It's Time to Change Your Wardrobe

 

It’s Time to Change Your Wardrobe

The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love. He will not always accuse, nor will he harbor his anger forever; he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us. As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him. (Psalm 100:8-13)

In 2006, Tennessee enacted legislation that gave convicted drunk drivers a new wardrobe – a blazing orange vest. Offenders were required to wear it in public on three different days for eight hours at a time while picking up litter from the side of the highway. Stenciled on the back in four-inch-tall letters were the words, "I AM A DRUNK DRIVER." No doubt they deserved to be punished, and given their threat to public safety they probably deserved three days of public humiliation. So, I don't really question the strategy of the state. But I wonder why we do the same to ourselves. Have you noticed?

We dress ourselves in our mistakes and put on our robes of poor choices. We step into our closets, sort through our regrets and rebellion and, for some odd reason, vest up. “I disappointed my parents.” “I wasted my youth.” “I neglected my kids.” Sometimes we cover the vest with a blouse or blazer of good behavior thinking that we’ll feel better about ourselves if we do some work for God.

Welcome to the vest system. It’s hard to hide it. It’s harder still to discard it. Overcome bad deeds with good ones, or offset bad choices with godly ones and stupid moves with righteous ones. But the vest-removal process is flawed because no one knows what work to do or how long to do it. Shouldn't the Bible, of all books, give us that information? It doesn't. Instead, the Bible tells us how God's story redeems our story. Jesus' death on the cross is not a secondary theme in Scripture; it’s the core of God’s Word. The crucial accomplishment of Christ occurred on the cross.

And just so we wouldn’t miss the message, God encased the climax of his story in high drama. The garden: Jesus crying out, the disciples running out and the soldiers bursting in. The trials: early morning mockery and deceit. Jews scoffing. Pilate washing. The soldiers: weaving thorns, slashing whips and pounding nails. Jesus: bloodied and beaten; more crimson than clean. Every sinew on fire with pain. And God: He ebonized the sky and shook the earth. He split the rocks and ripped the temple curtain. He un-tombed the entombed and unveiled the Holy of Holies. But first he heard the cry of his Son: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Matthew 27:46)

“Forsaken.” Visceral. Painful. The word connotes abandonment, desertion, helplessness, loneliness, being cast out and completely forgotten. Jesus forsaken? Wait. Doesn’t Scripture declare, "I have not seen the righteous forsaken," and doesn’t it assure us that "the LORD. . . does not forsake His saints" (Psalm 37:25, 28)? Yes, it does, but in that hour Jesus was anything but righteous. This was the moment in which "God put the wrong on him who never did anything wrong." (2 Cor. 5:21) "GOD. . . piled all our sins, everything we've done wrong, on him, on him. He was beaten, he was tortured, but he didn't say a word." (Isaiah 53:6-7)

In other words, God dressed Christ in vests. Our vests. Each and every one. I cheated my friends. I lied to my wife. I abused my children. I cursed God. As if Jesus deserved them, he wore them. Our sins, our vests, were put on Christ. “The Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.” (Isaiah 53:6) “He bore the sins of many.” (Isaiah 53:12) Paul proclaimed that God made Christ “to be sin” (2 Cor. 5:21) and became “a curse for us.” (Gal. 3:13) Peter agreed: “(Jesus) himself bore our sins in his body on the cross.” (1 Pet. 2:24) This is the monumental offer of God. So, what does God say to us who want to work and offset our guilt? Simple: the work’s already been done. My son wore your sin on himself, and I punished it there. “For Christ suffered once for sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God.” (1 Pet. 3:18)

On August 16, 1987, Northwest Airlines Flight 255 crashed after taking off from the Detroit airport killing 155 people. The lone survivor was a little four-year-old, Cecelia, from Tempe, Arizona. Rescuers found her in such good condition that they wondered if she’d actually been on the flight – perhaps she’d been riding in one of the cars into which the airplane had eventually crashed. But, no, her name was on the manifest. And although the exact nature of events may never be known, Cecelia’s survival may have been due to her mother’s quick response. Initial reports from the scene indicated that, as the plane was falling, Paula Cichan unbuckled her own seat belt, got down on her knees in front of her daughter, and wrapped her arms and body around the girl. She separated her from the force of the fall and Cecelia survived. Paula, her husband, Michael, and Cecelia’s brother, David, did not.

