Longingly

Longingly

But Lot’s wife looked back as she was following behind him, and she turned into a pillar of salt.   (Gen. 19:26)

The Sunday school teacher had just finished her lesson from Genesis about how Lot's wife looked back and turned into a pillar of salt. The teacher then asked if anyone had any comments. Little Jeremy raised his hand. "My mommy looked back once when she was driving and she turned into a telephone pole!" Ouch.

Lot. He sat there at the gate of the city, watching the sun as it started its descent over the rooftops of the skyline; watching as it slowly sank into the western horizon. Typical events that had become the trademark for this town had made this a day pretty much like all the others.

Passing across his desk that day had been the notes and complaints of some city residents: one who thought that recent night-life arrests were, perhaps, a bit over the top; a few disturbing the peace complaints; and a reminder from his wife that, in a few weeks, he needed to book the band and the banquet hall for his two daughters’ upcoming weddings. Frankly, he wasn’t too thrilled with his future sons-in-law, and he had tried to talk to his daughters about his concerns. But both of them just laughed him off. Love, right?

And his wife. What was up with her, anyway? It seemed like all she thought about lately was getting ahead of the neighbors. And he couldn’t recall the last time he’d even seen her open her Bible – well, other than Sunday mornings at church.

Church.  Now that was another interesting topic.  Attendance was dropping almost every week.  In fact, someone told him after church one Sunday, “You know, at this rate, it won’t be long before there’ll be fewer than 10 of us here.” Great.

Twisting the lid on his Evian, memories of his childhood came flooding back. The hurriedness of that evening; the huddled relatives; the hushed conversations.  He knew dad was sick, but not that sick! And then his uncle came, and with a tear in his eye and a catch in his throat, told him, “Your daddy’s gone, son; you can live with me.” He’d suffered his share of hard knocks, alright. But through it all, he’d seen his uncle’s love for not only him, but for God, too.

He remembered the day his uncle had given him his first herd of cattle. “All yours,” he said.  “Make yourself successful, boy!” And, by all indications, he’d done exactly that. Soon, one herd bred another, and another until – before long – his livestock company was thriving.

And then came the time when his uncle brought him in for the “talk.” Yep. The time had come to part ways and, being the great uncle he’d come to expect, the decision was given to the nephew to take his pick of the land. So, he said goodbye to his uncle, aunt and cousins and moved to the “Big City.”

It didn’t take long either until he’d been voted on the City Council.  And then the Mayor’s spot was up for election; he’d won by a landslide. And then he spotted her. Wow, what a looker! And for her? Well, finding out he was a millionaire didn’t hurt in becoming the wife of the Mayor.

So the wedding was planned, the years had passed and they’d been blessed with two beautiful girls – the apple of their daddy’s eye. But now, sitting there on the bench by the gate, he wiped away a few tears. God, the church, his wife, his girls, the city … it seemed as if he were losing them one by one.

Oh, the economy was fine. In fact, construction was booming and people seemed happy.  But the church, his relationship with God, his family’s relationship (especially with his wife), it almost seemed, well … non-existent. “We really do need to get recommitted this year,” he muttered to himself.

And that’s when the angels appeared. They told him to leave the city with his family. But when he told his family about what the angels had said, his future sons-in-law thought he was an idiot.  But by dawn the next morning, the angels were insistent. "Hurry," they said. "Take your wife and your two daughters and get out of here. Now!"

When Lot still hesitated, the angels seized his hand and those of his wife and two daughters, and rushed them to safety outside the city.  "Run for your lives!" the angels warned. "Don’t stop anywhere in the valley. And don’t look back. Go to the mountains, or you will die."

The sun was rising as Lot reached the safety of the village. Then the Lord rained down fire and burning sulfur from the heavens. Sodom and Gomorrah were utterly destroyed, along with the other cities and villages in the plain. All life – people, plants and animals – was eliminated.  But Lot’s wife, following behind, looked back and turned into a pillar of salt.

