For me at least, Romans 7 is the most difficult chapter in the book with regards to personal spirituality, but the chapter covered in this lesson, Romans 9, is the most difficult on doctrine. Many of my dear friends of the Reformed tradition will point to this chapter as evidence that God has predestined the eternal fate of every man and woman — some to eternal bliss, others eternal damnation — and that man has not the ability of his own power either to resist God’s grace or to accept it. Man’s free will, at least for the purposes of their relationship with God, was lost at the Fall, they say.

Admittedly, on first blush, this is what Romans 9:14–24 seem to imply. And I will not here try to tackle the enormous theological debate between Calvinists and Arminianists. But I will mention that not only must the passage be taken in context of the larger whole, but also in context of the rest of Scripture, which boldly declares that God desires (doubtlessly no less than Paul) that all men be saved (1 Timothy 2:4), that His grace is indeed extended to all men (Titus 2:11), and that we are responsible for making our calling sure and not falling away (2 Peter. 1:10) by believing in Jesus (John 3:16). God’s unalterable plan in our lives is important — part of me thinks that was the reason God had Aaron’s rod in the ark — but He does not elect into salvation those who don’t “believe that He exists and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him” (Hebrews 11:6). As Romans 9 itself ends, what matters is our pursuit of righteousness by faith (Romans 9:32).

Indeed that is the point of this chapter. What matters is not the flesh. Israel had a great heritage that gave them so much opportunity to fulfill God’s wonderful plan in their life. They had full knowledge of the perfect law of God. But what mattered more than that was faith in God, whereby some Gentiles attained the righteousness of God despite their lack of all the blessings Israel had. And on the same token, Israel fell short of this righteousness, trying to get it by their own works. (Romans 9:30-32).

Certainly are not many of us in the same boat as Israel? Many of you were probably raised in the best of Adventist Homes, with generations of witnesses coming before you — but that won’t make you right with God. Many are highly involved in your church, baptized as an early teen and haven’t missed a Sabbath worship yet — but that won’t make you right with God. As the adult quarterly posits on Sunday’s lesson, “You can be of the right blood, the right family, even of the right church, and yet be lost, still be outside the promise. It is faith, a faith that works by love, which reveals those who are ‘children of the promise.’” Praise God for the light that we have been given, but we also need a living and active faith, otherwise, frankly, everything else is a waste of time. And if you haven’t got that faith, you need to drop: drop everything else you do, drop to your knees, drop your reservations, and drop yourself into the arms of God.

Some years down the road, in college, there was a guy who attended my church who’s philosophy of Christian happiness went something like this: “Fake it ’till you make it.” Pretend to be happy until you actually become happy, and thereby fulfill you’re Christian duty of happiness. That sort of happiness wasn’t it either; it was too skin deep, fleeting, and, again, artificial.

Then just last year, I was having dinner with a friend, and he told me something that shocked me: over half of the students at my law school, at one time or another, were or would become clinically depressed. More than half?! Most of my friends, who I talked to and hung out with every day, are or are going to be depressed? Now certainly not very many of those peers are Christians, but I wouldn’t be shocked if the numbers for the people who at least identified as Christian are similar.

Clearly it’s not wrong to be unhappy at times, or even depressed. Jesus Himself bawled at times (see, e.g.,  John 11:35). And can you imagine the depression that must have been in Jesus’ heart that caused the very Son of God to cry out, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Matthew 27:46). Somehow, I don’t think the right thing to do was to come up to Jesus when His good friend had just died or when He was bearing the sin of all mankind and say, “Hey, you’re a Christian, you’re supposed to be happy!” or “Fake it ’till you make it, Jesus!” I’m unconvinced that would have solved His problems.

What then? How should we approach Christian happiness? I think we should take joy seriously. We shouldn’t mess around with it, make it a make-believe creature, or speak of it lightly or without serious thought. We should pursue happiness with all our might and ensure that its roots are both deep and lasting; for in pursuing God we cannot but help to pursue our own ultimate joy (even if it means distress for a season).

David struggles through his depression in one of my favorite Psalms, Psalm 42. I highly recommend you go and read it, prayerfully. Do it now.

OK, welcome back. You see the hurt in David’s words. But notice how he addresses it. Twice in the same Psalm, he says,

Why are you cast down, O my soul?
And why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him
For the help of His countenance.

Do you see what David is doing here, in the midst of his depression? He’s speaking to himself; he’s preaching to himself. Many of us are told that we should “listen to ourself” and go with what our “heart,” emotions, or mind is telling us. But David isn’t satisfied with moping around listening to himself. He takes command and speaks truth to his very soul, unsatisfied with his soul dwelling on untruths that lead to lugubrious thoughts.

But what should we say to ourselves? Certainly we can say things that will only make things worse (i.e. “It’s hopeless. Give up.”). Other times, we can say things that will lift our spirits and make us feel content, but because they aren’t true or aren’t firm, it is a false happiness. This is what the foolish rich man does in Jesus’s parable found in Luke 12:16–21. He decides to solve his problems by hoarding his wealth, “And I will say to my soul, ‘Soul, you have many goods laid up for many years; take your ease; eat, drink, and be merry.’” But this peace and happiness was temporal, and his merriness quickly transformed into the pall of death.

Instead, we must constantly speak Godly truth to our own souls. This, I’ve found, is the true happiness that is genuine and lasting. David does this by (1) remembering the joy he experienced in worship, being assured that this joy will come again (Psalm 42:4), (2) focusing on the glory and might of God, trusting in faith that He will bring him through (vv. 6–7), and (3) praying to God and singing in thanksgiving and praise (v. 8). Stirring up the genuine joy is about convincing your heart concerning the truths of God, which offer hope for today and tomorrow and thanksgiving for days gone by. These are solid, unchanging truths. They are written all over the Word, on our lips when we sing the hymns of old as well as the new song, and on our hearts as the Spirit prays through us. This hope is the source of the “merry heart [that] does good like medicine” and the cure to the “broken spirit [that] dries the bones.” (Proverbs 17:22).

