And When You Pray

 “And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.”

~Jesus, {Matthew 6:5-8}

 

Perhaps it’s because my concentration is Christian Formation and Soul Care.  Maybe it’s because I process events, emotions, and even thoughts out loud.  Or perhaps it’s because my top two love languages are words of affirmation and quality time.  Likely, it’s a combination of all three.  But something that genuinely irks me in contemporary worship is the variation on the following theme:

·         Let’s pray really quickly so that we can get started

·         Betty, will you say a quick prayer before we close

·         Tom, can you quickly ask the Lord to attend to the unvoiced prayers in all our hearts

Quick – as if prayer is a box to check off so that the group may move to the real business.  Quick – as though one were dialing God in on a conference call, to ensure He’s really in the room.  Quick – as if conversing with the LORD Almighty is something that takes precious time away from whatever else we are there doing.  Quick – so that we can get on with our lives.

Now I understand in our fast-paced, time-oriented culture, the expenditure of time is something to which we must show deference.  I know that God does already know the contents and struggles and desires of our hearts.  I get that everyone’s on a tight schedule, squeezing bible studies and prayer meetings and even church in among the everything-else that needs to get done. And I recognize that because of this, there are times when quick prayers are necessary; gatherings where agendas and schedules must be respected.  But these calls to prayer before digging into God’s word or moving forward with a meeting presuppose a time of personal lingering before the Lord, and a communal period seeking God through prayer in another venue.   

What is concerning is that with increasing frequency prayer is linked to synonyms of hasty; that prayer has thus begun to come with the expectation of quick.   We have come to anticipate a three sentence, bullet-pointed edition of encouragement, or invitation for God’s presence when we gather for prayer, or worse, in our private prayer time.  And we use Matthew 6:5-8 as our justification thus.  For surely if Jesus, who was teaching His disciples how to pray, says that we are to avoid too many words then we ought to be as brief as possible.  Right?  We wouldn’t want to be like the pagans who Christ said are too wordy.  That’s what He was cautioning His followers against… Isn’t it?       

I submit that this is not, in fact, what Jesus was saying.  But to apprehend this we need to consider the words and actions of the incarnate Christ, as well as the cultural context into which these words were uttered.  First, we should remember – and it is always important to keep this in mind when thinking about Jesus – that Christ was first century, Palestinian Jew.   This means that He kept the Sabbath, celebrated the feasts, honored the holy days, and participated in the traditional prayers of His fellow Hebrews.  Consider for a moment the Shema, which is a prayerful recitation of Deuteronomy 6:4-9, 11:13-21, and Numbers 15:37-41, that many faithful Jewish people pray twice daily.  Also, we need to remember Daniel, who hid himself away morning, noon, and night that he could pray to God even when he was serving a foreign king.  We can look to the end of the gospels and find Jesus praying in the garden at Gethsemane before His trial.  While His recorded words are few, we must also note that those who would have overhead Christ’s prayer (and thus been able to relay His prayer to the gospel writers), fell asleep.  Three times.  That very fact is not indicative of a “quick” prayer session.            

“And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.” {emphasis mine}

This, I think is where most of us put the emphasis when reading this passage; and this is where many teachers have warned us against lengthy prayer.  Wouldn’t want to babble on like those pagans…  However, Jesus could have easily said, “get to the point when you pray; the Father is a busy guy and doesn’t want to hear you yammer on all day” to get His point across; but He didn’t.  Instead, He references pagans.  Twice.   The very mention of pagans would have, in the minds of His first century, Palestinian audience, called to mind a particular means of worship.  A way that the pagans behaved when they prayed. 

Since very few of us today have a picture of what that kind of worship might look like, I suggest we glance back (a few centuries before Christ, granted) to the time of Elijah for some clarification. 

{1Kings 18:22-39} paying special attention to vv. 26-29

Notice that the pagan prophets “called on the name of Baal from morning till noon... But there was no response; no one answered. And they danced around the altar they had made... So they shouted louder and slashed themselves with swords and spears, as was their custom, until their blood flowed.  Midday passed, and they continued their frantic prophesying until the time for the evening sacrifice. But there was no response, no one answered, no one paid attention.”

The last sentence explains exactly what Jesus was talking about when He said, “And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for THEY THINK THEY WILL BE HEARD because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him” (Matthew 6:5-8) {emphasis mine}. 

