How Do You Give Up The Thing You Love?

Oh, baby! I could spend a few years here.

I was wandering through a marina some years ago, looking at the sailboats, imagining the wind in the hair, the splash of seafoam, the smell of the sea.

I’d grown up with a small sailboat. I’d learned early on to love the rock of the waves, the sound of the sea, learning to rely on the sea for my home, my transportation, my grocery store, my schooling, my solitude.

I love the sea. I love who I am on the sea, and who Father is with me when we’re on the sea together.

I was thinking, imagining, planning: how can I change my lifestyle so that my sweetheart and I could adopt a lifestyle on the water. I knew she wouldn’t really take much persuading.

Let's see... It would need to be sailboat, because the wind is cheaper than gas, and I expect to be using a lot of one or the other. It would need to be at least 35’ sailboat, as that seemed the smallest size to house two people as a live-aboard, and we couldn’t afford a boat – a real boat – and a house, too. We’d need to change our careers, but that could be done. I’d need to …

Father interrupted me, tenderly, almost hesitantly. It seemed that he enjoyed how much I was loving his creation, but perhaps there was yet a reason to steer me in another direction.

“Son, would you consider an offer from me?” Oh my. God is deferring to my choice? God has something to say about this plan? This ought to be good! “Sure, Father! What are you thinking?”

“Son, would you consider a trade? If you’ll sacrifice a sailboat – a sailing lifestyle – in this life time, then would you like it if I took you on a sailing trip in the next one? We’ll sail around the rings of Saturn first, and then we’ll explore more interesting places. Would you be willing to make that trade?” Though I heard the words only in my mind, they sounded as if he – the God of the Universe – had his hat in his hand as he came to me with this question: it was clear that this was important to him.

He had me. On several levels, he had me. Sure, it would be completely awesome to go sailing around the rings of Saturn with God; that was an easy choice! The Creator as my own personal tour guide! How cool is that! That would be a no-brainer.

But he had me before he ever mentioned the rings of Saturn. It was clear – he wouldn’t have asked it otherwise – that he had other plans for my life that sailing would interfere with. I could imagine what those things might be, but I chose not to. He wasn’t offering other plans to me. He was revealing his heart to me.

The biggest thing that made me shout “Yes! Of course, yes!” was that my Daddy who loves me foolishly, extravagantly, irrevocably, my lover had just bared a big piece of his infinite heart to me. And for some reason, he wanted me to choose differently than I was beginning to choose; it would make him sad if I continued this path. How can you ever do something that would sadden the one who loves you like that? I couldn’t imagine saying no to a love like that!

This has been a powerful lesson in the decades since that interaction. We’ve come back to this conversation over and over again as he teaches me his ways. What a lesson in how to love well! What a lesson in how he values my free will! What a lesson about how that which is good can get in the way of that which is best.

But most of all, what a lesson in how much, how tenderly, he loves me.

Do I still love sailing? Absolutely.

Do I regret making that decision, walking away from something I loved, with nothing in return except his quiet smile? Not for a freaking second!

The Symphony

I enjoy classical music. More than any other kind of music, the composers of great classical music wove melodies and harmonies together, often mixing layer upon layer of different music, weaving it together into a glorious piece. The fact that some, like Beethoven, couldn’t hear what they were composing overwhelms me.

You couldn’t ever play a symphony on a single instrument. Which melody would you play? They’re all woven together, each instrument taking our turn at the forefront, taking a turn in the background. When they’re all playing the symphony together, the result is glorious!

“Symphony” is an interesting word. It’s actually a Greek word that’s so unique that we don’t translate it, we just use English letters to pronounce it with.

The Greek word συμφωνέω (“symphōneō “) means “to agree together,” or “to agree with one in making a bargain, to make an agreement, to bargain.” Our working together – not all doing the same thing, but working, each in our own way, toward the same end – is a symphony.  

Our word συμφωνέω is the heart of Jesus’ declaration in Matthew 18:19: “Again I say to you that if two of you agree on earth concerning anything that they ask, it will be done for them by My Father in heaven.” This is a symphony.

