Scared of Success

The minor prophets don't merely point out errors; they also point to what success should look like. In those books are several goals, the completion of which offers joy, purpose, and a God-centered life. For instance:

1. Habakkuk challenges us to rejoice in all circumstances:

"Though the fig tree may not blossom,

Nor fruit be on the vines;

Though the labor of the olive may fail, 

And the fields yield no food. . .

Yet I will rejoice in the Lord,

I will joy in the God of my salvation." (3:17-18)

2. Zecharia demands that we become the one others come to:

"In those days ten men from every language of the nations shall grasp the sleeve of a Jewish man, saying, "Let us go with you, for we have heard that God is with you." (8:23)

3. Later in Zecharia, we are told that because there are things worth fighting for, we should strive to be great warriors:

"They shall be like mighty men,

Who tread down their enemies

In the mire of the streets in the battle.

They shall fight because the Lord is with them." (10:5)

4. Malachi tells us to come to God, so that we might be purified:

"For He is like a refiner's fire

And like launderer's soap.

He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver;

He will purify the sons of Levi,

And purge them as gold and silver,

That they may offer to the Lord

An offering in righteousness." (3:2-3)

These are all great goals to have. My problem, and it seems the problem of many other Christians, is that thought these seem like good ideas, we're scared to death of them being true. We're simply not sure they are worth the cost. Rejoice in all things? Then I lose my right to complain, one of my favorite things to do, especially with others. It's an admonition that the world doesn't exist for my personal comfort, and that's not a reality that's easy to face. Become the one others seek? But I'm a busy guy. If others come to me, I lose my time, my freedom, my privacy. Do I really want to be sought out? And what about being a mighty warrior? Then it's my job to fight, and battles are hard. Warriors are called to action, not words or thoughts; warriors are in harm's way. And purification? I kind of like some of my imperfections. I want to be good. But pure? Refined? Sounds like a lot of work, really.

And on and on it goes in my head. I read these verses and get fired up to be all I can be, to go chase the success that is so clearly laid out for me. But I'm scared to death what that success may cost me. And ultimately, that reveals a lack of faith. Either I believe God, that this is what I was made for, that these goals will produce in my life joy and a closeness to God that will trump all other desires, or I like where I'm at and make myself into a god.

Sometimes you've got to pretend you believe something, through all the doubt, until you're actually convinced. I believe in God more than I believe in my own fear. It's time to act like it.

The Biggest Bus of All

My last several posts have been themed as "buses" - mistakes that I make over and over again - that were common in the books of the Old Testament prophets. Tonight I type about the biggest bus of all.

All the warnings of all the minor prophets can be summarized in two verses from Obadiah that spell out the root of all problems and the result:

• "The pride of your heart has deceived you." (1:3)
• "Shame shall cover you." (1:10)

It doesn't get a whole lot more complicated than that, yet I jump in front of this one all the time. I don't think I'm alone. While millions mimic the cry of "Pride cometh before the fall," it doesn't stop them and me from that descent. And it's tough to see in people, to really point out all the pride in all the people we come across each day, only because it is so common that it is no longer ugly. Most would agree a braggart is ugly, showing off skills whether he/she has them or not, self-promoting all the way, shamelessly stepping into a self-sponsored spotlight at all times. We point to that and call it pride, knowing we would never be so asinine, so clueless, so conceited.

But the common kind of pride, the one infecting me, is quieter, even revered. C.S. Lewis puts it this way in Mere Christianity: "The moment you have a self at all, there is a possibility of putting yourself first - wanting to be the center - wanting to be God, in fact." All that means is my prideful behavior is when I try to take control of my own life, when I call it my own, when I believe I can control it and behave in a manner that shows I believe everything in it should go my way. It's chasing dreams for me, not God. It's making money for me, not God. It's loving my wife to get something in return, loving my kids so others think I'm a good parent, doing my job well to gain a good reputation. It's doing all kinds of good things with the center of focus on me.