God did the same for us. He wrapped himself around us and felt the full force of the fall. He took the unrelaxed punishment of the guilty. He died, not like a sinner, but as a sinner – in our place. Our sins became Christ’s, and his righteousness became ours. Thus, his sacrifice is sufficient, alone. Our merits don't enhance it, and our stumbles don't diminish it. The sacrifice of Christ is a total and unceasing and accomplished work. "It is finished," Jesus announced. (John 19:30) His prayer of abandonment was followed by a cry of accomplishment. Not "It’s just begun," or "It’s been initiated," or "It’s a work in progress." No, Jesus said, "It’s finished." So, you can remove your vest. Toss the thing in a trash can and set it on fire if you want because you don’t have to wear it again. Ever.

Does better news exist? Actually, yes. There’s more. We not only remove our vest; we put on his. He is "our righteousness." (1 Corinthians 1:30) God does not simply remove our failures; he dresses us up in the goodness of Christ. "For all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ." (Galatians 3:27) Think about that for a moment. When you make God's story your own, he covers you in Christ. You wear him like a vest. Old labels no longer apply – only labels that would be appropriately worn by Jesus Christ himself.

So, can you think of a few phrases to put on the back of your new vest? How about “Royal Priest” (1 Peter 2:9); “Complete” (Col. 2:10); “Free from Condemnation” (Rom. 8:1); “Secure” (John 10:28); “Established and Anointed” (2 Cor. 1:21); “God's Co-worker” (2 Cor. 6:1); “God's Temple (1 Cor. 3:16-17); “God's Workmanship.” (Eph. 2:10) So how do you like your outfit now? "Now you're dressed in a new wardrobe. Every item of your new way of life is custom-made by the Creator with his label on it. All the old fashions are now obsolete." (Col. 3:10 MSG) Don't mess with your old sin-clothes any longer, because "(a)s far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us." (Psalm 103:12) How far is the east from the west? It gets further and further by the moment.

Travel west and you can make laps around the globe and never go east. Journey east and, if you want to, maintain an easterly course indefinitely. Not so with the other two directions. If you go north or south, you'll eventually reach the North or South Pole and change directions. But east and west have no turning points. And neither does God. When he sends your sins to the east and you to the west, you can be sure of this: he doesn't see you in your sins. His forgiveness is irreversible. "He does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities." (Psalm 103:10)

Headline this truth: when God sees you, he sees his Son, not your sin. God "blots out your transgressions" and "remembers your sins no more." (Isaiah 43:25) No probation. No exception. No reversals. He did his due diligence. He saw your secret deeds and heard your unsaid thoughts. The lies, the lusts, the longings – he knows them all. God assessed your life from beginning to end, from worst moment to best, and made his decision: "I want that child in my kingdom." You cannot convince him otherwise. Don’t believe me? All you need to do is look at his city gates for proof.

In the last pages of the Bible, John describes the entrance to the New Jerusalem: “She had a great and high wall with twelve gates . . . and names written on them, which are the names of the twelve tribes of the children of Israel. . . . Now the wall of the city had twelve foundations, and on them were the names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb.” (Rev. 21:12, 14) God engraved the names of the sons of Jacob on his gateposts. That’s interesting because they were more criminal than Christian. Their rap sheets include stories of mass murder (Genesis 34), incest (38:13-18), and brotherly betrayal (37:17-28), just to name a few. They behaved more like the last call crowd than a Valhalla of faith. Yet God carved their names on the New Jerusalem gates.

And the names on the foundations? Peter – the apostle who saved his own skin instead of his Savior's. James and John – who jockeyed for VIP posts in heaven. Thomas, the dubious – who insisted on a personal audience with the resurrected Jesus before he’d believe. These were the disciples who told the children to leave Jesus alone (Luke 18:15), who told Jesus to leave the hungry on their own (Matthew 14:15) and chose to leave Jesus alone to face his crucifixion. (Matthew 26:36-45) Yet all their names appear on the foundations. Matthew's does. Peter's does. Bartholomew's does. And yours?

