Tag: christian

Memories That Shame Us

And they heard the sound of the LORD God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the LORD God among the trees of the garden. 9 But the LORD God called to the man and said to him, “Where are you?” 10 And he said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself.” 

Genesis 3:6-10, ESV

There is a good chance that some of your memories are pretty awful.

When we get looking back we can see shameful, dark things.  Some of us carry things that are profoundly evil, and they go with us wherever we go.

It’s no secret that guilt and mental illness travel hand in hand, for they are brothers. They have tormented us for a terribly long time. They are like playground bullies who have no fear– they only have hatred for us.

I’m quite convinced that the only way to move on is to have Jesus Christ fully cleanse you, and that includes your dark humiliations.  The human tendency is for concealment. We take considerable effort to conceal and cloak our past lives. (Both Adam and Eve understood personal shame.)

I remember back when my dad discovered that one of our dogs had killed a chicken.  He took that dead chicken and wired it around that dog’s neck. That dog wore that chicken for weeks.  It was awful, and it began to putrefy. The smell was terrible.  I can still see that dog, staggering and tongue lolling out and slobbering.  My dad said it was the only cure for a “chicken killer.”  The dog would get very sick, attached to this rotting carcass.  It was a sobering lesson for a young boy to see.

Somehow, that is what our past disgrace has done to us.  

Sure we have moments when we can almost forget.  But, for the most part, it is just a temporary reprieve.  We slide back and rediscover the pain; it’s just waiting for us.   The cost of our mental health is staggering.  

Many of us are driven by a mad movement toward drugs and alcohol.  We are compelled to escape the pain, and for a little while it seems to work. (This is called “co-morbidity.” Which is ‘fancy talk’ for a dual problem.)

It’s like filling a bucket with corrosive acid.  It will eat its way out.

Most of us would quickly trade this mental pain, this misery;  for a physical one. Something shameful that was done 20 or 30 or 50 years ago continues its destructive work.  Our conscience will not allow us to dispose of our self-disgust in this easy, cavalier manner.  We need a ‘hazmat’ crew to help us clean up mentally and spiritually.

You have to forgive yourself.  

You must, or you will destroy yourself and those closest to you as well!

Often we believe these things are simply moldy walls; they seem to just need a coat of paint. Our problem is that it will only cover for a short time.  After 20-30 layers are applied, we realize this isn’t really the answer. Nothing we can do is ever enough.  We must have Jesus– we must!

“God doesn’t want us to punish ourselves to erase our guilt. He punished his Son to cancel our guilt. God will not build His kingdom on our pain because He is building it on His mercy.”

-Bryan Chapell

Full repentance is critical. Don’t scuff off this first step.  The blood of Jesus isn’t some nicety. It is foundational for salvation. We are to, by faith, start the obedience. Our blistering sin and guilt are absorbed in Jesus’ death and resurrection.

“When someone becomes a Christian, he becomes a brand new person inside. He is not the same anymore. A new life has begun!”

2 Corinthians 5:17, LB

Go Lower Yet

footwashing

“Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet.”

John 13:14

Some Christians reading this part of scripture, have concluded that foot washing should be part of the Churches customary routine.  Their case is compelling, and they may be right in their interpretation.  There is as much support for this as with other things, and Lord knows we could use the humility by getting on your knees with a basin and towel before a brother. 

It probably would relieve issues between saints. It may even heal Church splits. (Oh my!)

Jesus pronounced that His act of service was to be imitated by everyone who would follow.  He further would assert that His example would be emulated by every believer that followed after Him.  Our service to our brother, or sister is to help them become clean Christians. 

We have this ministry of the basin and towel to remove the dirt and filth that comes from walking in this world.  Of course, we cannot remove sins.  But we can serve as Jesus would and intervene with His power.

Cleansing people that we meet will be a challenge. 

It will call us to strip our lives down to a minimum, and to get lower.  We need to get so low that we’re on the floor.  This requires much grace and discipline.  We must weed out every pretense and pride–especially the kind that says, “Look at me serving; am I not wonderful?  I am a true disciple now.”  We are to shake off thoughts like that. 

We are to love others, and perhaps be honestly brutal on ourselves. (Not in a morbid way, just less of ‘yourself.’)

While in my first year of Bible college, I developed a bitter dislike for a classmate.  He had been a lead guitarist; he was handsome and popular, and he oozed pride from every pore (at least I could see it).  I actually took it on myself to be God’s hand in humbling him.  I became antagonistic and scorned him every chance I could.

Within days, my prayer life shut down and the heavens became brass.  One day I was praying and the Holy Spirit graciously zapped me.  I became aware of my sin toward my brother, and I repented. There was a real definite leading, to find a basin and a towel, and then to wash his feet.

God reconciled us, as I knelt at his feet in that dorm room.  From that point on we became very good friends.

We must go lower still.   Water always finds the lowest point, were it pools and gathers into the place of healing others. Perhaps the Holy Spirit will not lead us ‘deeper’ until we start practicing true humility.

When we lower ourselves even deeper we find His presence waiting for us.  But we must cleanse our own hands first, and His blood must work its ministry on me. It’s then I can proceed to clean the filth off of their feet.  If I am not clean myself I will only perpetuate the dirt on to my brother with my dirty hands.