I suppose that there are a few things that stand out to me in this:

§         Our “agreeing together” makes beautiful music in heaven. I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that it makes Jesus really happy.

§         This isn’t about numbers. He doesn’t say anything about “If you gather all the Christians in the city….” The symphony begins with “two of you.” I think we miss this one sometimes.

§         Our “agreeing together” isn’t about us doing stuff in unison. If every instrument played the same line, the only variation would be when someone missed the note, and it would sound like a junior high school band concert. There is nothing beautiful in the “symphony” produced that way, except that little Johnny is actually playing something; I sure wish he’d practiced his part.

I think we’ve missed this one sometimes as well. I’ve been browbeaten in the name of “unity” to do the thing that the browbeater is doing, in the way the browbeater is doing it, rather than playing my own part on my own instrument. I’m not sure that browbeating someone into submission is the best method of achieving beautiful music. I grieve that we’ve done that.

§         Our “agreeing together” is powerful. That symphony moves Father’s hand to do “any thing” (“each, every, any, all, the whole, everyone, all things, everything”) that we agree about. This is some of the beauty of the symphony, I think: actually seeing “on earth as it is in Heaven” happening, and us getting to take part in it.

The fact that we don’t see as much of Father’s hand being moved by unit may be a good clue: maybe the way we’ve been striving for unit isn’t the most effective way.

I suspect that we’ll accomplish the symphony of unity much better if we’re all playing the music that our great Conductor places before us: following the Conductor will be more symphonic than following another musician, no matter how good they are. The trombonist will never make beautiful music if he’s trying to play the timpani’s part. Or the piccolo’s part. Or the violin’s part.

More to the point, the trombonist will never be judged for how well he played the second violin’s part. His only reward will come from how well the trombone part came out when it was called upon.

My encouragement is for us to look to the Holy Spirit for the part you’re to play in this whole symphony, not to human leaders. We must fellowship together, yes. We can learn from each other, of course. We do well to “encourage one another and build up one another, just as you also are doing.”

Don’t follow the leader of the brass section just because he’s loud. Learn to play your own instrument, your own calling, your own gifting. And having begun, follow the Holy Spirit who’s conducting this symphony.

Why the Cheap Stuff?

In recent months, during times of God’s tangible presence, a cloud of what appears to be gold dust has appeared in a church in the region. It’s showed up several times.

A couple of years back, I was in a meeting where an apostle spoke. He spoke from his apostolic office, from his place as a father in the faith; his message was powerful. I watched as gold dust appeared out of thin air all over his black suit. By the end of the message it looked like he was wearing a rhinestone suit.

I ran to the side of the stage, and watched from up close. It was still amazing. Afterwards, I went up to rub my hands in the glittery stuff that was all over the pulpit, all over the stage where he had stood. A friend of mine had a brush and a container, and was gathering the dust up.

One recent weekend, at a friend’s birthday party, as we were sharing testimonies of God’s goodness, I watched cut gems show up on the carpet. Some of them appeared in front of my eyes. I gathered up a small handful. They don’t look to be anything spectacular (though they are pretty) until I remember that I watched them appear from thin air. Whoa.

I watched many of these appear from thin air.

Any time something unusual like this happens, myriads of voices shout “deception” and point to the fact that they’ve never seen this happening in the Bible! But then we’ve never seen flush toilets or computers in the Bible either, and we seem to be OK with those. And then there’s the detail that the Bible itself says that it doesn’t tell nearly all of the story (John 21:25). I don’t pay attention to those nay-sayers. But that doesn’t answer the questions.

Here’s where it takes a left turn I didn’t expect. A friend gathered up some of the gold dust from the cloud that appeared in church, and had it analyzed. It’s not gold. That didn’t surprise me, as it was swirling around in a way that the heavy metal couldn’t, but to have it confirmed: this is some sort of plastic. That’s weird.

My friend that gathered up the gold dust that had showed up around the apostle in the black suit had a unique view. As a videographer, he was watching the gold dust through the lens of his high-quality video camera. Zooming in close to the man’s shoulders, he looked to see where the dust was coming from. He watched it appear over his shoulders, from little disturbances in the light over his shoulders; he called them little portals, pouring glittery dust out, all over the man standing there preaching.