I like what Lewis said later in Mere Christianity as well: "In God you come up against something which is in every respect immeasurably superior to yourself. Unless you know God as that - and, therefore, know yourself as nothing in comparison - you do not know God at all. As long as you are proud you cannot know God."

The books of the prophets repeat this message over and over again, because God's people made (and make) that mistake over and over again. And in many assorted ways, shame covers them. The book of Zephaniah does show, however, what happens when that pride is eradicated His people seek him:

"Do not fear;

Zion, let not your hands be weak.

The Lord your God in your midst, 

The Mighty One, will save;

He will rejoice over you with gladness,

He will quiet you with His love,

He will rejoice over you with singing." (3:16-17)

The choice seems like an easy one.

Bus #3: The American Way

One thing I've always taken pride in is in attempting to have the strength to handle whatever comes my way. It's a common American theme, that of self-reliance, of picking oneself up after getting knocked down, of accomplishing anything if you just work hard enough, of not needing anyone. My youngest daughter says it best when in anger she takes whatever I have in my hands that I'm trying to help her with and shouts at me, "I do it myself!" She, I, and the collective American spirit all maintain that we can handle whatever comes our way.

It's all lies. Big ones. It's a goal set that sets us all up for failure. It also did those Israelites in from time to time in the books of the minor prophets, and this "bus" of self-sufficiency is one of the many in front of which I commonly throw myself.

One fact is inescapable, no matter how much I try to ignore it: I am not God. That pretty much rules out all delusions of sovereignty, thrusting me into a world of whirlwinds that I attempt to control all on my own. If life were a school project, and I was given the option of working alone or working with a partner, I would constantly choose to work alone. I'm that stubborn D student who knows just enough to not totally fail and whose pride won't allow me to accept the partnership offered by the smartest kid in the class. "I do it myself!" I yell into the whirlwinds.

The book of Amos lays out how well that works for those attempting whatever it is they are attempting, alone:

"Therefore flight shall perish from the swift,

The strong shall not strengthen his power,

Nor shall the mighty deliver himself;

He shall not stand who handles the bow,

The swift of foot shall not escape,

Nor shall he who rides a horse deliver himself.

The most courageous men of might

Shall flee naked in that day." (2:14-16)

The most discouraging aspect of that passage is that we're talking about the best of the best in terms of natural talent. This isn't about the weak, the poor, the helpless; this is about the swift, the strong, the mighty, the courageous. I am none of these things. Middle of the pack, maybe, but certainly not ready for the Top Gun school of tough guys. If the most talented are screwed on their own, I can only imagine how little I am able to fight alone, without the Sovereign one.

The book of Zecharia weighs in as well. If I want to accomplish anything of substance, anything lasting, anything worthy of my calling; and if I want to survive drought, famine, devastating loss, and potty-training my kids, then it must be "'Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit,' says the Lord of hosts." (4:6)

This bus has run over me so many times, I almost feel more comfortable in front of it. It's an act of quiet desperation, but it's a familiar one, and it's seen as honorable in our culture. Familiar or not, honorable or not, it's never taken me to success before. That, I've come to realize, only comes when I partner up with the Honor Student and let Him do most of the work.

Bus #2: The Immediate

The book of Haggai presents another common "bus" that I get hit by time and time again. Haggai prophesied in a time when the Jews were finally allowed to return to their homeland after 70 years of captivity. One of the first duties upon returning was rebuilding the temple. This started well, but the Israelites became quickly distracted by their own homes, businesses, etc.

God calls them out: "Is it time for you yourselves to dwell in your paneled houses, and this temple to lie in ruins?" (1:4)

The result of this mistake sounds very familiar:

"You have sown much, and bring in little,

You eat, but do not have enough;

You drink, but you are not filled with drink;

You clothe yourselves, but no one is warm;

And he who earns wages, 

Earns wages to put into a bag with holes." (1:6)

In other words, they became indifferent to God while focusing on their own agenda. John C. Maxwell, in his commentary on this chapter, puts it another way: "If you forget the ultimate, you will become a slave to the immediate." Obviously, based on verse six, the immediate does not pay all that well. And I feel like I've been there before, putting wages into a bag with holes, running around doing anything and everything to get ahead, accomplish great things, yet falling down exhausted at the end of the day, and never really getting anywhere. 

