Category: humility

When There’s Too Much Pain

“You have given me many troubles and bad times, but you will give me life again. When I am almost dead, You will keep me alive.”

Psalm 71:20, NCV

“He was despised and forsaken of men, A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.”

Isaiah 53:3, NASB

I have never spoken out like this, but my wife and I had a daughter who died in a terribly vicious way–she was stillborn, dead at birth, in November 1999. She was doing great, up to a week before Lynnie’s due date. We knew that in a few days, we would be able to see her– face-to-face. What a joy that was going to be!

But yet that’s not what happened.

Elizabeth Grace Lowe died from strangulation from her own umbilical cord. Nothing could have been done. My wife had noticed a moment of very frantic activity, as Elizabeth fought for her life. We plummeted from ecstatic joy to devastating sorrow in just seconds. It came “out of the blue,” totally unexpected. Who could prepare us?

We were completely undone. 

“For the Lord will not reject forever,
For if He causes grief,
Then He will have compassion
According to Him there is abundant lovingkindness.
For He does not afflict willingly
Or grieve the sons of men.”

Lamentations 3:32-33, NASB

Yes, there can be horrifying pain, but there are also solid promises.

There can be brutal sadness, but there are those specious Psalms. There is a blessing for all those who grieve. This topic deserves far more attention than this simple post. (If you’re in the thick of things, I’m trusting the Holy Spirit will help you to your next step.)

There can be such sorrow in this life, far much more than the human heart can possibly contain. But our Savior has a title (one of many). He is called the “Man of Sorrows.” He is the one who is “on point.” He leads us through such intense hostility and mind-numbing pain. He is there when the switch is flipped on us and it becomes instantly dark. He can’t, won’t, and will not leave you to face your pain alone. He knows.

There are a few things that I want to communicate to you.

These have come out of great darkness. I have tried awfully hard to be a disciple, even though I’m doing the worst job of it. These may be right, or wrong, or just okay–you decide. I don’t really know anymore.

  1. God amazingly takes the full weight of our pain and sorrow (Isa. 45:6-7, NLT). He doesn’t shift the blame or deny His work in the life of people. He’s fully sovereign. (Sometimes we need to adjust our theology.) Maybe it’s hard to trust Him right now–that’s more than understandable. In eternity, I believe, it’ll make perfect sense. Sometimes, we need to wait.
  2. Jesus has fully entered into our sorrows. All that you are feeling right now, He feels. If you feel you are at a minus 10, then He does as well. As you suffer, He is closer than your shadow. He knows us. He feels it all. Please don’t short-circuit over this.
  3. Nothing is ever wasted. We really shouldn’t treat these moments of sorrow as a waste. Have you ever wondered at Jesus’ ‘economy’ after the 5000 were fed?  He assigns value to the leftovers. The disciples pick up their baskets and collect everything again. Nothing will go to waste.  I strongly suspect that His kingdom works this way.
  4. This pain, this sorrow, is the intensive crash course in becoming a person of mercy. You now will always walk with a limp. At times the scars will be quite visible to those who can really see. This pain will become forever a “healed wound,” (but a wound nevertheless). It helps to seek out others who have walked this same path. And yet, to be honest, I don’t think I will ever fully trust a person (or a pastor even) who doesn’t walk with a limp.
  5. You will need (but maybe not accept) the transformation of your suffering into glory. This will take some time, and it almost feels like you’re not progressing at all. I encourage you to re-think each of these simple points. The Holy Spirit may be working, perhaps behind the scenes.
  6. Finally remember this: God is not a monster, stomping on us like a boy crushes ants. He has carried all of our pain and illness. He clearly comes alongside every suffering believer. It is Satan who would suggest to you that God is a Celestial Menace, not worthy of our love. I will be very blunt with you, that idea has to be implicitly rejected. Its origins are truly satanic.

“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.”

Psalm 147:3

“The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is upon me, for the LORD has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to comfort the brokenhearted and to proclaim that captives will be released and prisoners will be freed.”