Some of the gold dust made its way to a jeweler, who analyzed it: this wasn’t gold. It’s not even a metal. “It’s a polymer of some kind.” Wait. What?

And the gems. Some gems have been analyzed by jewelers. Some are perfectly cut, so perfectly that it confused the jewelers. Many were not. A few appeared to be topaz or amethyst or other gems suitable for jewelry.

I’ve had some folks get in my face and declare that because it’s not real, metallic gold, because they’re not real rubies and sapphires, that proves it’s fake. Nonsense.

I suppose some of it could be faked, but not all of it. Seriously, I watched – I watched closely – as gems and glittery stuff appeared from thin air. I saw it happen with my own eyes, while I was on guard for falsehood and pretension. I’m convinced, both in my spirit and in my observations that at least some of what happened is absolutely real.

But then, why plastic instead of real gold? Why cheezy gems? Isn’t God capable of raining down diamonds and doubloons on his children?

As I asked the question, Father pointed me to the statement that often dominates the conversation when these topics come up: “Oooooh! I wish that happened to me! I want gems. I want gold dust!” These kinds of things, even when they’re cheezy plastic gold, poorly cut tiny gems, draw attention to the gifts.

Now I’m convinced that it’s good to appreciate the gifts Father gives, but I suspect that he’s not real fond of it when his gifts bring out the avarice in his children: “I want! I want!” And if there’s that much avarice with the cheap stuff, what will happen when he does pour out rubies and Krugerrands?

Honestly, I don’t think we’re ready for the real thing. If every time we worshipped Father, millions of dollars of worldly wealth (often referred to as “pavement” in the language of heaven; cf Rev. 21:21), would we worship God for his worth, or for the gold and gems? How about the people around us? Would they be paying attention to Him who sits on the throne, or to the stuff clanking on the floor around us?

And I suspect that this is part of the reason why signs and wonders – though they are increasing – are still relatively few and far between. We’re not really ready for the real.

If every person we touched was healed, if hospitals were emptied when we walked past, we’d never have a moment’s peace. We’d be offered millions of dollars just to come to this person’s mansion and heal this corrupt politician, that movie star, kidnapped for drug lords or terrorists.

Nope. Not ready yet.

The Work of Growing

My mind has been taking me on some strange paths, recently.

You who are parents, have you ever given birth to a post-pubescent adult, ready to join society as a productive member. “Skip the diapers, Mom, but could you hand me my shave kit? I gotta go find a job.”

It doesn’t usually happen that way, does it? No, the child that shows up after labor is fully formed in the sense that all the raw material is there, all the parts are functioning, but nothing is mature. They need nourishment, a whole lot of love, and a couple of decades of experience before they get a good handle on life in this new place. The birth is worthy of celebration, but now the real work begins.

I’ve been reflecting about how the same truth applies in The Kingdom: ain’t nobody born again as a mature believer. All the raw material is there, all the parts are functioning, but nothing is mature. They need good nourishment, a whole lot of love, and a couple of decades of experience before they get a good handle on life in this new place. The birth is worthy of celebration, but now the real work begins.

Honestly, helping folks grow in this new realm is a lot of what our job description is about. The Bible phrases that our work is “...for the equipping of the saints for the work of ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ, till we all come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to a perfect man, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ...” That's a worthy target!

I hold what is sometimes considered a screwball opinion: I think this is really everyone’s job in the Kingdom.

We say (heck, I have myself said!), “But I have so much to learn myself! I can’t teach anybody! I must learn myself before I can teach!” That doesn’t seem to impress God all that much.

First, there’s the well-documented truth that the best way to learn is to teach others.

Second, the reality is that you (and I) don’t need to be perfect before we start helping others grow. Father once said to me, “You don’t need to have finished the race, son. You just need to have 20 minutes more experience than the one you’re training.” Hmm. OK. I can do that.

Someone really smart once said, “Encourage one another, and all the more, as you see the Day approaching.”  So I guess this is incumbent on all of us, isn’t it? We’re all “One anothers.”

I told you my mind went strange places. Now let's go build up some folks around us.