Sometimes I feel that the obstacles between me and God are unique and insurmountable. I look around at all those I know that have struggled with the same sins as I have, and they have all failed to come to or remain in Christ. I feel hopeless, like I’m doomed to head down a path that all those before me have walked, and this path inevitably leads away from an earnest and passionate life in Christ.

But then God reminds me of two things. First, at times, He graciously shows me that I’m not alone. Like a shaft of light entering a dark room and illuminating a single object, people in my life who in my woe I have ignored are suddenly brought to the fore; and these are the very persons who too struggle with the same things and yet are overcoming. It is as if He speaks to me like he did to the depressed and persecuted Elijah, who said “I am the only one left,” to which God responded, “Yet I reserve seven thousand in Israel — all whose knees have not bowed down to Baal and all whose mouths have not kissed him.” (1 Kings 19:14, 18). Or when Paul fell into a similar darkness in Corinth, God too assured him, “Do not be afraid any longer . . . for I have many people in this city.” (Acts 18:9, 10). So too God slaps the arrogance out of me sometimes, assuring me that I’m not the only one going through this struggle, and indeed there are many before me and with me who are journeying the same difficult but glorious road. (Cf. Hebrews 12:1).

Even so, there are times when the loneliness is too palpable, when there is no one in sight to credibly empathize. It is then that God reminds me of the second thing, the thing that today I heard Spurgeon had written about: “The Lord will make a way for you where no foot has been before.” Even though no man in all of history had set foot on the Red Sea’s bed, still God provided for four million feet to cross it at once. Even if all before me have failed in the struggle, still God will provide a way that I might succeed through Him. Against all experience. That takes faith.

I often am hesitant about making what I see as big life decisions. Where does God want me? What does He have planned for me, and how can I remain faithful to those plans? In Numbers 9:15-23, Moses describes how the people of Israel were led through their desert times after the Exodus. A cloud hovered over the tabernacle during the day, and looked like fire at night. When God wanted Israel to strike camp and move on, the cloud would lift off from the tabernacle; Israel then followed it wherever it went, and settled wherever it settled.

Whether the cloud stayed over the tabernacle for two days or a month or a year, the Israelites would remain in camp and not set out; but when it lifted, they would set out. At the Lord’s command they encamped, and at the Lord’s command they set out. They obeyed the Lord’s order, in accordance with His command through Moses.

— Numbers 9:22-23

Israel didn’t know where they were going. They didn’t know the plan, weren’t told the big picture. They just followed, even when nothing made sense. As hymn-writer E.S. Hall put it: “I may not know the way I go, but oh, I know my Guide.”

The beauty and appeal of this concept is astounding. But it’s not my story. I’ve often sought out for direction in my life choices, but have rarely gotten an answer. I don’t know what form of answer I was expecting, but I couldn’t figure out one way or the other what God wanted me to do. No matter the sincerity or duration of my prayers for guidance (though, admittedly, when it comes to prayer, I’m an extreme lightweight), no Voice from Heaven, closed and opened doors, or lighted path ever emerged. Not when I was choosing which college to go to, which professional career path to pursue, which law school to attend, or which job to work this summer. One exception may be my work for Summer 2008, with CASA, where of all the jobs I applied to, it was the only one that took me on. Nevertheless, even in hindsight, I’m still not sure why that was, though I suppose I’m asking too much.

So on this post I open it up to the wisdom of the readers: please post in your comments stories of how God has led you, directed you, or given discernment. I urge you to be open — even if anonymous — for, whether you realize it or not, it will be of great encouragement and edification to both me and all the other readers.

The following is adapted from a sermon I preached on New Years Day, 2010, at Edinburg SDA Church. As such, apologies for the length.

A couple weeks ago, I spent sometime setting up an artificial christmas tree in my little apartment in Boston. I had just bought the tree for fifteen dollars; it was about six feet tall. If you’ve ever set up an artificial christmas tree, you know what its like. With this one, I stuck together two poles which formed the trunk, and I had to slide the main branches onto little slots that circled this “trunk.” With that accomplished, I set out to do the longer task of spreading out all the twigs that were bunched up towards the center of each branch. And so I sat there, “opening up” the branches of the tree, for about an hour.

As I was doing this, I began to contemplate and pray. While I was praying, the thought occurred to me (by the Spirit or not, I do not know), “What am I doing right now? What is the purpose, what is my goal, in spreading out these branches?” “My goal,” I thought to myself, “is to spread out these branches in such a way so that the tree looks as real as possible. I want to hide all the wires and plastic that form the trunk and the branches by pulling apart the twigs, and I want to do it in such as way as to mimic the randomness of nature so that the tree looks more real.”

I began to contemplate about what this meant for me. Was I doing this in my own life? I think most of us spend a lot of time, sprucing ourselves up. Unfurling these nice looking things on the outside so that we can hide the ugliness that lies just behind the surface. Stuff that we think nobody really wants to see. And by doing this, we deceive others, we deceive ourselves, and we attempt to deceive God.

I also began to think about why I didn’t get a real christmas tree instead of a fake one. Well, for one, real christmas trees are messy: moving it in and out of my apartment will mean pine needles scattered everywhere, and so it would be as long as I have that plant standing in my home. So it tends to be when we being to get real with people that surround us, with our brothers and sisters in the Church. Things get messy. All our insecurities, fears, and sin are laid bare and we have to take the risk of our brothers and sisters seeing us for who we really are, seeing our mess, and, amazingly, actually getting to know us.

