“God’s Work”
Joseph was enslaved, slandered, and shackled because of the jealous hatred of his brothers. What had he done to deserve such cruelty? At worst, he was a puffed up brat.
But now (20 years later) when Joseph’s grain-desperate brothers stood before their unrecognized brother, Joseph had the authority to avenge their wickedness. Instead, he forgave them. Why? When Joseph finally revealed himself as the long-lost brother, three times (Gen.45:4-8) he trumpeted God’s baffling control over these evil events:
• It was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you.
• God sent me ahead of you to preserve a remnant for you.
• It was not you who sent me here, but God.
God sent me.... God sent me.... God sent me--is there a theme here?! Though his brothers were sub-agents, Joseph believed that God was the ultimate agent of his hardships. Sinful human will combined mysteriously with divine will to save Jacob’s family from a greater tragedy.
Were Joseph’s brothers, then, dangling on the strings of an omnipotent puppeteer? The Bible doesn’t answer this question in either/or terms. Man is free and God is in control. How can both be true? I don’t know. But Joseph could forgive because he saw God craft good from his brothers’ evil.
As with Joseph, we may wait decades before we see God’s fingerprints in our suffering. We might be tempted to whisper in God’s ear, “Couldn’t you make it a little more obvious that You are in charge?!” Joseph had suffered in the dark all those years. But when he saw his brothers bow before him, he recalled his childhood dreams of his brothers’ obeisance. He now knew that this whole experience was somehow a part of God’s greater, life-saving plans.
God asks us to forgive before we discern the good that He will spawn. It is the promise that in all things God works for the good of those who love him which sustains us. If you were ignored by a self-absorbed father, forgive your father and trust God to bring good out of that evil. If you lost your job because a co-worker fraudulently undermined you, forgive your co-worker and trust God to bring good out of his malice. If your brother swindled you out of your inheritance, forgive your brother and trust God to care for your genuine needs. If you were sexually abused as a child, forgive the abuser and trust God to bring good out of that wickedness.
We serve a God who dwarfs and can transform any sin—remember the victory of the cross!
2011/12/19
2011/11/26
Forgiving Those Who Hurt Us: Part 2
“Why We Don’t Forgive”
A famine in Canaan forced Jacob to send ten of his sons to Egypt to buy life-sustaining grain. (Benjamin, dad’s new favorite, stayed home.) When they arrived, they were given an audience with the architect of Egypt’s grain surplus. What a twist of fate! The man was none other than Joseph, though his brothers didn’t recognize an older, Eyptianized Joseph. But Joseph recognized them immediately.
Put yourself in Joseph’s shoes. Standing before you are the brothers who conspired to destroy you. Their cruelty caused you incredible suffering--sold to slave traders, re-sold to an Egyptian official, falsely accused of rape, imprisoned, and more. But now your day has come. Though you buried the hatchet years ago, you now have an unexpected opportunity to dig it up and hack your brothers down to size. What will you do?
Joseph didn’t seem to know what to do with them so he remained a stranger and spoke harshly to them: You are spies! You have come to see where our land is unprotected. He then threw them all in prison. Then on second thought, he released all but Simeon who would only be released if they returned with their brother Benjamin (Joseph’s only full brother). Was Joseph toying with them? punishing them?
Biblical stores are not fairy tales which offer simple problems and simple solutions. Forgiveness for deep hurts is seldom quick or easy—and it wasn’t for Joseph. Why is it hard? Forgiveness often feels like we are letting people get away with something. Joseph didn’t want his brothers “to admit [they] made a mistake, flip an apology in [his] direction, and go on as if [they] had done nothing worse than burping before dessert.”
A famine in Canaan forced Jacob to send ten of his sons to Egypt to buy life-sustaining grain. (Benjamin, dad’s new favorite, stayed home.) When they arrived, they were given an audience with the architect of Egypt’s grain surplus. What a twist of fate! The man was none other than Joseph, though his brothers didn’t recognize an older, Eyptianized Joseph. But Joseph recognized them immediately.
Put yourself in Joseph’s shoes. Standing before you are the brothers who conspired to destroy you. Their cruelty caused you incredible suffering--sold to slave traders, re-sold to an Egyptian official, falsely accused of rape, imprisoned, and more. But now your day has come. Though you buried the hatchet years ago, you now have an unexpected opportunity to dig it up and hack your brothers down to size. What will you do?
Joseph didn’t seem to know what to do with them so he remained a stranger and spoke harshly to them: You are spies! You have come to see where our land is unprotected. He then threw them all in prison. Then on second thought, he released all but Simeon who would only be released if they returned with their brother Benjamin (Joseph’s only full brother). Was Joseph toying with them? punishing them?
Biblical stores are not fairy tales which offer simple problems and simple solutions. Forgiveness for deep hurts is seldom quick or easy—and it wasn’t for Joseph. Why is it hard? Forgiveness often feels like we are letting people get away with something. Joseph didn’t want his brothers “to admit [they] made a mistake, flip an apology in [his] direction, and go on as if [they] had done nothing worse than burping before dessert.”
Like Joseph, we may want to deliver some pain to our abusers--a wife who bitterly complains to her husband about his work schedule, knowing that her nagging wounds him; the employee who sharpens his dagger of bitterness so that he can slash his lazy workmate; a brother who frequently broadcasts the cruel deeds of an older brother, hoping to shame the brother who caused him so much agony as a child.