What a bizarre story.  I mean, a woman, wife of the millionaire mayor of the town, runs away from a doomed city, looks back, freezes in her tracks and dies. Honestly, doesn’t it sound like something you’d see on the Sci-Fi channel?

She belonged to an extraordinary family, and was a shirt-tail relative to Jesus. She shared their faith, and her name was probably on the membership list at church; maybe she even headed up the ladies’ small group. (Having Abraham as an uncle, and Lot as her husband, I think it’s pretty fair to assume that she was a woman who had a knowledge of God)

But something had happened.  Somewhere along the way, she’d gotten to the point where Sodom was living in her, not the other way ‘round. And Sodom was such a wicked city that it stank to high heaven.  Yet this woman, perhaps even a one-time member of the Board of Directors at her church, had fallen in love with Sodom despite her religious exposure.

But even then she wasn’t alone.  Uncle Abraham probably prayed for her and Lot and the kids every night. Even God remembered her address so that when the day of ruin was to come, God sent His messengers to her house! And she couldn’t say that she hadn’t been warned – she’d been given the unique opportunity to escape. But despite a visitor from heaven warning her to get outta Dodge, she still failed. How? How could she come to such a horrible end when she’d been warned? Here’s a few ideas.

I don’t think she failed because of unbelief. When the angels came and gave their warning, she believed them. Scripture doesn’t say that she laughed at them, or teased them, or even made fun of them. No, her belief, in fact, had put her in the very small minority of an entire city and she responded to the message.  Granted, we don’t find a lot of enthusiasm, but at least she acted. In fact, she did what her husband did – she lingered.  Life and promise was waiting for her at the top of the hill, while death was pressing in at her ankles. But, she lingered.  Curious.

But she was determined to cling to Sodom just as long as she could. In fact, even the angels had to grab her by the hand and rush the family to safety outside the city. Sound familiar? Maybe we’ve lingered until the best years of our life have slipped away, or so we think.  Maybe we’ve lingered until the world’s grip is so strong that even when we try to move toward God it seems virtually impossible.  Albeit reluctantly, at least Mrs. Lot made a start.

Maybe the wrong was not so much in the looking back part. Maybe it was more what the look represented: a will unwilling to completely surrender to God. Mrs. Lot may have looked back because she was still in love with Sodom – even though she was running away.  Life was calling her from the hills, but Sodom was screaming from the plain. She was torn. She looked back.

Divided hearts rob us of joy. Oh, the warning was clearly given to her: destruction was coming in the morning. And with that kind of warning you’d think that she would’ve been running faster than her rescuers. But her heart was divided.  Sodom didn’t look all that bad, and in wrestling with the two choices – Sodom or safety – her joy had slipped away.

It’s funny how split affections can slow our progress. Mrs. Lot’s divided heart slowed her forward progress.   Remember, she looked back from behind Lot. It doesn’t take long for a divided heart to fall behind. It cripples our walk; it weakens our power; it diminishes our prayer life; it flounders our devotional time to the point that it’s obvious by our walk that we’re crippled and can’t keep up.

Can you see the struggle? Her struggle. Every step becomes slower than the last.  The others are racing to freedom with God, while Mrs. Lot? Watch her. She’s slowing and then she stops. She hears, “Go back. Turn around. That’s where all your friends are. That’s where all the good times are.”  But in the other ear, she hears, “Keep going. Climb the mountain. Better days are ahead.”

Self says, “Don’t go forward.” God says, “Get moving.” Do you see her standing at the point of decision? She even hears the roar of destruction and feels the heat through her sandals. It’s decision time now, Mrs. Lot.  But one last time her divided heart says, “Don’t worry. It’ll be OK. Just turn around and go back home.” So, she looks back and becomes a pillar of salt. No second chance; no next church service; no nothing.

Looking back is a step toward going back. Jesus said, "No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God." (Luke 9:62) When we look longingly upon our past, it deprives us of the gift that is today. (that's why it's called the present!) It deprives us of joy and keeps us from progress. And, if we're not careful, it could cost us our lives.

