Refugees and Ambassadors

This summer, a long-anticipated vacation sparked thoughts about living for the eternal (you can catch that post here).

That same trip provoked another deep thought, albeit upon my return instead of my departure. While snaking through a long line at passport control, I observed two men enter a vacant line, show their passports to officials and move through customs in a matter of seconds. Conscious of the 20 minutes behind me and the 40 or so ahead of me, I wondered how they could fly through the checkpoint with such ease. Just then, my line moved forward and I saw that theirs was marked, “Diplomats.”

As I slowly shuffled along, I began thinking about the differences between diplomats and those with standard passports, as well as the difference between those who are sent by a nation and those who are fleeing one.

I am painting with broad strokes here when I say that a refugee’s story is frequently one of escape and survival. For refugees, the term “home” is laced with emotions and meaning, many of which are painful. Assimilating into their new culture, learning a new language, and finding their identity outside of their roots presents many challenges. Pockets of refugee communities often form where the native language is spoken, old customs practiced, and traditional foods eaten all of which provide a harbor of familiarity in a foreign sea.

On the other hand, ambassadors are sent from one nation to another as a representative authority of their home government. They do not change their citizenship yet they learn the language, engage in activities common to their host nation, and even send their children to local schools. Home for an ambassador refers to the sending nation, never to the one in which they reside.

As I considered the difference between refugees and ambassadors, I once again thought of our eternal home. As believers in Jesus, we are citizens of heaven yet we dwell in the nations of this earth. And we get to choose if we behave like ones fleeing this world or sent to it.

Let me illustrate this in a slightly different way by highlighting two familiar people from Genesis: Noah and Abraham.

Noah is commanded by God to build an ark to escape the coming divine judgement. Noah obediently builds his boat, which becomes a safe place in the midst of the evil world. When the flood waters rise, Noah and his family have a refuge from the storm.

Contrast this with Abraham. Abraham is told point blank of Sodom and Gomorrah’s coming judgement and instead of accepting their fate, he pushes back. Abraham argues with God to spare the wicked for the sake of the good. And God listens.

God speaks of judgement to Noah and he builds his boat.

God speaks of judgement to Abraham and he intercedes for humanity.

Now, I’m not trying to throw Noah under the bus (or in this case, boat). He was obedient and trustworthy. But it makes me wonder. What it would have looked like if Noah had interceded for his culture instead of insulating himself from it?

The truth is, we are sent ones, heavenly ambassadors commissioned by Jesus to speak into our culture and bring heavenly transformation (see Matthew 28:18-20). We have the choice to insulate ourselves from American culture and recreate a world that’s home for us but foreign to those around us, or actively engage culture without compromising our heavenly citizenship.

We can build our boats and flee danger or we can learn the language, find value in the culture, represent our Kingdom to this world, and intercede for it with genuine love.

Regardless of the issues that loudly shout at us from news headlines or division emphasized in election debates, this is the world that God so loves. Let’s ask Him for that love and actively find opportunities to bless it. Let’s learn to speak with words others can understand. And let’s believe and behave like the divine ambassadors we are.

A Significant Spiritual Weapon

“Can you ever mention ‘The Lord of the Rings’ in a conversation without sounding nerdy?” I asked a friend one day as we were in the car together.

“Nope, never,” she said with zero hesitation.

“That’s what I thought,” I agreed, turning my attention back to the radio.

It really is very challenging to say words like, Frodo, Gandalf or ringwraiths without losing just a tiny bit of street cred.

At risk of a few eyes glazing over at the mention of J.R.R. Tolkien’s epic fantasy trilogy, I must admit that I really enjoy the “The Lord of the Rings.” Beautifully written and honoring noble characteristics like integrity, humility and faithfulness, while not glossing over power’s ability to corrupt even the most pure-hearted, the trilogy is chock-full with sermon examples.

(For those of you unfamiliar with “The Lord of the Rings,” the basic plot is this: A ring that can control every one and thing in Middle-earth was made by the evil lord. Anyone who attempts to use the ring, even for good, ends up a servant to the evil lord themselves. The decision is thus made to destroy the ring by taking it back to where it was forged in the heart of the enemy’s territory.)

So it should come as no surprise that this winter while (ahem, re-)reading the second book in the trilogy, “The Two Towers,” I heard God speak straight to my heart. A timeless revelation about God’s kingdom snuck up on me in the way truth packaged only in story and metaphor can.

What was the revelation, you ask?