Few of us can image a prayer service involving frantic dancing, or shouting, let alone one culminating in self-mutilation for hours on end.  But that is what the pagans commonly did.  They had to get the attention of their gods somehow.  Which is exactly why “at noon Elijah began to taunt them. ‘Shout louder!’ he said. ‘Surely [Baal] is a god! Perhaps he is deep in thought, or busy, or traveling. Maybe he is sleeping and must be awakened’” (1 Kings 18:27).   And though they started with merely calling on the name of their gods, they had to escalate their behavior – to the point of drawing their own blood – in an attempt to get attention.  And even after an entire day, dripping with their own blood, they still were not guaranteed to be heard. 

Contrast the pagan god with the One True God, the LORD Almighty, the Father whom Jesus refers to when He says:  “And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.” {emphasis mine}

It’s right there – the Father is attending to us before we even call out to Him!  We don’t have to dance or scream or dial a phone or cut ourselves just to reach Him.  We don’t have to hope that He’s not busy dealing with something of more import, somewhere else in the world.  He is omnipresent.  He is El Roi – the God who sees you.  He is near you, listening to your heart, even when you’re not revealing it with words.  Thus Christ’s point is that, unlike the pagan gods, His Father the LORD of Heaven and Earth is always listening to us, always paying attention to us, always, always near to us.  

El Roi, the God who sees me.

During this season of Lent when we remember the completely unique and glorious work of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, let me encourage you to linger in prayer, as you would in conversation with a dear friend or even with a lover. Do not worry about your words being too many or too few; speak them knowing that Your Heavenly Father is listening. And He wants all of them, from your lips to His heart.

 

Confession

I have a confession.   It comes on the heels of #FemFest, a huge link-up of bloggers last week who devoted three days to different topics concerning feminism today.  It was beautiful.  And sad.  I was desperately so because I had too much to get done and I could not participate.  This link-up screamed my name – quite literally in my sleep.  I composed posts in the shower, on my drive, and even, if I am honest, while watching some of my online lectures.  Which, when I realized that I had been writing in my head instead of listening, I had to then rewind to where I’d tuned out and discipline myself to focus; because papers, tests, and graded discussions don’t care about blogger link-ups.  It’s not that the lectures weren’t engaging – they were.  It’s not that the topics covered therein aren’t important – they are.  It’s simply that a discussion on the silencing of women, particularly in the church, is a dialogue I’ve longed for ever since I was shown that this conversation isn’t sinful.  And last week, as this dialogue was actually happening, my circumstances forced me to miss it. 

Yet, as became move apparent through my week, there was another reason for my inability to participate.  I needed bigger eyes on the subject.  And a more humble heart.

You see, I am very attentive to the outward signs of androcentric organization in the American Evangelical movement.  My antennae are hyper-aware as I walk into a church or small group or para-church; I note that only men wear the tags marked, “Lead,” around their necks in the mega-church we have been frequenting of late.  I see that their leadership consists of both sexes, but women don’t teach anyone other than themselves or children; they worship, they administer, they facilitate, they are not visible when Christ is preached.  I hear the “man” read aloud when “humanity” might be equally appropriate.  I shake my head when the women are encouraged to be particularly attentive to stories of women in the bible and to model themselves after the characters of men therein,; but the books of Ruth or Ester or the story of Sarah or a Samarian woman at Jacob’s well are not generalized to the men.  There is no talk about the fact that the privilege of first resurrection annunciation was given to a woman, or that Timothy’s mother and grandmother taught him the faith well enough that he was able to be Paul’s apprentice.   Every place I go, I keep a mental tally sheet of all the ways that it is obvious that the men are in charge, and the women are left out.    

I build walls against this – I tuck into myself, recognizing the hurt that these practices cause,

the segregated, left-out-ness that is so very much

the female experience of church.

And yet, I have to recognize that while my experience cannot invalidate that of a community of fellow bloggers, I cannot allow the community’s experience to shape mine.  I am a female graduate student enrolled in a Masters of Divinity program at a well-respected seminary.  No one there has ever told me I could not do something simply because of my sex.  My husband is very supportive of my career thus, and is the main encourager for my studies; in truth, had he not suggested it, I likely would not have even considered it.  I attend a bible study that is hosted effortlessly by a wife and husband duo who teach, pray, and encourage those under them to do the same, regardless of gender.  Theirs is the picture of equality and mutuality in Christ.

