daily devotional

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About that “living sacrifice” Paul recommends …

Sharing something this morning that has had an impact on me. I don’t have Facebook to do the normal “Share” thing … so I’m quoting it here.

First, Paul’s words —

Romans 12:1
And so, dear brothers and sisters, I plead with you to give your bodies to God because of all he has done for you. Let them be a living and holy sacrifice — the kind he will find acceptable. This is truly the way to worship him.

 These thoughts are from Bible Gateway’s daily “NIV Devotions for Women” (but it’s something for you men to think about too.)

How would you describe your body? Would you use the words “living sacrifice”? Do you view your body as God’s? Or do you compare your appearance to others’ and worry about what others think of your body, primarily because you want to be noticed or to feel a sense of approval? The purpose of your body, in fact the purpose of your life, is to glorify God by loving him and loving others. It’s not about you. It’s really not about you. It’s about laying down your life—heart, mind, soul and body—all for the sake of God’s kingdom.

If you are like me, your habit has been to do one of two things with Romans 12:1. Either you read it and register it as a negative command — don’t give your body to sinful acts — or you breeze right through that first verse and focus on verse 2 where Paul urges us to let God transform our minds.

Let’s do neither of those things today.

Let’s think about handing our bodies over to God. Offering them up as sacrifices to our Creator and Savior.

It’s easy for me to say that my heart, mind, and soul are devoted to my God.  But my body?

Most of us women tend to think of our bodies in terms of how we think others see us. Our choices in dress, exercise, “improvements” to appearance, training, our health regimen, even our gestures and body language are all considered personal decisions that have little connection to our faith and discipleship.

We’ve somehow disconnected our bodies from heart and mind and soul. We make decisions about how we treat and use our bodies based on others’ opinions and our own desires. If we’re trying to lose weight, we’re doing it for our own vanity or to please our husband, or … for our own personal reasons. And may I suggest that losing weight for ourselves is just as far from Romans 12:1 as is dieting to please your husband.

Don’t misunderstand — I am not arguing that getting enough exercise, giving our bodies needed rest, paying attention to the nutritional value of the food we eat, saying no to things harmful to our bodies, are all undesirable and unnecessary things. “Taking care of ourselves” is a good thing. When I do these things, I am more able to cope with daily stress, my mind is sharper, and I am simply a better friend, mother, grandmother, employee.

But it makes all the difference in the world if I am doing these things for others and/or myself … or if I have said to God, “I am giving up my body to you. To be used by you, for the sake of the Kingdom. It’s not mine, for my glory. It’s yours. From now until the end of my days, whatever I do with this part of me I want to do for your glory.”

I find it easier to say, “I’m giving my life to you, Father. I dedicate my work to you. Consecrate my keyboard” than to say, “Here’s my body. You have my heart and mind and soul. But somehow, I’ve kept my body apart, as a thing for me. To serve my purposes. Now I’m laying it down on the altar of sacrifice. This too will be for your Kingdom. You can have all of me.”

I’ve only caught a glimpse of what this sacrifice and true worship could mean in my life.
Everything in the culture of the world around us argues against this idea and this sacrifice.

But the Spirit reminds us: You do not belong to this world …

I belong to Him. Every part of me. 

 

 

 

 

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Holy Languages

An Amish viewing is a most intimidating event for an outsider, an “English” person, to attend. Family members of the deceased sit in a row, and of course you would expect to speak to them and give your condolences. But facing the family, only a few feet away, sit many more rows of people either closely or not-so-closely related, perhaps neighbors, friends, or other guests who have come to pay their respects.

As a visitor, you greet the family and move down the narrow space between knees, turning and also shaking the hand of each person in the front facing row, greeting every one (silently or otherwise), whether you know them or not.

For anyone new to this, it can look as daunting as running the gauntlet. Or, to use a less violent metaphor, you are stepping onto stage, expected to execute complicated choreography even though you’ve never danced a step in your life. You feel every eye following you. Especially if you are not Amish, because you just don’t fit in the picture. (As, ironically, both of my metaphors are woefully incongruous with any Amish scene.)

We were so obviously out of place in the somber gathering—I had not been home to change, and still wore capris and a red shirt; earrings dangled from holes in my ears, below my short, cut hair.