But I’ve talked and written much before about the importance of openness and honesty within the community of Christ already. It’s very important, and I’m still learning much about it, but that’s not what I came here to talk about tonight. I want to address instead the reality of our personal spiritual lives, and the need for honesty with ourselves and with God. The problem is that sometimes our spiritual lives are as nice looking and just as fake as the christmas tree in my apartment. We have all the trappings of a real relationship with God: we sing worship, we go to Church every week, we read our Bibles mostly regularly, we pray before meals and before bed, we are engaged in some sort of ministry, we try to tell people about Jesus every once in a while, and we are surrounded by Christian friends. But every once in a while, we realize, that just like that christmas tree, all these things are mere unfurling of branches and twigs in order to make things look real — to ourselves, and maybe even to God — but there’s something deep within that knows, no matter how skillful we are in mimicking true spiritual nature, there’s something deeply missing in our lives. There’s the stark reality that of un-realness. There’s deep abiding notion that we really aren’t experiencing God, having a living and active relationship with Him like we should be.

This seems to be a great secret, unspoken truth within the Church. I see it in myself, and I see it with a good amount of my religious of friends. The joy and passion in worship that we experienced the hour we first believed has started to fade. The words of the Bible which once seemed like gold now falls almost dead on our hearts. Interactions with our brethren, though still meaningful, have lost their spiritual power and encouragement; the Church for us has turned into a social club. Prayer seems dead and lifeless, words that come from no deeper than our skin and reach no farther than the ceiling. Repetitive sin continues to rule our lives; the things we struggled with years ago — that we thought would be overcome by now — still plague us. But most of all, there is a sense that there must be more. Our life with God must be more than just another cause in this world, just another mission like any other, be it feeding the poor, Communism, nationalism, or some other utopian goal. Spiritual power in our life is missing. We don’t have the amazing gifts and fruits that we were promised, we don’t have the completely satisfied joy of abiding in Him, and we don’t see the mighty and living hand of God in our lives. Our words lack the power of the Spirit when they fall upon the ears of others, and our lives look just like any other “good” person’s with simply the Jesus twist. There is no supernatural joy, no passion, no peace, no power.

Almost each month one of my good friends comes to me expressing this emptiness. And yet, as I go through the same things, one by one they are able to provide my with answers to my questions, words for my frustrations, and possible solutions to my problem. One of them, indeed my brother in blood and brother in the Lord, directed me to a letter written by Ellen White in Testimonies to the Church, Vol. I, chp. 49 (I highly recommend you read this chapter, although it is quoted extensively here). It is entitled, “Entire Consecration,” and it is what we desperately need today, as a Church, as individuals who earnestly desire a full life in Christ.

The letter is addressed to two people who she states are in a lukewarm condition. Of course, we all know where the expression comes from. In Revelation 3, Jesus says to the Church of Laodicea, in verses 15 and 16: “I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.” Many of us think that this accusation of lukewarmness doesn’t apply to us: we go to Church, we do good things, we spend more time “with God” and know far more of the Bible than your average American, than your average Christian, and even more than your average Adventist. On a scale from wickedness to holiness, surely we are more hot than cold, how can we be lukewarm?

For many of us, we are lukewarm because, despite all these things, we have kept one foot in the water, and one foot in the sand. We are trying to live a life dedicated to God that has no risk of harming our worldly success and popularity. One of my best friends said it this way: “I could be just going through the motions to appease myself, to meet some minimal level of holiness in my own mind so that I can do what I want with the rest of my life.” But this is not possible. If we aim for success in both this world, and the next, we will fail at both. If we aim to be liked, respected, popular, wealthy, powerful, and adored in this world, we “will fail of everlasting life.” Similarly, if we really want the great things this world has to offer, we are wasting our time with this Jesus-stuff. We could be doing so much better in the world if we do as the world does and ignore all the burdens of walking with Christ. But if we play both games, we lose at both. In that Chapter from Testimonies to the Church, Ellen White advises:

“You love the society of the young who have no regard for the sacred truths which you profess. You have appeared like your associates, and have been contented with as much religion as would render you agreeable to all, without incurring the censure of any. . . . You mingle with your associates and forget that you have named the name of Christ. You act and dress like them. . . . In a divided, halfhearted life, you will find doubt and darkness. You cannot enjoy the consolations of religion, neither the peace which the world gives.”

This is no surprise, I think. Most of us reading this are not unbelievers. We know that the world offers only fleeting pleasures, that its comforts and legacies will last but a short while. But we also know the fullness of the other side. I think back to my christmas tree in my apartment. Why did I not get a real christmas tree, a nice douglas fir? One reason, I already said, is that it would be messy. But also, real trees are dangerous. The tree quickly can dry up, and with a heating vent below it, or lights upon it, it can catch fire and destroy my apartment. Lastly, real christmas trees are simply much more expensive than the $15 fake one I got off craigslist. I settled for the artificial thing because the real things was (1) dangerous and (2) costly.

