Today, I read words spoken around a dinner table to men proud of their sacrifice. Men who gave ten percent of all they earned to the church. Men who spent their lives learning the ways of God.   They knew sacrifice — giving, fasting, and a life of devotion.   Yet, they were found wanting.

Then it happened that as Jesus was reclining at the table in the house, behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and were dining with Jesus and His disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to His disciples, “Why is your Teacher eating with the tax collectors and sinners?” But when Jesus heard this, He said, “It is not those who are healthy who need a physician, but those who are sick. But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire compassion and not sacrifice,’ for I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” (Matthew 9:10-13 NASB)

He desires compassion, not sacrifice.

In fact, self-focused sacrifice can become prideful self-service. If we allow sacrifice to become fuel for our self-righteous ego then it is no longer a service to God, but a service to self. Sacrifice can become an idolatrous game of oneupmanship.

He says compassion is better than sacrifice.   Why? What makes compassion different? Why does Jesus urge us to understand the higher value of compassion?  Where do We look to find examples of this kind of compassion?

Compassion goes beyond a deep sympathy for others; it is a compelling desire to alleviate suffering. Compassion sees a need and meets it. Compassion focuses on the need of the recipient, not the gift of the giver. Compassion is outwardly focused and not inwardly focused.

The more I consider compassion, the more I see Jesus in the answer — not just because of what he taught, but what he did.  Motivated by his great love for us, he left perfection and became a man.  He saw our brokenness, our selfishness, and our desire for recognition.  He knew that we were destined for eternal suffering without a remedy and chose to give himself to alleviate that suffering.  In the ultimate example of compassion, he gave himself up for us.

He saw my selfishness, had compassion on me, died to pay the penalty for my selfishness, and then rose from the dead to demonstrate his power over my selfishness.

As I consider all this means, I shift my focus. Instead of asking, “What does God want from me?” I realize, “In light of all that Christ has done for me, how can I not show compassion to others?”  Going step further, I see that when I do not show  compassion I am denying Christ.  Although I say I believe, my actions demonstrate a practical atheism.

It is this practical atheism that I fear more than unbelief.  

And so, the question will no longer be, “What must I give up for God?” It has become the better question, “Who needs to experience compassion from me today?”

The answer may still involve personal sacrifice, but it will be sacrifice motivated by Christ’s love and not self-righteous hypocrisy.

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1. What to do with despair?

I don’t doubt God’s existence. I am not tempted to walk away from the faith. But, I feel deflated. I see hurt and pain. I am disappointed by the poor choices of others, by the willful disobedience in my own life, by brokenness at every turn.

I ask the same question as the agnostic, “God, if you’re there, why don’t you do something!” I feel powerless. Do my questions dishonor God; do I dare ask them out loud? How do I reconcile a hurting world, personal failures, my broken-heartedness, and an all-good God?

If it weren’t for His story, recorded in the pages history, despair would have its way. But then, I remember. I remember the promise made to Abraham. “Go, and I will make you a great nation.” Abraham believed. God answered — but Abraham died before it happened. I remember that Joseph’s descendants suffered in Egypt for four hundred years before they were freed. Entire generations of families lived and died as slaves. God was faithful and delivered — but not every Israelite that lived in the captivity of Egypt experienced freedom.

I remember another four hundred year period where God seemed silent. Four centuries passed between the last inspired words from the prophets and the coming of Messiah. More generations of people came and went.

How exactly do these facts provide a remedy for despair? Does it really make me feel better that generations can march by while waiting on God?

Yes, indeed it does.

Even when the Israelites were slaving away for the Egyptians, God was preparing their deliverance. Their suffering provided the backdrop for the display of His’s glory.

And, after 400 years of silence, the voice of John the Baptist, the one sent to prepare the way for Christ, exploded the prophetic vacuum. “Repent for the kingdom of Heaven is near.” The One who would change it all was coming.

He came, but in a way we would not have imagined. The savior of the world — the God-man — was beaten, tortured and murdered. Darkness, death, and despair. Again the brutality of man is a springboard for the display of his absolute glory and power.

Can I be content to live in a world that exists only to be a display of His glory? Can I accept that I may only be a tiny black dot in a dark sea whose purpose is to contrast His radiance? Can I live committed to Him even if I never get to shine this side of heaven?