It may not be engraved in the gate, but it’s written in the Book of the Lamb. Not in pencil so that it can be erased, but with blood that will not be removed. No need to keep God happy; he’s satisfied. No need to pay the price; Jesus already did. All of it. So, lose your vest because you look so much better wearing his. It’s time to change your wardrobe.

Grace,

Randy

Who Do You Say That He Is?

 

Who Do You Say That He Is?

Who Do YOu Say That He Is? - Audio/Visual 

Jesus and his disciples left Galilee and went up to the villages near Caesarea Philippi. As they were walking along, he asked them, “Who do people say I am?” “Well,” they replied, “some say John the Baptist, some say Elijah, and others say you are one of the other prophets.” Then he asked them, “But who do you say I am?” Peter replied, “You are the Messiah.” (Mark 8:27-29)

If you think it’s hard to walk in the dark or navigate a room with the lights off and your eyes closed, try flying a small plane at 15,000 feet. Blind. Jim O'Neill did, but not that he intended to. The 65-year-old pilot was forty minutes into a four-hour solo flight from Glasgow, Scotland, to Colchester, England, when his vision failed. He initially thought he’d been blinded by the sun, but he soon realized it was much worse. "Suddenly I couldn't see the dials in front of me. It was just a blur. I was helpless," he said. His plight gave real meaning to the phrase, "flying blind." Turns out that Jim had suffered a stroke. So, he groped around and found the radio of his Cessna and issued a Mayday. Paul Gerrard, a Royal Air Force Wing Commander who’d just completed a training sortie nearby, was contacted by air traffic controllers and took off in O'Neill's direction. He found the plane and began talking to the stricken pilot.

The commander told O'Neill what to do. His instructions were reassuring and simple: "A gentle right turn, please. Left a bit. Right a bit." He hovered within five hundred feet of O'Neill, shepherding him toward the nearest runway. Upon reaching it, the two began to descend. When asked if he could see the runway below, O'Neill apologized, "No sir, negative." O'Neill would have to land the plane by faith, not by sight. He hit the runway but bounced up again. The same thing happened on the second attempt. But finally, on the eighth try, the blinded pilot managed to make a near-perfect landing.

Can you empathize with Mr. O’Neill? Most of us can because we've been struck, perhaps not by a stroke but by a divorce, a sick child or a cancer-ridden body. Not midair, but mid-career, mid-semester, mid-life. We've lost sight of any safe landing strip, and, in desperation, we’ve issued our fair share of Mayday prayers. We know the fear of flying blind. Unlike O'Neill, however, we hear more than just one voice; lots of voices occupy our cockpit. Talk show hosts urge us to worry. New Age gurus tell us to relax. Financial advisors forecast a downturn. Preachers tell us to pray. Professors tell us that’s nonsense. Lose weight. Eat low fat. Join our church. Try our crystals. It's enough to make you want to cover your ears and run away. And what if you follow the wrong voice? What if you make the same mistake that some of the followers of self-help guru, James Arthur Ray, did?

Ray promised to help people achieve spiritual and financial wealth, suggesting that by following his advice they could "double, triple, even multiply by ten the size of (their) business." But he gave more than just financial counsel to the more than fifty clients who crowded into his 415-square-foot sweat lodge in Sedona, Arizona. They had paid him between $9,000 and $10,000, apiece, for a five-day spiritual warrior retreat. The participants had fasted for thirty-six hours as part of a personal spiritual quest, then ate a breakfast buffet before entering the sauna-like hut that afternoon. People began passing out and vomiting, but Ray urged them to stay in the lodge. Two hours later, three of them were dead.