Though we may enjoy tormenting those who have tormented us, this is not God’s solution to our pain.2011/11/07
Joseph: Dad's Favorite
Imagine growing up with eleven brothers and your Dad had an obvious favorite—and it’s not you! On one occasion your festive father came home with a brand new, top-of-the-line leather coat for the favorite. But then Dad herded the rest of you to Goodwill to choose one of their second-hand coats. Now Jacob loved Joseph more than any of his other sons, ... and he made him a richly ornamented robe for him. In time, your animosity toward this brother consumed you. When his brothers saw that their father loved him more than any of them, they hated him and could not speak a kind word to him. But your brother wasn’t content to accept his special standing with humility. Listen to this dream I had: We were binding sheaves of grain out in the field when suddenly my sheaf rose and stood upright, while your sheaves gathered around mine and bowed down to it. Your brother’s arrogance inflamed your swelling anger. And they hated him all the more because of his dream and what he had said.
Many of us have been deeply wounded by the sins of others. Some of those painful memories hit us with the “blunt impact of a sledgehammer, with enough force to knock [us] loose from the present.” As a result, we would be willing to trade almost anything for a delete key on the keyboard of time. The only way to remove this “nettle in our memory” is through “a surgical procedure called forgiveness. It is not as though forgiving were the remedy of choice among other options. It is the only remedy.”
Over the next several posts I plan to use the story of Joseph and his brothers to discuss forgiveness. As the story of Joseph reveals, the abuses in relationships are seldom one-sided. Dad committed the sin of favoritism (which he learned at his mother’s knee) and the sin of indifference (he made feeble attempts to resolve these filial conflicts). Joseph sinned by flaunting his role as the favorite. Joseph’s brothers sinned by nursing a hatred of their brother.
All these sins produced a cauldron of animosity and bitterness which boiled over into violence. Joseph, who was the most privileged, became the most abused. Thus, this is primarily a story about how he came to forgive his brothers.
Many of us have been deeply wounded by the sins of others. Some of those painful memories hit us with the “blunt impact of a sledgehammer, with enough force to knock [us] loose from the present.” As a result, we would be willing to trade almost anything for a delete key on the keyboard of time. The only way to remove this “nettle in our memory” is through “a surgical procedure called forgiveness. It is not as though forgiving were the remedy of choice among other options. It is the only remedy.”
Over the next several posts I plan to use the story of Joseph and his brothers to discuss forgiveness. As the story of Joseph reveals, the abuses in relationships are seldom one-sided. Dad committed the sin of favoritism (which he learned at his mother’s knee) and the sin of indifference (he made feeble attempts to resolve these filial conflicts). Joseph sinned by flaunting his role as the favorite. Joseph’s brothers sinned by nursing a hatred of their brother.
All these sins produced a cauldron of animosity and bitterness which boiled over into violence. Joseph, who was the most privileged, became the most abused. Thus, this is primarily a story about how he came to forgive his brothers.
2011/10/24
The Prodigal Son: Coming Home
An anxious prodigal journeyed home, practicing his speech: “Father, I have sinned ...” His thoughts raced with the possible conclusions to this painful ordeal. “Will dad take me back? Will he speak to me? Will he allow me to be one of his hired servants?” But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. Norman Cox imagined this scene from the perspective of the Prodigal when he saw his home in the distance: “He became aware that a man had left the house and was running to meet him. ‘Who can it be, and why is he running?’ He did not remember any servant who ran like this one, and he knew it was not his elder brother. The one who ran was like his father. He remembered his father’s running when they played games together when he was a boy. It could not be his father, however, because his father was too old to run like that. Thus he speculated until the father was near enough to recognize beyond all doubt. He was astounded that his father ran so fast. But he was more amazed at the radiance of his father’s countenance.”
The son began his memorized speech but his overjoyed father didn’t let him finish. Robe and ring and sandals were quickly brought for the disheveled son: Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine who was dead is alive again; he was lost and is found. So they began to celebrate. It was time to party!
Jesus meant this story to be a picture of God and us. It is a story of “our self-willed breaking away from (God) into adventures far from God. In it he has shown us the inescapable consequences of sin.” But in the story we also find that God, with an indescribable longing and yearning (he runs toward repentant sinners!), waits for a Prodigal to come to himself because only “then will he become conscious of his need and his guilt, and be moved to abhor and confess his sin.”
God isn’t looking for endless apologies or explanations. He only wants a confession: I have sinned against heaven and against you. Then he can restore you to your rightful place as one of God’s loved and blessed sons.
The son began his memorized speech but his overjoyed father didn’t let him finish. Robe and ring and sandals were quickly brought for the disheveled son: Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine who was dead is alive again; he was lost and is found. So they began to celebrate. It was time to party!
Jesus meant this story to be a picture of God and us. It is a story of “our self-willed breaking away from (God) into adventures far from God. In it he has shown us the inescapable consequences of sin.” But in the story we also find that God, with an indescribable longing and yearning (he runs toward repentant sinners!), waits for a Prodigal to come to himself because only “then will he become conscious of his need and his guilt, and be moved to abhor and confess his sin.”
God isn’t looking for endless apologies or explanations. He only wants a confession: I have sinned against heaven and against you. Then he can restore you to your rightful place as one of God’s loved and blessed sons.
2011/09/29
The Prodigal Son: Part 7
The Parents of a Prodigal
Waiting for Prodigals to come home can be agonizing. David Sheff, whose son was nearly devoured by drugs, admitted: “I am becoming used to an overwhelming, grinding mixture of anger and worry. It is a bleak and hopeless feeling.” In Jesus’ story, the father thought he would never see his son again—this son of mine was dead. And unfortunately, many Prodigals teeter back and forth between death and life—there may be several homecomings!
What produces a Prodigal? Many parents blame themselves. David Sheff explains: “I often feel as if I have totally failed my son. In admitting this, I am not looking for sympathy or absolution, I am stating a truth that will be recognized by most parents who have been through this.” Sheff continually asked himself where he had gone wrong: “Did I spoil him? Was I too lenient? Did I give him too little attention? Too much? If only his mother and I had stayed together. If only and if only and if only ...”