Meanwhile, many of us sit there in our spiritual lives just like my fake christmas tree because we know a real, totally consecrated relationship with God is dangerous and costly. We risk losing everything the world holds dear. People will revile us, the Bible says. We could lose all our possessions, everything we’ve worked so hard for. Like Jesus, we risk being rejected and scorned, pariahs. We may be met with failure on all sides. But this should be surprise: Paul says, that absent the resurrection and the hope of that eternal crown of righteousness, “we are to be pitied more than all men” (1 Cor. 15:19). Our lives could be so miserable by the world’s standards that they should pity us above all if not for the hope that we have. But many of us have not put these things on the line for our God. In Romans 12:2, the Bible commands “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world,” but many of us stay conformed just enough to be comfortable and safe. But this is an illusion, for we are neither comfortable in our spirituality, nor safe in our salvation, nor at harmony with the world. We buy into this illusion, but back in Revelation 3, as a solution to lukewarmness, Jesus commands in verse 19 “be earnest and repent.” Ellen White elaborates:

“They need a work wrought in their hearts by the Holy Spirit of God, which will lead them to love and choose the society of God’s people above any other, and to be separate from those who have no love for spiritual things. Jesus demands a whole sacrifice, an entire consecration. . . . [Y]ou have not realized that God requires your undivided affections. . . . Come out from the world, and be separate. Your life must be marked with sobriety, watchfulness, and prayer. . . . Thoroughly examine the grounds of your hope. Deal truly with your own soul. A supposed hope will never save you. Have you counted the cost? I fear not. Now decide whether you will follow Christ, cost what it will. You cannot do this and yet enjoy the society of those who pay no heed to divine things. Your spirits cannot mingle any more than oil and water.”

What we are called to is clear: entire consecration. Our lives must be separate and totally different than those of the world’s. It is a dangerous thing, a costly thing. Those around you will call it a phase, will deride it as impractical, prudish, superstitious, and self destructive. Your very flesh will rebel against it. It is not easy. In that chapter, Ellen White says “It requires effort and moral courage to live out our faith.” It requires resolve. So in this first month of 2010, let us resolve, make a resolution, for a new year, a new life. If there is one thing we will accomplish this year, after all the diets, exercise programs, business plans, and career endeavors have failed, let that one thing be what is written on the turban of the High Priest, “Holiness to the Lord.” Costly holiness, which means walking by faith, and doing things that are foolish in the eyes of those who know not our hope. Selling all our dignity for that precious pearl, that buried treasure. But don’t get me wrong, I don’t write to you as one who has already traveled this road. I am not nearing the end of the reckless journey, having experienced its heights and pitfalls, and bidding you “come, follow Jesus.” I am no bloodstained veteran. I am but a young, inexperienced warrior — with a battle plan.

“First there must be a thorough heart work,” Ellen White writes, “then their manners will take that elevated, noble character which marks the true followers of Christ.” Paul in 2 Cor. 13:5 admonishes, “Examine yourselves to see whether you are in the faith; test yourselves.” This means we must first realize where we are at with our faith. This is what I’ve been trying to delve into with the first part of this post. Is our faith more like the artificial christmas tree sitting in my apartment, or like the real one I chose to leave outside in the snow? Do we really take seriously the call? Or are we merely just another worldly person, masquerading around as someone who has a real, intimate, relationship with God, hoping that one day we will be filled with the Spirit? I had a friend who used to say, “Fake it ‘till you make it.” Live as if you had the joy of God in your life, and eventually it will be true. That’s nonsense. No matter how real I make that christmas tree in my apartment look, feel, and smell, it will never become a living, breathing organism.

We know that our God is there, that He is living and active, transforming people’s lives. We’ve heard about it in others, even seen it in those close to us.  But knowing that God works wonders in others is not enough; copying their behavior is not enough. Ellen White writes,

“They must feel an individual responsibility and have an experience for themselves. . . . Some will lean upon others’ judgment and experience rather than be at the trouble of a close examination of their own hearts, and will pass along for months and years with no witness of the Spirit of God, or evidence of their acceptance. They deceive themselves. They have a supposed hope, but lack the essential qualifications of a Christian. . . . Thoroughly examine the grounds of your hope. Deal truly with your own soul. A supposed hope will never save you. Have you counted the cost? I fear not. Now decide whether you will follow Christ, cost what it will.”

We are called to examine our hearts, in all the ways described above. Another question to ask ourselves is, “In what ways are we not surrendered and consecrated to Him?” But make no mistake, our hearts are not empty. Those parts not consecrated to Him are consecrated to something else. In examining our own souls, we must discover the idols of our own hearts and are called to destroy them like Israel of old. What gives us comfort and pleasure aside from our Lord? These things may not seem sinful at first blush. For example, earlier this month I realized that one of my idols was other people. Now, there’s nothing wrong with spending time with other people, but I realized that my soul drew comfort and joy from socializing, instead of from God and to the neglect of spending time with God. Approval and friendship with others is what I sought, towards what I directed my energies. We are called to realize what rules our hearts instead of Christ, so that we may destroy such things. We are called to experience God for ourselves, truly examine the cost, and accept it, and follow Christ without reservation.

But discovering our need for an actual, real walk with Christ, and discovering the things which take the place of it, is only part of the answer. Actual consecration, remember, takes courage and effort. How are we to go about this? This leads me to the second thing I’ve learned that we desperately need: we need to fix our eyes upon Jesus. Hebrews 3:1 says, “Therefore, holy brothers, who share in the heavenly calling, fix your thoughts on Jesus, the apostle and high priest whom we confess.” And again in Hebrews 12:2, the Word says, “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” There is no other way to consecration.

In this same chapter of Entire Consecration that we’ve been reading, Ellen White tells us some reasons why. First, while we should draw encouragement and inspiration from the lives of our brothers and sisters, we must not be focused on them. Ellen White writes, “Look not at the lives of others and imitate them and rise no higher. You have only one true, unerring Pattern. It is safe to follow Jesus only.” More than this, however, we must fix our eyes upon Jesus — constantly contemplate and relive His life, death, and resurrection — because only then will we draw strength to truly consecrate ourselves. Listen to her words:

Christ demands all. If He required less, His sacrifice was too dear, too great to make to bring us up to such a level. . . . And when you think that the way is too strait, that there is too much self-denial in this narrow path; when you say, How hard to give up all, ask yourselves the question, What did Christ give up for me? This question puts anything that we may call self-denial in the shade. Behold Him in the garden, sweating great drops of blood. A solitary angel is sent from heaven to strengthen the Son of God. Follow Him on His way to the judgment hall, while He is derided, mocked, and insulted by that infuriated mob.

