Your History Doesn't Have to Be Your Future

 

Your History Doesn’t Have to Be

Your Future

Your History Doesn't Have to Be Your Future - Audio/Visual 

Let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. (Romans 12:2)

I hope you had a happy childhood – a time when your parents kept everyone fed, safe and secure. I hope your dad came home every day, your mom tucked you in every night and your siblings were your best friends. But if that doesn’t describe your childhood, you’re not alone. Even the most famous family tree in the Bible had a family fungus. Adam accused Eve. Cain killed his little brother. Abraham lied about Sarah. Rebekah favored Jacob. Jacob cheated Esau and then raised a bunch of hoodlums. The book of Genesis is a family disaster. And then there was the technicolor dreamer.

Joseph didn't deserve to be abandoned by his brothers. Granted, he wasn't the easiest guy to get along with since he boasted about his dreams and tattled on his siblings. He certainly deserved some of the blame for the family friction, but he didn't deserve to be dumped into a pit and sold to gypsies for pocket change. The perpetrators were his ten older brothers. These eleven sons shared the same dad, dinner table and playground. His brothers were supposed to look out for him, but they didn’t. Joseph's next of kin were way out of line. And his father? Well, Jacob was simply way out of touch. The patriarch could have used a course or two on marriage and family to help him avoid some of his mistakes.

Mistake number one: he married a woman he didn't love so he could marry the one that he did. Mistake number two: the two wives were sisters. The first sister bore him sons; the second sister bore him none. So, to expand his clan, Jacob slept with an assortment of handmaidens and concubines until he had a bunch of kids. Rachel, his favorite wife, finally gave birth to Joseph who became his favorite. Rachel later died giving birth to a second son, Benjamin, leaving Jacob with a contentious household and a broken heart. As a result, Jacob’s coping mechanism was to simply check out. When Joseph bragged to his brothers about their bowing down to him, Jacob stayed silent. When Jacob got wind that his sons had taken the sheep to graze near Shechem, the spot of a prior conflict, did he spring into action to correct them? No, he sent Joseph to come back with a report. In other words, Jacob sent a son to do a father's job. Obstinate sons. Oblivious dad. The brothers needed a father. The father needed a wake-up call. And Joseph needed a protector. But he wasn't protected; he was neglected, instead.

He landed in a distant, dark place. Initially, Joseph chose not to face his past. By the time he saw his brothers again, Joseph had been prime minister for nearly a decade. He wore chains of gold around his neck. He bore the king's seal on his hand. The coat of many colors had been replaced with the royal robe of the king. The kid from Canaan had come a long way. Joseph could travel anywhere he wanted, yet he chose not to return to Canaan. Assemble an army and settle the score with his brothers? He certainly had the resources. Send for his father, or at least send him a text? He'd had more than eight years to set the record straight. He knew where to find his family, but he chose not to contact them. He kept family secrets a secret – untouched and untreated. Joseph was content to leave his past in the past. But God was not because restoration matters to God.

The healing of the heart involves the healing of the past. So, God shook things up. “All countries came to Joseph in Egypt to buy grain, because the famine was severe in all lands." (Gen. 41:57) And in the long line of folks appealing for an Egyptian handout, look what the cat drug in: "So Joseph's ten brothers went down to buy grain in Egypt." (42:3) And Joseph heard them before he saw them. He was fielding a question from a servant when he detected the Hebrew chatter. Not just the language of his heart, but the dialect of his home. The prince motioned for the servant to stop speaking. He turned and looked, and there they stood. Those Hebrew dudes stuck out in sophisticated Egypt like The Beverly Hillbillies in Times Square.

When their time came to ask Joseph for grain, they didn't recognize him. It never occurred to them that they were standing in front of their baby brother. Thinking the prince couldn't understand Hebrew, the brothers spoke to him with their eyes and gestures. They pointed at the stalks of grain and then at their mouths. They motioned to the brother who carried the money, and he stumbled forward and spilled the coins on the table. When Joseph saw the silver, his lips curled and his stomach turned. He had named his first-born Manasseh, or “God Made Me Forget,” but the money made him remember.