What if His glory will be seen most clearly if I live a life of obscurity? Am I willing to trade my glory for His?

I consider these questions deeply, a quick ‘Yes’ is an empty response. I open the word and read:

without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is and that He is a rewarder of those who seek Him. (Hebrews 11:6 NASB)

In spite of all the darkness, in spite of all that does not make sense, the answer is found here: “Do I believe that He is and that He rewards those who seek Him?”

I cannot escape it. I may not see the rewards today. I may not see it while I walk this earth. It is not the reality I would choose, but it is real. In spite of my questions, in spite of the despair and brokenness at every turn, I believe that he exists and He rewards those who seek Him.  And this truth turns despair to joy.

“Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song.” –Pope John Paul II

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Longing to grow up.

Longing to stay little.

Longing to be done with school.

Longing to be loved.

Longing for home.

Longing for babies.

Longing for a good night’s sleep.

Longing for freedom.

Longing to get them in school.

Longing to get them out of school.

Longing to see them well raised.

Longing for them to be little again.

Yesterday I longed for today

and today I long for tomorrow

and tomorrow I’ll long for yesterday.

It’s a different kind of circle of life.

I’ve been paying more attention to my prayers lately.  I realize that I keep asking God to show me his plan for tomorrow.  Where are we all going?  What would you have us do?  What is the ultimate trajectory my life will take?  Even in my prayers for others I say, “God, show them where you want them to go.  Show them you’re will for their next major life phase.  Guide them and prepare them for tomorrow.”

In all of this longing today is lost. And today is the only day that I can do anything about.

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• Ann Voskamp has captured my heart get again with this amazing post: Why You’ve Run from Real Love all Your Life
• A post from Mary Demuth about how a kind word can speak healing into brokenness from the past.
• Melissa Brotherton talks about  throwing off guilt:  I don’t want to be a hypocrite.

May this weekend find you full of faith, hope and love!

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They replied, “Thank you.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t want to burden you.”  Their response soaked into my brain and percolated.  Is this a burden?  How do I respond?

“It’s a privilege for me to pray for you.”  I read my response and then added, “And I’m not being trite.”

Why is it when there are deep things to say that words seem so inadequate?

Communicating sincere concern via text message has its limitations.  And yet, the problem runs deeper than the medium.

From time to time, God brings someone into my life for whom I have a special concern.  I cannot predict it. I cannot explain it.  There seems to be no pattern.  For reasons completely unknown to me, they have a place in my heart.  In many instances, I barely know them.  Always, I am compelled to pray.

I bring their name before the Father and look for an opportunity to express  my God-given concern.  I want them to know that He has enlisted me to seek His face on their behalf.  I want them to understand how much they matter.  And, even though they don’t realize it, God is hearing about them daily.

But then, my logical brain kicks in and screams, “Don’t tell them that!  You’ll sound like a nut-job.  No one wants to hear crazy mystical talk from their pastor’s wife.  You’ll freak them out and scare them away!”

And so, when I know them well enough, I send a simple text message that says, “I’m praying for you today.”  It’s much safer that way.

What I want to say is: “I’ve been praying for you since the day I met you.  I barely knew you then but somehow I saw a struggle on your face and I felt like you might need some extra support.  I couldn’t tell you this then because it would sound crazy and would be a little awkward.  So, I prayed.  Now I know you better and I know a little better how to pray.  I want you to know that God is hearing about you from me.”

This is a better approximation of the truth, but still inadequate.

As I reflect on these things, I realize that prayer is my real ministry of words.  Not words for others to read or words published and placed on shelves and sold in stores.  Not words tweeted, linked, and shared.  The true ministry of words are those lifted heavenward to the great holy interpreter who brings them before the Father clean and pure and undefiled — wholly different from when they left my lips.

For this reason, because I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints, I do not cease to give thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers, that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him,
(Ephesians 1:15-17 ESV)

It is a burden I gladly bear.

Are there people that God has prompted you to pray for?  Who has lifted you up in prayer?

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I close my eyes and bring their names before the throne.  I ask for wisdom, guidance, direction, calling, protection, and provision.  I tell Him their situations as if He doesn’t know them.   I ask Him to intervene, to make himself known, and to reveal His glory.

