They're Just Words

"Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me"

Children often respond to the taunts of their peers with lyrical retorts of their own. Successful rejoinders not only insult their opponents but also disarm the previous litany of words. It's a deft strategy similar to the ones superheroes use to stop a would-be assassin’s bullets. Sure, the assailant gets the shot off, but the impact is blunted.

The problem with this strategy, however, is that it’s grounded on a fallacy. The children say that the words are insignificant, but we all know that's not true. Someone once took the response and made it more accurate by acknowledging the impact words can have. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can break my heart." We want to believe that words are just words, that they have no significant to our lives and that they can be quickly disregarded. However, having been stung by the pain of someone else's words, we all know that this is simply a wish that remain unfulfilled.

However, there are times when words are just words. Not in the sense that the children on the playground mean it, but in the sense that the words are apt, appropriate, and are the words that should be spoken at the time. Often times we hate to hear these words of justice, words that show are insufficiency in comparison to God's perfection, words that reveal that sin that prompts our actions. Sometimes, words uncover that which we want to remain hidden, but just like the judge issues a just pronouncement of a criminal's sentence, words can also be used to reveal the just punishment of God that we all deserve.

The good news is, that the words Christ said on the cross were not "You are guilty", but "it is finished." He paid in full the penalty for the wrongs that we committed. These words were anything but insignificant. They are the proclamation of our salvation. They signify that our punishment has been paid by another. It was a travesty of justice, and a pronouncement of grace. They weren't just words, but they were the triumph of a Savior.

You're Gonna Pay for It

In a time of bailouts, loan motivations, and foreclosures, the questions of who is liable when a debt is incurred if often a muddied one. For many, it may seem self-evident that the person who incurred the debt is also the person who should pay it, but we have seen many instances lately where this is no longer the case. Debt forgiveness, subsidy, and acts of Congress has modified that once clear-cut connection.

However, the poor economy is not the only culprit in this lopsided equation. Recently, I heard a message from Steve Lawson at the Resolved 2008 conference (for information on the 2009 conference, click here). In it, he articulated the biblical point that every sin demands a payment. The question is not whether or not sins will be paid for, the question is who will bare the cost.

It was a point that this Sunday School graduate had probably never considered to its fullest extent. It is easy to think of the fact that Christ has made my sin "white as snow" than to realize that the only way He was able to do this was to exchange my righteousness for His (for a great sermon on this topic, click here - March 1, 2008, Mike Fabrez). Because I accept Christ it doesn't mean that my sin is no longer accounted for, it means that the penalty for it has been poured out on Christ. It's just as if I accepted my own personal bailout for the debt I've incurred against God. When I accept Christ as my Savior, I in effect tell the Lord of this Universe that "I recognize the guilt of my sin and I'm accepting your payment for it." To do so lightly or without a recognition of the costs to the King, is a perversion of the awe and magnitude of Christ's grace.

However, this transaction also recognizes something else. When I say to Christ that I accept His payment for my sin, I also recognize that I am unable to make reconciliation on my own. To ever attempt to do so through the paltry offer of my good works, would be like offering monopoly money on the national debt. It's not only inadequate, its not even the right type of currency.

Added Value

In my field (marketing), there's a concept called "added value." It's the idea that its no longer possible to build a better mousetrap, therefore an organization's job is to find a way to deliver unexpected value to their customers. So maybe you can't build a better mousetrap, but you can give your customers a lifetime warranty for the mousetrap you can build. That warranty becomes an added-value.

(Quick sidebar - this example also demonstrates poor strategy because a warranty is an easily replicated value added and therefore does not help the organization differentiate themselves in their customers' minds. I put this caveat just in case a student ever reads this.)