Yes, I have been told that for a woman to call herself a “pastor” or “elder” is a sin.  Yes, I have been told that women have no authority to teach men.  Yes, I have been told that to pursue theological education, as a woman, is an abject abandonment of my role as wife and mother and is thus a direct affront to God’s design.  I have experienced all this and can thus understand and relate to my sisters and brothers who form this community crying aloud for the minimization of women to stop.

{confession}

But I have to be aware.  I sat in theology class last week, pondering the topic of women in the church.  And I noted that of the eleven people seated on the front row, eight were men.  As I compared this ratio to the exact opposite of the second row (eight women, three men), I was literally stopped mid-thought.  For, as I was lamenting the apparent domination of males in this field, I had to be honest with myself:

I sat on the second row.

I, and no one else, chose my seat.  I swallow my questions when gender roles and ontology and discussed.  I stay silent when the same scriptures are used over and again to keep women out of full inclusion in the body of Christ.  And I do so because I am afraid.  Afraid that I won’t communicate my position well; that by my ill-formed or poorly articulated argument, the opposing side will be strengthened.  And I will have set us back instead of helping to press forward. 

So first, I must confess that I harbor a prejudice against my brethren.  I assume that for the most part, they are willful mechanisms in the problem.  I do not allow them a chance to speak for themselves.  I pass judgment, without their input, the plank protruding from my own eye.

Thus, I resolve, with the help of the Holy Spirit, to see my brothers in Christ as benevolent men who desire to build up the entire kingdom of God for His glory.  I will allow the actions and words of each individual believer to speak the truth of his/her heart.

Secondly, I confess my fear of failure.  And that this fear is indicative of a lack of trust in God.  My fear has its root in my performance or articulation and not in the work of the Spirit in the hearts of my fellow believers.

Therefore I will push outside of my safety bubble – I will speak up when I disagree with what is being taught.  Not out of obstinate hardheartedness, but mindful of the unity that is to mark the body of Christ-followers; seeking to understand the scriptures more fully, and to honor Christ first and foremost in my interactions with my fellow children of God.  And I will trust that the Spirit of God is responsible for changing the heart of any believer should he/she be so willing.

 

For the glory of God the Father, His Son, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit. 

Amen. 

     

Failing Lent

The sink is full of dishes.  Again.  And overflowing onto the counters, and stove, and all the way ‘round the kitchen until they butt up against the impressive tower of papers, books, notes, and all variety of odds and ends that collect there.  To think, just two weeks ago, a sweet friend constructed and gifted me with an organization system to tame that part of my chaos.  Her gift, sadly, is sitting in a pile in the study nook/living room, surrounded by tottering piles of textbooks, more papers, and testamental dictionaires.  There are piles everywhere.  The rec room is buried under clean clothes waiting to be folded; the laundry room is swallowed by dirty ones waiting to be washed.  The bathrooms have piles of get-ready-so-we-can-get-out-the-door messes, and splotches of un-wiped toothpaste; the kids’ rooms are interwoven tapestries of toys and clothes.  Boots, hats, coats, and bags clutter up the stairs; more toys laundry and luggage are beginning to devour my room. 

And that’s only the state of the house.  One can’t escape the endless reading lists for class, the papers and responses, the I-should-be-at-least-start-on-my-big-papers-so-I’m-not-freaking-out-later that claws at the throat in the quietest moments.  Kids’ activities to be managed, scheduled, shuffled, and remembered.  I can’t forget that I’m also a wife, which requires more than a flying out the door peck on the check, because I’m too late to aim for your lips; and a friend – even if all I ever seem to do is say that I’m praying over you; and a daughter and sister and niece and grand-daughter – yep, praying for y’all, too!  And what about that bible study we told everyone we would host this semester?  We had it all planned out; well mostly.  And yes, Lord, I hear you tugging at my heart about joining – actively participating in, giving parts of myself to – a community of your followers; but can You find one that meets when I can?  And instead of adding to my reading, can’t I just go and listen?  Oh, yeah, Lord, about that promise to work-out every day…does sleep count? 