But Jesus’ story doesn’t blame the father—the blame is squarely on the son. The son was the one who came up with and executed the plan to gain his inheritance and run to the Far Country. Even when parents share the blame, it does no good to pummel themselves. They will need all the strength they have—and more!—to fight today’s battles.
The Far Country isn’t just the choice of troubled kids. David’s Sheff’s son was a good student, happy, loved his parents, but thought he could dabble in drugs. He discovered the hard way that drugs were more potent than he was. At one point during his recovery, he suffered a relapse: “I got cocky. It’s this trick of addiction. You think, My life isn’t unmanageable, I’m doing fine. You lose your humility. You think you are strong enough to handle it.”
Parents, do you realize the danger that modern kids face? When I was a child, drugs were only something doctors’ prescribed. Today, “drugs pervade every college campus in America, and every city, so a young adult must learn how to live among them.” We must prepare our children so they understand the pull of the world and their own propensity to sin. Unless they learn how to humbly depend on God's strength, they may become painfully lost in the Far Country.
Waiting for Prodigals to come home can be agonizing. David Sheff, whose son was nearly devoured by drugs, admitted: “I am becoming used to an overwhelming, grinding mixture of anger and worry. It is a bleak and hopeless feeling.” In Jesus’ story, the father thought he would never see his son again—this son of mine was dead. And unfortunately, many Prodigals teeter back and forth between death and life—there may be several homecomings!
What produces a Prodigal? Many parents blame themselves. David Sheff explains: “I often feel as if I have totally failed my son. In admitting this, I am not looking for sympathy or absolution, I am stating a truth that will be recognized by most parents who have been through this.” Sheff continually asked himself where he had gone wrong: “Did I spoil him? Was I too lenient? Did I give him too little attention? Too much? If only his mother and I had stayed together. If only and if only and if only ...”
But Jesus’ story doesn’t blame the father—the blame is squarely on the son. The son was the one who came up with and executed the plan to gain his inheritance and run to the Far Country. Even when parents share the blame, it does no good to pummel themselves. They will need all the strength they have—and more!—to fight today’s battles.
The Far Country isn’t just the choice of troubled kids. David’s Sheff’s son was a good student, happy, loved his parents, but thought he could dabble in drugs. He discovered the hard way that drugs were more potent than he was. At one point during his recovery, he suffered a relapse: “I got cocky. It’s this trick of addiction. You think, My life isn’t unmanageable, I’m doing fine. You lose your humility. You think you are strong enough to handle it.”
Parents, do you realize the danger that modern kids face? When I was a child, drugs were only something doctors’ prescribed. Today, “drugs pervade every college campus in America, and every city, so a young adult must learn how to live among them.” We must prepare our children so they understand the pull of the world and their own propensity to sin. Unless they learn how to humbly depend on God's strength, they may become painfully lost in the Far Country.
2011/09/09
The Prodigal Son: Part 6
The Other Sinner
Why did Jesus have to ruin a good story? Doesn’t he like happy endings?! Just when we were enjoying a good party, the father’s elder son returned from his field work wanting to know why there was music and dancing. When he found out that the party was for his wayward brother, he became angry and refused to go into [the party].
The older brother’s anger is understandable. While his brother was sowing his wild oats, this brother was sowing real oats for his father. He probably thought: “What are you doing, Dad?! Throwing a party for a son who squandered everything and came home because it was his last choice?! He’ll just do it again. Maybe you’re taken in by him but I’m not!” I have a friend whose parents have bailed out his brother again and again and again. The result? He has never become a responsible adult.
But this isn’t a bailout, it is a homecoming. Dad didn’t replenish the Prodigal’s bank account, he simply threw a party for his returned-from-the-dead son. Isn’t that what a dad should do?! Jesus included a second brother in this story to show that there are different types of sinners. The father had two sons who were lost. The first was lost in the far country of debauchery; the second in the far country of pride. Listen to Mr. Responsibility’s claim to his father: All these years I have been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Could any child never disobey?!
The elder brother’s prideful sin led him to reject his brother even before he talked with him. Speaking to his father he called his brother: This son of yours. He could only see what his brother was, not what his brother could become. Arrogant people give no second chances. The person you were as a teen is the same person you are as an adult.
The apostle Paul observed that the sins of some men are obvious, reaching the place of judgment ahead of them; the sins of others trail behind them. (I Tim.5:24) Newspapers are full of Prodigals’ sins. But few divulge the cold, unforgiving hearts of elder brothers. These Elder Brothers often boast of sins they have not committed but are blind to the sins that are destroying them.
Are you having trouble forgiving someone? Are you willing to confess that your unwillingness is also a sin? Repent before your heart becomes a stone.
Why did Jesus have to ruin a good story? Doesn’t he like happy endings?! Just when we were enjoying a good party, the father’s elder son returned from his field work wanting to know why there was music and dancing. When he found out that the party was for his wayward brother, he became angry and refused to go into [the party].
The older brother’s anger is understandable. While his brother was sowing his wild oats, this brother was sowing real oats for his father. He probably thought: “What are you doing, Dad?! Throwing a party for a son who squandered everything and came home because it was his last choice?! He’ll just do it again. Maybe you’re taken in by him but I’m not!” I have a friend whose parents have bailed out his brother again and again and again. The result? He has never become a responsible adult.
But this isn’t a bailout, it is a homecoming. Dad didn’t replenish the Prodigal’s bank account, he simply threw a party for his returned-from-the-dead son. Isn’t that what a dad should do?! Jesus included a second brother in this story to show that there are different types of sinners. The father had two sons who were lost. The first was lost in the far country of debauchery; the second in the far country of pride. Listen to Mr. Responsibility’s claim to his father: All these years I have been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Could any child never disobey?!