Basketball season is a common time for this. It's easy, what with the constant demands of the immediate (today's stats, practice schedule, game, scouting report, etc), to completely forget the ultimate. And when I get caught up in the immediate, all I want to do is win. I forget that I'm not there to build my own house, so to speak, but instead there to build up young people for the world and be a model of Christ-like behavior in all circumstances for them. Sometimes I do get to win and get all the rewards of winning. But after ten years, I know that the rewards of winning pale in comparison to the rewards of coaching with God's agenda in mind.

I have built great relationships with some of my players over the last decade, kids who I run into here and there (or on Facebook) and make me feel like I did something for them. I know I had the ultimate firmly in mind during those years. There are some seasons, however, where there are few of those relationships still left. It's clear where my mind, my heart, and my priorities were doing those seasons. And it's no wonder I felt like I was spinning my wheels, doing everything I could, with no results. I ate and drank but was not full, clothed but not warm, paid but not enough.

In Haggai comes one of God's most important commands for all people in all times: "Consider your ways!" (1:7). In your "busy season," whose house are you building?

Bus #1: Good Times

My recent posts have been about the minor prophets of the Old Testament, my most recent one comparing the mistakes I routinely make to stepping out in front of buses, all of which I should be able to avoid if only I'd read about those foolish Old Testament people screwing up time and time again. I'd like to detail what some of those buses look like.

One major stumbling block for those Israelites as well as for me is good times. God puts it like this in Hosea:

"I knew you in the wilderness,
In the land of great drought.
When they had pasture, they were filled;
They were filled and their heart was exalted;
Therefore, they forgot Me." (Hosea 13:5-6)

In the wilderness, I'm awful good at cozying up to God: God, heal me. Send rain. Keep my car running for another month. Help me find a job. And survive this one. Save me, God. I'm desperate.

Too often, though, getting out of trouble is my quickest ticket back into real trouble. Once I'm safe and secure (or at least feel that way), it's easy to do as Hosea's wife did and go out and be a prostitute again with my attention and devotion. God who? Oh, yeah, thanks God. Good job. I'll call you next week.

To be filled and have a heart exalted is a dangerous place to be. It would be sinful to see it as bad. Blessings are good. We should celebrate what we've been given. But I know I have to work hard to recognize that the pitfall exists if I'm lazy or not looking both ways. When times are good, when money is plentiful, when security abounds and the cupboards are full, I know that in order to miss getting hit by that bus, I've got to remember that the money, the food, and the security are blessings from God, not gods themselves.

"In their affliction they will earnestly seek Me," says God (Hosea 5:15). If I earnestly seek even when times are good, I'm guessing I'll find that the joy that all the blessings bring me pales in comparison.

A Morning Cloud

I routinely tell my students that there are 3 kinds of people in this world:

1. The kind who see someone get hit by a bus, realize that it hurts, and avoid walking out in front of buses.
2. The kind who have to get hit by the bus before they believe that it hurts.
3. The kind who get hit by the bus multiple times and keep jumping out in front, expecting it to feel good, despite all evidence and experience to the contrary.

I'll leave it to my audience's imagination in which category most of my students fall. On a personal level, though, that's one of the reasons I like reading biographies. If I can learn from the lives of others, both what they did well and the mistakes they made, then perhaps I don't have to necessarily experience something in order to understand it. 

That's why the Steve Jobs biography was worth my time. Despite the fact that he is a completely different person from a different generation with a different faith structure and skills in an industry I don't understand, the read was worth my time. It's also why reading the Old Testament is worthwhile as well. Too often the Old Testament is discarded, especially the minor prophets that I've been reading as of late. It's easy to see those books as ancient writing about ancient people in an ancient world, with little bearing on the here and now. (Also, God does an awful lot of smiting in the Old Testament, and people aren't necessarily thrilled to hear about those parts.)