Isaiah 61:1

“He heals the wounds of every shattered heart.”

Psalm 147:3, TPT
 
I’m pretty much convinced that this post is a bit much for some. But please hold it close, maybe it’ll matter later on? (But I hope not.)
 

“A teardrop on earth summons the King of heaven.”

    Chuck Swindoll

*

 

The Man on the Other Cross

“One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” 40 But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? 41 And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.” 42 And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” 

And he said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

Luke 23:39-43, ESV

The pain was incredible, but I know that deep down I deserved to die. But not like this. Never like this. I was almost out of my mind with fear. What they were about to do to me was terrifying.

You must understand that I was just a common thief. I had stolen a loaf of bread when I was eight years old and that’s how it all got started for me. It more or else got bigger and easier. I knew how to steal and I was quite good at it. I was Jacob, the master thief!

When I was finally caught, they had sentenced me to die.

I supposed it was inevitable. I fault no one but myself, I knew what I was getting into. As I dragged my beam up to Golgotha, it was really strange but I suddenly remembered a verse from the scripture and it really did unsettle me.

“Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree.”

It’s a terrible thing to die this way. There were three of us, nailed to the wood and lifted up between heaven and earth. Jesus was nailed to the middle cross, not that it really mattered; all three of us were going to die today. Many hope for a simple and easy death, maybe in their sleep–but that’s not going to happen to us.

The third man could only mock, he was afraid, and I suppose he just echoed those Pharisees who didn’t really understand. But I knew better. I knew who this other man was, I had heard all the stories. Deep down I knew that this man on the center cross was the Messiah.

A crowd had gathered to watch us die. The Romans in their wonderful ingenuity had made a sign that they nailed above Jesus’ head, and it declared to everyone that Jesus was “the king of the Jews.” Even as he was dying, they found a way to malign him and to stir-up the crowd.

The other man being crucified continued to mock Jesus, and it infuriated me.

Why I defended him I don’t know for sure.

But I understood. He was being murdered out of envy and jealousy. He didn’t deserve to die like this, but the powers that be hated him, and who can confront these religious men without becoming a victim. Jesus had repeatedly crossed the line, so now they were now putting him to death. It seemed evil was really winning today.

I saw the soldiers throwing dice for Jesus’ clothes. He was now being mocked by them as well, even as he was dying on a brutal cross.

But all of a sudden it all made perfect sense, he really was the Messiah, and these bastards were killing him. Crucifixion was starting to work on me now. I began to choke on my words, and it was getting hard to breathe.

“Jesus… please remember me. When your Kingdom comes, please let me be a part of it.”

And as beaten as he was, he managed to turn and look directly at me. They had whipped and brutalized him, and yet he was still aware. His words were whispered now, but I understood. “I promise that today you will be with me in paradise.”

I was starting to spasm again, but the horror of death had left me. Some time had passed, and I could hear his breathing stop. But for the first time, I had peace. They used a spear on Jesus, but he was already dead.

The soldiers now came to the two of us, and they were carrying an ax to break our legs. It all had to do with the coming festival, and the Pharisees wanted us dead. When they swung that ax I knew pain that I could never describe. My own death came quickly after that.

I was suddenly standing in paradise, whole and complete.

Someone was standing before me. He was shining I remember, and I knew he was powerful; stronger, and he was more glorious than anyone I had ever met. It was crazy but somehow I knew that he was an angel and he had been sent to meet me. It’s funny, but I realized that somehow I really did belong. Me–a dirty rotten thief.

Jesus had promised me, he had pronounced me righteous, me of all people.

I suddenly had a joy that I could never explain. I really was a part of the Kingdom that was beyond anything I had ever known. And all I can really say about this was that I was privileged to die with him. That is all I could claim. I simply believed him and asked if somehow I could be part of his eternal rule.

I simply asked and you know what, He gave me everything.

And so, I’ll see you in heaven.

Cover Art: “Christ on the Cross between Two Thieves,” by Peter Paul Rubens

When Healing Doesn’t Happen

Not everyone who is sick will receive a physical healing.