A lot of time, Christians also approach life with a value-added mentality. We believe that Christ alone saves us, and yet we seek to add add our own source of justification. With one mouth we claim Christ's blood and we cling to our good work. We say He's paid for us in-full, and yet we worry about our heavenly balance sheet. Scripture however is clear that we can never add any value to what Christ has done. Our righteousness is "like filthy rags" (Is. 64:6) therefore we can never depend on them to aid in our cleanliness. We must rely totally on the blood that makes us "white as snow" (Is. 1:18). There is nothing we can do to add value to that.

Saved

Researchers will tell you that one of the noteworthy things about Generation X is that they grew up in a world of security. Conversely, the Millennial Generation, those born after 1982 were the ones who grew up in the shadows of September 11th. Instead of having security from a world that was free of wars, their security was imposed upon them by their parents, who sacrifice at all costs to keep their children away from harm. This can most laughably be seen in Little League rules in which all children are declared winners (which remarkably also makes all children losers) so as to not malign their fragile self-esteem. Since I'm of the opinion that a little humility actually helps make us better human beings (and future employees) you can guess what I think of this contrived security. Its an illusion, and at some point in the future those kids are going to realize it, and instead of having a way to deal with the uncertainty of life, they are going to be left ill-equipped and desolate.

Despite an ability to comment on this deficiency in others, I've been lax at noticing it in my own life. However, as only God's Word can, a familiar passage reminded me that I too am in danger of imposing a false security. The passage was Matthew 16:24-25 "Then Jesus said to his disciples, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it." (NIV) Reading this passage before I always thought that Jesus was identifying Himself as the only means of salvation; commending His disciples to the truth that they can not provide themselves eternal life. And maybe He was, but additionally I think He was showing us that we tend to want to keep our lives for ourselves. Just like the parent wants to provide barriers to any real or perceived harm towards their child, we like to provide our own barriers of excuses for doing what God wants. We want to save our lives to, as Frank Sinatra might say, "do it our way." Its not only that we might think that salvation comes through our own works, but we might believe the lie that its our life and we can do with it what we want. Christ says we can, but that's the surest way to lose that life in the end. The only way to gain real life, is to give our life up for Him.

Parents want to save their children from pain. We want to save ourselves from the same. Because following Christ is never easy and we think if we can justify our reluctance to do what He's called us to that somehow have things our way and His. But that's a malicious heresy. We only get one life. Its our decision whether we save it or we let Him.

The Gamble

On a recent trip to Las Vegas to visit some friends, we walked through the casinos. It amazes me every time I'm there to see the commitment that people maintain to their game. I think its more amazing because its my understanding that some of these individuals can remain committed to little else. After all, Las Vegas isn't exactly known for its reputation of promoting long-term relationships.

Every individual who is sitting at a table (or at a machine as the case may be) is making a wager that through the random distribution of cards (and in poker, their own strategic intelligence) they will be able to win more money than that which they bet. It's a wager that few win. After all, there's a reason the buildings in Las Vegas are so big and bright and its not because the house has a tendency to lose. Its a gamble that has caused much destruction as people have wagered their lives to vie for its fulfillment.

There is another wager that's happening on a regular basis. It's the gamble that people take when they choose to acknowledge that they know about God and yet they are not sure whether they want to follow Him. Along with countless hours at the table, its a proposition that I don't completely understand. I believe wholeheartedly that God reveals Himself who those who seek Him, but there are those who, while acknowledging His presence refuse to obey His precepts. The admitted Creator of the world is pursuing a relationship with them, and they are rebuffing His attempts.

The gambling industry in Las Vegas causes the lost of money, of time, of marriages, and at the extreme, of life. With God, the wager is your soul. Is the ability to feel like you're living life you're own way really worth that bet?

The Lessons of the Cross

One of the great things about being a teacher is that you are not required to come up with any new ideas. Unlike an inventor who must break the mold of conventional thought, a teacher appropriates wisdom for where it can be found and shares it with their audience in a way that hopefully speaks to them where they live. Most of what I write here is not original to me. It's lessons I've learned from others, reformatted to hopefully share the same truth in a different light.