The elder brother’s prideful sin led him to reject his brother even before he talked with him. Speaking to his father he called his brother: This son of yours. He could only see what his brother was, not what his brother could become. Arrogant people give no second chances. The person you were as a teen is the same person you are as an adult.
The apostle Paul observed that the sins of some men are obvious, reaching the place of judgment ahead of them; the sins of others trail behind them. (I Tim.5:24) Newspapers are full of Prodigals’ sins. But few divulge the cold, unforgiving hearts of elder brothers. These Elder Brothers often boast of sins they have not committed but are blind to the sins that are destroying them.
Are you having trouble forgiving someone? Are you willing to confess that your unwillingness is also a sin? Repent before your heart becomes a stone.
2011/07/19
The Prodigal Son: Part 5
The Way Home
When the Prodigal confessed—I have sinned—was he sincere? It appears so. Trudging back home after having made such a fool of himself could not have been easy, but he didn’t dilute his confession with excuses. “I have sinned but ...
• you should not have given me the money.”
• I had to get away from my self-righteous brother.”
• I had temporary insanity.”
• that far country is full of crooks.”
He accepted blame completely, now realizing that “having his own way was the worst thing that could have happened to him.”
The second part of the Prodigal’s homecoming speech also points to his sincerity: I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me as one of your hired servants. In these words, the Prodigal evidenced a complete surrender, one “without reservation, qualification or equivocation.” He believed he had forfeited the rights of a son and would humbly accept becoming one of his father’s servants. His change of attitude was remarkable. Though he once viewed his home as a prison, he was now willing to imprison himself as a slave in that same household.
Not all prodigals make it home. Some are overwhelmed by their shame: “The pangs which follow a loss of self-respect are tortuous. Not many have sufficient courage to face them. In every possible way they seek to escape. Although God forgives, they cannot forgive themselves. There are thousands of solitary drunkards who drink themselves into oblivion every night in an effort to buy a few hours’ escape from their agonizing loss of self-respect.”
There is only one road home for a prodigal. Returning humbly, brokenly, without excuse to the Father is their “one lone star of hope.”
When the Prodigal confessed—I have sinned—was he sincere? It appears so. Trudging back home after having made such a fool of himself could not have been easy, but he didn’t dilute his confession with excuses. “I have sinned but ...
• you should not have given me the money.”
• I had to get away from my self-righteous brother.”
• I had temporary insanity.”
• that far country is full of crooks.”
He accepted blame completely, now realizing that “having his own way was the worst thing that could have happened to him.”
The second part of the Prodigal’s homecoming speech also points to his sincerity: I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me as one of your hired servants. In these words, the Prodigal evidenced a complete surrender, one “without reservation, qualification or equivocation.” He believed he had forfeited the rights of a son and would humbly accept becoming one of his father’s servants. His change of attitude was remarkable. Though he once viewed his home as a prison, he was now willing to imprison himself as a slave in that same household.
Not all prodigals make it home. Some are overwhelmed by their shame: “The pangs which follow a loss of self-respect are tortuous. Not many have sufficient courage to face them. In every possible way they seek to escape. Although God forgives, they cannot forgive themselves. There are thousands of solitary drunkards who drink themselves into oblivion every night in an effort to buy a few hours’ escape from their agonizing loss of self-respect.”
There is only one road home for a prodigal. Returning humbly, brokenly, without excuse to the Father is their “one lone star of hope.”
2011/06/23
The Prodigal Son: Part 4
"I Have Sinned"
Many Prodigals want liberation, not transformation; the removal of pain, not the removal of guilt. The prophet Hosea describes them: They do not cry out to [God] from their hearts, but wail upon their beds. (14:7) These rebels would gladly stay in the far country if life still worked.
When Jesus’ Prodigal (Luke 15) ran out of money in the far country, he found a job: So he hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to feed pigs. He longed to feed himself with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything. What an indignity for a conscientious Jew—he was hired to feed pigs! And then his employer added to his shame by not paying him. It was at this low point, hungry and humiliated, that he came to his senses. How many of my father’s hired hands have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! He knew what he had to do to live: I will set out and go back to my father.
So the run-away son limped home—all he had left was a broken heart and a prepared speech: Father, I have sinned.... These are exceptional words—even in the Bible. From Genesis to Revelation, the words “I have sinned” occur only thirteen times. And only twice do they appear to be genuine (David and this Prodigal). Those two are the only confessions which include a declaration of guilt and a plea for pardon.
I must be honest--I don’t find confession easy. When I have flung unkind words at my wife and know that my confession can restore peace, I agonize over whether to admit my sin. Though my sin is obvious to both of us, I can’t voice it. Why is my voice box suddenly frozen? Is this a foreign language I don’t know? Would it help to hire a Professor Higgins (My Fair Lady) to teach me how to speak these words? “Repeat after me: `I have sinned. I have sinned. I have sinned.’”
Cathy and I occasionally do some marriage counseling. The first meeting with a couple is totally predictable--each will spew out a long list of the other's failings. They are simply reflecting fallen human nature--a bent toward magnifying others’ sins and minimizing our own. Are you overwhelmed by your mate’s sins? Would you like to confront your best friend with her flaws? Are you angered by the lack of love from a parent? Step back. Take a minute to raise the mirror in front of your own soul. Ask God to help you see your own culpability in whatever is broken between you and someone else: Search me, O God, and know my heart; ... See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. God is the only one who can enable me to see and confess my own sin.
Many Prodigals want liberation, not transformation; the removal of pain, not the removal of guilt. The prophet Hosea describes them: They do not cry out to [God] from their hearts, but wail upon their beds. (14:7) These rebels would gladly stay in the far country if life still worked.