I find this moderately disturbing. In over 35 years of ministry I have seen a lot. I once prayed over a saint who had a leg that was shorter than the other. She walked in a painful limp, and yet in a brief second, her leg grew. I’ve prayed over terrible fevers, and I instantly saw it leave. I know God heals. He does wonders still.

And yet there has been prayer that doesn’t make it beyond the ceiling.

For believers today who suffer physically or mentally, we may question our faith. (Especially when the healing evangelist comes to town). After 2-3 tries we settle back on our “deficient’ faith feeling a bit miserable.

I honestly don’t think that’s what the Lord wants.

It seems to me that the real issue is not so much a weak faith, but holding on to your faith when you are not healed.

I hear talk about having faith to be healed–but what about the faith that’s needed to be sick?

Why do we suffer from illness? I suspect that for many believers sickness is really there to bring glory to God. Holding onto faith in the midst of pain often encourages those who witness it. I believe that was Paul’s experience (2 Cor. 12:7-10).

Oh dear one, continue to seek healing, (James 5:14).

Healing will happen. We look forward to that special day when all our sin, and all our sickness will be eternally dealt with. Those ugly and painful and savage things will no longer be part of us. We’ll walk unencumbered by earth’s ugly shackles.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Rev. 21:4

Are You Living in Awe?

“The heavens declare the glory of God,
    and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.”

Psalm 19:1

“Earth’s crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God; But only he who sees, takes off his shoes, The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.”

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

In some odd way, our lives seem to be always getting interrupted by God, and if we’re alert, it can happen a lot. We have a built in need to see the invisible, and the work of the Creator. Our night sky here in Alaska is pretty much unreal. I see stars that others can’t, and the northern lights here are remarkable.

But probably the most incredible night skies were in Mexico while camping. I remember laying on the beach seeing the Milky Way on full display. It seemed there were  more stars than ever before. It was the work of God’s hands.

It was completely overwhelming.

I started to tremble and shake. I got up and ran to our tent. I simply couldn’t handle the incredible universe without some kind of a buffer. I was completely undone and reduced to a quivering speck of dust. I tried to tell my wife what had just happened but I couldn’t. I was too scrambled inside. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t explain what just happened.

Years later I came to understand that I experienced was called awe.

It was something much more common a few generations ago. There’s a kind of existential crisis which we side-step in these more modern times. We rarely contemplate the night sky, mostly because we can’t see it. It’s called light pollution. Our man-made lights make it impossible to see God’s stars.

We seldom, if ever, have seen “fire in a bush.”MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

It seems we have traded our awareness of an authentically Almighty God, and in turn, we get to pick all blackberries we can haul. We reason it out and feel we have made a better bargain. But when we diminish the created world, we shouldn’t be surprised if we find that we have become spiritual paupers.

Maybe we should start to see those things that are invisible to our naked eye?

Each of us has the opportunity right now to see the spiritual world that swirls around us. Why should we wait for heaven to see these things? Ask our Father to reveal His glory now in this present moment. Learn to see that which can’t be seen, but by faith.

  “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
    the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,
4 what is man that you are mindful of him,
    and the son of man that you care for him?”

Psalms 8:3-4

 

Anavah, (or Humility)

“Humility [anavah], is to make a right estimate of one’s self.”

       Charles Spurgeon

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;
    my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
    too great and too marvelous for me.
2 But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
    like a weaned child with its mother;
    like a weaned child is my soul within me.

Psalm 131:1-2, ESV

To be humble [Hebrew, anavah] means that we recognize our boundaries. We will not advance by stepping beyond what God has ordained for us. We learn to be content with the present. Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less. It puts others first.

In Psalm 131 we begin the walk into “anavah.” We’re brought by God into a place where we understand who we really are. Our lives are not characterized by self-promotion, but rather serving God and advancing others before ourselves.

The image is one of being a weaned child resting on a mother’s chest. We have no agenda, there is nothing that we must do, but just relax on Him.