Jesus said, "Remember Lot's wife." (Luke 17:32) Pretty good advice, I think.  

                                                                     Grace,

Randy

Depressed

Depressed

Ahab reported to Jezebel everything that Elijah had done, including the massacre of the prophets. Jezebel immediately sent a messenger to Elijah with her threat: "The gods will get you for this and I'll get even with you! By this time tomorrow you'll be as dead as any one of those prophets."

When Elijah saw how things were, he ran for dear life to Beersheba, far in the south of Judah. He left his young servant there and then went on into the desert another day's journey. He came to a lone broom bush and collapsed in its shade, wanting in the worst way to be done with it all—to just die: "Enough of this, God! Take my life — I'm ready to join my ancestors in the grave!" Exhausted, he fell asleep under the lone broom bush.(1 Kings 19:1-4)

Depression. Oh, we may call it "the blues," or maybe just "a slump," but it’s all the same, really. Regardless of what you call it, depression is the most widespread form of emotional illness. It’s kind of like the common cold of emotional disorders. In fact, in a study of more than 11,000 individuals suffering from depression, clinicians found depression to be more physically and socially disabling than arthritis, diabetes, lung disease, chronic back problems, hypertension, and gastrointestinal illnesses. In fact, the only medical problem that was more disabling was advanced coronary heart disease. Ouch.

And there seems to be this stigma that’s attached to depression. You know, don’t you? Where a some of us think that if a person is in a close relationship with God then they’ll never be depressed. Right? Well, that’s a lie, because the truth is that there’s gonna be days, weeks perhaps, maybe even seasons when you wrestle with depression. But that doesn't mean you’re a bad person, or an ungodly person. It just means you’re like the Velveteen Rabbit – you’re real. (The Velveteen Rabbit is a story about a stuffed rabbit and his quest to become real through the love of his owner. It’s a great read, and only 40 pages!)

You see, plenty of people in the Bible suffered from bouts of depression: Moses, Jeremiah and Job, just to name a few. Even contemporary figures like Martin Luther and Charles Hadden Spurgeon suffered from depression – Spurgeon to the point that he was absent from the pulpit for two to three months during a year. The point is, Christianity isn’t an inoculation against depression.

Elijah was God's prophet during a time in the life of the nation of Israel when its rulers were leading the people to worship the false gods of Baal and Asherah. So, to discipline the Israelites and encourage them to turn away from their idols, God shut off the tap so to speak, and neither dew nor rain fell on the land for three years. The result? Yep, a severe famine. And, at the height of the drought, Elijah challenged King Ahab and his false prophets to a public contest on the top of Mt. Carmel to demonstrate both the power of God, and the weakness of Baal and Asherah. Two bulls were chosen for the contest. Elijah sacrificed one to God, and the false prophets sacrificed theirs to their idols. The contest was to see whose god was capable of sending fire to consume the bull that lay on the altar.

So, the 850 false prophets went first. They tried from early morning until late in the afternoon to get their god to respond. They ranted and raved and cut themselves to get his attention – all to no avail. Then it was Elijah's turn. He had barely ended his prayer when God answered by sending fire to consume not only the bull that Elijah had drenched with water, but the stone altar, too.

The wide-eyed Israelites responded in true belief and worship and fell to the ground confessing that Yahweh, alone, was God. With that, Elijah commanded that the 850 prophets of Baal and Asherah be seized and executed according to the law of God recorded in Deuteronomy 7. Having finished off the false prophets, Elijah prayed that God would now end the drought. And God did after Elijah had told Ahab that he’d better hot-foot the 17 miles back to Jezreel to avoid the approaching downpour.

Of course, when Ahab arrived at his summer palace in Jezreel, he was pretty pumped. And as he entered the palace he called for Queen Jezebel to tell her about what had happened. But the story about the power of the living God, the fire from heaven, and the thunder and rain that came after Elijah prayed? Well, all that was drowned out when the king got around to mentioning the elimination of 850 of Jezebel's prophets. Jezebels response? She put a contract out on Elijah’s life, effectively raining on Ahab’s parade, not to mention Elijah’s. And Elijah’s response? He ran. A lot. Some 115 miles, all the way to Beersheba where he left his servant. And then he continued another day's journey into the Negev (desert) where he pulled up under a juniper tree and begged God to take him out.