We held back a moment, both of us feeling timidly reluctant and oh, so conspicuous. The sad twist was that we had come for them, but our own discomfort and fear of doing it all wrong had turned the moment into being all about us.

A kind and gracious Amish gentleman—he was indeed a gentle man—standing at the beginning of the line understood our hesitation and said to us a few words in Pennsylvania Dutch. Then, with a quick smile he gave a simple English translation.

“We are all the same.”

Spoken in both Dutch and English, those words connected us through yet another language, the language that understood discomfort and timidity in unfamiliar surroundings and spoke up to give assurance. We heard the message, saying so much more than five short words: “We are all here together, faced with the passing of a person who has been part of our lives. In that, we are all alike, no matter how we are dressed.”

Those few words were spoken in a native tongue that connected all of us. They turned everything right side up again and transformed our time at the viewing.

***

The lesson that evening was a simple scene, a brief encounter. But ever since Pentecost Sunday, I’ve been thinking about the languages we speak. The purpose of language is to connect us. And in the hands of the Spirit of God, the tongues in which we speak become holy languages.

On Pentecost Sunday we read Acts 2, the story of the tongues of fire that blazed evidence of the Spirit of God coming into each believer.

The immediate result? The disciples began speaking in different languages. God’s purpose was that all the many Jews gathered in Jerusalem for the Pentecost celebration would hear the story of Christ in their own native tongue and could thus understand the good news of the coming of the Kingdom.

The writer of Acts 2 notes that the crowds were amazed as the believers went out and started talking to people, but he doesn’t describe to us how the believers themselves reacted to this gift from the Spirit.

It’s intriguing to imagine those few moments, when they realized what had happened to their minds and tongues. Did they try out these new languages on each other? Could they understand each other? Did they immediately perceive God’s purpose behind this strange miracle and jump up and say, “Let’s get out there and tell them all!” and then rush out and start looking for people to talk to who understood the language they now spoke?

We know only two things: they went out and spoke, and they caused quite a commotion.

***

God equips His people for the mission we’ve been given. Language is one of those gifts. Like the believers at Pentecost who, at a crucial time, had opportunity to change history, we have all learned different languages. In a pew on Sunday morning with five other people, I may be sitting next to tongues that can speak at least five different languages, more likely ten or fifteen.

You will be able to communicate with people I cannot—because you know a language I cannot speak, and I may be able to speak in a tongue that is heard by a completely different circle of people.

I do not know the language of football, for example, but I do know the language of grandparents.
I cannot speak the language that surrounds cancer, but I do know the speech of divorced, single, and alone.
I know nothing about music (except whether or not it touches me), but I can chat for hours about travel in Maine.

Leisure interests, job experience, health issues, life situations, relationships—almost everything we have lived—has its own language. The purpose of language is to connect us, and so it is not only the spoken words that we communicate, but also the feelings and the experience behind what is spoken.

If you’ve gone through bankruptcy or loss of a spouse, you know the depth of nuance and feeling behind the words of that language. If you’re a caretaker or a stepparent, you understand the breadth and width of experience spoken by other caretakers or stepparents.

The tongue in which we are adept may not even be words. It may be cooking a meal, knowing when to hug or touch a shoulder, the giving of the perfect gift, painting a scene, or simply showing up as a friend. It may be the ability to put someone at ease in unfamiliar surroundings and bring down barriers between human beings.

If the purpose of language is to connect us, then in the Spirit’s hands every language we speak becomes a holy thing, a bridge built between us and other believers or to those who still need to hear about the goodness of God. Whether we have learned to speak in the tongues of celebrations, sorrows, or sufferings, we have been given a language that the Spirit can use for God’s purposes.

The bridge built with holy language can be a wide and life-changing thing for the man who is finally drawn into a circle of believers because he finds there NASCAR fans just like himself, or for the woman imprisoned by guilt of an abortion, who finally steps into freedom when she meets another who has learned of forgiveness and healing for that very act.

Or it may be a simple, fleeting moment with few words spoken — words that bring down barriers and shower grace.

***

Have you thought about the holy language God has given you?

