God as Father: Lessons I Learned as a Dad (Part 1)

"As G. K. Chesterton has reminded us, the sun rises every morning not only because of the natural laws of science, but because like a small child, God squeals with delight over the routine and tells the sun to 'do it again.' That is what the soul needs to hear in order to find any delight for itself in he routines of another day." ~ M. Craig Barnes, The Pastor as a Minor Poet (p. 35)

A few days ago, my family and I were in our living room having a normal, run-of-the-mill evening at home. At the point where our two couches meet, Erika (my wife) was sitting on one and I on the other, which is our normal fashion for it allows us to be close enough to hold hands and yet to see one another (or the TV) easily and comfortably. Gabriel (my two-year-old son) was standing at our coffee table, which is at the perfect height for him to enjoy it as a regular recreation spot. He was fiddling with a pair of nail clippers and a file, and Erika and I were talking about something, which was probably rather ordinary since I cannot even remember what it was (it could be that or my memory, which is not the best). Then, all of a sudden, Gabriel yelled with delight, "Daddy! Look at this!" And, he had take the finger nail clippers, threaded the file between the blades, and was holding the clippers in the air simply by holding onto the file. He was ecstatic by what he had just done. I looked at him and smiled at the great joy he had taken in something so simple, and I said, "That's awesome, Gabriel!" He thought it was the most amazing thing in the world at the time, and I looked him and thought, "Okay, that is kind of cool--he thinks that simple thing is so amazing. What wonderful, childlike delight." And, it brought a smile to my face because of the delight he had in it, even though it was probably one of the most ordinary things that one could do with a pair of nail clippers and a file (other than perhaps actually using them for their intended purpose).

Then, this morning, I was reading a book that I am thoroughly enjoying called The Pastor as a Minor Poet, and in it, I came across the thought quoted above: that God makes the sun rise not only because He set the physical laws in place that keep the earth rotating on its axis but also because He takes delight in the ordinary things of life. That thought reminded me of the story I just shared with you, which is just about as ordinary as it gets for my family: Gabriel playing; my wife and I talking or doing some work around the house. It reminded me of how much delight Gabriel took in something that my "sophisticated," "grown-up" mind would never find delightful--hanging a pair of nail clippers off of a nail file and then holding it there. To me that is "ordinary" or less than ordinary because it's so simple, and the simple and ordinary does not bring me joy anymore. For Gabriel, so many things are still new that they bring him great delight, and it brings me joy to see him taking delight in the ordinary things, even though to me they are so simple that under normal circumstances I would never give them a moment's thought.

That made me think about God as my Father (as an adopted child in Christ), which is something I ponder a lot more since I became a father. In fact, I've learned a number of lessons about the fatherhood of God from the parallel (albeit, imperfect) picture that my fatherhood of Gabriel has shown me. They're lessons I had already learned from Scripture, but I don't think I really understood them until I could see the shadowy parallels in my life as a father. I may share more of them with you in the future (hence the "part 1" in the title of this post), but for today I want to talk about God and the ordinary, mundane things in life.

To God, the whole universe is "ordinary" in a sense, for He made it and understands it perfectly, and yet the psalmist tells us that it all declares His glory (cf. Ps. 19) and Paul tells us to glorify God in everything we do (cf. 1 Co. 10:31), which shows us that God delights in the things we call "mundane" and wants us to glorify Him in the "ordinary" (remember, the context of Paul's maxim is eating and drinking, which is about as ordinary as it gets for us). God looks at us and smiles like I look at Gabriel and smile when he delights in something simple. But, there's more to it with God. His smile is not just because He's a Father who loves His child who's delighting in something as ordinary hanging nail clippers off a nail file but also because He delights in the ordinary things as well. In Orthodoxy by Chesterton, from which Barnes quotes in the above thought which spawned this whole post, he argues that grown-ups are not strong enough "to exult in monotony" but children and God are. That got me thinking, "How do I develop the strength that Gabriel has to exult in the ordinary? How can I view the ordinary with childlike delight? How do I develop the strength of character (which children have and I've lost as a grown-up) to look at something I have seen a million times and say, 'Hey Dad! Look at this! I know You created it but wow!'? How do I glorify God and give Him delight by taking delight in the ordinary things like hanging a pair of nail clippers on a nail file?" I think we "grown-ups" need to work on developing the strength to take delight in the ordinary because I think God would smile at us like I smiled at Gabriel, and it would give us joy in the normal parts of life.