It’s not even two weeks into Lent and the oppressive I’m-failing-at-everything has curled up on the sofa and refuses to budge; more grafted-in family member than uninvited guest anymore.  And who wants to fail God?  It’s not so much that I think I’ll lose His love in my broken promises or undone chores or missed opportunities; but I do think that in these, I fail to make Him proud.  Like I’m not earning my keep, or taking advantage of all the gifts He’s so lavishly laid before me; that I’m squandering my time and treasures, or that I’m hoarding these things and somehow disappointing Him. 

But I hear the Father’s voice, repeating Himself across my kitchen table and in the texts for class, because sometimes I have to hear things more than once before I really listen. 

God can’t love you any less than He does right now;

He can’t love you any more, either.

The Father loves you no matter what you do or don’t.

The student in me pauses, rolls the theory over and over in my head – it’s awfully small a thing to be such a big truth.  I hold it up against the scriptures, just to be sure – does the whole counsel of God agree to this, or is it a pithy thing that placates followers like me who can’t get it together? 

{Matthew 3:13-17}

But there it is, at the very beginning of Jesus’ ministry – before the resurrection, before the cross, before the miracles, before He even read from the scroll of Isaiah or said “ego emi.”  Before any of it, the “Father declare[d] that he [was] already ‘well pleased’ with His ‘beloved Son’ without reference to his works.”*  The Father loved the Son unconditionally; not for being incarnate; not for enduring the cross; not because Jesus followed God’s will without fail; not for Christ’s work with the poor and oppressed and forgotten.  The Father loved the Son.  That’s it.

And so it is with me.  And you.  There is nothing I, or you, could ever do to earn this love.  There is nothing I, or you, could do to maintain this love.  This is a love that is completely outside of you and me.  We have no power over it.  It is there on the days we fail; it is there on the days we nail it.  It was there before we knew it; it’s there when we can’t feel it.  It is a love that, before we even knew we needed it, goes to the cross on our behalf.  And bleeds for us, dies for us. 

And lives for us.      

There is nothing for us to do, but accept it.  To wrap it around our lives.  To live in it and out of it. 

So it is with Lent.  There is nothing for us to do, but live in wonder and awe at a love so big that it covers us, every day – good and bad, failing or nailing it.  Every single day we are loved with a vast and unwavering love that is not conditional upon us; but is a love that is a who-God-is love.  And that love is the reason for Lent.       

 

*Sanders, The Deep Things of God

Coram Deo: a theology of presence

Again Lent crept up, silent and unassuming.  And rather suddenly, as it is wont to these past few years.  There it is, tucked into the middle of my week, the day before Valentines; and I’m supposed to know exactly which spiritual disciplines will best lead me to what end for the growth and betterment of my soul.       

I wonder if that’s how the desert found Christ.  If He was walking, purposed on being close to the Father after His baptism, looked up and suddenly He was in the desert.  As He intended to be, no doubt; but did He intentionally note the crossing of the line from society to wilderness.  Or was it just something that happened as He considered His Father’s words to Him?

Whatever the case, I prayed yesterday, as I hung red and silver whirly-gigs from my ceiling, and draped all conceivable surfaces with hearts, that the Holy Spirit would lead me into this Lent with insight as to what I ought to do.  For there is much on my mind and heart this Lenten season, not so external as last year, more internal; and I have been seeking means for addressing the shifting in my spirit and I just knew that Lent would pair so well with this pursuit.  And I prayed again, driving through fog and traffic on the way to class on this day of commercialized love; wishing I wasn’t already a day behind in the liturgical calendar, so that it felt like failing to even be asking.       

And in my own head, I came up with a few good and decent ideas:

·         Practice self-care for 40 days – Because I have a tendency to neglect myself in certain ways; and this neglect shows a poor respect for the gift of my physical body, a poor theology of time and of humanness, and, frankly a disrespect for the price Christ paid to free me from sinful behaviors and attitudes concerning an anti-gnostic view of me.  Thus, I had concluded the following would be my means of practice:

o    consume only Paleo food and drink [like the Daniel fast, only with lean meat proteins and omitting grains]

o    engage in physical activity every day

o    nap when I need it

o    get enough water

o    go to bed at a decent hour

o    Give up alcohol*

 

·         Memorize scripture – A good discipline to ground my thoughts and deeds and days in God’s Word; to have it available when I need it; to let the Holy Spirit work through the scriptures directly on my heart.

o    Find 4 sections (not verses, but passages that include the contextual emphasis) of scripture – the trouble I was running into was: which passages?

o    Devote 10 days to the memorization of each passage

o    Write them on my mirror, make flip cards, tuck them into my books for school, etc...so they would be constantly before my eyes and on my mind.