The last time he saw coins in the hands of his brothers they were laughing and he was whimpering. That day in the pit he searched those same faces for a friend but found none. And now they dared to bring silver to him? Joseph called for a Hebrew-speaking servant to translate. Then Joseph scowled at his brothers. "He acted as a stranger to them and spoke roughly to them." (42:7) The brothers fell face-first in the dirt, which brought to Joseph's mind a childhood dream. Joseph glared at them. " I don't believe you. Arrest these spies.” At that, the ten brothers spoke at once: "You've got it all wrong. We belong to the same family. There are twelve of us in all; well, at least there used to be. 'The youngest is now with our father, and one is no longer living.'" (v. 13) Joseph gulped at the words. This was the first report on his family he’d heard in twenty years. Jacob was alive. Benjamin was alive. And they thought he was dead. "Tell you what," he snapped. "I'll let one of you go back and get your brother and bring him here. The rest of you are going to prison." And with a nod of his head, they were marched off to jail – perhaps the same jail where Joseph had spent at least two years of his life.

The gruff voice and harsh treatment. The jail sentence. We've seen this sequence before with Joseph and his brothers, only the roles are now reversed. On the first occasion they conspired against him; this time he conspired against them. They threw him in a hole and ignored his cries for help. Now it was his turn to give them the cold shoulder. What’s going on? Well, I think Joseph was trying to get his bearings. This was the toughest challenge of his life; the famine, by comparison, was easy. Mrs. Potiphar he could resist. Pharaoh's assignments he could manage. But this mixture of hurt and hate that surged when he saw his own flesh and blood? Joseph didn't know what to do. And maybe you don't either.

Your family failed you. Your early years were hard ones. The people who should have cared for you didn't. But, like Joseph, you made the best of it. You've made a life for yourself. Even started your own family. You’re happy to leave Canaan in the rearview mirror. But God isn't. He gives us more than we request by going deeper than we ask. He wants not only our whole heart; he wants our heart whole. Why? Because hurt people hurt people.

Why do you fly off the handle? Why do you avoid conflict? Why do you seek to please everyone? Do your tendencies have something to do with an unhealed hurt in your heart? God wants to help you for your sake, and for the sake of your posterity. Suppose Joseph had refused his brothers? Washed his hands of the entire mess. God's plan for the nation of Israel depended upon the compassion of Joseph. A lot was at stake here. And there’s a lot at stake with you, too. Yes, your family history has some sad chapters, but your history doesn't have to be your future. You don't have to give your kids what your ancestors gave you. Talk to God about the scandals and scoundrels. Invite him to relive the betrayal with you. Bring it out in the open because revealing leads to healing.

Don't just pray, “Lord, help me to forgive my father.” Unearth the details: “God, Daddy never wanted to be a part of my life. He didn't even come to my birthday parties. I hated him for that.” Or, “Every day I came home from school to find Mom drunk, lying on the couch. I had to make dinner, take care of baby brother and do homework on my own. It's not right, God!” Difficult for certain. But let God do his work. The process may take a long time. It may take a lifetime. Family pain is the deepest pain because it was inflicted so early and involves people who should have been trustworthy.

You were too young to process the mistreatment. You didn't know how to defend yourself. Besides, the perpetrators of your pain were so big. Your dad, mom, uncle, big brother? They towered over you – usually in size, but always in rank. When they judged you falsely, you believed them. All this time you've been operating on faulty data: "You're stupid . . . slow . . . dumb like your daddy . . . fat like your mama . . . ." Decades later these voices of defeat still echo in your subconscious. But they don't have to. "Let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think." (Rom. 12:2) You are not who they said you were. You are God's child. His creation. Destined for heaven. You are a part of his family. Let him set you on the path to reconciliation. Joseph did.