Seeing a weaned baby is one who no longer needs its mother’s milk. There’s no fussing or grasping for nourishment, rather he’s simply content to rest in his mother’s warm embrace.

To practice true humility, or the Hebrew word “anavah,” it is to renounce ambition in all its insidious forms. As Jesus’ disciples we follow Him with our cross. That cross puts the end of our old life. And we die daily. And it is obvious to all.

“And since I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash each other’s feet.  I have given you an example to follow. Do as I have done to you.”

“We had long known the Lord without realizing that meekness and lowliness of heart should be the distinguishing feature of the disciple.”

Andrew Murray

alaskabibleteacher.com

The Pharisee & the Tax Collector

Luke 18:10-14

 “Two men went to the Temple to pray. One was a proud, self-righteous Pharisee, and the other a cheating tax collector. 11 The proud Pharisee ‘prayed’ this prayer: ‘Thank God, I am not a sinner like everyone else, especially like that tax collector over there! For I never cheat, I don’t commit adultery, 12 I go without food twice a week, and I give to God a tenth of everything I earn.’

13 “But the corrupt tax collector stood at a distance and dared not even lift his eyes to heaven as he prayed, but beat upon his chest in sorrow, exclaiming, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner.’ 14 I tell you, this sinner, not the Pharisee, returned home forgiven! For the proud shall be humbled, but the humble shall be honored.”

Meet the Pharisee:

I had it all together. I had shaped myself to be the ultimate Pharisee–the Pharisees of the Pharisees. I understood the Law; I could quote whole books, forward and backward. I fasted twice a week, and tithed everything, right down to my herbs and spices. I had it all together.

And I made sure everyone saw my commitment.

I strenuously kept God’s Law. I was consumed by understanding it, I tried to grasp all its nuances and complexity. The 10 commandments were emblazoned on all that I did. I wanted everyone to know that I was one of “the pure ones,” for that was the meaning behind the word Pharisee. I knew that I was pure.

I went to the Temple every day to pray, I stood holy and set apart, standing before a real and holy God. I was always the truest example to the people of Israel. I always stood when I prayed, for I was completely committed to doing all that the Law demanded of me.

One day I saw a wicked man in God’s holy temple. I had to thank God that we were total opposites. He was a tax collector and an evil person. I really was nothing like him. I rejoiced that I had become a true example of a righteous man.

I knew I was righteous, and certainly not at all like that sinful tax collector.

———————-

Meet the Tax Collector:

I didn’t have it all together. I understood this and was horrified that I had become so evil. I came to the Temple, driven by my guilt and shame–no one had to tell me this, for I knew my sin and I was deeply ashamed.

Why I came, I don’t know. I honestly didn’t belong here, and I kept a distance from the front. I guess that’s where I belonged. On the fringes before the Holy One. It seemed now that I was drawn to this place, and I’m still not sure why I came that day.

I knew that I breathed evil and had become evil.

I fell to my knees, and I begged God to forgive me. I saw the Pharisee standing in the presence of God, but I knew I wasn’t at all like him. He was righteous and I knew I was not. Oh, how I wanted God to forgive me for all the sins I had committed.

I must tell you that my spirit was in agony.

“Humble men are very fortunate!” he told them, “for the Kingdom of Heaven is given to them. 4 Those who mourn are fortunate! for they shall be comforted. 5 The meek and lowly are fortunate! for the whole wide world belongs to them.

Matthew 5:3-5, LB

Jesus clearly told us who was truly forgiven that day. When we think we have it all together, we’re deceiving ourselves.

Let’s not pretend otherwise, okay.

alaskabibleteacher.com

Art: Eugene Burnand, 1850-1924, litho; Scripture used here is from the Living Bible.

Learning How to Dance

Do the Dance-- For Him

“And David was dancing before the Lord with all his might, and David was wearing a linen ephod.”

2 Samuel 6:13-15

“The most valuable thing the Psalms do for me is to express the same delight in God which made David dance.”