 

·         Give up make-up for 40 days – If you know me, this doesn’t sound like much of a stretch.  But when I wear it, it is representative both my desperate attempts to control a tiny bit of the situation I’m in, and my warped theology of beauty (how I want people to view me and how I am programmed to view myself with and without it).  Even I was surprised to find myself balking at the very idea.  It was a telling few moments of my commute.  

Each of these is a good idea. Thus, I had decided to implement them together, in a holistic self-care Lenten regimen.  I was contemplating the lateness of my Lent’s beginning (Ash Wednesday was yesterday) as I pulled into the parking lot; and having an internal argument as to whether Valentine’s celebrations could count as “non-Lent-ish” since a piece of chocolate cake and a glass of wine were in my plans for this evening.  Shouldn’t I keep my make-up on for the Officer, if this was my last day of it for a month; and who wants to workout on Valentine ’s Day anyway?    

I walked into class, as is so often the case, completely unaware of what God was going to do in that space – just for me. 

Yes, I know how selfish it sounds to say that God did something only for me, in a graduate course full of students and visitors with their lives full of God-needs, too.  But He has done it over and over again—knocked the wind out of me through the prayer of a teacher, or through the wisdom of a professor, or through the insight of a classmate.  Maybe because it’s there, in those rooms, at those times, am I really listening and really believing all of what God says about who He is.  Or maybe it’s because these people, in that place, listen to Him well and bring Him with them in their hearts and their words.  Or maybe it’s just because.    

We’d discussed it before; and will no doubt again.  But today in the professor’s prayer, in my heart, in the talk about what we believe about God and how our lives are lived out of this belief, however well-formed or poorly represented; today, it struck me as exactly what I was hoping for in my Lent.

Coram Deo :

-- carried out before, or in the presence of, God.

{Isaiah 40:9-31}

The professor read the whole of Isaiah 40:9-31 aloud, over us.  I could hear my Father’s voice in my heart; within me, my spirit responded.  As this reality of who God is was pouring over me, I asked the question: is every aspect of my life conducted coram deo; and I knew the answer is not fully and wholly, “yes.”  I am still trying to control so much of it.  Every day.  And there are deep places in me that cry out still for the fullness of the gospel to reach them; like so many petals needing to be peeled away so that light can finally reach the center.

 

So that what was left after this sounding of my spirit was the realization that the practices I had purposed earlier wouldn’t merely do – they were exactly what I needed.

·         If I truly believe that God created me, and has ransomed me for His own, then I need to practice self-care.  It is not a selfish pursuit.  Nor should it wear the trappings of vanity; for the moment I think, “I want to be skinnier/prettier/firmer/etc…” I move from stewardship to sin.  I must care for this physical and temporal body not because it’s the vessel that holds my soul, but because my body is as much me as my heart and mind and spirit.  Each was made by God, with only me in mind.  And each should be cared for because they were made by God – not because I want the world to respond to me in a certain way. {Self-care} 

·         If I truly believe that God inspired humans to write down His words, centuries apart in different context for different audiences using different genres and literary devices, then I need to seek His voice therein.  If I truly believe that somehow, incomprehensible to me, His Spirit and Power are alive in His Word, then oughtn’t I devote time and energy to tucking these into my being – into my mind and heart?  {Memorize Isaiah 40:9-31}

·         If I truly believe that God is the Creator of the universe and time; and that He is the orchestrator of all good things, should I not completely surrender control to Him? {No make-up.  Focusing only on the 24 hour period in which I am presently; and doing what I can in that time and space.}   

·         Finally, an addition: If I truly believe that God is YHWH, then I need a better theology.  Not newer or more “relevant” or more academic.  More holistic, more well-rounded, more thoughtful, more aware.  I will use my course assignments not merely as papers, but as formation exercises.  I will find what theologians say about certain topics (the Doctrine of revelation, of sin, of human being, of creation, of God, etc…), and what the scriptures say; and I will find where I fall.  For out of my theology will come my praxis of life coram deo.  {Research, articulate, and practice Theology on 4 topics}

Of course, these disciplines are just that: mechanisms to keep me mindful of living my entire life as before God.  They will not unlock some secret spirituality within me.  They will not, by virtue of their practice, usher me into a more intimate communion with the Lord.  But, like any training exercise,  they can help me center my mind and focus my heart and bend my spirit to hear God, and daily [even moment to moment] help me to live my life coram deo.           