When Jesus’ Prodigal (Luke 15) ran out of money in the far country, he found a job: So he hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to feed pigs. He longed to feed himself with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything. What an indignity for a conscientious Jew—he was hired to feed pigs! And then his employer added to his shame by not paying him. It was at this low point, hungry and humiliated, that he came to his senses. How many of my father’s hired hands have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! He knew what he had to do to live: I will set out and go back to my father.
So the run-away son limped home—all he had left was a broken heart and a prepared speech: Father, I have sinned.... These are exceptional words—even in the Bible. From Genesis to Revelation, the words “I have sinned” occur only thirteen times. And only twice do they appear to be genuine (David and this Prodigal). Those two are the only confessions which include a declaration of guilt and a plea for pardon.
I must be honest--I don’t find confession easy. When I have flung unkind words at my wife and know that my confession can restore peace, I agonize over whether to admit my sin. Though my sin is obvious to both of us, I can’t voice it. Why is my voice box suddenly frozen? Is this a foreign language I don’t know? Would it help to hire a Professor Higgins (My Fair Lady) to teach me how to speak these words? “Repeat after me: `I have sinned. I have sinned. I have sinned.’”
Cathy and I occasionally do some marriage counseling. The first meeting with a couple is totally predictable--each will spew out a long list of the other's failings. They are simply reflecting fallen human nature--a bent toward magnifying others’ sins and minimizing our own. Are you overwhelmed by your mate’s sins? Would you like to confront your best friend with her flaws? Are you angered by the lack of love from a parent? Step back. Take a minute to raise the mirror in front of your own soul. Ask God to help you see your own culpability in whatever is broken between you and someone else: Search me, O God, and know my heart; ... See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. God is the only one who can enable me to see and confess my own sin.
2011/05/25
The Prodigal Son: Part 3
Should Prodigal's Be Rescued?
The Prodigal’s well-healed life was probably sunny for some time. With abundant resources, friends were easily purchased. Their flattery “intoxicated his vanity until he was sure of his superiority.” But when a famine in the land coincided with a famine in his pocketbook, all his “friends” were gone. His wild oats had “ripened into famine, his purchased friends into grunting swine”—He began to be in want.
Oh, the depths of the Prodigal’s humiliation—feeding pigs! “This was the most horrible spiritual hell that could ever befall a halfway decent Jew of that day. To work for a Gentile was bad enough, but to feed pigs was even worse.” Feeding animals which the Law said were unclean, would have been a pious Jew’s “ultimate degradation”—worse than being “forced into begging, thievery, or even prostitution.”
No parent would choose such devastation for his child. But it may be good news and a reason to not run to the far country to save your child. When the prodigal experienced want, when he came to the end of himself—his own strength, his own plans, his own devices, his own friends--only then was he ready to head for home.
David Sheff’s son became lost in the Far Country of Drugs. But from his journey through his lengthy nightmare, he learned how to help lost children: “I would not in any way help someone using drugs to do anything other than return to rehab. I would not pay their rent, would not bail them out of jail ..., would not pay their debts, and would never give them money.” If we "rescue" a Prodigal from living and eating with the pigs, he may never make the journey Home where a feast awaits him.
Sheff came to realize that he could not rescue his son: “I am confident that I have done everything I could do to help Nic. Now it’s up to him. I accept that I have to let him go and he will or will not figure things out.” Some people must learn the hard way that life’s kicks have kickbacks.
The Prodigal’s well-healed life was probably sunny for some time. With abundant resources, friends were easily purchased. Their flattery “intoxicated his vanity until he was sure of his superiority.” But when a famine in the land coincided with a famine in his pocketbook, all his “friends” were gone. His wild oats had “ripened into famine, his purchased friends into grunting swine”—He began to be in want.
Oh, the depths of the Prodigal’s humiliation—feeding pigs! “This was the most horrible spiritual hell that could ever befall a halfway decent Jew of that day. To work for a Gentile was bad enough, but to feed pigs was even worse.” Feeding animals which the Law said were unclean, would have been a pious Jew’s “ultimate degradation”—worse than being “forced into begging, thievery, or even prostitution.”
No parent would choose such devastation for his child. But it may be good news and a reason to not run to the far country to save your child. When the prodigal experienced want, when he came to the end of himself—his own strength, his own plans, his own devices, his own friends--only then was he ready to head for home.
David Sheff’s son became lost in the Far Country of Drugs. But from his journey through his lengthy nightmare, he learned how to help lost children: “I would not in any way help someone using drugs to do anything other than return to rehab. I would not pay their rent, would not bail them out of jail ..., would not pay their debts, and would never give them money.” If we "rescue" a Prodigal from living and eating with the pigs, he may never make the journey Home where a feast awaits him.
Sheff came to realize that he could not rescue his son: “I am confident that I have done everything I could do to help Nic. Now it’s up to him. I accept that I have to let him go and he will or will not figure things out.” Some people must learn the hard way that life’s kicks have kickbacks.
2011/05/09
The Prodigal Son: Part 2
The Lure of "Far Countries"
The Prodigal was enraptured by the promise of the far country. And surprisingly, Dad gave this impudent son his future inheritance—He divided his living between them. Why would Dad give in to his son when he certainly could have predicted the tragic results? As Norman Cox has written, there “comes a time when fathers can no longer protect their children from themselves.” Dad knew that this boy would have to learn hard truths the hard way. One of those truths is that far countries “always turn out more and more like home the longer you stay there.... People are people the world over. If they cut your throat on Wall Street, they will skin you alive in Hong Kong. If they don’t appreciate you in Podunk where they know you, they certainly won’t appreciate you in Paris where they never saw you before. At home the young son was at least the son of his father. In the far country he was only a foreign yokel ripe for fleecing.”
