There is a weight associated with a relationship that looks ahead to marriage. There is a heavy burden, it seems, to truly be the man that God has called me to be. I feel it pressing down on my shoulders as a squat bar digging into my bones and causing me to buckle down and focus on the goal ahead. There is a responsibility that I feel I have taken on. I have not yet made the commitment, evidenced by a wedding ring, but I will be tasked with the duty and great delight to provide for my wife, treasure her, protect her, honor her, and, without hesitation, lay down my life for her -- and this does not necessarily mean dying, though that is there as well.
Also, I will be charged to lead my wife. Leadership should be the expectation of all men. We are all called to lead in some way or other, but few take this seriously. Leadership is a fine line, and not for the faint of heart. There are many men who attempt to call what it is they do leadership, but they are deceived and sadly mistaken.
Some are thieves; they steal, kill, and destroy like their father. The thief takes what he wants, and in the end never really wants what was taken. Indeed, what he took did not belong to him, but neither does it become his. He will never be satisfied; he grasps for every rose within his reach, causing all to wilt.
Some are tyrants; they overpower, rule, and dominate like their father. The tyrant abuses and controls, but will never control his abusive power. Under the tyrant, there is no freedom until death do you part.
And some are leaders; they serve, understand, and love like their Father. With humility, the leader serves. With patience, he listens. He recognizes that he has been forgiven much, and therefore loves much. Because of the life Jesus is living through him, the leader is patient, kind, not jealous; he does not brag and is not arrogant, he does not act unbecomingly; he does not seek his own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; he bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.
This is a heavy burden to bear for any leader. It is heavy for any man. This burden is far too much for any son or daughter of Adam to bear. As I contemplated these things, the weight grew even heavier when I decided to ask Rebekah's father permission to begin dating her. This would set in motion the process by which I would one day take full responsibility to lead his precious daughter.
As I sought the Lord that week, I asked Him to give me a promise from His Word.
"Come to Me," He said, "all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light."
Monday, August 22, 2011
Baptism and Ramadan
With whom do you identify?
We all must answer this question. And, in fact, we do. Every day we attest to our identity by the way we live and the places we go, those we follow and those we shun. The question can be rephrased a hundred different ways: Where does your allegiance lie? Whose badge do you wear? Whose colors do you raise? Whose team do you support?
With whom do you identify and are you willing the world to know?
Now that Ramadan has reached its full potency, all the masks have been stripped and the truth unveiled. People are hungry. They are hot. They are thirsty. Did I mention that the entire Arab world is hungry? An entire people spanning parts of three continents is miserable for a full lunar cycle each year, so stay out of its way, walk on the other side of the street, and, if need be, run for your life. But what is commendable, and certainly notable, is that they will continue to persevere until the end. Ramadan is theirs and they will see it through to the end, if nothing else by mere mechanical, chemical impulses to place one foot in front of the other. Why? Because it is in the DNA, it is who they are.
But in the months leading up to THE celebration of the year -- the most wonderful time of the year, that time of the year when families come together to prepare feasts, bake holiday cookies, and celebrate together -- everyone wants to know of the foreigner: Will you fast? Some are pushier than others, but I have not yet met an Arab Muslim in my North African country who has deflated the notion that I must fast during Ramadan to really belong here. People are thrilled to hear that I fast, but vastly disappointed that I will not fast for Ramadan. When I push a little deeper into this thinking I find that if someone can just get me to reschedule my fasting for Ramadan, I'll be there.
You see, in the Arab world, image is everything. The one thing my friends want from me, maybe even need from me, is to identify with what they are doing. In their eyes, if I will just come along and if I will just identify with them, pray with them, fast with them, then I'm already there: I'm one of them. At the most basic level, I have identified with Islam. And once I'm a Muslim, I am a true North African. My identity is Arab.
This is why baptism is so important in the Christian life. Contrary to popular opinion, baptism is so much more than a glorified bath in an oversize tub. It is more than the drops of water that anoint the head of a new believer. Baptism is more than water, however one chooses to use it. Baptism, at its fundamental, core level, is identification. When Paul says that we are baptized into Christ's death, burial, and resurrection, he is saying that we bought the T-shirt and want the world to know who we now are. I have pledged my allegiance to the new Spirit-driven life that His resurrection signifies.
We make identifications all the time. We go to a certain school, cheer for a certain team, and give ourselves names like "Calvinist", "Dispensational", and "Bedside Baptist". How I identify myself begins to define me. This is why when my identity is wrapped up in all the things I'm against, I begin looking for fights around every corner. And when my identity is secure in the truths of Ephesians 1, I can rest easy knowing that I am a chosen, adopted son without fear of endangering my long-awaited inheritance.
That with which I truly identify will be evident in my life. She identifies with the Texas Rangers, and proudly wears the hat wherever she goes. He identifies with a certain political party, and anyone who doubts him can look to the pin on his jacket. True identification is to march out to war with the king and proudly wear his colors at whatever cost. Take off the old self, put on the garb of the new self. True identification with Christ's resurrection is to yield oneself to the transformative power of the Spirit; yes, walking in newness of life is proof of identification.
So, again, with whom do you identify?
But, perhaps, the more telling question is with whom would our neighbors say we identify?
We all must answer this question. And, in fact, we do. Every day we attest to our identity by the way we live and the places we go, those we follow and those we shun. The question can be rephrased a hundred different ways: Where does your allegiance lie? Whose badge do you wear? Whose colors do you raise? Whose team do you support?