     C.S. Lewis

It seems I’m the world’s worst and the clumsiest of all.  And since my brain surgery, it has gotten even worse. I fall several times every month.  I need to use a cane now.  (And if you look up “klutz” in the dictionary you’ll see my picture, lol.) 😃

When I start to dance, you had better head for higher ground! 

Even so, I do love the idea of dancing, but I’m like Bozo, the circus clown, only wearing roller skates!  I lurch from side-to-side and I’m always on the verge of falling on someone’s lap, which is a real hoot!

But there is just one dance that I am waiting for.

It’s the dance I’ll have with my Savior.  There will be a day, in a place and time where He will call me home and He himself will teach me how to dance.  I know it’ll be incredible, and it’s a day that I anticipate, and honestly, I hope it comes soon. (He’s finally going to heal me!)

But to really dance you must first liberate your heart. 

You must cancel out all self-consciousness.  If you are self-aware, you will never enter into the joy and wonder of the true dance.  You will be a perpetual wallflower, living only on the edges.  And, you will be very sad.

It seems you must dance in your heart before you can ever dance with your feet.

I desperately would like to dance. And when I see Him clearly on that day, I’ll have no cane to slow me down. I will be as graceful, and to be perfectly honest, I won’t be watching you, (I’m sorry). I will see only Jesus. And I believe that my heart will beat for Him exclusively.

Jesus shed His blood for me.

I belong to Him. He forgave all my sin and has given me eternal life. Knowing this fills me with such joy that my feet won’t stand still. He redeems me, and is this not a cause for a dance, or two, or maybe three? Maybe eternity will be filled with more joy than we ever dreamed possible?

Some of you have been damaged–mashed up in the grinding gears of life’s hard issues. It’s hard to dance. I understand.

But I also know that your life can be astonishingly full of grace– you have endured so much, and yet Jesus intends to occupy your thoughts and vision with real hope. As His disciple, you’ll discover your special dance. And when you finally see Him, your heart will finally be free to spin and twirl.

He after all is the Lord of the dance.

“Young women and young men, together with the elderly, will celebrate and dance because I will comfort them and turn their sorrow into happiness.”

Jeremiah 31:13
 
alaskabibleteacher.com

The Forbidden First Stone

“They kept demanding an answer, so he stood up again and said, “All right, but let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone!”

(John 8:7, NLT)

“None knows the weight of another’s burden.”

-George Herbert

As believers, we must discern motives and false doctrine. We’re to be constantly aware of people and issues that swirl around us–of this, there is no doubt, we mustn’t be ignorant. This is a healthy “discernment.” But we must learn that having discernment isn’t a way that passes out a ‘guilty’ penalty. We are ‘seeing’ things these things–not to pass judgment, but that we might pray clearly and earnestly, and grow into His love for the weak.

But to pass out a guilty sentence is God’s exclusive jurisdiction.

It’s far beyond our ‘pay grade.’ He is the final judge in everything. He judges justly and lovingly. He alone knows and understands everything very clearly. We don’t.

And yet how foolish we are. Do we really have the ability to pronounce a penalty to someone else? Could it be when we decide to throw rocks at certain people we’re in terrible danger of forfeiting our own salvation? “But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” (Matt. 6:15.)

We discern, not to pass judgment, but to pray more clearly and effectively. What you see or sense is for the prayer closet, not before a judge’s bench.

(If you have a ‘rock’ in your hand, you are in definite danger.)

“Don’t judge others, or you will be judged. 2 You will be judged in the same way that you judge others, and the amount you give to others will be given to you.

We really don’t have a problem with worldly people. We understand that they are lost in their sins, terribly wrapped up in their own personal darkness, and that should definitely disturb us. We must point to the Blood of Christ that forgives us. We share the good news of true repentance and faith. His Spirit teaches us to be witnesses of His love to everyone we meet.