How many of us have felt the pull of the far country—a new city, a new job, a new church, a new spouse? I know a woman in a troubled marriage whose friends wanted to navigate her to a destination called RELIEF. The ports-of-call on this cruise sounded lovely: Peace, Freedom, New Start, New Husband. But in the same way that cruise brochures conveniently leave out some destinations: Sickness, Stormy Seas, Cramped Accommodations, her friends description of Relief failed to mention that she would also dock at Distressed Children, Loneliness, and Financial Stress. Though her friends’ advice promised to remove her pain and offer a quick solution, she discovered that she had been duped. She was believing the “lies of Satan rather than the harsh but redemptive truths of God.” When she was willing to listen, God showed her that her marriage’s problems were not terminal, that her husband was not solely at fault, that with God’s help and hard work she could save her marriage.
The Prodigal was enraptured by the promise of the far country. And surprisingly, Dad gave this impudent son his future inheritance—He divided his living between them. Why would Dad give in to his son when he certainly could have predicted the tragic results? As Norman Cox has written, there “comes a time when fathers can no longer protect their children from themselves.” Dad knew that this boy would have to learn hard truths the hard way. One of those truths is that far countries “always turn out more and more like home the longer you stay there.... People are people the world over. If they cut your throat on Wall Street, they will skin you alive in Hong Kong. If they don’t appreciate you in Podunk where they know you, they certainly won’t appreciate you in Paris where they never saw you before. At home the young son was at least the son of his father. In the far country he was only a foreign yokel ripe for fleecing.”
How many of us have felt the pull of the far country—a new city, a new job, a new church, a new spouse? I know a woman in a troubled marriage whose friends wanted to navigate her to a destination called RELIEF. The ports-of-call on this cruise sounded lovely: Peace, Freedom, New Start, New Husband. But in the same way that cruise brochures conveniently leave out some destinations: Sickness, Stormy Seas, Cramped Accommodations, her friends description of Relief failed to mention that she would also dock at Distressed Children, Loneliness, and Financial Stress. Though her friends’ advice promised to remove her pain and offer a quick solution, she discovered that she had been duped. She was believing the “lies of Satan rather than the harsh but redemptive truths of God.” When she was willing to listen, God showed her that her marriage’s problems were not terminal, that her husband was not solely at fault, that with God’s help and hard work she could save her marriage.
2011/04/20
The Prodigal Son: Part 1, What Is Freedom?
The son of a wealthy rancher came to his father with a demand:
The father in my account asked a good question: "What is freedom?" Is it a “life without limits”? An unrestricted life would be like driving a car without any road rules—Demolition Derby here we come! Proper limits actually increase our freedom. I feel free to drive my car on the highway because I know most drivers will obey laws like: “Drive on the right side of the road.”
Peter Kreeft has written that God’s laws are the fence He puts up near life’s cliffs. I welcome a fence when I am standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon—it is for my protection. Though I still have the freedom to blast through it or leap over it, the predictable result will be a shattered body. The rules in the Prodigal's household were a blessing to that young man. He began to be in want after he fled to the far country.
God’s laws, then, are designed to shelter us. When a couple refuses to wander sexually, it gives them a more satisfying sex life (as surveys show repeatedly.) When a person refuses to manipulate others, he delights in healthy relationships. When a leader rejects enthroning himself, he will find joy in serving others. There is a moral current to this world. You have the freedom to paddle upstream. But is that freedom?
“Dad, give me my share of your estate.”This essentially is the opening of the Biblical story of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15). In the Biblical account: (a)the son wanted his inheritance—Father, give me the share of property that belongs to me. (b)The father gave him his share!—So he divided his living between [his two sons]. (c)The son split—Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took his journey into a far country.
“But son, I haven’t died yet.”
“So what? I still want you to cash in your IRA and your insurance policies, sell your stocks, and give me my share of the money.”
“But son, where are you going?
“Someplace a whole lot better than here.”
“But, son, what is your hurry?”
“Dad, you haven’t let me experience the world. How can I become my own man while I am living under all these binding rules? I need freedom!"
“But son, what is freedom?”
The father in my account asked a good question: "What is freedom?" Is it a “life without limits”? An unrestricted life would be like driving a car without any road rules—Demolition Derby here we come! Proper limits actually increase our freedom. I feel free to drive my car on the highway because I know most drivers will obey laws like: “Drive on the right side of the road.”
Peter Kreeft has written that God’s laws are the fence He puts up near life’s cliffs. I welcome a fence when I am standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon—it is for my protection. Though I still have the freedom to blast through it or leap over it, the predictable result will be a shattered body. The rules in the Prodigal's household were a blessing to that young man. He began to be in want after he fled to the far country.
God’s laws, then, are designed to shelter us. When a couple refuses to wander sexually, it gives them a more satisfying sex life (as surveys show repeatedly.) When a person refuses to manipulate others, he delights in healthy relationships. When a leader rejects enthroning himself, he will find joy in serving others. There is a moral current to this world. You have the freedom to paddle upstream. But is that freedom?
2011/03/07
Gardening the Soul: The Harvest, 8
Special Times and Seasons
Late summer is watermelon time in Texas. Young Allen Lacy asked his granddaddy why they couldn't eat it all year round. This elderly man's thoughtful reply was:
We have watermelons because the Good Lord saw fit to give us watermelons. It was one of the better things He did, and special things need special times and seasons. God gave Texas a little more heat than most places just so that our watermelons would be the best on earth. It's a blessing, but the last thing in the world we need here in Texas is a few more months of heat, just for the sake of more watermelon.