Wow. Ever felt like that? Like life has gone so sideways, so upside down, that it’s just not worth it anymore? That there’s not a soul out there who cares? The truth is that life’s full of ups and downs; you can count on that. In fact, it seems like after every down there’s an up, and after every up there’s a down. Life’s just not one long joy ride that keeps getting better and better. No, there are mountains and valleys, and Elijah had just climbed the Mt. Everest of his prophetic life. And when we have great times of accomplishment and joy in life, we should learn to anticipate the inevitable lows that will occur, like the one that hit Elijah. But depression is not a “pit.” Think of it more like a “tunnel,” because as soon as we enter depression, we’re already on the way out.

We make ourselves especially susceptible to depression, however, when we take our eyes off God. Remember when Elijah heard Jezebel's threat? What’d he do? He ran in fear. He took his eyes off God, took one look at Jezebel and literally ran right into the pits of despair. But why? Hadn’t Elijah just sat ring-side and seen one of the greatest victories in his life? Yep. But when Jezebel promised to end his life 24 hours later, Elijah forgot all about God’s victory. The guy took his eyes off the power of God and focused, instead, on Jezebel and her soldiers. Result? Despair. So, when life's inevitable problems approach, keep your eyes on God. If you don’t, you open the door of your heart and mind to depression which will pull up a chair and make itself at home. Instead, dwell on God's greatness and remember all the ways that He has been faithful to you. Even keep a journal, if it helps.

But this depression thing is not just mental; physical stress can cause emotional stress, too. Just prior to the onset of his depression, Elijah had put his body through incredible physical stress: he’d run over 100 miles without stopping. He was physically exhausted. And prior to his quintuple marathon, Elijah had just put in a full day of exhausting ministry on top of Mt. Carmel and then ran another 17 miles ahead of the King’s chariot to beat the raindrops! So, his depression was almost inevitable because physical stress can negatively affect our emotional health.

People involved in military intelligence have known this for years, and have used physical conditioning to change the emotional state of individuals. Some call it “brainwashing,” and it basically involves getting a person physically exhausted. For instance, they get you up at 1:00 a.m. and keep a light on so you can't sleep. Every hour, they wake you up and stand you in the middle of a room. They play loud, annoying music all hours of the night and day.

In other words, they focus on wearing you out physically until – mentally – you go to pieces. And that’s what happened to Elijah. Oh, he wasn't brainwashed, but he was physically worn out. And God knew that. In fact, the first thing God did to help treat Elijah's depression was to minister to his physical fatigue: God fed him fresh baked bread and cool water and then told him to sleep. And then He fed him again!

Sometimes that’s the most practical thing some of us can do when dealing with depression. We need to stop running ourselves into the ground. There's an old Greek proverb that says, "You will break the bow if you always keep it bent." In other words, if you're living under constant, relentless physical stress, you will eventually break under the pressure. You have to give yourself some time for rest and refreshment. And remember, too, that when your body becomes weak and ill, so does your spirit. In short, physical stress can cause emotional stress.

We’re also more susceptible to depression when we’re alone. Remember, Elijah went off by himself and sat under that juniper tree wanting to die, feeling like he was the only one left – that he was all alone fighting for God. Well, that’s how our natures work, isn’t it? When we get depressed and discouraged, the first thing we tend to do is get alone by ourselves. Not good. You see, loneliness is one of the greatest contributors to depression. When we draw into a shell and cut ourselves off from others, we naturally begin to feast on self-pity. But God didn't design us to live like hermits. He made us in such a way that life works best for us when we live in friendship and fellowship and community with others. That's why the church, the body of Christ, is so important, because that’s where we’re drawn together in love and mutual encouragement. We're meant to be a part of each other’s lives.