But in light of this, isn’t strange that almost all of our judgment is somehow directed at other believers! Why?! For some strange reason, it ‘seems,’ we think that we must pronounce guilt and (by doing so) we declare our own “holy” attitude to our place in the Body. In a weird sense, we think we have the supreme calling to condemn someone else’ walk, and by doing so exalt our own!

“The life of faith is a struggle enough in a broken world without us complicating it for other believers.”

–Jake Colsen

It just may come as a shock to some, but it’s extremely difficult to throw stones at someone when we are busy “washing” their feet.

“The nature and end of judgment or sentence must be corrective, never vindictive; it is always for healing, and never for destruction.”

–John Owen

Perhaps when we judge others, we reveal that we don’t understand what ‘real’ discipleship with Jesus is? Somehow it seems, we really aren’t quite grasping the immensity of His grace on guilty people? Do we really understand His profound love for the fallen? “God so loved the World…” Have we had any idea how patient He is with us? Do we doubt His ability to correct others? (These are awfully hard questions.)

“Judge not lest you be judged.” (Jesus’ words really do scare me sometimes.)

Certainly, I intend to confront the darkness. “You are the light, a city set on a hill!” I am His salt and light and I do shine into this dark night. But that is His doing, not mine. I do not generate light on my own. The Bible declares me as ‘self-righteous’ when I try. I am a broken person, who is just starting to understand the scope of my own brokenness and weaknesses. I’m starting to realize I’m not in a position to judge someone else. I’m not quite healed myself yet and I must not think I can point to someone else as being worse than me.

Quite simply, I can’t throw ‘rocks’ at other believers anymore.

I can no longer pass out any condemnation from my own limited understanding. My chief concern right now is to be a humble, earnest Christian who is always ready to forgive those who, in their awful sin and confusion, are hurting others. I’m beginning to see that my calling is to be; a simple servant to my brothers and sisters, nothing more, and nothing less.

The Father is Looking for You

“And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.” 

Luke 15:20, ESV

There comes a time when the prodigal stands up–looks around, and then decides he can’t live this way anymore–it’s now time to return home.  But he is no longer a ‘rich man’s son,’ the pig-pen completely crushed that idea.  He returns home, thinking that at least he can be a slave.

The devastated prodigal now understands.

And it’s that which gives him the propulsion to leave the pigs behind, and begin to somehow be received by his father. The trip is a long one, lots of walking, and yes, it’s hard–he’s far from where he’s supposed to be. He is tired, ragged and worn.

But please dear one, you must understand this about Jesus’ parable–the story isn’t so much about the prodigal son, rather I think that the focus should really be on the father. Jesus is teaching us that the love of God is a searching/seeking kind of love, and it cannot be shut down, or go away over time. Not ever.

You see, it is a 24/7/365 day kind of love. Intense and constant.

Think of it like high intensity radar that steadily sweeps over extreme distances, it is always looking, seeking, and it won’t be denied.  The Father is seeking for His sons and daughters.  He intends to find them. If we refuse we will continue to feed pigs, over and over, and we will starve.

The Father never sits on His backside, calmly watching from His throne. He reaches out and runs to us. He is far from passive, rather He intensely yearns for His sons. And God is fully focused into the work of reclaiming His missing sons and daughters, just like in Jesus’ story. 

He continues to search, even when things get really nasty for the son. He won’t give up.

I personally believe that this parable is the greatest of them all!

Jesus is explaining the deep love the Father has for prodigals like us. This story is so revealing, for in it we see that the Father who is running. We must know this about Him. We must internalize it and understand the compassion He has. If we stall in our discipleship it’s often because we don’t grip the awesome depth of His love.

There seems to be very few people who understand a God who runs.

As the prodigal hits bottom he realizes the futility of his choices and yearns to return to the forgiving embrace of his father. Overwhelmed by guilt and shame, he makes the long journey back to the home he once took for granted. Little does he know it, behind the scenes, his father has been watching, waiting, and hoping for his return.

And then, in a moment that encapsulates the beauty of unconditional love, the father catches sight of his boy from afar. Without a second thought, the father runs towards him with outstretched arms, his love insisting on forgiveness. His arms reaching through the filth.