The special language you know might even come out of a past wandering, far away from God. No matter. The Spirit uses our past, our suffering, our stumblings, our joys, our passions—He can use it all. He can turn it into a holy thing, to be used to bring Christ’s Kingdom.

Peter writes to all believers,

But you are not like [those who reject Christ and do not obey God’s word], for you are a chosen people. You are royal priests, a holy nation, God’s very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for he called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light (1 Peter 2:9).

That echoes Acts 2:11. The believers in Jerusalem used their new language to talk “about the wonderful things God had done.”

Madeleine L’Engle writes, “And for each one of us there is a special gift, the way in which we may best serve and please the Lord, whose love is so overflowing.*”

I believe for each one of God’s children there is a special language, made holy by the Spirit to build bridges that take us places where we can show others the goodness of God.

*

* Walking on Water, WaterBrook Press

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When we wonder if it’s worth the effort

Have you ever said it?

“I may as well give it up. I’ve spent years working, praying, waiting, hoping … and nothing has changed.”

Or,

“This really won’t make much of a difference. Why even bother?”

**

As a college student, I had a summer job that was funded by a grant. The tasks I was given filled a need, but I didn’t have enough work to fill the hours; almost every day I had to search for something more to do until the clock released me to leave for home. Later in life, I held a job that was often overwhelming simply because there was too much to do in each day. I worked long hours, often nibbling at lunch as I worked at my desk.

I much prefer the second kind of job, even though it’s more stressful. At the second job, I knew that everything I did counted for something.

So, my dear brothers and sisters, be strong and immovable. Always work enthusiastically for the Lord, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless (1 Corinthians 15:58 NLT).

It seems a simple statement, but doesn’t this promise inject you with just a few more ounces of energy? Doesn’t it make a difference to know that everything—everything—we do for the Lord is important? We are not just putting in our time, going through the motions of discipleship. Everything we do for Him matters in His Kingdom!

This puts all those “small” acts of obedience in a new light. How can we shrug off as insignificant anything the Spirit asks us to do?

Or how can we abandon hope and give up in discouragement if we’ve been given this promise?

One of Satan’s most effective strategies to derail our discipleship is to convince us that what we are doing has no or very little importance. Or perhaps he whispers other lies to you: “You’re not qualified to do this; someone else could do this better; what you do has had no effect; all your effort has meant nothing. Might as well give it up.”

No! Stand strong and immovable against the lies! If the Spirit is producing fruit in your life, if He moves you to do anything, no matter how small it might seem (remember the cup of cold water?), do not give up, because nothing you do for the Lord is useless.

The hope held in this verse grows even fuller when we look at its context. The verse is often quoted, but we find it in an unexpected context.

In 1 Corinthians 15 Paul has just written long paragraphs about the promise of the resurrection of our bodies and the certainty that we will live forever. He ends it by saying, “So don’t give up. Stand strong. Whatever we do for the Lord is very important.”

The effects of what we do here on earth will not be limited to this hour, this day, or the dimensions of earthly life. What we do for the Lord has effects that reach into eternity.

So let us not allow discouragement or setbacks or unseen results immobilize us. Paul writes in another letter that we can be certain we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up. (Galatians 6:9).

This is our hope—even when tired and discouraged or feeling insignificant and ineffective: Nothing we do for our Lord is ever useless.

May this promise pick us up again and again, to keep us standing strong and immovable.

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Know who you are, Temple of God

My grandmother said it to me in the days following the sudden and inexplicable death of a newly-wed young woman in our community.

“Why am I still here? Why did God take her and leave me?” Grandma had already lived a century, was almost blind and living in a nursing home.

Not that my Grandma Kate was a whiner, a cynic, or a pessimist; she was the very opposite. When I’d visit her at the nursing home, she was still giggling. But there were days she wondered, as so many of us do at many times in life: Why am I here? Now? At this time?

We hear or read versions of these sentiments frequently:

“I just don’t know who I am.”

“What’s the point?”

“Why am I here?”

“I’d love to know God’s purpose for my life … but what in the world is it?”

 

***

Do you know who you are?

Today, know this: As God’s child, you are part of His Temple here on earth.