Here's the thing, though: people are people. The Israelites are a mirror for present day humanity, communicating to us likely mistakes and triumphs, highlighting the way people act who alternate between chasing God and doing their damndest to ignore him. In them, I see me. And unfortunately, instead of watching them get hit by the bus and learning from it, it feels an awful lot like watching myself in a bloopers reel, blindly jumping out in front of the bus time and time again.

In the book of Hosea, God makes a point about Israel, comparing them to a prostitute whoring themselves out to the highest bidder, dressing up daily for cheap thrills while discarding God. When that doesn't work, when they are in despair about their daily lives in shambles, they call out to God. 

God has seen this video before. He's seen it since the beginning of man, through generation after generation of followers, seen it in Hosea's time and in me in my youth, in my 20's, and now in my 30's. Because of that, God can wisely respond, "Your faithfulness is like a morning cloud." (Hosea 6:4)

I can often arrogantly read through the silly mistakes of the Israelites, their obstinate and stupid behavior causing them to chase their own shadows in the wilderness and under other rulers over and over again. As soon as I get comfortable and smug, a verse like that one smacks me into reality. Your faithfulness is like a morning cloud. Unpredictable, fleeting, faint, the cloud may be back tomorrow, or it may be a while before it is seen again. My faithfulness is a morning cloud.

I've learned a lot from my survey of the minor prophets. Most of all, I've learned about what the buses look like that I seem to love to jump in front of. The picture is discomforting, as it must be. But the more I watch film of that bus, the better chance I'll have of missing it tomorrow. Or perhaps the next day. After all, I'm a morning cloud.

Beyond Fish Vomit

I'm working my way through the minor prophets in the Old Testament right now, and I'd like to comment in a few posts about what I've learned. The first one I want to address is Jonah.

Jonah and the whale, or the big fish, or the leviathan, or whatever else is trending at the time is a story told to all ages. Jonah attempts to disobey God and hide; God helps him find a better hiding spot inside some large fish's belly. Drowning in fish guts, Jonah learns his lesson and is rewarded with a vomit-induced ride onto shore to finally do the job God sent him to do. The lesson here is easy - don't avoid God's commands for personal convenience, especially if you plan to sail in the near future.

The book of Jonah does not end there, though, and the rest of the story is hardly told. It seems that those wicked people of Ninevah, those depraved degenerates whom Jonah has been sent to chastise and forewarn of their impending doom, actually listen to Jonah and repent. Here's where the story gets good (and familiar).

Jonah is furious with this outcome. After all his trouble, he wanted a front row seat to some serious Sodom and Gomorrah action. These are wicked people, after all, who deserve to be struck down with great vengeance and furious anger, to use a Pulp Fiction reference. Instead, God relents, much to Jonah's dismay.

Logically, this seems backward. He was there preaching, they listened, and everyone is safe; why wouldn't Jonah be thrilled with this? The answer - he's just like all of us who often root for evil people to stay evil. See, when the jerk with whom you work performs another enormous act of jackassery, ask yourself this question: are you happy about it? Do you recount the tale for others, relishing in the growing evil of one you've already deem awful? When the athlete you hate gets arrested or is thrown off a team or provides one more outrageous, asinine interview to the media, do you soak it in? When your boss makes one more incompetent decisions, or provides another shameless lie, are you somehow comforted?

Shamefully, I am. It's comforting because it's less complicated. It means I was right about them, that I was clever enough to see them for the jerk, idiot, or devil that they are. I am good, they are not - clear lines are drawn with me on the right side. The more mistakes they make, the less I have to think and feel and hope for them. If they're evil, they're hopeless, and certainly I'm not responsible for the well-being of the hopelessly evil in the world?

Jonah was backward, and so am I, and I'm guessing so are many of my readers. While it's nearly impossible to admit to hoping that those we despise remain contemptible, it's not hard to understand why it happens. 

Don't miss the part after the fish upchuck. Jonah sounds selfish and godless in his error, and so do we.