The voices. How do we select the right one? In fact, Jesus asked a form of that question himself: "Who do you say that I am?" (Mark 8:29) He had led his disciples into Caesarea Philippi which was to religion what Wal-Marts are to shopping – every variety in one place. A center of Baal worship. An impressive temple of white marble dedicated to Caesar. Shrines to the Syrian gods. And here Jesus, within earshot of every spiritual voice of his day, asked his followers: "Who do people say I am?" They replied, "Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets." "But what about you?" he asked. "Who do you say I am?" Peter answered, "You are the Messiah." (Mark 8:27-29)

When it came to expressing the opinions of others, the disciples were, apparently, pretty chatty; everyone spoke. But when it came to this very personal question only Peter replied. Why only one answer? Was Peter so confident and quick that the others had no time to answer? Did Peter drown out the replies of everyone else? Perhaps no one else spoke because no one else knew what to say. Maybe John ducked his eyes, Philip looked away, Andrew cleared his throat and Nathanael kicked the dirt and elbowed Peter. And maybe Peter sighed. He looked at this lean-faced, homeless teacher from Nazareth and pondered the question, "Who do you say I am?" The question probably wasn’t a new one for Peter.

He must have asked it a thousand times – like the night when Jesus walked off the beach into the bay without sinking, or the day he turned a boy's basket into an "all-you-can-eat" buffet, or the time he wove a whip and drove the swindlers out of the temple. Who is this man? Peter had probably asked himself that question a million times – just like millions have done since. Serious students of Christ have stood in their own Caesarea Philippi and contrasted Jesus with the great philosophers of the world and heard him ask, "Who do you say I am?" "You're a decent fellow," some have answered. After all, if you can't like Jesus, who can you like? In Jesus, the poor found a friend and the forgotten found an advocate. Jesus was nothing if not good. True-blue. Solid. Dependable. Everyone's first choice for a best friend, right? Maybe. But particularly if you’re looking for a best friend who claims to be God on earth.

For being such an affable guy, Jesus had a curious habit of declaring his divinity. His favorite self-designation was “Son of Man.” The title appears 82 times in the four gospels, only twice used by anyone other than Jesus. First century listeners found the claim outrageous because they were acquainted with its origin in Daniel 7. In his visions, the prophet saw “One like the Son of Man, coming with the clouds of heaven ….” (Daniel 7:13) “That’s me,” Jesus was saying. In other words, every time he used the phrase, “Son of Man,” he crowned himself. Would you want a guy saying stuff like that in your neighborhood?

And what about his “I Am” statements? “I am the light of the world.” (John 8:12) “I am the bread of life.” (John 6:35) “I am the way, the truth and the life.” (John 14:6) And most stunning, “Before Abraham was born, I am!” (John 8:58) By claiming the “I Am” title, Jesus was equating himself with God. Jesus also claimed to be able to forgive sins – a privilege only God can exercise. (Matt. 9:4-7) He claimed to be greater than Jonah, Solomon, Jacob and even Abraham. (Matt. 12:38-42; John 4:12-14; 8:53-56) Jesus said that John the Baptist was the greatest man who had ever lived, but implied that he was even greater. (Matt. 11:11) Jesus commanded people to pray in his name. (John 14:13-14) He claimed to be greater than the temple (Matt. 12:6), and greater than the Sabbath. (Matt. 12:8) He claimed his words would outlive heaven and earth (Mark 13:31), and that all authority in heaven and on earth had been given to him. (Matt. 28:18-20) Does a decent guy say things like that? No, but a demented fool would.

So maybe Jesus was a megalomaniac – on par with Alexander the Great or Adolf Hitler. But, honestly, could a madman do what Jesus did? Look at the devotion he inspired. People didn't just respect Jesus, they liked him; they left their homes and businesses and followed him. Men and women alike tethered their hope to his life – impulsive people like Peter; visionaries like Philip; passionate men like John, and careful men like Thomas. And when the men had left Jesus in the grave, it was the women who came to honor him – women from all levels of society, from homemakers to philanthropists. And people were better because of him. Madmen sire madmen: Saddam Hussein created murderers, Joseph Stalin created power addicts, and Charles Manson created wackos. But Jesus transformed simple, blue-collar workers into the authors of history's greatest book, and the founders of its greatest movement.