In this sacred moment He reminds my of my new commitment — the time I’ve set aside every week to fast and pray and seek his direction.  I have so many questions.  What is His plan for me?  Have I understood clearly?  Are my vague notions glimmers of His call or are they idle dreams and selfish ambition?   I ask Him to speak clearly because my spirit ears are failing.

In the quiet, my prayer is no longer a monologue.  I think of the names I just brought before him and compare them with my prayers earlier in the week.  My spirit ears hear the question, Why are your most intense times of prayer all about you?

With ten words I have been undone.  And yet, within His question lies the answer.

His plan is not a grand scheme to be understood.  It is not a dream of what could be or what might have been.

His plan is people.  People that are here right now.  They need wisdom, guidance, direction, calling, protection, and provision.  And although He is the source for all of those things, I am the conduit through which they flow.

Tomorrow, I will ask better questions.

When speaking of the greatest Commandments Jesus said:

The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.”  (Mark 12:31 NIV)

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1. From Seth Godin, Getting smart about the hierarchy of smart.  This is my favorite post of the week.  I’ve been trying to explain this idea to colleagues and couldn’t do it succinctly.  Oh that everyone in leadership would understand this concept!
2. Is there a place for sadness in authentic Christianity? I’m glad to see someone else acknowledge this.  I’ve been troubled lately by how many women in Christian leadership believe that ‘real’ Christians should always be happy.  I shared one of my experiences here.
3. The Need is Great. God is Greater. Our family is praying about how to be more involved in this ministry.
4. Maybe it’s not about balance after all.  My favorite post this week from Ann Voskamp:  when you’re dying to live radical: Fight the Middle Ground

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I remember the sturdy resonance of my grandfather’s bass voice as we sang in unison in the one-room country church. His voice was so strong that my baby sister would cry when he tried to sing to her; but I loved it. It stood for everything that was home and security.

Every Sunday we’d sing one of the ‘heaven’ standards: In the Sweet By and By, When the Roll is Called Up Yonder, Beulah Land, or I’ll Fly Away. My favorite was When We All Get to Heaven – not because I liked the song, but because our song leader was also the pastor who made up for his lack of singing ability with enthusiasm.

The older I get, the more I understand this longing for heaven — I see clearly now that our world is broken.

For my grandparents’ generation, the world’s brokenness was manifested in sickness, death, failed crops, and poverty.  As a child, I had no concept of these hardships. The world was a beautiful place to be explored. There were exciting things to learn.

Now that we do ministry in an urban neighborhood, I see it. Drugs, fatherlessness, and child abuse are a clear indication that something has gone horribly wrong. For many children the beautiful world that I knew as a child does not exist.

I grow weary. I don’t have any answers … save One.

I know that Jesus can set people free. I know he can redeem lives marred by the ugliest sin. I know he can rescue from the pit. I’ve seen it happen. But take note, Jesus is in the business of redemption because we need it so badly.

One day, His work of redemption will be complete. He will return for who know Him. He will banish the evil one and will make all things new. Why wouldn’t I look forward to that?

Have you ever wondered why church people talk so much about heaven?  What do you think?

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The most popular post this week on Discovering Together was:  4 Reasons to Keep a Prayer Journal

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I am a truth-teller; at least I want to be.

What is the truth? How do I know it when I see it? More importantly, how do I live it?

Some would advise this would-be truth-teller to say what I feel. “If you feel it, it is true. Say it loud and proud to whoever will listen!” But my heart is deceitful; it will lie to me. I have fallen for its tricks before. What about you?

Some would suggest a research experiment. “The scientific method is the ultimate revealer of truth.” But there is a difference between fact and truth. Our methods have taught us the how’s of life but very few of the why’s. Why are we here? What experiment answers that question?

Some would urge me to forget truth. “There is no such thing as truth. What’s true for you may not be true for me.” Truth is only relative when I want my own way. When wrongs are perpetrated against me, truth emerges very quickly.

Dictionary.com says Truth is: … fundamental reality apart from and transcending perceived experience.

That’s what I want to do here: transcend perceived experience. Where is the transcendent in the dishes, diapers, deadlines, and details?  Is there anything bigger?

Jesus said: I am the way, the truth, and the life. If He is the truth, it changes everything.

How would you define truth?  How does truth impact your life?

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