a trajectory toward beastly behavior, and points us toward and enables truly human behavior. Grace, in other words, not only changes our stripes, it moves us in the direction of the stripes God intended us to have: image of God stripes.

And maybe, that is one part of what is so amazing about grace.

Contentment

I wonder a lot about contentment. It seems like a characteristic that is similar to peace. If one is content, one will be at peace. Paul writes, from prison no less, “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.” (Phil. 4:11) He then goes on to list a variety of physical situations that he has lived through and in which he was “content.”

This contentment that Paul writes about clearly comes to him from God (vs. 13 and 19). And contentment in all circumstances seems to be a goal that Paul advocates, given the general context here.

But my question in all of this, is whether it is ever ok to be discontent. Are there circumstances in which we actually should lack contentment?

So, for example, should we be content with poverty in the world? Should we be content that women and children are regularly exploited in various places? Ok, so those examples are rather extreme.

What about our own spiritual growth? Should we be content with where we are spiritually and not strive, in cooperation with the Holy Spirit, toward holiness even though it often feels like we are making little progress? Should we be content when a friend, or loved one, or acquaintance is content with where he or she is at spiritually or should we gently prod them to strive for more? For example, perhaps you have a friend who doesn’t think they need to go to church anymore. They can worship just as well on a hike. Should we be content with that, allowing them to find their own path, as it were, or should we carefully and pastorally call attention to this spirit-killing behavior?

Or is contentment, the sort Paul is talking about, something like being discontent with situations like these and striving for change, and yet being content as we work and pray knowing that ultimately God is in control? And maybe is that even true with Paul’s situations? Could it be that the learned contentment  with being imprisoned, for example, had to do with praying for release – a lack of contentment with the immediate situation – yet an overarching contentment knowing that whether in prison or out, God would accomplish his purpose.

So maybe contentment, at least in certain cases, must always be mixed up with a dose of holy lack of contentment.

Fire and Prayer

My sister lives with her family in Colorado Springs. The past several weeks have been a very difficult time for them and many others in that area. The country overall has been very hot and dry, as we all know. And we probably also all know that a large area in and around Colorado Springs has been on fire. My sister’s neighborhood was one such area.

Today, she emailed me and others in our family a slide show she made that both narrated their story of the past several weeks, and showed the devastation caused by the fire in their neighborhood. Although I had seen some pictures on the news as I followed the progress of the fire, the photos of her street before and after were numbing.

And the story itself, with the pictures attached was almost surreal. They wake up seeing smoke on the ridge that is visible from their house. As the day progresses, so does the fire. In the later pictures, the fire itself is visible in the smoke. I can’t begin to imagine what it feels like to see an inferno advancing toward your home. By the time the evacuation orders came, the air was thick with smoke and ash and, of course, they left their home having no idea if it would be there when they came back. Also horrifying.

The path of the fire was erratic. There were pictures of cement foundations where houses once stood. Yet just a short distance away, houses stood unscathed. It looked more like the path of a tornado than a fire.

My sister’s house was spared. They didn’t even lose the food in their freezer from the power outage. We all said it was an “answer to prayer.”

But right down the street were foundations and ash, all that remained of the houses of their neighbors. Those people lost everything except their lives. And while we are grateful to God for sparing the lives of these folks, one cannot help but wonder why my sister’s house was spared, but these other houses were not.

Did we pray harder than the friends and families of those who lost all their possessions? Did God choose to listen to us and not them? Was God only able to save a certain number of homes and no more? Was my sister somehow more deserving than the others?

I think it is safe to say that the answer to all of those questions is a resounding “no.” Which in fact is why I am hesitant to exclaim, “what an answer to prayer.” Because God listened to and answered all the prayers lifted on behalf of those affected by the fire. But for some, his answer came in a form quite different than that my sister experienced.

This is all very difficult to understand. And our tendency to act as though God is more like a cosmic Santa Claus than the Holy One of Israel doesn’t help much. But the fact is, that God’s ways with us are “unsearchable,” as Paul writes. And we must learn to accept good from God as well as bad, something two Old Testament sufferers, Naomi and Job, knew well.

All this is to say that thankfulness for God’s protection is a very appropriate response. But we might want to be cautious about how we talk about prayer and God’s response to it.

http://portal.sliderocket.com/AHKWH/Waldo-Canyon-Fire

Manna and Quail

In reading through the book of Numbers the other day, I came across the passage that describes Israel’s complaints about their hardships in the wilderness after leaving Egypt. In case you haven’t found yourself reading Numbers lately, let me remind you of the story.

Israel was enslaved in Egypt for many generations. By the time of Moses’ birth, the work was hard, and the Egyptian midwives had been ordered to kill all Israelite baby boys. Moses was spared because of God’s provision of two faithful midwives who refused to kill the Israelite babies, and a courageous mother who made sure he would live.

God spared Moses’ life for a purpose. Through Moses, God miraculously led Israel out of Egypt, out of slavery.

After leaving Egypt and arriving at the “mountain of the LORD” and receiving their marching orders, Israel set out for the land of Canaan. But they soon grew tired of the wilderness. Although God had provided not only freedom, but nourishment for the journey in the form of manna, it was not enough. The people wanted other food. They even suggested that life was better for them in Egypt. In Egypt, they claimed, there was a wide variety of food: fish, cucumbers, melons, leeks, onion, and garlic. They were tired of manna cakes for breakfast, manna bread for lunch, and manna porridge for dinner. They wanted more.

What is interesting about this story is that in and of itself, there is nothing wrong with wanting good food. Fish, cucumbers, and the like are God’s good gifts to humans. That the people would want these sorts of things is, at some level, natural.

The problem seems to be in the timing of the desire and the lack of gratitude for what God had provided.

On this particular journey, God’s gift to his people was manna. Instead of gratitude for God’s gift of life in the place of death – for that is what the wilderness is – the people’s response was complaint. Instead of being content with what God had provided for the journey, or perhaps asking God if there were any alternatives, the people looked back to Egypt. Like picky children, Israel did not want what God had offered. They wanted a banquet, not daily bread.

The funny thing is, with a little patience, a banquet would be theirs, for the promised land was said to flow with milk and honey.

God gave them what they wanted. But desiring God’s gifts in the wrong way or at the wrong time came with consequences. Israel would get meat to eat but by the end of the month, they would loathe it. Why?

Because in rejecting the gifts God had offered, they had rejected God.

I can’t help but wonder how often I crave God’s good gifts in the wrong way or at the wrong time. How often do I complain because I want the promises of the future now? And how often does that complaint amount to ingratitude for the many good gifts I already have? Its worth thinking about.