Japan

I received a new revelation of grace this week. It has left me silent and still to the core.

I saw the satellite photos of the cataclysmic damage caused by Japan’s earthquake and tsunami. I heard the news reporters talk about long lines at gas stations and barren grocery store shelves. I listened to scientists discuss the possibility of radiation contamination from Japan’s damaged nuclear reactors. I shook my head. I prayed for Japan.

But I didn’t cry . . . until I saw the father crying.

It was a short video clip of a father and mother . . . probably about my age . . . navigating precariously through piles and piles of rubble. The father was calling out . . . desperately . . . achingly . . . with his hands cupped around his mouth. Calling for his son, hoping to find life in the midst of total devastation. As he paused to lean against the side of a wall that was still standing, he began to sob.

That’s when I cried.

The agony and deep mourning of that father’s cry was heartrending. It was so raw. So real. So inconsolable.

I immediately thought of the scriptures in Genesis chapter 3. It is the description of God walking in the garden after His relationship with His beloved children had been devastated:

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. Then the Lord God called to the man, and said to him, "Where are you?"

I know I wasn’t there on that day in Genesis. I know I didn’t hear the Lord’s voice as He called out to his son. But as I pondered that short piece of scripture, I saw that Japanese man’s countenance in my heart. I don’t believe God’s question . . . “Where are you? . . . was a casual query. I believe it was a gut-wrenching cry of horrible, tragic loss. Like the sobbing cry of the searching Japanese father.

“Where . . . are . . . youuuuu??”

God knew where his children were. But the reality was too horrendous and too raw to even grasp. They were there . . . in their spiritually shaken garden home. Lost. Hidden. Buried beneath the horrendous rubble of sin and rejection that had quaked the earth to its core. Dead to Him, unless a miracle of resurrection could bring them back again. His heartrending cry, “Where are you?” was a cry of deep, fathomless mourning.

One of the most dangerous postures in American Christianity today is the trendy, light-hearted, slightly scholaresque rejection of mourning. Like macabre specters of otherworldly sprites, we dance and sing and shout the freedom of grace as if our own rescue . . . our own resurrection from the rubble of sin and death . . . was nothing more than a silly, bad dream. Deep mourning and gut-wrenching repentance are no longer welcome guests at our parties. It is a strange type of spiritual hedonism that pronounces victories, brags about prosperity, and thumbs its nose at any notion of suffering . . . as it dances upon the very rubble that others are still buried beneath.

The camp of the redeemed has much to celebrate. And much to be eternally grateful for. The right hand of the Lord has gloriously rescued us.

The sound of joyful shouting and salvation is in the tents of the righteous;
The right hand of the Lord does valiantly.
The right hand of the Lord is exalted;
Psalm 118:15-16

But it is only a CAMP . . . not a princely community of opulent palaces.
And we are only sojourners . . . not reigning sovereigns that need petting and spoiling.
And we are living among the stricken ones . . . not sheltered behind gem-studded walls.
And it is God’s Hand that is valiant and exalted . . . not ours.

A campsite of rescued sojourners. Landscaped with the tents of those who have been rescued from unspeakable devastation. Living among stricken victims: even hammering our tent pegs right beside the ancient rubble of horrible human tragedy. Celebrating with those who celebrate. Mourning with those who mourn. Suffering with those who suffer. Known by the name of the One who saved us because we talk like Him and behave like Him and love like Him. Looking to a blessed hope of eternal reconciliation with the One who has rescued us.

THAT is my revelation of grace.

I am thinking that America should get back to basic Christianity. The kind that says:

“It is sin that devastates us. But God loves us and wants a relationship with us. He is the Great Rescuer. And those who are rescued become His disciples.”

Save the fancy theologies and elaborate church growth campaigns and mystic spiritual ecstasies and exclusive clubs of BFF’s for a time that is less desperate . . . less real. Right now, we just need faithful workers with shovels and compassion. We need people who know the job is too big, but who trust a God who is more than enough.

For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 6:23

Please Pass the Gravy

Default modes are not necessarily a bad thing. We all have them and sometimes we need them. Things in life don’t always pan out the way we want. Sometimes our other modes . . . professional mode, parental mode, religious mode, party mode . . . become insufficient. Default modes, at least, give a person something to fall back on when all hullabaloo breaks loose.


Unless, of course, your default mode is faulty.
Then you might really be in trouble.


Fear doesn’t make a good default mode: it is too doubtful and scary.
Self-centeredness is unadvisable: there are no supportive relationships in it.
Depression and panic fail as functioning systems: you can’t move forward when you can’t move at all. Anger and bitterness close the door on any hope of peace.
Prideful arrogance turns us into untouchable despots.


Good default modes are simple.
Unembellished.
Timeless.
They are based on something outside of ourselves.
They are discernable when everything else is haywire.
And they are a place we can call home . . . we could find ourselves living there for quite a while.


I have been getting a sense lately that it is time for Christians to find their default mode. Scale things down a bit. Shake off all the fluff. Get down to brass tacks. I am really not a doom-and-gloom type of person, but I sense a storm coming. Maybe a big one. And my down-home, southern sensibility tells me that diligently preparing for a storm is better than finding yourself stranded . . . without resources . . . in the midst of it.


Here are some tips I have found helpful in building a default mode that can weather a storm. I have used it a few times. It has served me quite well.


I Don’t Know
There is no shame in not knowing something. Mark Twain says, “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.” Some of life’s most poignant journeys begin by admitting that you simply don’t understand. And being humble enough to look beyond yourself for answers.


God Is Faithful
Faith in God is as necessary as breathing. And trusting His faithfulness is the most essential element in any default mode.


The 10 Commandments Are Good
There is nothing in the universe more beautiful than the character of God. Everything He stands for and everything He does flows effortlessly from His impeccable character. The 10 commandments were the first written record of God’s Heart and Soul. To stray from their Truth or to in any way demean the power of their revelation is to place your life on a dangerous tangent. Don’t worry if you find them a bit convicting. That’s a good thing. It means that your God-given conscience is still intact . . . and that the Lord can still lead you to repentance. Exodus chapter 20.


The Sermon on the Mount is Truth
It is easy to fall into self-deception when life gets difficult. And the enemy is always there to feed us mystical revelations, confirming “prophetic utterances”, and well-meaning condolences from friends to help us build a case “for” our endangered self interest and “against” those who endanger it. A “them versus us” mentality is very, very dangerous. It is self-aggrandizing in the least. Cultic at its worst. The Sermon on the Mount is a clear description of Godliness that elegantly disassembles the cult of self. You really can’t go wrong to embrace it. Matthew chapter 5.


Right and Wrong Still Exist
There will always be a bit of an outcast in the life of a disciple of Christ. Popularity must always defer to righteousness. We must never become like the world in an effort to win the world. We must never offer a false cup of justification to soothe someone’s pain when repentance is their only real hope. “Therefore, salt is good; but if even salt has become tasteless, with what will it be seasoned? It is useless either for the soil or for the manure pile; it is thrown out. He who has ears to hear, let him hear." Luke 14:34-35


Be Still
Struggling in the company of the Lord brings growth. Striving without Him brings hopelessness. It is good to shush ourselves. Be still. Listen. And wait. These things develop a life-discipline that allows us to hear and believe the One who is soooo not like us . . . but wants us to be soooo like Him.


Maybe I am wrong. Maybe the future is all grace-and-gravy for the disciples of the Lord Jesus. But it still wouldn’t hurt to take a look at our own default modes. We might be needing them . . .


Psalm 46