Amidst worried discussion about what path to take with the ring, the wise sage shares that the great enemy cannot fathom someone not using the ring for their own gain, so the very idea that one would selflessly destroy it is hidden to him.

Did you catch it?

The enemy cannot envision selflessness.

He cannot create contingency plans based on selfless acts, for he is incapable of planning them himself.

This is as true in the world in which we live as it is in Tolkien’s Middle-earth.

Our enemy cannot foresee selfless actions and they confound his best laid plans.

Think about it this way: For centuries the Bible writers and prophets spoke of the coming Messiah and his death, yet when Jesus went to the cross, the devil thought he’d won a great victory. The devil was unable to understand that it was his ultimate loss.

The Apostle Paul wrote, “None of the rulers of this age understood it, for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory” (1 Corinthians 2:8).

None of the rulers understood it. None of them! This seems just crazy to me when I think about how many times throughout Scripture the Messiah’s death was prophesied. Jesus himself even spoke about it before the fact, yet they could not comprehend history’s preeminent selfless act.

The devil did not see the cross coming.

God, in his beautiful triune nature, is other-focused.

Contrarily, the god of this age is self-focused.

When we believe, think and behave in alignment with God’s selfless nature, we throw a wrench into the works of evil schemes, painful plans and anything that falls short of God’s glory. In other words, when love is our motivator, we beat back the darkness and win a victory for God’s kingdom.

Paul said it this way: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.” (1 Corinthians 13:5-8, emphasis added)

There’s a reason that a life of self-sacrifice and compassion, like Mother Theresa’s, is esteemed across cultural and political barriers. In a time when barriers seem to be erected over any issue, selflessness finds a way through them. Likewise, in a world that shouts loudly to self-protect, look out for number one, and that greed is good, love speaks a better word.

And if winning is our ultimate aim, then there is no better strategy than to act in ways our adversary cannot plan for—just imagine the logistics nightmare that selfless living causes in his camp!

To combat the ugliness of division, fear and pain around us, act selflessly.

Be inconvenienced.

Let it cost you.

Seek another’s welfare before your own.

In short: Love.

Keep On Keeping On!

I am a millennial. I use my cell phone for everything except making phone calls. I only listen to a voicemail if the text transcription doesn’t make sense.

However—I am not making this up—I have actually used a rotary phone. Once. At my grandparent’s house.

As tech-driven as much of my life is, I find that no device beats a book printed on paper. I love the tactile experience of holding a book, turning paper pages, and “dialoguing with the author” via my notes in the margin. This love affair with a tangible literary format is especially strong with my Bible. My study Bible is full of color coded highlights, cross-references, dates, and notes.

My notations in my Bible help me track my personal history with God and often serve as the exclamation point to something God is saying. For instance, last week in my quiet time God spoke to me about His great value for endurance and how He has been specifically building that in me and the church. Then, as I opened my Bible to my daily reading, I shouted a loud, “No way!” as I saw Hebrews 10:36 highlighted and dated as something God emphasized to me almost a year ago: “For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God, you may receive what was promised.”

God is growing endurance in the body of Christ.

Endurance is the trait that keeps us from throwing in the towel when the fight looks lost. We need endurance to hold onto hope when the circumstances around us dictate that the breakthrough isn’t coming, that maybe, just maybe, God’s word will this time return void. It’s what we need when our logical brains and the world around us tell us it’s wiser and safer to downgrade our expectations than to expect God to move in our lives.

We need endurance to keep on keeping on until we receive what was promised.

There are some character traits that are a little more enjoyable to develop than others. For instance, kindness yields immediate returns—smile at someone and there is a very high probability that your smile will be mirrored back to you. Joy is another fun one. But endurance? Who wants to work on endurance?

Endurance training vividly reminds me of the moment during high school basketball practice when our head coach called the assistant coach forward. Whistle in hand, our assistant coach would tell us to line up on the baseline to run sprints. Without fail this came at the end of a hard practice. No one liked running sprints, yet no one complained when we had the stamina to race down the court for a game-winning layup.

Endurance by its very nature requires you to go beyond what’s comfortable or what is assumed possible. Its very definition is, “the ability to withstand hardship or adversity.”1 It is forged after we have given our all, in the place where grit, determination, and heart take over.

For many of us, the last 18 months or so have pushed us to our limits. A global pandemic, rampant fear, ugly political division, all coupled with genuine pain and loss for many of us have come in wave after wave. On top of all of that, there is a looming uncertainty in many areas that once felt so sure.

