Monthly Archives: February 2006

A walk in the dark

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“When the shofar bleated its call to prayer, I snapped into consciousness. At that moment I knew the ‘study’ was complete, and the ‘learning’ was just about to begin.”

That I was in Israel at all was amazing. What I was so deep in thought about was whether I had learned anything from the twists and turns of life that preceded my being there. In those few moments, the issue of daily faith came to mind, “do I really trust God?” I could hear Jesus telling the disciples, “oh, ye of little faith.” Then, there was the question of God’s will. That verse in Psalm 106 haunts me, “he gave them their request; but sent leanness into their soul.” That was me—weak in faith, without a clue about God’s will on whether I should go to Israel or not.

In the beginning, I didn’t want to go. There are many pleasant memories from each trip, but the “whole of Greece” in 2004 was like perpetually falling in a dark hole. I wasn’t ready to possibly encounter similar anxiety. In addition, the church’s situation had changed since the last time. For weeks, I wanted to say something. This may be hard to believe, but every time I started to, there was always a more urgent “crisis” of one kind or another. The urgent was a tyranny, and always one step ahead of me.

By the time I had resolved whether I wanted to go, it had become clear that I didn’t think I could go. While the cost of the trip was covered, there were customary costs and, for the first time, additional expenses for which I would need to be responsible. This may be hard to believe, but while I was trying to figure out the how and where of these funds, unrelated to the trip, I brought upon myself fees that I have never paid before in my life. I detest paying unnecessary fees, especially exorbitant charges generated by (my) stupidity. They are both humbling and especially repugnant. I avoid them at all cost. It may appear that I am saying this light-heartedly, but this situation was a burden. Maybe now you understand why Matthew 11:28-30 was especially meaningful to me a couple of weeks ago. My solution was to throw out a fleece to God. I looked to one of my Christian heroes, George Mueller, as an example, not for fleece-throwing, but for patiently waiting and trusting God to provide. If God provided, without my telling others about my “need,” then I would be assured that going to Israel was His will for me.

The day before the airline tickets were purchased, I had to admit that I couldn’t go. God hadn’t provided, at least in the way I was expecting, and I didn’t see how I could afford it. This may be hard to believe, but I thought that in having made a definite decision not to go I would be at peace—no more tension, no more confusing thoughts. But I wasn’t at peace and neither were the Rigsbys. Donna telephoned, “are you sure you don’t want to go?” It’s not that I don’t, but that I didn’t see how I could go. “Oh my, we misunderstood.” They didn’t misunderstand. I didn’t communicate clearly. “Oh my, we have given your ticket away.” Immediately, and for the first time in a month, I was at peace—God’s will was perfectly clear.

That peace lasted one day. I answered the phone. “Do you want to go? There is a way, but we have to know right now.” This may be hard to believe, but with opportunity once again knocking on the door, I was just as perplexed, this time for a different reason, most generally related to (my own sinful) pride. I bought another forty-five minutes. I answered the phone. “My heart says ‘yes,’ my head says ‘no.’ I’m still not convinced this is the right decision, but I will go.”

At the Western Wall that night, I wondered “why all the drama?” One very positive result from this trauma was that another Talbot professor and his wife traveled with us. Would they have been asked to go had I not been perplexed? I wish I could tell you that there was also some tangible “I just feel like something good is about to happen” result in me. Isn’t that what faith is all about? It’s not always easy to recognize the work that Jesus Christ finished and is perfecting in and through us. This may be hard to believe, but after uttering that final, almost reluctant “yes,” the assurance of God’s will and peace returned. And, as it was needed, God provided “just enough” faith for the journey and the money to get me there (and back).

Why didn’t I remember what Paul said about living the Christ-like life? “We walk by faith, not by sight.” I guess I forgot that some of the time our faith-walk may seem more like a walk in the dark.

Did I learn anything? Yes! When your Walk with Christ goes through dark places, stay close to the light and enjoy the journey. I didn’t like the dark part (because I was too far from The Light?), but I most certainly enjoyed the trip that followed.

Come to Me

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“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30).

How well you know Jesus’ invitation to enter into relationship with Him. For centuries, and even today, this saying has consoled all who hear and believe. I am intrigued as to why this was said. Did you ever wonder why Jesus made this statement? An adequate answer requires some background on the structure of the book of Matthew.

Matthew’s book begins with the presentation of Jesus as the promised King (chapter numbers are in parentheses). He elaborates on Jesus’ genealogy (1), gives details of His miraculous birth (2), relates that the forerunner identifies through water immersion this “Jesus” as the “Christ” (3), and proves His sinlessness in the encounter with the Adversary (4). Then the prospective King speaks, proclaiming the new lifestyle for His people. Jesus’ teaching is often called “The Sermon on the Mount” (5-7). After this, our familiarity with the structure of Matthew’s book ends. That’s unfortunate, because Matthew’s pattern is not difficult to follow. Now that the King has spoken, Jesus verifies His words by his works. In rapid succession Matthew recalls ten miracles as proof that Jesus Christ has authority over all—creation and creature (8-9). The next section includes Jesus’ invitation, “come unto me…” (11-16). Here Matthew presents the response of several persons to Jesus’ offer to accept His position as King. You know the life of Christ—He was repeatedly rejected.

What is astounding is the one Matthew identifies as first rejecting Jesus. Do you know who headed the list? Some believe Judas Iscariot because he betrayed Jesus. Good guess, but wrong. Others suggest Simon Peter because he denied knowing Jesus. Another excellent, but erroneous, answer. The first to initially reject Jesus as the promised Messiah was John the Baptist (11:2-15). Are you surprised? John the Baptist expressed his rejection by asking, “art thou he that should come, or do we look for another?” You would think that John the Baptist—the “forerunner of the Christ” and his own cousin—would remain faithful. Before his tragic end, I am sure John the Baptist received from his disciples the answer Jesus gave to them, and no longer doubted. Who among any believer has not—at one time or another—doubted (and in a sense “rejected”) whether Jesus really is God become human?

The rejection of Jesus didn’t end with John the Baptist’s doubts. Jesus lamented that His own generation rejected Him (11:16-19). Then the [residents of the] three cities that conveniently heard Jesus teach and saw most of the miracles within their borders were condemned (11:20-24). By comparison, Jesus’ childhood home, Nazareth, is still a functioning city. But Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum (sometimes called “the evangelical triangle”) are extinct. Why? Because they refused to believe that Jesus was the promised Deliverer. They had an enviable position. They had ample opportunity. But they failed to fulfill the responsibility that came with the greater privilege. What does their rejection of Jesus say about us? We have even more advantage than they had.

On a human level, to be rejected by those closest to Him must have hurt Jesus tremendously. Yet, Jesus responds in a way that none could have anticipated. Instead of becoming bitter over their decision—He prays. Who but Jesus “turns the other cheek,” praising His Father for perfecting and completing His will (11:25-27)? Will we ever cease to be surprised by Jesus’ unexpected responses?

It is at this time, under these circumstances, just when the people need him the most, that Jesus utters, “come unto me.” Instead of becoming their King, he extended his hands and arms and offered to become their Savior. In His invitation to “come unto me,” He offered to bear the weight of their sin and satisfy the demands of God’s righteous Law. His invitation would not be limited to a nation, because He offered himself to everyone who would come believing He is who He says He is and did what He said He would do.

Since that time, with His work complete, Jesus still invites individuals, like you and me to come to Him. Around the world, one by one, individuals respond, “oh, Lamb of God, I come, I come.”