The process would prove to be long and difficult. It occupies four chapters of the Bible and at least a year on the calendar. But Joseph took the first step, and after three days he released his brothers from jail. He played the tough guy again. "Go on; get back to Kansas or wherever you came from. But I want to see this kid brother of yours. I'll keep one of you as a guarantee." They agreed and then, right in front of Joseph, the brothers rehashed the day they’d ditched him: "Then they said to one another, 'We are truly guilty concerning our brother, for we saw the anguish of his soul when he pleaded with us, and we would not hear; therefore, this distress has come upon us.'" (Gen. 42:21)

They didn’t know that the prince understood Hebrew. But he did. And when he heard those words, Joseph turned away so they couldn't see his eyes. He didn't speak for a few moments, lest the lump in his throat turn into sobs unbecoming Egypt’s second in command. He stepped into the shadows and wept when he learned that his brothers hadn't forgotten about him. And when he sent them back to Canaan, he loaded their saddlebags with grain and returned their money. And with that small act, the healing began. And if God healed that family, he can heal yours, too.

Grace,

Randy

Wrestling with God

 

Wrestling with God

Wrestling with God - Audio/Visual 

During the night Jacob got up and took his two wives, his two servant wives, and his eleven sons and crossed the Jabbok River with them. After taking them to the other side, he sent over all his possessions. This left Jacob all alone in the camp, and a man came and wrestled with him until the dawn began to break. When the man saw that he would not win the match, he touched Jacob’s hip and wrenched it out of its socket. Then the man said, “Let me go, for the dawn is breaking!” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”

“What is your name?” the man asked. He replied, “Jacob.” “Your name will no longer be Jacob,” the man told him. “From now on you will be called Israel, because you have fought with God and with men and have won.” “Please tell me your name,” Jacob said. “Why do you want to know my name?” the man replied. Then he blessed Jacob there. Jacob named the place Peniel (which means “face of God”), for he said, “I have seen God face to face, yet my life has been spared.” The sun was rising as Jacob left Peniel, and he was limping because of the injury to his hip. (Genesis 32: 22-30)

Jacob was a pretty shady character. He pulled up his tent stakes and left with his family in the middle of the night. Even his name in Hebrew means “cheater,” or “schemer.” But a life-changing experience transformed him into a new person, and he became Israel – the man after whom an entire nation would be named. And after that experience Jacob was never the same. It’s an encouraging message. It’s a message that says we don’t have to stay in the rut we’re in because God will help us change. We just have to let him.

We know from the story that Jacob had a long wrestling match with an angel and that the angel was struggling. It was a no-win situation for them both. By daybreak, the angel had tired because it was a contest he couldn’t win; it was a struggle beyond his control. And when God wants to change us, he may just get our attention by putting us in a frustrating situation that is completely beyond our control – perhaps to the brink of exhaustion. God uses those experiences to get our attention because we’ll seldom change until we get completely fed up with our current situation; until we get uncomfortable, maybe even miserable. Because when we’re uncomfortable and miserable enough, we’re finally motivated to let God do something in our lives. That’s why, at least for some of us, we turn to prayer as a last resort because we’ve exhausted all the other alternatives without success. For most of us, we won’t change until our fear of change is exceeded by the pain of our circumstances.

By daybreak the angel asked to be let go, but Jacob refused: “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” (Genesis 32:26) Clearly, Jacob was committed, even persistent. Some might even say he was pretty nervy to ask for a blessing. Regardless, he stayed with the situation until he worked it out. Granted, it was a situation that he didn’t like – it was frustrating and exhausting. But he was committed to staying with it until God turned it around for good. And the lesson to be drawn from Jacob’s determination is that after God gets our attention with a problem or circumstance, he doesn’t always solve it immediately. He may wait a little longer to see if we really mean what we say.

I think a lot of us miss God’s best for our lives because we give up too soon. We cop out and get discouraged. When God allows a problem in our lives, instead of hanging in there and saying, “God, I’m not going to let go of this until you bless me and turn this thing around,” we give up and end up missing God’s best. If we really want to change, we need to remember that we didn’t get into our predicament overnight. Our attitudes, actions, habits and fears took months, maybe even years to develop, and sometimes God has to remove them layer by layer. So, it may take some time but whatever you do, don’t give up. There’s hope. Be committed to getting God’s best for your life.