Elijah’s experience also demonstrates that when it comes to depression, “doing affects feeling.” In other words, idleness breeds despair. Sitting alone under a tree with nothing to do but focusing on his own problems simply made Elijah's despair worse. So, God got him out from under the tree, away from the pity party and put him to work. God told Elijah that he had a job to do – two (2) kings needed crowning, and he had his prophetic successor, Elisha, to appoint. So, when depression attacks, don’t go off somewhere by yourself and dwell on it. Instead, get your body moving because physical activity can be like good medicine for your emotions.

Here’s the point: our emotions can be rebellious at times. They don’t always take orders. They can easily ignore commands such as "Stop being angry," or "Don't feel sad," or "Be happy," like Bobby McFerrin used to sing. It’s difficult to control our emotions. But we can control our bodies. And forcing our bodies to do something that needs doing can have the effect of making us feel better.

Psychologist William James maintained that our emotions are closely connected to our actions. He said that when we’re afraid, it’s because we’re acting frightened, and that the way to no longer feel afraid is to do something fearless. I think there’s some truth to that philosophy. Martin Luther would agree with Dr. James, or maybe vice versa. Luther advised people with mild bouts of depression to ignore the heaviness. "A good way to exorcize the Devil," Luther maintained, "was to harness the horses and spread manure on the fields." In other words, get to work. Do something productive and you’ll feel productive. Doing affects feeling. God reminded Elijah to focus on the needs of others since there was an entire nation that needed his ministry. And that’s what Philippians 2:4 means when it encourages us to, ".... look not only to our own interests (needs) but also to the interests of others."

Dr. Carl Menninger once gave a lecture on mental health and was answering questions from the audience. Someone said, "Dr. Menninger, what would you advise a person to do if that person felt a nervous breakdown coming on?" Most people thought he’d say, "Go see a psychiatrist, immediately. Here’s my card." But he didn't. To the crowd’s astonishment, Dr. Meninger replied, "Lock up your house, go across the railroad tracks, find somebody in need, and help that person." In other words, get involved in the lives of other people.

God was compassionate in his treatment of Elijah. Far from criticizing Elijah, God allowed him to rest and not once, but twice sent an angel to feed him. We must be just as compassionate in our dealings with people who suffer from emotional upset, even when dealing with our own. We must have an underlying agreement with each other, and with ourselves, that the people who enter our lives don't have to have it all together in order to gain our acceptance. The truth is that we may think we have it all together, only to find out later that we forgot where we put it.

In a very real sense, every church is a hospital: a place where people can come to find healing. It's a place where people can honestly admit their struggles and find rest for themselves. Jesus said, "Come unto me all you who labor and are heavy ladened and I will give you rest." So, we should take seriously Paul's injunction when he says to "encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, and be patient with all men." (1 Thess. 5:14)

I guess you could say that there are two types of people in the world: people who are drowning in despair without hope, and those who’ve called out to God and experienced His rescue. Which group are you a part? David, in speaking about God, said that He would “… lift them out of the pits of despair … out of the mud and mire, and set their feet on the rock.” (Psalm 40:2)

We need to remind ourselves of that truth, and share it with a hopeless world. Who knows? It might just save a trip to the doctor.

Grace,

Randy

Self

Self

They traded the glory of God who lives forever for the worship of idols made to look like earthly people, birds, animals, and snakes....They worshiped and served what had been created instead of the God who created these things. (Rom. 1:23-25)

"Once there were five sons who lived in a mountain castle with their father. The eldest was an obedient son, but his four younger brothers were rebellious. Their father had warned them of the river, but they had not listened. He had begged them to stay clear of the bank lest they be swept downstream, but the river’s lure was too strong.”

"Each day the four rebellious brothers ventured closer and closer until one son dared to reach in and feel the waters. “Hold my hand so I won’t fall in," he said, and his brothers did. But when he touched the water, the current yanked him and the other three into the rapids and rolled them down the river." (Excerpted from In The Grip of Grace by Max Lucado)

In this story, four brothers are swept down the river, away from their father's home and into a strange land where savages live. At first they tried to return to their dad’s house by walking and climbing. That proved to be an impossibility. So, in an effort to keep the memory of their dad alive until he could come after them, they met each night around a campfire and told stories to each other about home.