Behold Him clothed in that old purple kingly robe. Hear the coarse jest and cruel mocking. See them place upon that noble brow the crown of thorns, and then smite Him with a reed, causing the thorns to penetrate His temples, and the blood to flow from that holy brow. Hear that murderous throng eagerly crying for the blood of the Son of God. He is delivered into their hands, and they lead the noble sufferer away, pale, weak, and fainting, to His crucifixion. He is stretched upon the wooden cross, and the nails are driven through His tender hands and feet. Behold Him hanging upon the cross those dreadful hours of agony until the angels veil their faces from the horrid scene, and the sun hides its light, refusing to behold. Think of these things, and then ask, Is the way too strait? No, no.

It is by casting our eyes upon the Cross that we obtain the transformation of righteousness.

But you can no easier fix your eyes on the right wall and at the same time fix your eyes on the left than you can fix your eyes upon Jesus and yet fill your life with other things. True concentration on the Cross means abandoning all other distractions. In the 19th century, these distractions could be flippant books (as Ellen White addresses below), but now we must confront far more mind-numbing things like television or idle internet browsing or empty chatter. I don’t think these things are wrong, per se, but indulging in them instead of finding our delight and rest in God deadens our senses and enjoyment of heavenly things.

“You are indulging an evil which threatens to destroy your spirituality. It will eclipse all the beauty and interest of the sacred pages. It is love for storybooks, tales, and other reading which does not have an influence for good upon the mind that is in any way dedicated to the service of God. It produces a false, unhealthy excitement, fevers the imagination, unfits the mind for usefulness, and disqualifies it for any spiritual exercise. It weans the soul from prayer and love of spiritual things. Reading that will throw light upon the sacred volume, and quicken your desire and diligence to study it, is not dangerous, but beneficial. You were represented to me with your eyes turned from the Sacred Book and intently fixed upon exciting books, which are death to religion. The oftener and more diligently you peruse the Scriptures, the more beautiful will they appear, and the less relish will you have for light reading. The daily study of the Scriptures will have a sanctifying influence upon the mind.”

We must find the distractions in our lives, those things which divert our gaze from the Savior, and purge such things from our lives.

Third, we must enter into serious prayer. My brother in Boston, Deriba, has taught me much of what a life in prayer looks like. He spends hours each morning in prayer, and the Spirit speaks to him. He once wrote this to me and his other friends:

“Many of you do not pray as you ought. That is to say, even though you consider yourselves children of the kingdom, your prayers are brief, general and languid. Emergencies only cause you to seek the Lord with greater earnestness. You call upon the Lord when you are in dire straits for the deliverance of your flesh rather than abiding in the One who promised to be a constant friend and councilor. What marvel is it then that you struggle with the same sins every day? . . . It is impossible to overcome without a humble life of prayer. This is a faithful saying, that if your life is not one of steadfast prayer, you will not see God. . . .

There is no substitute for this. Some prefer to read Scripture and dwell on subtle meanings to prove their call and election. But the Word that has not taken root in the contrite heart through ceaseless prayer will be used by the Devil to bring in overmastering temptations to many. Do not forget that Christ prayed with great trembling, all night long, resisting unto blood. Who are you then, my friend, to think you can get away with 20 minutes of prayer today?

My friend Deriba is saying that if Jesus Himself was in such desperate need of the Father that He prayed earnest every morning, and sometimes throughout the night, are you in such a great spiritual position that you can survive praying for merely minutes? No. We pray not because we have God, we pray because we need God.

Fourth, we need to meditate on Scripture. Note here that I did not say that we need to read the Bible, or merely know it. These things are good, but we have done far too much of it to the neglect of actually living in the Word. Pastor Samuel Pipim has said that “Adventism is a very heady religion.” He’s right: we have great knowledge and intellectual power in the Scriptures. We know a lot. But there comes a time where we must stop merely reading vast quantities, and instead slowing down and really savoring the Word. We need to read it slowly, really try to understand it, incorporate in our lives, and let it dwell in our hearts throughout our day. Psalm 1:2, speaking of the righteous man, says “his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night.” In summing up the Pentateuch, the vast history of Israel and its laws, Moses commands in Deuteronomy 32:47: “They are not just idle words for you—they are your life.” This is what the Word needs to be for us: not just an object of curious study, but our very life, as if we’ve never eaten a crumb of bread in our existence and now we have the opportunity to savor every morsel.

Lastly, in all these things, we must avoid sin. Our heart and mind is deceitful, we know the subtle paths that lead toward temptations, and we must flee from them. Proverbs 5:8, speaking of the adulteress woman of temptation, says “Keep a path far from her, do not go near the door of her house.” It is not enough to merely resist temptation, we must actively avoid even being tempted. We know the paths and the doors that might lead to sin, let us not even begin to go down them.