Yet it’s here in this moment that I believe the Lord wants to speak and impart His grace. Hebrews 10:36 in the Passion Translation reads, “You need the strength of endurance to reveal the poetry of God’s will and then you will receive the promise in full.”

This translation emphasizes the Greek word poeima found in “to do God’s will.” Poeima is the word from which we get poem or poetry. In other words, while we often think of endurance as a grit your teeth and push through it, there’s another side to endurance that I believe God wants to highlight: its beauty.

Endurance to believe for the impossible is required for us to possess the promise of heaven coming to earth. The strength growing in us right now will allow us to carry a greater measure of God’s glory than we ever dreamed possible.

Our natural strength and willpower eventually fail, and when they do, we get to encounter a strength that isn’t ours, a grace we didn’t earn. Instead of trying harder, I believe God is inviting us into a deep place of surrender—an endurance of trust. Trust that He is a good Father. Trust that His purposes and plans will come to pass. And trust that it will all work together for a greater good than we ever could imagine.

We need the strength of endurance to reveal His poetry in our lives, the expert knitting of all things for a good we couldn’t otherwise see, a glory we couldn’t otherwise carry. As we surrender afresh our disappointments, our hurts, and pains to Jesus, allow Him to refresh you in the very core of your being with His strength.

In the words of a famous song (written long before I was born): “Don’t stop believing.” In the natural, we can do more than we think. And with our King Jesus, all things truly are possible.

Friends, keep on keeping on. You will receive the promise in full and we will stand back and say, “Wow, it was worth it.”

Hope Springing Up

Hello and happy spring, everyone!

Hope permeates the air as the rain refreshes the ground, the grass becomes greener, the buds appear on the trees and tulips and daffodils bloom - a sure sign of warmer, sunnier days to come.  

Hope is the confident expectation of coming good.

It’s not a wishy-washy sentiment synonymous with “maybe,” but a deep-seated certainty. It’s a knowing of what will happen in the same way we know that the longer days and warmer weather of April will produce new life.

It’s not just bird songs and warm breezes that make this such a hopeful time of year. I truly believe that the events of one spring thousands of years ago still reverberates throughout the centuries: the shedding of the pascal lamb’s blood and the miracle of the empty tomb.

Whether celebrated in March or April, Passover is my favorite holiday. My heritage is both Jewish and Christian, a modern-day picture of the cultivated and wild olive tree growing as one. When I say Passover, I also mean Easter, as the two holidays are inextricably linked in my mind. There is no Easter without the Passover and Passover is truly a celebration of Jesus’ death and resurrection.

For millennia, the Jewish people prophetically declared Messiah’s work at Calvary by retelling how the blood-marked doorframes of our homes caused death to pass over us and bring about our exodus from Egypt. In the same way, Jesus’s blood sprinkled on the doorframe of our hearts causes death to pass over us and leads us from the land of bondage to sin into a land of freedom and life.

 The Apostle Paul wrote about this miraculous deliverance in Romans 8:1-2: “Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and death.”

Or, as Francois du Toit wrote in The Mirror, his paraphrase of the New Testament, “Now the decisive conclusion is this; in Christ, every bit of condemning evidence against us is cancelled. The law of the Spirit is the liberating force of life in Christ. This leads me with no further obligation to the law of sin and death.”

This is just the beginning of the good news of the Gospel. Our freedom from sin and death through Jesus is the entry point to life in the kingdom of God—a kingdom marked by the presence of righteousness, peace, and joy. A kingdom where sin, sickness, fear, guilt, and shame have been utterly defeated. A kingdom of which I am not just a surveyor and partaker, but an ambassador and co-heir (Romans 8:17).

We are sons and daughters of this kingdom’s king.

It’s commonly observed that land farmed by those who own it produces multiple times more than the same land worked by serfs and slaves. Likewise, slaves and serfs produce far more when freed. The power of the cross and the empty tomb release me from slavery into sonship. As I rest in my identity as a possessor of the promise living, as a daughter instead of working like a slave, the production of kingdom fruit in my life skyrockets. 

A year ago, when the initial travel ban was announced and before we knew all that 2020 would entail, the Lord asked me a familiar question from the Passover Seder, “Mah nishtanah, ha-laylah ha-zeh, mi-kol ha-leylot?” (Why is this night different from all other nights?) As I responded with the answer learned in childhood, “Because we were slaves and now we are free,” God showed me that we are on the verge of the greatest exodus humanity has ever known.