May this Lenten season find you seeking deeper relationship with God the Father.  May His Holy Spirit guide your weeks ahead.  And may His Son, Jesus Christ once again win your heart with His unquenchable love.

  

 

*A note on Giving up Alcohol – While I do not hold a teetotaler philosophy {this in itself is not a judgment on either side of the debate, merely a personal note}, I find that removing certain substances from time to time a beneficial practice that allows me to focus on mental, spiritual, and physical health.  To do a sounding of my whole person and decided: does this particular element have too great a hold on me (I have done this with alcohol, sugar, and caffeine in the past).  It allows me to find this ingredient’s place in my life and make sure it has not become either a crutch or a screen to something deeper in need of attention. 



Linked with: I Still Hate Pickles for Lent.  Visit Kiki's site, read her words, and be enoucraged by her insightful transparency.  

I am Leah.

There is a story from the ancient scriptures that is oft told around Valentine’s Day.  One of determined and persistent love: the story of Jacob and his Rachel.  Theirs is the story of how he, after being overwhelmed by her beauty, worked for seven years simply to earn her hand; and then, having been duped into marrying her older sister, how he worked seven more.  And while this is terribly romantic, I am given pause at how often we neglect the other sister, the one Jacob first wed.  And when I open their story, I feel that I know this woman better than the two tenacious lovers – the undesired sister. 

I have heard so many teachers and pastors and lay ministry leaders claim that she was purposefully and actively complicit in her father’s treachery against Jacob.  But because the scriptures don’t say, I wonder.  Because, when researching of late a full theology of beauty, I find that even the scriptures say Leah was not beautiful; and certainly not in comparison to her sister, Rachel.  What stands behind this stark declaration is the fact that there is not a woman in all of creation who wouldn’t have felt the weight of this truth – every single day – as she grew, as she hoped for love, as she watched her younger sister capture the heart of this stranger with her beauty.  Leah knew; she lived in this truth: she was not beautiful.  She was not desired.  Not wanted.  Not good enough. 

Thus, I can be compelled to conclude that even if she were actively complicit in the plot to trick Jacob into marrying her, her spirit had been so wounded, so abused, so crippled by the knowledge that even her own father didn’t think she could be married off without deception, her part in this scheme would have come from a desolate place of wanting.  Wanting what is the crux of humanity – to be loved.

Yet another option remains: that she was not an active participant in this plot.  That she was forced, outside of her will, to enact this ruse on her sister’s fiancé.  It is a cultural possibility; though again, not explicit in scripture, so we cannot truly know.  And if it were the case, one must add to the desperate feelings of being so completely unwanted, the guilt of having to betray her beautiful younger sister and deprive Rachel of the love she had found.    

Either way, Leah was bound to this marriage of great compromise; for there were no mechanisms for a woman in this time to divorce herself of such abject un-love.  So that Leah remains the sister who was forever unwanted.  Even after the marriage consummated and the veil lifted, Jacob didn’t want her.  How that must have felt, after giving her body, herself, to this man – whatever her hopes or guilt or dreams – to be publically declared unwanted.  Branded as not good enough by her now-husband, her father, her sister, her people; to finally have the label of her lifelong pain spoken aloud.  Undesired.  Unwanted.  Unloved. 

And all because she wasn’t pretty enough.   

Leah tried those seven years that weren’t hers, to win Jacob’s heart.  But we know these few millennia later, what she didn’t: Jacob only had eyes for Rachel.  His Rachel – the woman who was beautiful, the one who was wanted. 