There it is. Here are my resolutions, as a man tired of the lukewarm life, of the unremarkable safe existence which takes just enough from both worlds to please both, but really satisfies neither. Here then are my 2010 resolutions: (1) to examine my own faith earnestly and find where I need to replace my idols with altars to God, (2) to truly fix my eyes upon my Jesus, the only hope of salvation, and eliminate all distractions which keep me from focusing on Him, (3) to pray in earnestness with all the time and energy I can muster, (4) to meditate day and night upon His Word such that it becomes my very life, and (5) to flee from even the temptation of sin. I really feel that I am at the brink of something new, at the edge of some great precipice, at the start of a great new adventure with God. Others I have talked to believe they are at a similar edge. My prayer is that at the end of 2010, we may truly declare like Paul, “I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ.” ]]> http://adventistya.com/2010/01/15/real-new-life/feed/ http://adventistya.com/2009/12/22/immanuel/ http://adventistya.com/2009/12/22/immanuel/#comments Wed, 23 Dec 2009 00:10:06 +0000 Mithun http://adventistya.com/?p=1299 Exhausted from the semester and finals, I sat in Boston’s Logan airport more than ready to go home. As I slouched in my chair, which faced away from the gate, I saw people in front of me start standing up, taking pictures with their cell phone cameras. At first I was simply perplexed, but I quickly whipped around to see what was so notable going on behind me. All I saw was a troop of police dressed in green standing at the gate, and five black coats walking into the jetway. I thought I caught a glimpse of a familiar face before it disappeared, but I wasn’t sure. So I asked the person sitting next to me, “Who was that?” Her response confirmed my suspicions: “That was President Bush, the older one.”

President George H. W. Bush was on my flight to Houston! When I got on the plane, sure enough, there was the 85 year old former world leader sitting in the first row of first class. He was on the phone as I passed by on the aisle: I smiled at him, and he back at me. As the four hour flight progressed, I started thinking about what I would do if I got to see him again after the flight. “I’ll get him to sign my pocket Constitution,” I thought. I began to wonder about other ways I could make the most of my time with the President: what if I got to have a five minute conversation with him? What would I ask or say? Most fun of all, what if I convinced him to let me join him next time he goes skydiving on his birthday? How great would that be?!

(Apologies to those who dislike the former President’s politics. Personally, I was only four years old when he left office, so I don’t remember much, but it was him, and not anyone else, I ran into on my Continental flight to Houston. If it makes it easier, go ahead and substitute Clinton, Obama, Carter, or whichever President or world leader you like.)

None of this happened, of course: not the signing nor the skydiving. But it was all very exciting nonetheless. It did, however, make me wonder: do I have the same anticipation, or will I have the same excitement, when I get to meet God Himself? Instead of flying through the air 20 rows back from my President, I’ll be flying through the air side-by-side with My Maker and My King! Maybe I’ll get Him to sign my Bible…and I certainly will have more than five minutes to talk to Jesus. I must say, I will have a child-like excitement.

But imagine that President Bush* had not been on the phone, and had instead spoken to me, and asked “Son, what is your name?”

“Mithun, Mr. President,” I would respond.

“Where are you from, Mithun?”

“McAllen, Texas, sir. I’m heading there after my layover in Houston.”

“Say, I’m thinking of spending the rest of my retirement down in McAllen. Would you mind if I lived in your house, with your family?”

Could you imagine that?! What an honor, a privilege, and an opportunity! The President dwelling with me. And yet, a much greater opportunity has been afforded all mankind throughout history. As we enjoy the Christmas season, we are constantly reminded of what makes it special: that one night, God Himself embarked on the mission called Immanuel: “God with us.” (Matthew 1:23).

Yet this really is nothing out of the ordinary for God. Throughout human history, one of the great themes of the Bible is this yearning of God to dwell with man. No matter how many times we push Him away, hide from Him, cheat on Him, break His heart, or break His body, His consistent mission is to dwell with us. In the Garden, where the first of mankind lived, God made the daily practice of walking with His children (Genesis 3:8), living with them. But despite this, our first parents fell away, hiding themselves from their Father in shame. Id. And yet Yahweh pressed on: at Sinai, amid smoke, fire, and trembling, God made yet another provision to fulfill His desire for Immanuel: “Then have them make a sanctuary for me, and I will dwell among them.” (Exodus 25:8). Through the Holy Sanctuary, God’s glorious presence was among His people (Exodus 40:35), and through ceremony and priesthood, the recently freed Israel had the privilege and joy of dwelling amongst their God.

But a spirit of rebellion set in again. The trials and temptations of life outside the house of the Father was too much for Israel, and time and again, the Sanctuary where God dwelt was taken from them. Eventually, the people of God were sent away in chains, in exile to Babylon, longing for Jeremiah’s 70 years to finish, when they can return to their holy city. But even after the return, and the rebuilding of wall and temple, God’s presence seemed strangely afar. People, with mournful longing, cried out in darkness for God to dwell with them once again. Yet Jeremiah’s, and other’s, pre-exilic prophecies contained more promises than merely homecoming; they spoke of Immanuel. Isaiah probably said it best:

The people walking in darkness
have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of the shadow of death
a light has dawned. . . .

For unto us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Of the increase of his government and peace
there will be no end.
He will reign on David’s throne
and over his kingdom,
establishing and upholding it
with justice and righteousness
from that time on and forever.
The zeal of the Lord Almighty
will accomplish this. — Isaiah 9:2, 6, 7

But this Immanuel was special in a certain way. Immanuel this time was not mighty footsteps in the garden; Immanuel was not terrible fire and gloom on a mountain; Immanuel was not glorious, life-ending presence in a veiled temple. Immanuel was something most counterintuitive: a baby. The majestic words of Isaiah were fulfilled in a little boy, laying in a feeding trough, hair probably still soaked with amniotic fluid and nostrils filled with the dung-scented air of a stable. His mother, still aching from delivering her Deliverer, was an unwed peasant of an occupied territory far away from the kingly throne of power. A mere thoughtless kick from a nearby mule would have snuffed this little life out of existence. This was the very God who came to dwell with man: poor, oppressed, powerless, and conceived in darkness like the rest of us.

