Gratitude

When I first moved to Nashville, I was living on a prayer - literally. When I first moved to Nashville, I barely knew which end was up. When I first moved to Nashville, I was in a season of dependence, connectedness, and profound gratitude.

 

 

Gratitude. Even as I write it, something in my sinful nature cringes. Gratitude implies need. It requires admitting that I depend on others - on God. Being thankful can make me wince, because it reminds me I am not an island. Thankfulness scares me, because it is the neighbor of indebtedness.

 

 

And that's how the world works, most of the time. Somebody does something nice for you - you owe them. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. There's always a tally. Everybody's keeping score. And we transfer these ideas about how our broken world works onto our image of God, like some cosmic psychotherapy session gone wrong.

Think about it. How do you react when given a gift? Do you awkwardly brush past the thank-you, hoping the giver won't hold the gift against you?

Do you begin a relationship of indebtedness, trying constantly to earn a gift you have already been given?

 

There is a sense of guilt in receiving good things. If only he knew to whom he was giving; he would snatch this gift back in a second. Our sins claw at our consciences, and we feel unworthy to receive. How many times has a thank-you left your lips, immediately followed by, "I owe you one?"

 

 

But this twisted giving, this receiving tinged by guilt and indebtedness; this is not in the nature of the Father. He is not a miser. Nor is He a benevolent, detached grandfather who gives out of excess, without a second thought. God's gift of forgiveness comes at a price. He gives it to us freely, because Christ has paid that price. Through the redemptive sacrifice of Christ, God redefines the word "gift." As His children, we are strong not because of how little we need, but because of the strength of our Giver.

Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,

then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,

go to the limit of your longing.

Embody me.

Flare up like flame

and make shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.

Just keep going. No feeling is final.

Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.

You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

- Rainer Maria Rilke

Receive, Receive, Receive

"Faith is having hands for the first time, hands that enable us to receive the grace that includes everything we need for life and godliness."  - Randy Draughton, Midtown Fellowship Church, Nashville, TN

    His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire.

(2 Peter 1:3-4 ESV)

Manna Kept, Is Worms

I’ve decided to explain myself. The name of my blog may sound odd – “Umm, manna, that’s from the Bible. Good one.” But believe it or not, choosing the title took a bit more effort than “insert religious word here to indicate that I will talk about Christianity.” Really.

Manna Kept comes from a quote in The Pilgrim’s Regress, an allegory by C.S. Lewis: “Manna kept, is worms.” In the book, a hermit is speaking about the true nature of love. He argues that passion cannot – and should not – be sustained. When I chose this quote as the title of my blog, I saw a lesson not in love, but in grace.  When held with clenched fists, God’s grace turns to rot. “Manna kept, is worms.”

The word “manna” sounds similar to the Hebrew expression for “What is it?” It signals the arrival of news, of rescue. After the people of Israel escaped from Egypt, they wandered in the desert toward Mount Sinai. At one point, they were starving, and God sustained them with manna, a bread-like substance.

  

Manna. Sustenance. Life. Where did it come from? The Israelites were not sustained by the work of their own hands. The people of God were called to humbly receive life-giving food from His hand. But when the Israelites hoarded this sustenance from the Father, it rotted. Exodus 16:20 says “…it bred worms and stank.” So what’s the message? Clean out your pantry once in a while? Not quite.

When we hoard the love of Christ, we are not somehow “conserving blessings.” We are withholding life. We hoard the sustaining love of God, because we fear that it will somehow be lost. So we clench our fists more tightly: “Why would I welcome her? Why would I stick up for him? I’ve got to make sure I’m taken care of first.”

Normally, we wait until we feel emotionally or financially secure before we even consider giving to others. But we will never feel secure before God through our actions, feelings or strength of faith. We are secure when we believe that Christ’s sacrifice on our behalf before the Father is sufficient for our salvation. With that knowledge firmly planted in our hearts, we can begin giving immediately. There is no reserve of love or strength to build up. When we believe in Christ alone for salvation, we are given access through the Holy Spirit to the love and strength of Jesus, in its entirety. We can give and receive the Father’s love with liberated hearts. And we know that manna kept, is worms – so we live with open hands.

What's Your Religion?