And yet, still Jacob lay with Leah.  She bore him children because the Lord saw that Leah was unloved.  Year after year, Leah made herself available to Jacob; hoping to win just a portion of his love.  Through sex, through bearing him sons, through being the best wife she could be [ok, that last one’s a hermeneutical leap].  But Jacob doggedly made it known that Rachel was the one whom his heart desired.  And implicit in his constant proclamation was the over-and-over annunciation that Leah was not.

Sadly, it was only after Leah gave up hoping that Jacob could love her, she found peace in her spirit.  After all the sons, all the striving, all the praying, all the never-ending rejection, she had her last son and finally said, “This time, I will praise the Lord.”  And she stopped having children.[1]  What we don’t know is whether she was thereafter unable to have children, or if she stopped sleeping with Jacob.  Both are possible.  Perhaps Leah finally gave up; quit trying to win the love of a man, and instead became content with herself, her life, and her Lord.    

While Leah’s story isn’t a romantic one, I find myself drawn to it as I ponder beauty and love.  A combination with which so many are infatuated even to this day.  And I think of all the women hurting themselves in the pursuit of both.  Living lives out of the desperate loneliness of not good enough  and unloved.  Being driven to sacrifice the best parts of themselves on the altar of false hope and phantom promises. 

If only I were prettier/skinnier/smarter/younger. 

If only he loved me. 

And all the myriad of wishes that assault us, when we are empty of love. 

This year, on Valentine’s Day, I have decided to be mindful of Leah; to burn a candle for her, to buy her flowers, and offer her just a bit of my day.  I will do this for the wife who was unloved; and for all the Leahs since.  Women who have wanted so very desperately to be loved, of whom I could number my younger self.  Women who have sought this love in the arms of the wrong man; who have traded their bodies chasing after phantoms of love; women who have sacrificed their time and great portions of their lives on the altar of this false hope.  Women who have heard over and over and over again, that they are not enough. 

I will buy them – us – flowers because there is an unquenchable love that is as strong as death and as jealous as the grave.  We have only but to look to Christ, for He loves each one of us so much that he would sell off all of the universe just to ransom you.  And me.  Regardless of the nights spent in the arms of our Jacob, men who don’t want us.  Regardless of where these lonely paths have taken us.  Regardless of what we have traded for the hope of love.  Because that is a love more powerful and more beautiful than Jacob’s.  And through it, you and I, beloved, are made more lovely than Rachel; and more content than Leah.

The love of Jesus Christ – the only man who knows all that we’ve done while pursuing love, and cares only for our hearts.  The Son of God, who loves each one of us, be we Rachel or Leah, anyway.       

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[1] Genesis 29:35

Already

This week I have to take a hiatus from posting.  I am already burried in school work.  I will be back next Tuesday.  Thanks for checking in.

When an Answer is Needed

In last Tuesday’s post, I outlined how I would be using social media with purpose; and I mentioned that for me, this meant not engaging in online debates.  I would like to clarify this position before being written off as a coward or intellectual sloth, or merely as one who choose not to articulate her beliefs because they are too weak to hold any weight.  The reason I am choosing not to engage in online debates is because I have been involved in these types of online discourse, and I have found that these debates

1.        Honor no one – not God, not my friend[s], not myself

2.        Change no one’s mind

3.        Reflect a poor representation of my God, myself, and others who also hold my opinions.

Thus, I will save my personal disagreements for in-person interactions, with one caveat, which I’ll delineate below.

That being said, I know that believers are called to give an answer for their faith.  And that silence, while at times may be the most prudent response, can make the silent party complicit in the opposing side’s argument or action. 

There is a tension I am exploring between meekness and setting boundaries, between holding my tongue to live in peace and making my voice heard.  I have a responsibility to both use my voice on behalf of those who cannot, or against those who seek to harm, and to stay my strength so that unity and love are given to a world that needs both.       

 

Sin is not ended by multiplying words, but the prudent hold their tongues.