Finally, one of the brothers leaves the campfire meetings, builds a hut in the valley of the savages and decides to simply forget about his father. Soon, a second brother deserts the camp and takes up a vantage point near his brother’s hut to keep track of his brother’s misdeeds among the savages. In other words, he became his brother's judge. Seeing the other brothers gone, the third brother leaves the fire and goes back to the river to stack rocks in the river to build a pathway back home to his father through his own efforts. The remaining brother waits, alone, by the fire.

Finally, the oldest brother shows up, sent by the father, to bring them all home. But the hut-building brother refused to go with him, insisting he didn't even remember his dad. The judging brother said he couldn't go because he had to stay and record the misdeeds of his hut-building brother. And the rock stacker refused to go, insisting he had to make up for his sin by building his own road home. Only the youngest brother was willing to allow his older brother to take him home – and he did.

You know, when you think about this story just a little bit, all four brothers who’d been swept down the river had the very same problem – a distance too great for them to cover had separated them from their father. And all four brothers had heard the same invitation – each had an opportunity to be carried home by their older brother. Yet, each of their responses was different and, in three cases, tragic.

The first said “No,” choosing to forget about his dad and to make a life on his own. The second said “No,” preferring to keep track of his ne’er-do-well brother rather than admitting his own need to come home. The third said “No,” determined to earn his father's forgiveness by his own hard work. The fourth said “Yes,” choosing his father's grace instead.

Do any of these brothers describe you? Maybe not. But if so, have you, like the fourth brother, recognized your helplessness to make the journey home by yourself? Will you allow the older brother, Jesus, to carry you home to your Heavenly Father? Or, are you like one of the other three sons? (It could just as well be daughters, too)

For instance, do you relate to the hut-builder? He traded his passion for the mountain castle for a love of the lowlands. Rather than aching for home, he settled for a cheap hut. The aim of his life, apparently, was pleasure. That’s the definition of hedonism, and that was the practice of this particular son.

You see, the hedonist navigates his life as if there is no father in his past, or his present, or his future. Oh, there may have been, somewhere in the remote past, a once-upon-a-time father. But as far as the here and now? The son chooses to live without him. Now, granted, there may be, in the far-away future, a father who comes to claim him. But as for today? Nope. The son will forge his life on his own. In other words, rather than seizing the future, he's perfectly content to seize the day.

I kind of think that Paul had this person in mind when he said, "They traded the glory of God who lives forever for the worship of idols made to look like earthly people, birds, animals, and snakes .... They worshiped and served what had been created instead of the God who created these things." (Rom. 1:23-25)

In short, hedonists make poor swaps; they trade mansions for huts, and their brother for a stranger. They exchange their father's house for a hillside ghetto and then send the son away. In Paul's day that was the majority of the Gentile world, and it’s not too hard for us today to understand why they don't usually make it back home.

The approach of the second brother was simple: "Why deal with my mistakes when I can focus on the mistakes of others?" He’s a “judgmentalist.” I may be bad, but I’m not as bad as THAT guy! This guy fuels his goodness with the failures of others. He is the self-appointed teacher's pet in elementary school. He tattles on the sloppy work of others, oblivious to the “F” he got on his own work. He's the neighborhood watchdog, passing out citations for people to clean up their act while never once noticing the garbage piling up in his own front yard.

"Come on God, let me show you the evil deeds of my neighbor," the moralist invites. But God won't follow him into that valley. And Paul, once again, makes that clear: "If you think you can judge others, you are wrong. When you judge them, you are really judging yourself guilty, because you do the same things they do." (Rom. 2:1) It's a shallow ploy, and God’s not gonna fall for it.