We must scrub our way into the heart of our sister or brother with a basin, some soap and a towel. 

The challenge for us will be a super-challenge.  Christlikeness will always demand this humble grace.  When we think about being like Jesus we must make sure we are following the Jesus in the Bible.  The Jesus who washed dirty feet as a slave.

But let’s not have any foolish nonsense of a discipleship that doesn’t kneel before our brothers in humility.

 

Jesus Wept

When I was a kid I learned no one wanted to hear me cry.

When I was little, I had a temper like a small hurricane. I didn’t like to be teased and would become angry and cry if anyone teased me. I was always told, “Go to your room and cry. No one wants to hear you crying.” So I did.

But my temper tantrum just didn’t end there.

You see, the way our house was designed, my bedroom was, I think, supposed to be a family room. It had two doors opposite one another so that it functioned as a hallway between the dining room and the back hallway where the bathroom and other bedrooms were. When I was sent to my room, I would run into the room and slam one of these two doors.

Because of some principle of physics that I don’t even remotely understand, the door would not completely close and the slamming would cause the other door to fly open and hit the closet. So then I would run over and slam that door, with the same result, until my mom yelled, “Quit slamming those G** damned doors!”

The belief that no one wanted to hear me cry or witness my temper tantrums stuck with me for a long time. The way I always interpreted that statement was that no one cares how I feel. When bad things happened to me later in life, I told no one because I didn’t think they would care. When I was the most depressed, I kept it a secret because I was ashamed of feeling so bad and didn’t want to waste anyone’s time.

It turns out that many of the things we learn as kids just aren’t true.

This is one of those things. Okay, so maybe there are people who don’t care. A lot of them. But there are also people who do care. People, like me, who when they ask “How are you?” they really want to know, even if how you are is horrible. The world is full of loving, compassionate people who have struggled just like you and me, and want to help us find a way through the temper tantrum of the day.

And even if you can’t find anyone in your life who cares, Jesus cares.

John 11:35 records that “Jesus wept.” Why was He weeping? Not because Lazarus was dead, for He knew death was not the end of Lazarus. Jesus wept out of compassion for those who mourned the death of Lazarus.

In 1 Peter 5:7, the apostle wrote, “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” He really does, you know. And so do His followers, though sometimes they don’t know how to show it.

 

How to Die Well

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
   I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
   your rod and your staff,
 they comfort me.”

Psalm 23:4, ESV

“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.”

Psalm 116:15, ESV

 

“Death is like my car. It takes me where I want to go.” 

Pastor John Piper

Our generation simply doesn’t know how to die well.  There are so many conflicting messages and attitudes which have steered us away from the reality of dying.  Much of it is the natural development of unbelief.  Our pop culture develops this and gives it momentum.  We are trying to convince ourselves that “death is impossible, my life will not end.’  But we’re escaping into a delusion.  We are running from what is real.

There is a Latin phrase,  Ars moriendi  (“The Art of Dying”) which the Church practiced in past generations.  In past time, Christians would be buried as close as possible to the Church building.  Many would be interred within the very walls of the Church.  The understanding was that the dead were part of the congregation.  That there was only a thin veil that stood between the living and the dead.  The dead didn’t just vanish.  They are with us.

My generation is confused.  We have forced death to wear a mask.  We insist on a significant camouflage to hide the reality of sickness and death.  No one really ever talks about it, and so no instructions are given on how to die well. So we don’t, we die poorly–in ICUs and LTCs, completely sedated, separated and unable to process it or help our families process it.  There can be no solid connection between the living and the dying. And to be very honest, this is not working.

For many, the fear of dying is intense and paralyzing.  Death brings us a terror that twists us; we don’t know how to respond to it.  Additionally there seems that there is no one available to direct us.  Death is a spooky taboo that no one really explains.  The implication is that we are simply to avoid death, ‘it may not come for you’.  But that is not what is real.

“Death avoidance” pretends to lift us above the issue, where we can imagine that we will stay separated somehow from its obscenity and ugliness.  Funerals are nothing more then an aberration.  We have become ‘teflonized’, these things just slide on and off.  We just refuse to calculate, or accept what is happening.  We have ‘molded’ our fear into a more desirable shape.  We simply cannot function in the steady gaze of what is real.  We just shut down and refuse to function. We simply pretend.

Its time for the Church to step up and guide us to our next step.  Our pastors and elders have got to prepare us to die well.  It is a part of being a disciple.  It is discipleship, and dying is inclusive.  We need somebody to prepare us for the inevitable and the certainty that is approaching us.  I need someone that will help me face my own death.

You know what?  No one escapes.  And the reality of that drives some of us mad, or addicted, or psychotic.  The idea of filling a casket up for forever is incomprehensible.  We cannot live with this sick idea of dying.  It disturbs us on the deepest level possible.  It is completely evil.

Psalm 23 has been pure comfort and healing for generations.  And it is an excellent starting point for us.  Verse 4 develops the idea of traversing death.  The writer has incredible insight of passing through death.  This verse alone is worth “billions of dollars in gold”.  Psalm 23 has made me a very wealthy man.  His Word has become my rich treasure.