Christ stunned people with his authority and clarity. His was not the mind of some deranged wild man, or demented fool, or deceiving fraud. But some have said so. Some believe that Jesus masterminded the greatest scheme in the history of humanity; that he out-Ponzied even “Bernie” Madoff who swindled thousands out of billions of dollars. If that’s true, then billions of humans have been fleeced into following a first-century pied piper over the edge of an eternal cliff. So, should we crown Christ as the foremost fraud in the world? No, not too quickly; not before looking at his miracles.

The four gospels detail approximately thirty-six miracles and reference many more. Among others, he multiplied bread and fish; changed water into wine; calmed more than one storm; restored sight to more than one blind man; healed contagious skin diseases; gave steps to the disabled, purged demons, stopped a hemorrhage, reattached a severed ear and raised the dead. Yet, in doing so, Jesus never grand-standed his miraculous powers; he never went for fame or profit. Jesus performed miracles for two simple reasons: to prove his identity, and to help his people.

Had Jesus been a fraudster or trickster, the Jerusalem church would have died a stillborn death. People would have denounced the miracles of Christ. But they did just the opposite. Can you imagine the apostles inviting their testimonies? "If you were a part of a crowd that he fed, one of the dead that he raised, or one of the sick that he healed, would you please share your story?" And share they did. The church exploded like a grasslands wildfire in Ramona. Why? Because Jesus performed public, memorable miracles. He healed people. He loved people. He gave no preference to class or nationality, past sins or present accomplishments. The neediest and loneliest found a friend in Jesus.

Could a lying sham love that way? If his intent was trick people out their money or worship, he did a pretty poor job of it because he died broke and abandoned. So, what if Peter was correct? “You are the Messiah.” (Mark 8:29) What if Jesus really was, and is, the Son of God? If so, then we can relish this truth: we never fly alone. True, we can’t see the runway and we don’t know what the future holds but we’re not alone. We have what Jim O’Neil had, i.e., the commander’s voice to guide us home. So, heed it. Issue the necessary Mayday prayer and follow the guidance that only God can provide.

Grace,

Randy

Be a Person of Integrity

 

Be a Person of Integrity

Be a Person of Integrity - Audio/Visual 

Then King Darius sent this message to the people of every race and nation and language throughout the world: “Peace and prosperity to you! I decree that everyone throughout my kingdom should tremble with fear before the God of Daniel. For he is the living God, and he will endure forever. His kingdom will never be destroyed, and his rule will never end. He rescues and saves his people; he performs miraculous signs and wonders in the heavens and on earth. He has rescued Daniel from the power of the lions.” So, Daniel prospered during the reign of Darius and the reign of Cyrus the Persian. (Daniel 6:25-28)

The public arena is not an easy place to start from scratch in an effort to become a person of integrity. One reason is that, in our culture, like Daniel’s, it’s not always true that when we do wrong, we will be punished, and when we do right, we’ll be rewarded. At times, the reverse actually seems to be true, challenging our commitment to do what we know is right. In fact, in Daniel’s case, doing the right thing was not rewarded, but was, instead, punished. However, just when the situation looked absolutely hopeless, Daniel was delivered from death “because he believed in his God.” (Daniel 6:23) What he was in private — a committed follower of God — was ultimately revealed in public.

This had been quite a night, as Daniel found himself in the company of a bunch of hungry lions. He had been thrown into their den, but apparently slept like a baby in their midst. Duped by Daniel’s enemies to sign a decree that mandated what appeared to be Daniel’s death sentence, Darius had stayed up all night, pacing back and forth in confusion and concern. At dawn, however, he rushed to the lions’ den, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted, “Daniel, servant of the living God! Was your God, whom you serve so faithfully, able to rescue you from the lions?” (Daniel 6:20) The king was amazed and relieved to hear Daniel’s response.

Daniel stirred, probably rubbed his eyes, stretched out his arms, let out a yawn, wiped the lion fur from his head where he had pillowed it, and answered, “Long live the king! My God sent his angel to shut the lions’ mouths so that they would not hurt me, for I have been found innocent in his sight. And I have not wronged you, Your Majesty.” (Daniel 6:21-22)

The king’s question of Daniel is the question our culture is asking us today: Is the God whom we serve able to deliver us?