The righteousness that is by faith says: “Do not say in your heart, ‘Who will ascend into heaven?’” (that is, to bring Christ down) ”or ‘Who will descend into the deep?’” (that is, to bring Christ up from the dead). But what does it say? “The word is near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart. . . .” — Romans 10:6–8

And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Now the dwelling of God is with men, and He will live with them. They will be His people, and God Himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” — Revelation 21:3–4.

Upon pondering with wonderment all these things, 30,000 feet in the air, I thought to myself: “God with us. Amazing, wonderful, joyous. But God with me?” God does not want to dwell with me alone, true, but He does want to dwell with me personally. Do I have that? Do you? Do I walk with Him in the evening time as Adam did, or have I set up a sanctuary for His presence in my very heart and mind, furnished with the best and swept clean, by His grace, of all that is incompatible with Him? My heart still longs for the opportunity with really dwell with Him, to really in all truth and honesty experience Immanuel, God with me. For this reason, with yearning this year I sing, and I would ask that you join with me,

O come, O come, Immanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear. . . .

But Israel fell into sin. The New American Standard Bible says they “began to play the harlot.” (Numbers 25:1). How did this happen? Ellen White reveals that “They neglected prayer and cherished a spirit of self-confidence.” Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 459. Let us not repeat their mistakes; indeed we are called to learn from them. (1 Corinthians 10:6). We must guard, then, against a spirit of pride and self-confidence, against a mindset that we cannot make it — in this world or the next — on our own. How do we do this? With prayer. Especially in times of spiritual victory, we must keep even closer to prayer. As my friend Deriba once told me, “Do not forget that Christ prayed with great trembling, all night long, resisting unto blood. Who are you then, my friend, to think you can get away with 20 minutes of prayer today?”

Why the need for such a faithful watch? Israel stumbled in to their sin because they had an enemy working against them: Balaam was conscripted to tempt Israel. (Numbers 31:16). But who’s there to work against us? Jon Acuff explains that maybe we give Satan a free pass sometimes. Maybe we say “I can go without serious, constant prayer. I can live without always thinking about God. I can do, think, and say things that are neutral — not bad, but not for God — without any harm.” Acuff responds, “Those statements aren’t a big deal if we lived in a world where we didn’t have an enemy that was actively and aggressively fighting us. Those statements don’t matter if we didn’t have a force of evil that was delirious with hunger for you.” But we don’t. 1 Peter 5:8 says, “Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” Thus, 1 Corinthians 10:12–14 admonishes:

If you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall! No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it. Therefore, my dear friends, flee from idolatry.

This week’s lesson, based on the letter of 3 John, focused on a power struggle that was occurring in the leadership of one of the early local churches. For those of us who’ve been in church long enough, we’re well aware of the struggles that go on beneath the surface — about who the leadership should be, the direction of the church, finances, and even sometimes doctrinal issues.

I’m sure many of you have had some sort of disagreement or conflict with another church member.

But I don’t want to focus on how to resolve those conflicts; an important topic, indeed, but not one I’m going to discuss. I want you to go inward with me. When these conflicts arise, are we Diotrephes? John, in his third letter, singles out Diotrephes as the cause of this conflict, because he is a man “who loves to be first among them.” (3 John 9). When conflict arises, we are always quick to start mulling over why the other person is wrong, misguided, or unqualified. But we must first ensure that we are not the one who is seeking that things be done my way, that people behave as I think they should. Our first thoughts should be conforming our lives to the commands of Jesus and Paul:

“If anyone wants to be first, he must be the very last, and the servant of all.” — Mark 9:35

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves.” — Philippians 2:3

When conflict arises, are these the first things you think of? Are these words the first you seek to obey? Or do you instead first  go to task on making the other person realize that they are wrong? “Those who are inclined to regard their individual judgment as supreme are in grave peril.” (E.G. White, Gospel Workers, p. 444).

There is of course a danger in having a servant’s heart. If you humble yourself , the other person still might not do the same thing. This means, of course, you’ll be walked over. People will strike you, strip you vulnerable, and make you go places that you don’t want to. What then?

“But I tell you, Do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles.” — Matthew 5:39-41

The Man who spoke those words had those things done to Him. By us. For us. You must ask yourself, “Is the servant greater than the master?” (John 13:16).

That Jesus is the Word of Life is both without need of explanation and beyond explanation. It is simultaneously the most crucial and incomprehensible truth that confronts mankind. As Paul explains to the Athenians on Mars Hill, “in Him we live and move and have our being.” (Acts 17:28).

John also emphasizes the fact that he, and others, are eyewitnesses to this word of life: they have seen, heard, and touched The Source. He was as real to to them as anything else, and because of that, “they cannot stop speaking about what [they] have seen and heard.” (Acts 4:20). But the Word of Life is not a dead God. He is resurrected! He lives today! So we are invited to be eyewitnesses ourselves. Many of us have stories where we simply cannot deny that we have seen, heard, or felt the risen Christ. I recently had a friend who was starting to experience severe health problems. He eventually realized that they began when he stopped giving Tithe, and when he merely purposed in his heart to start giving again, his health problems almost completely vanished! He called me right away, and could not stop speaking excitedly about it…and neither could I to others who were around me. Like John, we became eyewitnesses, and just would not shut up about it (even as I’m writing to you right now).