Soon after God rescued His people from exile and slavery in Egypt, they were given a physical, tangible reminder of His presence among them. For a period of time, the tabernacle, a portable, tent-like structure, was seen as God’s “dwelling place.” Eventually, under King Solomon’s supervision, a grand and lavish Temple was built,

a place filled with God’s presence,
the place where one came to acknowledge God,
find mercy and forgiveness,
and put your life to rights.

Invaders from Babylon later destroyed that first Temple and another was built. That structure, too, was destroyed (this time, by the Romans) about 70 years after the birth of Christ.

But while that second Temple still stood, the apostle Peter wrote to God’s people scattered all over the world, and described a new Temple, a new place God was building where He had chosen to reside:

And you are living stones that God is building into his spiritual temple. (from 1 Peter 2:5 NLT)

Up until this time, God’s people looked to the Temple as the sign of and the place of His presence in their world. Now, Peter says, God is doing a new thing. God is building a spiritual Temple for Himself, and you are the stones He is using to build.

Even though Solomon’s Temple was incredibly lavish, the wise king acknowledged that no one could possibly build a home fit for the Lord. Now God Himself is building the home He desires here on earth—and He is building with you and me.

The physical Temples were constructed as tangible evidence of God’s presence in the midst of His people. Everything in the Temple pointed to God and was carefully designed to mend the relationship between individuals and God and to bring people back into the reverence and presence of their Creator.

God’s children, rescued from the kingdom of darkness and slavery, now become the home where He chooses to live.

He takes us, living stones,
dwells within the stones,
and builds tangible evidence:
He is in this world and His presence makes a difference.
We are His Temple,
announcing the message of hope,
pointing people back to reverence and relationship with the Creator.

Doesn’t that make a difference in how we tackle whatever lies ahead in our day? In how we treat others? In how we work together in the church? In the message our lives send out to the world?

Doesn’t that give us a new sense of who we are and why we are wherever we find ourselves today?

Even when she wondered why she was still here, sitting all day in her little room and barely able to see her visitors, Grandma was a living stone, standing as a testament of God’s presence here on earth. I too am one of those stones in the grand Temple.

No matter what situation we are in or what season of life,
we are all a part of the Temple of our God here on earth,
the Temple He has built to declare to the world,
“I am here. Come back to me, and I’ll give you hope.”

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Eternal loving. Is it possible?

Since my last post about really loving, the Spirit keeps zeroing in on Scriptures that focus on loving each other. Hmmm. I suppose this is all part of an answer to my prayer, a plea to transform my loving.

I feel I know so little about how to love with Christ’s love. That’s why we depend on His Spirit to help us, right? How else could loving as God loves ever happen in our lives?

Yet there it is, time and again in Scripture — the command to love. “Love each other as I have loved you.” Love each other as brothers and sisters. Without love, we are nothing more than annoying noise.

Several truths shine for me today in these words from Peter:

You were cleansed from your sins when you obeyed the truth, so now you must show sincere love to each other as brothers and sisters. Love each other deeply with all your heart.

For you have been born again, but not to a life that will quickly end. Your new life will last forever because it comes from the eternal, living word of God.    (1 Peter 1:22,23 NLT)

There it is again — love deeply with all your heart. That echoes Paul’s words to really love, don’t just pretend to love.

These words were written by Peter, a man who surely struggled just as much as I do with my old nature. His transformation after Jesus’ death and resurrection is astonishing. By human standards, such change in a person might seem impossible. But the Holy Spirit took hold of Peter, and he lived a new life.

Peter’s words here tell me, Love, because you are born again, a new creature. And because loving here will have consequences that last forever.

Love, because you are born of God, you are now God’s child.
Love like your Father teaches you to love.
Love, because He loves.
Love, because you have been born into this new life and brought into the kingdom of Christ — and love is the standard of living here in this kingdom.

Love, because love has eternal consequences. What I do now is part of my eternal life! Like a toddler taking baby steps, my Father is teaching me to love in a way that will end someday in my running and jumping in love!

One more comforting, encouraging, hopeful word from these verses: This new life (and love) comes from the eternal, living word of God. Only God gives a new life. Only God gives such a love. I’m taking baby steps, but the Father is holding my hand and encouraging and supporting and coaxing His daughter along.

Spirit of the living, life-giving, eternal God, transform my loving!

Amen.