Here we see a love that surpasses all human understanding.

Jesus teaches us a different kind of love. It’s not based on achievements or what society says. This love is given to everyone, regardless of their flaws, but in order to have it, they must leave the pigs behind. Sometimes that isn’t always easy. I hate to tell you this, but some will never make the journey home.

This profound depth of His love often leaves us feeling totally doubtful or skeptical.

Our logical minds struggle to grasp how such boundless love can exist, especially when we witness the failings and flaws of human love. Yet, it is precisely because love transcends logic that it is so powerful. It operates on a different plane, bypassing our human limitations and revealing a deeper truth about the nature of God’s infinite compassion.

We’re simply beggers telling other beggers where to find bread.

Let’s speak out boldly of this love that will transform lives. For when we approach Jesus’ parable with a bit more humility and faith, we may just catch a glimpse of its astronomical power and love that will never give up on His sons who are camouflaging themselves as pig farmers.

We shout of the love the Father has for His blundering and wayward children.

If the Church can just keep up with our running God, we will finally understand who He really is. And if we only accept the love of the Father towards prodigals—no matter what the sin—it’s then we will finally understand the ‘white-hot’ love of the Kingdom of Jesus.

And the Church will finally be doing His will in the world.

(Finally.)

Bryan Lowe
alaskabibleteacher.com

Choosing Where to Sit

Luke 14:7-11, ESV

“Now he told a parable to those who were invited, when he noticed how they chose the places of honor, saying to them,” 

8 “When you are invited by someone to a wedding feast, do not sit down in a place of honor, lest someone more distinguished than you be invited by him, 9 and he who invited you both will come and say to you, ‘Give your place to this person,’ and then you will begin with shame to take the lowest place. 10 But when you are invited, go and sit in the lowest place, so that when your host comes he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher.’ Then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at table with you.” 

11 “For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.“

Choose your seat carefully. In Jesus’ day, there was a definite seating order to a wedding feast. It wasn’t first come, first served. There was a strict protocol, where one’s importance mattered. Honored people got honorable seats–close to the front as possible. Average people got average spots; but no one wanted to be at the bottom, having to sit at the “kids table.” 😁

Jesus was watching, and He saw a spiritual truth of his Kingdom.

Often He teaches out of the things we encounter–real life events. Spiritual truth often hits us from those things we actually see. If you want to know what God is doing in your life, all you need to do is look around at the “practical” things, and start to see the spiritual lessons inside them. We learn from real-life. That’s how he often teaches us, he combines the Word with what we’re experiencing.

I suspect that life is a very long lesson in humility.

Our natural inclination is to move higher up. We often think that we’re deserving, and so we take our “rightful” positions. That’s the way humans think. We all want to sit in the best possible place, and so we end up wheedling our way up front. We can fall into the subtle trap of self-promotion. But that’s not how discipleship works.

Humility is totally opposite from the world’s way of thinking.

Jesus corrects, advising us to take the lowest place. I think verse 11 is the key to figuring out this seating arrangement. We’re starting to see a physical situation become a spiritual lesson. There’s much to learn.

“For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled [before others], and he who habitually humbles himself (keeps a realistic self-view) will be exalted.”

Verse 11, Amplified Bible

This translation injects some realism into our lives, especially in how we see ourselves. It’s quite foundational. It lays down a principle that is always true in his Kingdom (1 Peter 5:6). If we don’t accept and implement this, we’ll suffer a definite deficiency in our discipleship. It stunts the growth of many believers. And that is tragic.

The whole scene lays out how life in the spirit really works, and it seems terribly paradoxical.

Our human logic asserts that deliberately choosing the lesser is foolish, things really don’t work that way. We think (falsely) that we’ll only advance by asserting ourselves. But Jesus, quite aptly, clarifies the ways of the Kingdom–true maturity will only come if we decide to take the lowest place.

“Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will exalt you.”

James 4:10

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