I write all this as a disclaimer because what I'm about to share is the result of listening to someone else. In a recent sermon the pastor of our young adults ministry shared that if you want to learn about Christ, look to the Cross. The Cross is a practical example of every aspect of Christ's character; His love, His justice, His mercy, and His grace are all on display at the Cross. The pureness of His holiness and its complete incompatibility with our sin is conclusively related on the Cross. Our equality before God as sinners is shown in the fact that one payment was made for all. God's receptivity to prayer, His completeness forgiveness for those that call Him Lord and Savior, and His abolition of the legal requirements for salvation are all shown through His sacrificial death on the Cross.

And so when we say that our job as Christians is to "take up the Cross" maybe we shouldn't think of it as just an obligation to bear the burdens of persecution and the perceived inconvenience of living to God's standards and not our own. Maybe we should see it as a call to display all these attributes of Christ, wherever we go.

An Unaffordable Love

A good friend of the family taught me that relationships were like bank accounts; you may deposits and you make withdrawals. The key is to not make a greater withdrawal than the accumulation of the deposits you make. That's when problems emerge. The example she gave resonates with me still today - if she asked her daughter to do something and got a snappy response in return she knew that she was overdrawn. In one way or another, the balance had been altered.

We tend to approach our relationship with God in the same way. We think that if we make enough deposits that we're entitled to withdrawals. This is the "well, at least I'm not as bad as that guy" mindset. However, when we think about the deposit that's made been on our account - the selfless sacrifice of a Father who gave his Son on our behalf and a Son who willingly left His rightful place in heaven to pay that sacrifice - we realize that no amount of deposits can restore the balance. We are deeply in His debt. His love can't be purchased and if it could, its price none of us would be able to afford.

The even more amazing part of this equation is that on an account that I can never pay off, the things that I do out of love for Him, the acts of faith, are "credited" to me as righteousness. No payment satisfies the bill and yet we are given credit. What an amazing grace indeed.

The Difference in Death

For a long time, I've thought death as the leveling of the playing field. After all, when we are no longer part of this world superficial distinctions will no longer matter. We all stand the same before the throne of God; we're all sinners in need of His grace.

I've come to see however that death is also one more area in which the difference between us and Christ is demonstrated. (Or at least I think it is. This is one of those times that I think a theology degree would be helpful.) For all of us, death is the time that we meet God. Sooner or later, "every knee will bow and every tongue confess" (see Romans 14:11) and each of us have to give an account before God for our lives. We stand before the throne upon our transition from this Earth.

Jesus, however, had the throne all along. Instead of meeting God in death, He was forsaken by Him. We have the opportunity to be restored, He was destroyed. He was abandoned, yet as believers, we finally come home.

The differences between Christ's life and our are only too readily apparent for anyone who is honest. Isn't it interesting that the same is true in death?

Very Christian

In talking with my mom, I once described a lady we both knew as "very pregnant." Questioning my terminology, my mom made the accurate point that you either are or are not pregnant - its not something that is given degrees of existence. She was right, but I continued to use the phrase. After all, I wasn't trying to describe the existence of the life inside of the woman - the fact that she was pregnant indicated that it was there. I was trying to describe the level of visible evidence for it.

I was reminded of this little story by a quotation I read from Nicole Richie. In describing her recent habit of picking up crucifixes and wearing them around her neck, she confessed that she got them from her boyfriend, Good Charlotte singer Joel Madden, who she described as "very, very, Christian." Leaving aside the thoughts on wearing religious jewelry as a fashion accessory, I was still taken aback by her words. After all, just as my mom had pointed on to me about pregnancy, with Christianity you either are or you aren't. Jesus doesn't leave much room for in between (See Rev. 3:16.)

Although I still think my initial reaction was the right one, I also think that there is something to the description. After all, maybe Miss Richie and others use the phrase similarly to how I was. Maybe saying someone is "very, very Christian" is an indication of the level of visible evidence for their commitment. One can argue with how that evidence is interpreted, but you its hard to argue with its existence.