We will see more people move from slavery to freedom, from death to life, than has ever occurred in world history.

Some have called this the billion soul harvest. Others talk of the greatest revival. All I know is that there is a global awakening to the reality of Christ’s victory occurring and we get to be a part of it. God is inviting us to pray and partner with heaven in this great exodus. What a privilege to be chosen to live in this time in history! The hope of new life truly abounds.

As we open up our homes to the fresh breeze of April, I encourage you to do a little spiritual spring cleaning. Join me as we pray that the fullness of what Christ won at the cross goes a little deeper into our spirit, soul and body. Ask that the blood of the pascal lamb touch every facet of our lives. Keep your eyes fixed on Jesus until the tangible hope of the empty tomb fills every part of us.

We were slaves. Now we are free. 

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Grasshoppers and Giants

For several years, I had a roommate with a Rhodesian Ridgeback named Rafiki. Ridgebacks are large, muscular dogs with a ridge of fur running against the grain along their spine—the “ridge” of the ridgeback. Though traditionally bred to fight lions, Rafiki mostly lazed around the yard, moving from sun spot to sun spot.

Rafiki had one major quirk: He didn’t understand his size. Dogs typically squeeze out of any open door to get outside. Not Rafiki. Rafiki stood patiently waiting for us to open the door to the size he thought he was before dashing into the yard. Because Rafiki didn’t understand his true size, he stood in front of an open door for minutes at a time “confined” to the house. Likewise, when we don’t understand our spiritual size, we are frozen in place instead of running into the fullness of God’s promises for us.

Our sense of size is of great spiritual importance. Many of us raised in the church were told time and again about the dangers of pride and of thinking too highly of ourselves. This is true. So is the converse. Thinking too lowly of ourselves will keep us from living out the call on our lives and possessing God’s promises to us.

A wrong sense of spiritual size is one of the greatest inhibitors to seeing all that Jesus won at the cross manifest in our world. In other words, the amount of the Kingdom of heaven I see on earth and in my life is directly proportional to how I perceive my size in Christ. When our thoughts about our spiritual size aren’t aligned to the word of God, we freeze at our destiny’s doorway.

This is happened to the children of Israel.

For over 400 years, the children of Israel knew God had given them the promised land. Time after miraculous time, God demonstrated his might and power: he freed the slaves, healed them overnight and equipped them financially (see Ps. 105:37). God turned a dead-end into a dramatic sea crossing, fed them in a desert, appeared as a cloud by day and fire by night for their protection and guidance, and if that wasn’t enough, he gave them one of history’s greatest leaders to direct them. But then, on the doorstep of the promised land, with all of that miraculous momentum behind them, the children of Israel froze.

Returning from spying out the promised land, ten of the spies gave the now infamous report: “There we also saw the Nephilim [giants]; and we became like grasshoppers in our own sight, and so we were in their sight” (Num. 13:33, NASB). Instead of seeing themselves through the lens of what God said and his promises, they judged themselves from their own understanding—I daresay, something we often do labeling it as “wise” or “realistic.”

Grasshoppers don’t fight giants. Grasshoppers also can’t inherit promises. Grasshoppers don’t possess a spirit of power, love, or a sound mind. They are blown about by the wind and easily squished under foot.

Spiritual self-perception matters.

Correct view of my spiritual size is second only to correctly understanding how great, loving, holy, worthy, and good my God is. When I correctly see myself through the lens of who God says I am, I am authorized, enabled and empowered to see his kingdom come here and now in my life. There may be giants standing between me and God’s promises, but I am no grasshopper—I am a mighty child of God with the same spirit that raised Jesus from the dead inside of me (see Rom. 8:11).

Today many giants have risen from their slumber and seem to stand between us and God’s promises. It is time for us to stand up and say like Caleb to the children of Israel, “do not be afraid [of the giants] because we will devour them” (Num. 14:9, NIV). The battle at hand is to see and speak according to God’s perspective.

This is our hour. Giant-killers are rising. Join King David, history’s most famous giant killer, asking God to reveal any grasshopper-sized thinking that may be limiting you from seeing yourself the way God sees you. The truth is you were born to slay giants. 

Pray with me:  

God, I invite your searching gaze into my heart.
Examine me through and through;
find out everything that may be hidden within me.
Put me to the test and sift through all my anxious cares.
See if there is any path of pain I’m walking on,
and lead me back to your glorious, everlasting ways—
the path that brings me back to you.

                                                                        Psalm 139:23,24 (PTL)