“What’s your faith?” My parents used to live in Memphis, and they told me I would hear this phrase once I moved down South. When people pose the question, they usually mean, “To which denomination of Christianity do you belong?” The other day, I finally encountered this Southern saying. I told a man where I attended church, and he asked, “What religion is it?” I stammered, “Well, um, Christianity? Oh, it’s Presbyterian.” The charms and quirks of living in a new place make me smile.

But truly, this man’s question made me think. Some people get songs stuck in their head; ideas stick in mine. “What’s your religion?” That question has more meanings than you would think. What do you believe in? What do you lean on? What do you hold to be true?

In matters of faith, individual beliefs and desires usually supersede our belief in a corporate, doctrinal faith. So we pick Christianity apart, and choose only the teachings we like. Sometimes we just make things up. Or we eschew God altogether, and make something else our religion – we put something else in God’s place. School, work, success, a spouse. The approval of others. Comfort.

 

 

We get confused. We take bad advice. We relate to God however we see fit. But we have to define our terms. "Who is God?" is not the same question as "Who do you perceive God to be?" The first question is one of theology - the study of who God is. The second question is one of religion - the study of humankind's behavior toward God. Theology reveals who God is; religion reveals who we have made Him to be. See the difference?

Who are you making God into? How does that differ from who He says He is?

Faces

We all put on different faces in order to fit in. You've got your daughter face, your student face, your friend face, your work face. Maybe your Christian face. I've been thinking about this a lot lately. And I've come to the conclusion that having so many faces can be confusing. And we can get lost. Because if we only show certain faces to certain people, then we never let anyone in on the whole story. We never fully turn to face anyone. All these stifled personalities. Half truths. Sins we're trying to hide.

 

A few weeks ago, my small group studied John 4: 1-42. This tells the story of a Samaritan woman’s encounter with Christ at a well. These verses show us a Savior who knows everything about the woman - even those things that bring her guilt and shame. And what does Jesus do? He draws near to her anyway. And with great joy and urgency, the woman proclaims to those in her community that Christ knows everything she ever did. 

 

Now wait a minute. Her past life was brimming with sin! She had been married several times, and the man she was living with was not her husband. In her day, bouncing around in that many romantic relationships meant nothing but trouble. Her identity was completely wrapped up in the men she dated and slept with. Why would you declare that to your community? How could this deep knowledge that Christ has of her ever be good news? 

 

 

The intimate knowledge that Christ has of her life is good news, because it is accompanied by a call to relationship. Look again. He draws near to her. Christ identifies Himself as the Messiah – the One who will put things right between us and God. The Samaritan woman can be joyful about being completely known by Christ, because it means she is also completely loved. Imagine what that could be like. Completely known, and completely loved. That is the heart of the Gospel. So don't be afraid - quit hiding your face.

Listen

I was talking with a friend the other night. It was one of those deep, rambling, let’s-catch-up-and-talk-about-life kinds conversations. The good kind. We ended up talking about sharing, and how it’s hard when our friends aren’t forthcoming, when they’re not the type to elucidate. How it’s awkward and frustrating to be that person who pulls details from their mouths and little grains of truth from their hearts. “Well,” I said, “everyone needs to be listened to.”

The conversation stopped. “You’re right,” he said. “That’s a good thought.”

*****

There is a newspaper in Nashville called the Contributor. It’s a street paper, much like Streetwise in Chicago – its vendors are homeless or formerly homeless, and buy copies of the paper on their own dime to sell for a profit.

One of my roommates was talking with the man who sells the Contributor at the grocery store on our street. She returned home with a free copy of the paper.

“Wait, why did he just give you one?” I asked.

“Well, I had stopped to talk to him and…”

She continued her story, but my mind paused, fixated. I had stopped to talk to him. She stopped to pay attention. To listen. The man had next to nothing, and yet he gave generously when he was treated with dignity. He was willing to give away one of his precious papers, just for the chance to be heard.

*****

My campus minister recently challenged the ministry team at RUF Vanderbilt to get together with a friend and listen to their thoughts on God. These leaders were not to argue with their friend, and they were not to enter the conversation with an agenda. They were simply to listen. What do they think about Christianity, forgiveness, truth? Do they struggle with matters of faith?

There is something fundamental about being heard. Who in your life needs to be listened to? Does anyone if your life listen to you?