With whom do you identify and are you willing the world to know?
Now that Ramadan has reached its full potency, all the masks have been stripped and the truth unveiled. People are hungry. They are hot. They are thirsty. Did I mention that the entire Arab world is hungry? An entire people spanning parts of three continents is miserable for a full lunar cycle each year, so stay out of its way, walk on the other side of the street, and, if need be, run for your life. But what is commendable, and certainly notable, is that they will continue to persevere until the end. Ramadan is theirs and they will see it through to the end, if nothing else by mere mechanical, chemical impulses to place one foot in front of the other. Why? Because it is in the DNA, it is who they are.
But in the months leading up to THE celebration of the year -- the most wonderful time of the year, that time of the year when families come together to prepare feasts, bake holiday cookies, and celebrate together -- everyone wants to know of the foreigner: Will you fast? Some are pushier than others, but I have not yet met an Arab Muslim in my North African country who has deflated the notion that I must fast during Ramadan to really belong here. People are thrilled to hear that I fast, but vastly disappointed that I will not fast for Ramadan. When I push a little deeper into this thinking I find that if someone can just get me to reschedule my fasting for Ramadan, I'll be there.
You see, in the Arab world, image is everything. The one thing my friends want from me, maybe even need from me, is to identify with what they are doing. In their eyes, if I will just come along and if I will just identify with them, pray with them, fast with them, then I'm already there: I'm one of them. At the most basic level, I have identified with Islam. And once I'm a Muslim, I am a true North African. My identity is Arab.
This is why baptism is so important in the Christian life. Contrary to popular opinion, baptism is so much more than a glorified bath in an oversize tub. It is more than the drops of water that anoint the head of a new believer. Baptism is more than water, however one chooses to use it. Baptism, at its fundamental, core level, is identification. When Paul says that we are baptized into Christ's death, burial, and resurrection, he is saying that we bought the T-shirt and want the world to know who we now are. I have pledged my allegiance to the new Spirit-driven life that His resurrection signifies.
We make identifications all the time. We go to a certain school, cheer for a certain team, and give ourselves names like "Calvinist", "Dispensational", and "Bedside Baptist". How I identify myself begins to define me. This is why when my identity is wrapped up in all the things I'm against, I begin looking for fights around every corner. And when my identity is secure in the truths of Ephesians 1, I can rest easy knowing that I am a chosen, adopted son without fear of endangering my long-awaited inheritance.
That with which I truly identify will be evident in my life. She identifies with the Texas Rangers, and proudly wears the hat wherever she goes. He identifies with a certain political party, and anyone who doubts him can look to the pin on his jacket. True identification is to march out to war with the king and proudly wear his colors at whatever cost. Take off the old self, put on the garb of the new self. True identification with Christ's resurrection is to yield oneself to the transformative power of the Spirit; yes, walking in newness of life is proof of identification.
So, again, with whom do you identify?
But, perhaps, the more telling question is with whom would our neighbors say we identify?
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Hope Floats
"But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness and all these things will be added to you." - Matthew 6:33Coming through the tempest, I now find myself lying on the shore, exhausted and weak. For the longest time, I swam against the current, trying to reach a goal from which a greater force was intent on keeping me for one reason or another. In the midst of those interminable moments returning to shore, swimming through the rough, suffocating waters, I feared that my vain striving to reach some distant buoy would prove fatal, not in an extravagant or eloquent death that people would remember and retell again and again as a story of bravery and courage to the last breath, but simply sinking into nonexistence, swallowed up by the deep waters and forgotten.
I nearly lost heart that day at a beach in Torremolinos, just as I nearly lost heart that summer in the mountains of Africa. Doubt followed closely on the heels of loss of faith and death began to creep into my heart and spread through my limbs as I struggled in the direction of shore. Empty and sinking, I cried out in anguish for mercy and hope was reborn. The only hope that is capable of restoring my spirit, reinvigorating my passion, and re-centering my heart after it had once more strayed.
On that shore I lie, drained of all of me. Lying at the edge of the sea where I had given my last vain effort. Lying safe from the driving waves in which I was sinking into the deep waters of oblivion to the notice of no one. Spread out on the sand, my chest heaves as the waves continue to crash and surge over my weary body. Hope is rekindled as dependence is set right in my life, no longer the hand-puppet to suffocate me at the whim of selfish desires holding it captive; its icy fingers now slowly release from around my neck. For a time, dependence had become confused in me, given to that which was undeserving. My hope is not reliance on the girl I met two months ago in Sevilla though in the end it was her silence that served to painfully return me to dependence on the only One who will never fail me. My hope is not contingent upon advantageous circumstances, warm feelings, or the returned affection of a woman, nor should it be shaken -- if held firm by meditation on what has already been proven true in the world and in my own life -- by a lack of any one or all of these elements. My hope was and now remains He who rescued me after I had worked so hard to swim my own way only to find myself drowning in an unforgiving ocean. Even when I no longer held on to hope, He held on to me.
Now just ten days removed from my near death experience, with fresh perspective and a focus rebuilt on the foundation of the Creator of heaven and earth, He has enacted the process by which it seems He will give me one of His most precious gifts. And if there is one thing I have learned this summer, it is to not elevate gift above Giver. As I have sought the Lord these past few days, He has met me with wisdom, timely counsel, and ever-clearer direction. This morning I awoke and found myself soaking up a sermon preached by Jesus long ago. He proclaimed, "Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness." Seek the Giver, for then "all these things will be added to you."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)