And then there’s the brother in the river. Ahhh, now here’s a guy we can respect, right? Hard-working; industrious; zealous; intense. He’s the fellow who sees his sin and sets out to resolve it by himself. Surely his efforts are worthy of our applause. Surely he’s worthy of our emulation. And, most definitely, he’s worthy of the father's mercy. Won't the father throw open the castle doors when he sees how hard this guy has worked to get home? With no help from the father, the legalist is tackling the odds and fording the river of failure. Surely the father will be happy to see him – if he ever does.

You see, the problem with this guy is not the affection of the father, but the strength of the river. What sucked the son away from the father's house in the first place was no gentle stream, but a roaring torrent. So the question is whether the son is strong enough to build an up-river path to the father's house? Doubtful. We certainly can't since, "(t)here is no one who always does what is right, not even one." (Rom. 3:10) But we try, don’t we? But rather than stacking rocks in the river (because that would be silly), we do good deeds instead. We think: If I do this then God will accept me. If I teach this class...and we pick up a rock. If I go to church...and we put the rock in the stream. If I give this money...another rock. If I read my Bible, have the right opinion on the right doctrine, join this movement ... rock upon rock upon rock.

The problem with this approach? You may take five steps, but you have five zillion to go. The river is just too long, and the current is much too swift to overcome. What separates us from God is not some shallow stream, but a tumbling, cascading, overwhelming river of sin – think Niagara Fall. We stack and stack and stack, only to find that we can barely keep our footing, much less make any progress. We can be a bunch of rock heads sometimes.

The impact on the rock-stackers, of course, is remarkably predictable: either despair or arrogance. They either give up, or they become stuck-up. They think they'll never make it, or they think they’re the only ones who'll ever make it. Strange, how two people can look at the same bunch of rocks and one hangs his head and the other puffs out his chest. Call the condition a religious godlessness. It's the theme behind Paul's brazen pronouncement, "We're sinners, every one of us, in the same sinking boat with everyone else." (Rom. 3:19)

Now, don’t get me wrong. Works are a natural outgrowth of our relationship with Jesus Christ – like fruit from a healthy tree. But it’s not because of what I’ve done, but because of who God is. And it’s not because of who I am, but because of what He’s done. God rewards those who seek him, not those who seek a doctrine, or a system, or works to justify themselves. It’s Christ’s death that provided our justification, not our works. (Rom 5:9)

Quite a trio, don't you think? The first is on a barstool; the second is in the judge's chair; and the third is sitting in a church pew. Though they may appear to be different, they’re very much alike. All are separated from God, and not one of them is asking for help. The first indulges his passions, the second monitors his neighbor like a Gladys Kravitz, and the third measures his merits like a Boy Scout. "They never give God the time of day." (Rom. 3:18)

Paul's word for this is godlessness. (Rom. 1:18) And the word pretty much defines itself: a life minus God. Worse than a disdain for God, it’s a complete disregard for God. Disdain at least acknowledges God’s presence. Godlessness doesn't. And where disdain will lead people to act irreverently, disregard causes them to act as if God were irrelevant.

And how does God respond to godless living? Not well. "The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all godlessness and wickedness." (Rom. 1:18) Paul's main point is not a light one. God is justly angered over the actions of his children – whether they be godless or wicked.

Frankly, the first few chapters of Romans are not exactly what you’d call “upbeat.” Paul gives us the bad news before he gives us the good news. He will eventually tell us that we are all equal candidates for grace, but not before he proves that we are all desperately sinful. We have to see the mess we’re in before we can appreciate the God we have. It’s not a popular view these days, but before presenting the grace of God, we must understand and appreciate his wrath that will bring about our destruction without Jesus Christ.

So, which of these brothers best describes you? Maybe none of them. On the other hand, maybe you’ve recognized your helplessness to make the journey home by yourself. Or, are you like the other three who indulge their passions, scrutinize their neighbors or measure their merits? Self-satisfaction; Self-justification; self-sufficiency. Do you see a pattern here? Yep, they all have one word in common: self.

So, if you find you’re like one of these three musketeers, try God instead. He’s the savior, and he can save you in spite of your self.

Grace,

Randy