As the wrestling match was drawing to a close, the angel asked Jacob, “What’s your name?” and he answered, “Jacob” (Genesis 32:27). Why the question? Did God forget to tell the angel about the name of the man in the ring? No, probably not. Maybe it was to get Jacob to acknowledge his character by forcing him to audibly state his name which was the equivalent of saying he was a “cheater,” or “schemer.” In other words, Jacob was put in a place where he had to confess the heartache he’d caused his brother by scheming him out of his inheritance, among other things. Maybe what the angel was asking Jacob was more like, “Who are you at your core? Does your character define you?” Jacob’s response was simple. “I’m Jacob,” i.e., a cheat and a conman. There’s a reason why at every AA meeting the participants introduce themselves by name and then, to all present, confess their addiction. Jacob admitted his weaknesses by being honest with the angel, and with himself. When he identified himself as “Jacob,” he was owning up to his flaws.

That’s an important part of God’s process in  changing us because we will never change until we honestly confront, and then admit our faults, our sins, our weaknesses and our mistakes. God cannot go to work on changing our lives until we admit that we have a problem. Like Jacob, we need to get to a place where we can say, “Lord, I’m in a mess. I have a problem, and the problem is of my own making.” It’s then that God can go to work.

Have you ever noticed how easy it is to make excuses for our problems? We’ve become experts at blaming other people for everything that’s wrong in our lives. “It’s not my fault, you know. It’s really the environment I was brought up in — my parents caused it.” Or, “The situation I’m in right now is all because of my boss.” Why do we do that? Because it’s hard to admit our faults, and scarier still to ask for help. But in confessing our faults to God, are we telling him something he doesn’t already know? When we tell God that we’ve sinned, it’s no surprise to him since he knew our problems all along. We confess our faults to him because he wants us to say, “You’re right, God, I have a problem and I need your help.” It’s humbling to admit our mistakes, but once we do God gives us all of his resources and power to help us change for the better. And the truth is that if we don’t learn that lesson now, we’ll end up learning it later on because God is going to teach it to us – one way or the other. We could save ourselves a whole lot of heartache if we would only respond properly when the crisis first presents itself.

God began changing Jacob as soon as he admitted who he was. And the change of scenery justified a new name for Jacob’s place of transformation: “Peniel,” meaning “the face of God.” (Genesis 32:30) Jacob had come face to face with God and was changed. God was saying to Jacob, in a manner of speaking, “Now we can get down to business. Just cooperate and trust me; I will change you. I will bless you.”

Notice what God didn’t say. He didn’t say, “Jacob, try really, really hard and use all of your willpower to become perfect.” God didn’t say that because that doesn’t work, and God knows it. He made us. Willpower cannot make permanent changes in our lives because willpower only attacks the outward circumstances, like losing weight or quitting a habit. It’s the internal motivation that makes the change permanent, and it’s the heart with which God wants to work.

God knows how to bring out the best in your life, and he knows how to do it better than you do. If you let him, God will use whatever is necessary to accomplish his goal because he doesn’t want you to waste your life. Take whatever situation is making you miserable, commit it to God and say, “God, I’m going to commit this to you. I’m going to hold on to you until you turn this problem around for good.” Then confess your shortcomings, cooperate with your Father, and watch his blessings flow.

The story concludes by telling us that “(t)he sun rose above him as he passed Peniel, and he was limping because of his hip.” (Genesis 32:31) During the wrestling match, the angel had dislocated Jacob’s hip to bring the struggle to an end. The result? The match came to a close alright, but Jacob walked with a limp for the rest of his life. This detail is important because that hip and attached thigh muscle is one of the most powerful bone/muscle combinations in the human body. It seems that when God wanted to get Jacob’s attention, he touched him at a point of strength. And sometimes our strengths are the very things that God may touch to get our attention because we frequently forget from whom we received that gift. As a result, God may have to touch that strength to get our attention.