Unfortunately, most grocers are not bound by "times and seasons"—I can buy peaches any month of the year. But how does a January peach taste that was picked green in South America, trucked to a port, shipped to a U.S. port, trucked to a warehouse and, finally, delivered to my grocery store? What do you think?! It is either stone hard or mushy soft. After dozens of disappointments, this fool is learning to resist the false hope of non-seasonal fruit. I now spend my money on fall apples, winter citrus, spring asparagus, summer peaches.
The challenge in life, too, is to enjoy seasonal fruit. Solomon claimed: There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven. (Eccl.3:1) Are you a parent of young children? Then enjoy the sweet taste of morning snuggling and bedtime reading, of candid conversations and corkscrewed reasoning, of trusting spirits and untrustworthy emotions. That delicate fruit will soon be gone. Don't crave a child who uses the toilet and sleeps through the night and carries on a rational discussion (which won't happen until they are 40!).
We South Dakotans joke that we have two seasons—winter and road repair! And both provide abundant ammunition for complainers. A number of years ago Cathy and I recognized that we were habitually crabbing about our bleak winters. "Why does it have to be so cold?" "I don't think spring will ever come." "These icy roads are horrible!" "I'm so tired of being cold; I can't wait to be hot." "Why would anyone choose to live here?!"
Stabbed by prisoner Paul's claim that he could be content in any and every situation, we sought to enjoy the season of winter. We bought cross-country skis. We put a wood-burning fireplace in our new home. We spend time with friends more frequently. We bundle up most winter days—if the snowdrifts aren't too high or the wind-chill too low—and hike with our dog. Our goal is to embrace the slower pace of winter. While the garden and other warm-weather activities lie dormant, we have more time to read, reflect, converse, write.
Do you find yourself in poverty? Are you going through a season of poor health? Have you recently become empty-nesters? When our boys were young it was a challenge to get them to taste new food. "Com'n. Try a little taste. You'll like it." Maybe our heavenly Father is coaxing his kids in the same way. "Com'n. This season's fruit is superb. Won't you try a bite?"
Late summer is watermelon time in Texas. Young Allen Lacy asked his granddaddy why they couldn't eat it all year round. This elderly man's thoughtful reply was:
We have watermelons because the Good Lord saw fit to give us watermelons. It was one of the better things He did, and special things need special times and seasons. God gave Texas a little more heat than most places just so that our watermelons would be the best on earth. It's a blessing, but the last thing in the world we need here in Texas is a few more months of heat, just for the sake of more watermelon.
Unfortunately, most grocers are not bound by "times and seasons"—I can buy peaches any month of the year. But how does a January peach taste that was picked green in South America, trucked to a port, shipped to a U.S. port, trucked to a warehouse and, finally, delivered to my grocery store? What do you think?! It is either stone hard or mushy soft. After dozens of disappointments, this fool is learning to resist the false hope of non-seasonal fruit. I now spend my money on fall apples, winter citrus, spring asparagus, summer peaches.
The challenge in life, too, is to enjoy seasonal fruit. Solomon claimed: There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven. (Eccl.3:1) Are you a parent of young children? Then enjoy the sweet taste of morning snuggling and bedtime reading, of candid conversations and corkscrewed reasoning, of trusting spirits and untrustworthy emotions. That delicate fruit will soon be gone. Don't crave a child who uses the toilet and sleeps through the night and carries on a rational discussion (which won't happen until they are 40!).
We South Dakotans joke that we have two seasons—winter and road repair! And both provide abundant ammunition for complainers. A number of years ago Cathy and I recognized that we were habitually crabbing about our bleak winters. "Why does it have to be so cold?" "I don't think spring will ever come." "These icy roads are horrible!" "I'm so tired of being cold; I can't wait to be hot." "Why would anyone choose to live here?!"
Stabbed by prisoner Paul's claim that he could be content in any and every situation, we sought to enjoy the season of winter. We bought cross-country skis. We put a wood-burning fireplace in our new home. We spend time with friends more frequently. We bundle up most winter days—if the snowdrifts aren't too high or the wind-chill too low—and hike with our dog. Our goal is to embrace the slower pace of winter. While the garden and other warm-weather activities lie dormant, we have more time to read, reflect, converse, write.
Do you find yourself in poverty? Are you going through a season of poor health? Have you recently become empty-nesters? When our boys were young it was a challenge to get them to taste new food. "Com'n. Try a little taste. You'll like it." Maybe our heavenly Father is coaxing his kids in the same way. "Com'n. This season's fruit is superb. Won't you try a bite?"
2011/02/21
Gardening the Soul: The Harvest, 7
The Expectations of the Harvest
One seed catalog described several varieties of the same vegetable: "adds zest to salads," "most astonishing," "out-standing tenderness," "bursting with flavor and nutrition," "distinctive flavor." Which exotic vegetable were they describing? The green bean! All these tinseled descriptions make it difficult to know what a mature garden looks or tastes like.
Many of us are no less ignorant of the flavor of a mature relationship. Mildred Walker's novel, Winter Wheat, tells the story of Ellen Webb—the only child of her American father and her Russian mother. While attending college, Ellen fell in love with Gil, a young man who came to her farm home for a summer visit. But after a shortened stay, he bolted home. When mom tried to comfort Ellen, Ellen exploded, blaming her parents’ marriage for Gil’s departure:
Mom explained that she had deceived her father. But it was only because she was seventeen, in love, and had already lost all of her family during World War I. Though Ben was upset by her deception, his love wouldn't allow him to hold a grudge. Mom looked at Ellen and sighed: “Yolochka, you don't know how love is yet."