 ~ Proverbs 10:19

Blessed are the meek…Christ was silent in the face of His accusers.  He was silent on the walk up to Calvary.  He was silent when beaten, when insulted, when accused.  Yet, he overturned the money changer’s tables in the temple.  He answered (most) questions directly asked of Him.  At times, He rebuked those who challenged Him as openly as they approached Him.  So, are we to “turn the other cheek” when insulted, when the gospel is at stake?  Are we to be silent in the face of injustice?  Do we stand idly by when we see our fellow humans coming to harm?  I find that there are times when inaction makes us complicit with evil.  When silence itself muffles the call of the Gospel.  For meekness does not mean that we are always silent.  As Christ did, we are to jealously defend the God-ordained, through-the-blood-of-Jesus right, and therefore freedom, of all to come to the Lord unhindered.  We are to call out to the lost, the broken, and the weary with words of hope and truth.  We are to answer those who question us on behalf the God whom we are to represent.  We are to challenge those, as publically as they are presenting their case, who are preventing or marring the gospel.  And we are to do it all with a spirit of love, an attitude of grace, and complete humility – for not a single one of us may boast in anything except the atoning sacrifice of Christ Jesus on our sinful and fallen behalf.    

In practice, this means that:

1.        Every believer is an apologist.  That means YOU are an apologist.  And I am an apologist.  Certainly not on par with Drs. Lane, Dembuski, or Lennox[1]; but we are still meant to represent God and Christ and the Holy Spirit in our actions, words, thoughts, and yes, arguments.  Figure out what you believe and why you believe it; then learn how to defend it.  Be ready to give an answer for the Gospel at all times, under all circumstances.  Faith in God is not illogical.  It is the most reasoned and rational of all worldviews.  If you’re not sure where to begin, make a list of what you know to be true about God and find the scripture that backs up your statement; if it’s not in there, you need to revisit what you think about God.  Or, you can start with your church’s statement of faith (also called a doctrinal confession, or simply, “what we believe"); same exercise – make sure what they claim to believe is really found in God’s Word.  Or grab a book on theology or apologetics; for if you’ve made it to this blog, you can read and have been given the gift of intelligent thought.  I have been admonished that to waste this is sin.   

2.         If you are being insulted, mocked, and derided for your faith, do not seek the last word.  Turn the other cheek; pray for your enemies and bless those who persecute you.  Always speak truth.  Always offer grace.  Strive with every breath to live out the Gospel with love.  Never retaliate.  Don’t offend willfully.  Be humble and remember that before God, we are all equal – sinners in desperate need of His Son, our Savior.   

3.        If the Gospel is being misrepresented, correct this misrepresentation to the best of your ability, gracefully, as publically as the misinformation is presented.  Do not forward personal attacks against the speaker.  Example: if it’s at your dinner table, only address it with your family and guests.  If it’s a nationally broadcast sermon or speech, use your media outlets to offer a loving, thoughtful, rational counter position.  And heed the call to humility in #2.

4.       Politics do not equal faith.  Gun control is not the same thing as theology.  Yes, faith should map our political opinions.  But when we try to paint God as one brand of political agent or another, we make idols of our political system and mock the Kingdom of God.  The key here is to make sure that your political leanings line up with your theology.  Remember the apologetic exercises in #1?  Put your political views through the same paces – write them down and see if you can find scripture to back them up.  Be mindful of which scriptures you’re employing; and if you find yourself looking to modern television characters quoting Levitcal or Deuteronomical codes, you’re not thinking your position through.  Nor are you really reading scripture.     

 And so I want to encourage you – stand up for what you believe.  Do not be bullied into silence.  Do not allow slander to quiet the proclamation of the gospel.  Yet, do not make the Gospel something it isn’t – political fodder or personal judgment.  Do everything with the love of Christ in your heart, and the humility of a sinner on your tongue. 

 

I said, “I will watch my ways and keep my tongue from sin; I will put a muzzle on my mouth while in the presence of the wicked.”

 ~ Psalm 39:1

 

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[1] If you want to watch these master scholar-philosophers and apologist in action, the following are links to actual debates with popular secular scholars.

Dr. William Craig Lane vs. Christopher Hitchens – Does God Exist Debate: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FofDChlSILU  accessed 1/29/13 1:06pm

 

William Dembksi vs. Christopher Hitchens – Does God Exist Debate: http://winteryknight.wordpress.com/2013/01/23/video-christopher-hitchens-debates-william-dembski-does-god-exist/ accessed 1/29/13 1:06pm

 

John Lennox vs. Richard Dawkins – The God Delusion Debate: http://fixed-point.org/index.php/video/35-full-length/164-the-dawkins-lennox-debate  accessed 1/29/13 1:05pm