Jacob often got himself into trouble because he was a cheater, and he often reaped the consequences. But before his encounter with God, every time he got himself into a mess he ran away from it. So, God said, “I know how to take care of that temptation — I’ll put a limp in his walk,” and never again could Jacob run away from difficult situations. For the rest of his life he would have to stand and face his problems — not in his own strength, but in God’s. God will often put an obvious weakness in the very people whom he blesses, and sometimes that weakness may be a physical condition.

Do you want God to change your life? He will, but in his own way. He will use the processes of crisis, commitment, confession and cooperation to do so. And when God does the changing, it will become permanent. You won’t have to worry about your willpower, or staying with it because you will be cooperating with God by relaxing and trusting in him. Maybe you’ve been limiting God by making excuses, blaming other people, or rationalizing your behaviors. It’s hard to drop the mask and say, “God, I have a weakness. I have a problem.” But until we do, things will simply stay the same. However, when we do, we’ll be changed for the rest of our lives.

God sees an Israel in you. He sees what you can become. He sees your potential. He wants to change you from a Jacob to an Israel. So let God change you; you’ll never be the same again.

Grace,

Randy

Jesus Is In The Hard Places

 

Jesus Is In The Hard Places

Jesus Is In The Hard Places (Audio/Visual) 

On his arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Now Bethany was less than two miles from Jerusalem, and many Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them in the loss of their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed at home. “Lord,” Martha said to Jesus, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.”

Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha answered, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?” “Yes, Lord,” she replied, “I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.”

After she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary aside. “The Teacher is here,” she said, “and is asking for you.” When Mary heard this, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet entered the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. When the Jews who had been with Mary in the house, comforting her, noticed how quickly she got up and went out, they followed her, supposing she was going to the tomb to mourn there.

When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. “Where have you laid him?” he asked. “Come and see, Lord,” they replied. Jesus wept. (John 11:17-35)

The white space between Bible verses is a very fertile place for questions. It’s kind of like a knot-holed fence that separates us from God’s pasture: we can get a peek at some of the pasture, but still not see the whole thing. Or, like a scrapbook of snapshots capturing people during encounters with God but not always recording the results. So, we wonder, “Why did God allow _____?” You can fill in the blank. Me? I’m going to a funeral today and asking that very same question.

There are no glib answers to that question. Questions with the words “Why” and “God” in the same sentence are difficult to answer because we’re caught between what God says and what makes sense. We’ve done what he’s told us to do, only to wonder if it was God talking in the first place. We’ve stared into a sky blackened with doubt and wondered if we’re still on the right road. We’ve asked if we were supposed to turn left when we turned right. And we’ve asked if there’s a plan out there somewhere because things really haven’t turned out the way we thought they would.

 In the 11^th chapter of John, we read of a funeral that involved some very hard questions being asked by family members with some very raw emotions. Lazarus had come from a very close family, among them two sisters, Martha and Mary. Lazarus also came from a good family and had a bunch of friends, one of whom was Jesus. The problem is that Jesus arrived in Bethany four days after Lazarus had already died. And as Jesus approaches the house full of people crying, both sisters run out to him, at separate times, and say, “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother wouldn’t have died.”

“If.” That’s a big word, if only two (2) letters. And if you’ve ever asked yourself that same question don’t be too hard on yourself because you’re not to blame. But if there’s someone to blame here then who? God? Well, that’s what Martha and Mary seem to imply as they grieve over the death of their brother: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother wouldn’t have died.” Now, I learned a while ago that it’s pretty senseless to accuse God, much less try and explain him. But it’s not senseless, and certainly not sinful, to question him. And maybe you’ve wondered why God would allow certain things to happen in your life, i.e., death, divorce, disease, disaster. And it’s all right to ask those kinds of questions because we know from our story that Jesus didn’t scold the sisters for suggesting that maybe, just maybe, their brother’s death was really Jesus’ fault. And what was Jesus’ response? He cried.