Found

One of my favorite things to share with people is that, growing up, I got in more trouble at church than I did anywhere else. It wasn't because I was doing things that were necessarily bad - as my friends can attest I'm pretty compliant and tend to follow the rules. It was because I had no problem questioning what my youth pastors said. Looking back, I'm sure I was their worse nightmare. Most of the them were probably younger than I am now, and I was this junior high kid who wanted to debate their biblical interpretation (or lack thereof.) Not a one of them saw this as an opportunity; they all just wanted me to get with the program, their program. Somehow I don't think my unwillingness to do so won me any friends (and despite my self-righteousness, I'm thinking I didn't win too many heavenly jewels either.) Hence, the rather frequent lectures and reprimands.

The follies of our youth can sometimes follow us into adulthood, and I found myself in a similar situation recently. In an after-Bible study discussion, we were talking about the parables of the "lost" - the lost coin, the lost sheep, and the lost son. Our pastor made the point that the story wasn't about the lost ones finding their protector, it was about the protector finding the lost. Hence, the refrain "I found God" isn't accurate; more aptly "God found me." Although the debate was minimal (I don't like to think I was ever lost to God), I think his point is probably the right one (and even if I didn't, he has two master's degrees to back it up.) Our Father is actively seeking our restoration. He's removing barriers, overturning lampstands, and celebrating our admittance into His kingdom. He's orchestrating ways for us to experience His grace. His greatest act of pursuit was sending His Son to bring the lost ones home. As with the coin, sheep, and prodigal son, there is nothing that we did to precipitate this. The action rests with Another.

The good news is that in each of the parables, that which was lost was being restored to its proper position. In the same way, our heavenly Father desires us to be restored into right relationship with Him. And even today, all the lost still has to do is to accept the restoration.

No Judgment

I have a friend with whom I have a common refrain "no judgment." It came about as way to express that whatever happened, we could always talk about it. Regardless of what choices that were made, or the consequences that would be suffered, it was my way of saying that I wouldn't make a value assessment. I would show love and leave the judgment to someone else. As a result my friend remarked to me once that he knew regardless of what happened or what was said, we'd be friends. Even though we didn't state it explicitly, we both knew that the choice to love trumped any unforeseen circumstance.

What works on Earth in terms of this one friendship, has application on the other side of glory too. As Christians we know that everyone will be judged. God is very clear on that. Whether its giving an account for every careless word (Matthew 12:36) or the revelation of that which was hidden (I Cor. 4:4-6) we know that there is an appointed time for each to stand before the throne and review our life deeds. Much like the defendant giving his allocution, we will have to confess that for which we should be condemned and announce our guilt.

However, there is one thing that we have that a plea-bargained defendant doesn't. The justice that judgment demands has already been satisfied. Not only are we saved from having to undergo the punishment of our sin, Someone else has suffered on our behalf. For those of us who have grown up in the church, its sometimes easy to think to we've escaped punishment, but we haven't. No condemnation doesn't mean no consequences. Someone else has chosen to accept our condemnation instead; the punishment has still been merited out, but on the innocent rather than the guilty. We are not condemned, but the demands of justice must be satisfied.

The lack of judgment in my friendship doesn't mean that the bonds aren't tested when wrongs are committed. But it does mean that regardless of what happens, we have committed to remain friends. In a similar way, for those of who have accepted Christ, it doesn't mean that He doesn't acknowledge our acts as right or wrong, but is does mean that regardless we're proclaimed innocent in His perfection, and holy before His throne.

Counted Cost

I have a friend who says I think too much. Although I would like to argue with him, I know that he's probably right. I do think too much. I'm the girl who will make back-up plans on what to do if the plans we are making fall through. I'm also the girl who will put your birthday in my calendar as soon as you tell me when it is to make sure I don't forget it. I consider the consequences of even my hypothetical actions. It short, my friend has a very valid point. I count the costs - maybe sometimes a bit too much.