But an eyewitness is not someone who merely sees; it is someone who sees and then tells. It is so important to share these experiences, not only for those who do not believe, but also for your fellow brothers and sisters; to encourage them in the faith, and to give them new perspectives on Jesus. C.S. Lewis once wrote that when a good friend died, he not only lost that friend, but also part of other friends in the same group. He experienced friend A through the friendship of friend B, and vice versa. Somehow, there was less of everybody in his circle of brothers when that one friend departed. The same is true with our relationship with God. I have learned so many things about God through other people’s relationship with Him, that I am scared to imagine how little I would know about God if I were on my own. That is not to say I don’t have a relationship of my own, or that it’s OK to live only off other’s experiences, but the fellowship  in God is one of the most precious aspects of our faith.

Which brings us to John’s third focus: our fellowship in God the Father, Christ the Son, and the Church, His children. John preaches so that we “too may have fellowship,” with both God and others. And in that unique, mutually-affirming fellowship, “our joy [is] made complete.” (1 John 1:4). Yet again, I am an eyewitness to this truth: my joy has never been complete when I have rejected or lacked the fellowship of believers. We, together, are the Bride of Christ, and no matter how society and culture changes, a severed hand or ear is not marriage material, only the whole person.

How have you been an eyewitness of the resurrected Christ lately? What has God done in your life, where you just can’t keep quiet? Are you experiencing the joy of fellowship, are have you denied that joy to others and yourself?

But why did He send those plagues? Was it a pure sadistic act? I don’t think so. Was it merely to coerce Pharaoh to free the Israelites from slavery? A noble and worthy cause, sure enough, and probably part of the reason, but I don’t think that encompasses the whole picture. God’s compassion upon His people is clear, but I believe that God acts to promote the highest purpose of the universe: the glorification of God. For it is the glory of God which is the most beautiful thing, and it is His ultimate good for the entire universe to be in harmony through glorifying God. God’s greatest pleasure and our greatest pleasure find their apex in His greatest glory.

I was delighted, then, to see that the Bible, in Exodus, explicitly recognizes this, as God sends the terrible plagues upon Egypt. God states His reason every time and, almost without fail, every single plague was meant for His glory. Even before the entire ordeal, God makes clear His purposes:

But I will harden Pharaoh’s heart that I may multiply My signs and My wonders in the land of Egypt. — Exodus 7:3

Notice, this was just before the Nile was turned into blood, the first plague. Then, just after the second plague — a massive frog infestation — was executed, Moses lets Pharaoh know God’s purposes:

…that you may know that there is no one like the Lord our God. — Exodus 8:10b

Again, God’s glory, even as manifested in the mind of Pharaoh, is the focus. So too, just before flies invaded Egypt, God declares His reasoning:

…that you may know that I, the Lord, am in the midst of the land. — Exodus 8:22b

Again and again, God shows that His glory, through the minds and hearts of, and relationship with, both the Israelites and the Egyptians, is the focus. Thus, during the plagues upon the cattle, of boils, of hail, of locusts, of death, and in the final Exodus, God glorifies His name and, through this, redeems His people:

Let my people go, that they may serve Me. — Exodus 9:1b

I have allowed you to remain, in order to show you My power and in order to proclaim My name through all the earth. — Exodus 9:16

Then Pharaoh sent for Moses and Aaron, and said to them, “I have sinned this time; the Lord is the righteous one, and I and my people are the wicked ones.” — Exodus 9:27

…that you may know that the earth is the Lord’s. — Exodus 9:29b

Then the Lord said to Moses, “Go to Pharaoh, for I have hardened his heart and the heart of his servants, that I may perform these signs of Mine among them, and that you may tell in the hearing of your son and your grandson, how I made a mockery of the Egyptians and how I performed My signs among them, that you may know that I am the Lord.” — Exodus 10:1-2

…that you may understand how the Lord makes a distinction between Egypt and Israel. — Exodus 11:7b

Then [Pharaoh] called for Moses and Aaron at night and said, “Rise up, get out from among my people, both you and the sons of Israel; and go, worship the Lord. — Exodus 12:31

This glorious truth is not applicable to Israel’s redemption alone. The Glory of God, that His name and goodness be known throughout the entire of Creation, is the focus of our redemption as well. That God would be shown righteous, the physical, spiritual, and moral victor of the Great Controversy which divides the universe, is the sum total of Christ’s ministry for us. As Paul declares:

“…Christ Jesus, whom God displayed publicly as a propitiation in His blood through faith. This was to demonstrate His righteousness, because in the forbearance of God He passed over the sins previously committed; for the demonstration, I say, of His righteousness at the present time, so that He would be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus.” — Romans 3:25-26

Since we are to “do all to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31), I submit that the plagues of Egypt have a very real application to our lives. If you’re thinking about how you can further glorify God in your life (and when shouldn’t you be?), or if plagues are upon you, consider the lessons of Exodus 7-12. If plagues are wreaking pain and havoc on your life, or on one you love, consider the possible ways God is trying to glorify Himself, ways in which you can glorify God in that situation, or things that God is trying to teach you. Possibilities include:

1. God’s wondrous, miraculous, and transcendent power (Ex. 7:3)

2. God’s uniqueness and irreplaceability (Ex. 8:10)

3. God’s very real presence among us (Ex. 8:22)

4. The beauty and goodness of serving God, and the duty to serve as well (Ex. 9:1)

5. Proclaiming God’s name and power to all (Ex. 9:16)

6. Recognition of God’s righteousness and conviction of and repentance for sins (Ex. 9:27)

7. God’s sovereign ownership of everything (and thus our ownership of nothing) (Ex. 9:29)

8. Teaching your children and all those who learn from you, now or in the future, about His goodness and power (Ex. 10:1-2)

9. God’s justice and distinction between His people and those who rebel against Him (Ex. 11:7)

10. The duty and opportunity to worship God (Ex. 12:31)