That has always puzzled me. Why is the King of kings and Lord of lords breaking down and crying at that moment? I mean, here’s God with skin on (John 1:1 – “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God;” see also, John 14:9 – “If you’ve seen me you’ve seen the Father”) attending the funeral of a friend and weeping without embarrassment and without apology, knowing full well that he’s eventually going to raise Lazarus from the dead. But as we continue to read the story, answers to the family’s question gradually come into focus.

First, Jesus wept for the family – for Martha and Mary and perhaps others in Lazarus’ immediate family. You see, when Jesus arrived, he could see their pain and suffering and the effects of losing their brother in their tear-filled eyes. So, he shared in the loss of the family and wept. And those of you who’ve lost a family member or, perhaps, are in the process of losing a family member to disease like dementia or cancer know what it means to say a long goodbye. You’ve wept or you’re still drying your eyes.

But I think Jesus’ tears were not only for the family, but for Jesus’ own loss. Lazarus was his friend. Maybe Jesus traveled with him, ate with him, texted him, Tweeted him, Instagramed him, Facebooked him, Tik-Tok’d him. Whatever. However they communicated, Jesus had grown close to his friend. Now Lazarus was gone; their relationship had been broken, and Jesus felt the pain of losing a friend. So, he wept. And those of us who’ve lost a friend can understand because we’ve been there; we’ve wept, too.

And there may be one other reason why Jesus cried: Jesus knew that he himself would soon face death. And he knew that there would be pain and sorrow among his own family and friends. And each of us will face the reality of death, eventually. And it may be that we’ll be orphaned by the death of a loved one or a friend before our time comes. But the reality is that loved ones will be left behind. And so, Jesus wept.

And if that were the end of the story, it wouldn’t give us much hope. But the story doesn’t stop there. John goes on to tell us that Jesus went to the tomb of his friend Lazarus, and that’s when the picture becomes crystal clear: that in Jesus there’s the power of life. And because Jesus spoke the words, Lazarus rose from the grave. And because of that event we, too, have hope. Because if Jesus can raise his friend Lazarus from the grave, he can raise us, too.

I think we’ve all, at least once, stood at the fence of life looking through a knothole at God’s pasture that lies on the other side without that family member, or friend and we’ve wept. We’ve lost a husband or a wife; father or mother; sister or brother; maybe a grandpa or grandma; even a best friend. Regardless, we’ve lost their perspective, and, to an extent, we’ve lost a part of our perspective as well. And it’s coming to grips with that loss that hurts so much because it’s not that missing loved one’s loss; they’re on the other side of that fence gazing from a place which God has prepared for those who believe. It’s our loss. And the trouble is that, at least from our perspective at the place along the fence from where we stand, we can’t see them through the knothole. But then again, we have our memories and the assurance that, one day, we will.

There are some truths that make no difference in our lives, and there are other truths that make all the difference. But there are some truths that demand something from us. And the resurrection is one of those truths. The fact of the resurrection is the one thing that changes everything. Even now in a time of such fear and uncertainty for so many, the resurrection is still true. For those who’ve lost a job, their health or even a loved one, the resurrection is still true. And that’s why we persevere and witness in this faith. Like the apostles, they had time to recant if it hadn’t been true, but none of them did. They were unanimous, unified and unequivocal in persevering in this truth; and every single one of them died alone, and all but one of them died a martyr’s death.

And right now that might be your story, or the story of someone you know or love, and the story may be overwhelmingly painful, and seemingly without end. And so, we cry out with our “If’s” and “Why’s”? But that’s the very reason why we profess Jesus’ resurrection – so that we can persevere tomorrow. Because if Christ’s resurrection is true, then all of it is true. It’s the one thing that changes everything. And if that’s true, then God knows your name. (John 10:3) If that’s true, then God hasn’t forgotten you. (Isaiah 49:15) If that’s true, then Christ established his church for you to have a family that you can call your own (Matt. 16:18), even when you’re alone and when we’re apart. If the resurrection is true, then it’s all true. Even in the hard places.

Grace,

Randy