Sometimes, however, I think we approach life in the opposite way. We think we should abandon plans in order to live for the moment. Sometimes, maybe especially so, this is true in Christian circles. We hear that we need to be abandoned to Christ and that sounds an awful like we should follow Him without consideration of the consequences. And while I agree that we should follow Him regardless of the outcomes, it doesn't mean we need to go into it with our eyes wide shut.

I recently heard a preacher share that Jesus went to the cross and didn't even consider the cost. I don't think that's the case. The anguish and grief that He experienced in Gethsemane were because of the cost that He was going to pay. He knew full well that death meant separation from His Father. He anticipated the pain that our sin was going to bring upon Him. Its not that He went to the cross without considering the costs. He counted the cost - and went anyway.

I hope that in at least some small way I live my life accordingly; that I know the sacrifice that God asks of me, and I make it willingly.

Serious Freedom

I tend to be a pretty serious person. I don't say a whole lot (unless I'm tired) and I'm awfully introspective. Although I love to laugh, I tend to view life through some pretty straight-rim glasses. When I was younger, my parents were concerned that this was cause for some concern, but as I got older they realized this is just who I am.

What most people don't expect that although I take life pretty seriously, I will do almost anything for a reaction. Whether its sipping ketchup through a straw, eating a whole bowl of butter or nearly licking the bottom of my friend's foot, I think its fun to do what's unexpected. And outside of causing myself or others harm, I'm game for almost anything.

The reason for this seemingly incongruous disparity is that I take the freedom I have to be the person I want to be very seriously. Although I'll do things for a reaction, I won't do things thoughtlessly. I appreciate the fact that who I am to become is determined by my actions, and I try never to lose site of this.

I think its similar in our relationship with Christ. He has given us freedom, but some treat this freedom flippantly. The freedom we have in Christ is a serious matter because it determines the extent to which we will use by Him. When we take it seriously, we have the ability to love with abandon, pursue Him with passion, and to give generously. When we don't, we float on the wings of complacency.

Freedom allows us to be the person God wants us to be . .if we take it seriously.

Freedom is thrust upon us, and we must take it whether we
will or not. Happiest is he who takes it most completely and
most joyfully, but also most seriously and with the deepest
sense of its dangers.
... Phillips Brooks (1835-1893)

The Death of a King

It was a moment I'll never forget. I had traveled to England for work and decided to stay a few extra days to be a tourist. For someone who had previously hated traveling, this was a big adventure. On my own, out of the country, with absolutely no plan.

As I strolled the streets of London, I was in awe of the city. At that time, I had never experienced what it was like to be in a place where you could walk for miles and see nothing but activity. I was alone, yet surrounded by people. I was one of the masses enjoying the mysteries of modern life.

And then I came to the castle. Buckingham Palace to be exact. The flag was up – the sign that the Queen was in residence. Unlike most tourists, I had decided not to take the tour and to this day, I have no clue what the palace looks like on the inside. But it didn't matter. I was dumbfounded. And for a girl who's not easily impressed, this was a moment of magic.

As I stared the flag, it hit me. This was their queen. And the palpable air of respect permeated my surroundings. Being raised in America, I'm used to public officials being elected. The Queen hadn't been elected; she was born into her position. I could no sooner ascend to her place than I could learn to fly. No desire, no volition, no action on my part could make us equal. She was the Queen; I was not.

Maybe it was the majesty of the moment, but it was only then that I realized the significance of saying that Christ, our King, had died for us. If I were an Englander, I would not be able to imagine a circumstance in which the Queen would choose to give her life for mine. But this is what the Heavenly King did. He gave up His birthright of royalty, to pay my penalty. What an Earthly queen could never be compelled to do, our Heavenly King did willingly on our behalf.

I still think I'm far from grasping the significance of that act. I think people who are familiar with a heritage of royalty probably have a better appreciation for it. But as I think back, I'm grateful for the night spent at the steps of the Queen. It helped prepare me for an eternity at the King's feet.