What does a healthy marriage look like? a healthy friendship? Many of us hold a ripe friendship in our hands but don't recognize it because it has a few blemishes. As Jesus agonized over his date with the cross, he confessed to his disciples, Peter, James and John: "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death." As he strained to obey the Father's will, he im-plored his friends to keep watch and pray. But his friends promptly fell asleep--not once, not twice, but three times! How many of us would hang onto friends who snored through the crisis of our lives? Though certainly disappointed, Jesus knew his friends' hearts: "The spirit is willing, but the body is weak." All mature relationships have frequent failings.
One seed catalog described several varieties of the same vegetable: "adds zest to salads," "most astonishing," "out-standing tenderness," "bursting with flavor and nutrition," "distinctive flavor." Which exotic vegetable were they describing? The green bean! All these tinseled descriptions make it difficult to know what a mature garden looks or tastes like.
Many of us are no less ignorant of the flavor of a mature relationship. Mildred Walker's novel, Winter Wheat, tells the story of Ellen Webb—the only child of her American father and her Russian mother. While attending college, Ellen fell in love with Gil, a young man who came to her farm home for a summer visit. But after a shortened stay, he bolted home. When mom tried to comfort Ellen, Ellen exploded, blaming her parents’ marriage for Gil’s departure:
"I'm not like you, Mom, so I'd do anything to get a man to marry me!” Mom looked at me so blankly it made me all the angrier. “Don't look as though you didn't know what I was talking about. I know how you tricked Dad. I overheard you the night after Gil left. I know he married you and took you to America because you told him you were pregnant. And when he knew you weren't going to have a child it was too late. He was married to you, and he was too honorable to go away and leave you." I couldn't seem to stop. I watched my words fall like blows on Mom's face.
"And you've gone on all these years hating each other. Gil felt that hate. He could tell just being here. That's one of the things that drove him away from here, from me." I almost choked on my own words. I guess I was crying. Mom was still so long I looked up at her. All the color had gone out of her face, except in her eyes. She shook her head. "You don't know anything, Yelena. In our church if baby is not christened we say she go blind in next world. I think you go blind in this world—blind dumb! She stopped and then went on slowly. "No, Yelena, I never hate Ben `an Ben don't hate me. I love him here so all these years!" Mom touched her breast and her face broke into life. Her eyes were softer, "Me hate Ben"! She laughed.
Mom explained that she had deceived her father. But it was only because she was seventeen, in love, and had already lost all of her family during World War I. Though Ben was upset by her deception, his love wouldn't allow him to hold a grudge. Mom looked at Ellen and sighed: “Yolochka, you don't know how love is yet."
What does a healthy marriage look like? a healthy friendship? Many of us hold a ripe friendship in our hands but don't recognize it because it has a few blemishes. As Jesus agonized over his date with the cross, he confessed to his disciples, Peter, James and John: "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death." As he strained to obey the Father's will, he im-plored his friends to keep watch and pray. But his friends promptly fell asleep--not once, not twice, but three times! How many of us would hang onto friends who snored through the crisis of our lives? Though certainly disappointed, Jesus knew his friends' hearts: "The spirit is willing, but the body is weak." All mature relationships have frequent failings.
2011/02/03
Gardening the Soul: The Harvest, 6
A Bitter Harvest
Haggai was sent by God to ask the Jews to reflect on their puny harvest:
"You have planted much, but have harvested little. You eat, but never have enough. You drink, but never have your fill. You put on clothes, but are not warm. You earn wages, only to put them in a purse with holes in it." (1:5f)
Why were these frustrated people troubled by the proverbial “hole in the pocket?” God explained: "What you brought home, I blew away. Why? Because of my house, which remains a ruin, while each of you is busy with his own house." (1:9f). As the Jews returned from captivity in Babylon (6th century B.C.) and began the rugged task of rebuilding their wrecked nation, they became consumed with their own homes. They had gone beyond providing shelter—they now lived in “paneled houses” while God's house lay unfinished and unusable. As a result of this lengthy neglect of their spiritual duties, God sent a bitter harvest as a warning.
These procrastinators, though, had an excuse: "the time has not yet come." How often have we puckered up our lips from bitter fruit but told God, "The time has not yet come." We taste the pungent fruit of a depressed child but say, "I know he needs more of my time, Lord, but I've got this new job." Or we taste the hard, unripe fruit of a chilled heart toward God and say, "Lord, I know I have been ignoring you, but I’ll get started after the holidays.” Or we taste the bitter fruit of marital conflict but promise to seek help when our child’s hockey season is over.
The perfect time never comes. Make plans TODAY to tackle an issue you know God wants you to deal with.
Haggai was sent by God to ask the Jews to reflect on their puny harvest:
"You have planted much, but have harvested little. You eat, but never have enough. You drink, but never have your fill. You put on clothes, but are not warm. You earn wages, only to put them in a purse with holes in it." (1:5f)
Why were these frustrated people troubled by the proverbial “hole in the pocket?” God explained: "What you brought home, I blew away. Why? Because of my house, which remains a ruin, while each of you is busy with his own house." (1:9f). As the Jews returned from captivity in Babylon (6th century B.C.) and began the rugged task of rebuilding their wrecked nation, they became consumed with their own homes. They had gone beyond providing shelter—they now lived in “paneled houses” while God's house lay unfinished and unusable. As a result of this lengthy neglect of their spiritual duties, God sent a bitter harvest as a warning.
These procrastinators, though, had an excuse: "the time has not yet come." How often have we puckered up our lips from bitter fruit but told God, "The time has not yet come." We taste the pungent fruit of a depressed child but say, "I know he needs more of my time, Lord, but I've got this new job." Or we taste the hard, unripe fruit of a chilled heart toward God and say, "Lord, I know I have been ignoring you, but I’ll get started after the holidays.” Or we taste the bitter fruit of marital conflict but promise to seek help when our child’s hockey season is over.
The perfect time never comes. Make plans TODAY to tackle an issue you know God wants you to deal with.
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