Daniel had kept his faith in God, a mark of true integrity that was rooted deep in his private world. And it always follows that integrity is ultimately revealed in the public world for God’s glory and our good. And I think there’s a lesson here. Daniel was in the lions’ den not because he had done wrong, but because he had done right. And we all know of people who, like Daniel, have paid a great price for actually doing what was right. But, when all is said and finally done, God — who will never abdicate His throne — will right all wrongs. What we see in Daniel’s experience is that, in the final analysis, our integrity will be revealed in the public square as a testimony to our faith and to our God.

Upon being delivered from the lions’ den, Daniel’s integrity was now on public display. But Daniel didn’t take credit for his deliverance. He was quick to say, “My God sent his angel to shut the lions’ mouths so that they would not hurt me.” (Daniel 6:22) People of integrity do not take personal credit for something they did not do.

In response, Darius made this startling decree to the people of every race and nation and language throughout the then-known world: “Peace and prosperity to you! I decree that everyone throughout my kingdom should tremble with fear before the God of Daniel. For he is the living God, and he will endure forever. His kingdom will never be destroyed, and his rule will never end. He rescues and saves his people; he performs miraculous signs and wonders in the heavens and on earth. He has rescued Daniel from the power of the lions.” (Daniel 6:25-27)

Even a lost culture will stop and take notice of a person of integrity when their integrity is revealed in public. And from Daniel’s experience in the midst of the lions, we learn that our integrity must be rooted in our private life. And if Daniel is an example, prayer should be our number one priority. In Daniel’s own value system, his private time alone with God was his highest priority.

We learn, too, that integrity is reflected in our personal lives. How we respond and react in our personal relationships with those who know us best is directly correlative to the strength of our own private life with the Lord, and can always be reinforced in our professional, or working lives. Integrity is crucial in today’s marketplace. Unfortunately, many professing believers are not influencing our culture because their Monday through Friday lives aren’t much different from the lives of those with whom they work. The best place to engage and transform our culture is not the place where we spend our Sunday mornings, but where we spend most of our days, Monday through Friday.

Daniel’s story also reminds us that integrity will ultimately be revealed in our public life. Everything King Darius knew about God he learned by observing Daniel’s public life of integrity. Think about that. We are being watched, and our world still wants to know, “Is your God able to deliver you?” They will never know the answer to that question unless we are people of integrity.

Our culture brings new challenges to our Christian faith with each passing day. New assaults on religious liberties, cherished for centuries, are happening with increasing regularity. And Daniel would be able to relate. Like many of us, Daniel grew up in a culture built on biblical truth and centered in traditional family values. And then he found himself living in a culture that was hostile to everything he had ever known. His value system, his truth claims, and his moral compass were challenged repeatedly at every turn. His world was suddenly a world of pluralistic thought. But Daniel had a different spirit about him. He was a man of integrity who not only engaged his culture head-on but was used by God to transform the culture in which he lived.

It seems that with every new court decision, rule or regulation, our twenty-first-century culture tests our Christian values and truth claims, challenging them as “alternative facts.” And those of us who once knew a Judeo-Christian culture have suddenly found ourselves living in a culture as hostile to what we believe as Babylon was hostile to Daniel’s closely held beliefs.

Our world is evolving into one of massive pluralism with an encroaching paganism attached to various belief systems. Our nation — our culture — needs men and women whose integrity is rooted in their private lives, reflected in their personal lives, reinforced in their professional lives, and then ultimately revealed in public. May we all rise up and be counted.

Daniel left us his template for engaging and influencing his culture. It was, at its core, founded upon his personal integrity. And if we’re going to find our way through a culture that has lost its own, we must do the same. So be a person of integrity; let it have its genesis in prayer and then, like a mirror, let it reflect your personal life that, once revealed, will answer the question of a culture who desperately wants to know if your God is able.

In 1975, the renowned advertising agency Ogilvy & Mather conceived a slogan that was introduced to the public as part of an ad campaign to promote American Express Travelers Cheques. The catchy phrase, “Don’t leave home without it,” has been invaluable in shaping American Express’s image and brand. I guess you could say the same thing about integrity – don’t leave home without it.

Grace,

Randy