Now, I must admit, I do not have a complete answer to the question of "How do I do that?" But, let me share a few thoughts with you that occurred to me as I was mulling over this question while driving to meet a friend for lunch. Part of the answer is found in coming back to the fact that the "ordinary" things that we take for granted are not as ordinary as we make them out to be. They seem ordinary because we take them for granted. They seem ordinary because in our own small experience they're the normal parts of life for us, but God, who sees the whole of creation across space and time, knows they are not as ordinary as we think they are.

There is something to the fact that Gabriel can take a pair of nail clippers and hang them off of a nail file, and it is something extraordinary. It makes me almost want to cry when I take a moment to take my selfish eyes off my own little world and think about the fact that some two-year-olds can't do that, and there are parents out there that would give everything they have to see their two-year-old do that. For example, my wife follows the blog of a family whose child was hit in the head by a tree branch and is now trapped in his own body, unable even to make his hands move without great effort. When I take my eyes off my own little life for a moment and think about those parents, I realize how extraordinary it is that Gabriel can hang nail clippers on a nail file. Or, to cite another example, Gabriel loves to run around the house back and forth with Erika and I following him. He takes great delight in it, but for us, it gets really old really fast. Yet, there are many children who can't do that and whose parents would give their lives if it could heal their child's legs. Maybe it's ordinary to me, but it's not ordinary to everyone. God knows that, and when I look at Gabriel hanging nail clippers off a file and have the strength of character to think "God, thank You that he has full use of his fingers, hands, and mind," God gets glory in the mundane and I find joy in it.

We can take this up a notch to our own mundane actions as well. I am not really a patient driver, to put it mildly, and most days I get frustrated driving, which not only makes it seem like a painful, ordinary task but also is not giving glory to God. What if I remembered how others can't drive because of a disability? What if I thought about my sister--whom I love dearly and whose RSD has disabled her leg and keeps her from long rides in the car, much less driving--and instead of getting angry at the image of God driving the car in front of me, I thanked Him for the ability to drive and prayed for my sister? He would be glorified both in that delight in the ordinary and in the prayers for my sister who does not enjoy that "ordinary" anymore. Or, what if I thought about a woman I know who has a disease that weakens the connective tissue in her body, and after having her two girls, she couldn't get even pick them up because she was so weak? Perhaps the next time Gabriel wants me to pick him up and I am tired of doing it, I could think about the blessing it is to be able to hold him, and glorify God in that ordinary part of life.

Some can't take pleasure in the simple act of holding their own baby, of watching their child hang nail clippers off a nail file, of feeding themselves, or even of taking themselves to the bathroom. God has blessed me with incredible use of all my parts, so I can do the things that look ordinary, but there are many people in the world who cannot. God would get more glory out of my life and I would have more joy if I started to look at the world from His perspective--seeing the blessings of the "ordinary" things in my life that others do not enjoy and I don't deserve--and thanked and praised Him for the mundane.

His grace has given me the use of my hands, so I can type this post with ease. His grace has given my son the use of His hands, so that he can hang a nail clipper off of a nail file and say, "Daddy! Look at this!" My life would be more joyful and more glorifying to Him if I lifted my eyes up off my own little world and saw that those things are, in fact, not as ordinary as they seem.

That's what I learned today because God has given me the blessing of being a father and allowed me to understand a little better what it means for Him to be my heavenly Father. May the Lord give me the strength to exult in the mundane and continue to use my son (who has that strength) to teach it to me. May I then give Him glory and be joyful even while sitting on my couch on ordinary evening in my ordinary home.

By His Grace,
Taylor

Hope for the Inadequate

In my last post, I posted a devotion on fear from the story of Gideon's call in Jdg. 6:1-16. In it, I pointed out that Gideon's encouragement comes from the fact that God is with him, which helps cast out the lesser fears of the Midianites or following God's call. Well, that devotion was a precursor to a sermon on the call of Gideon from Jdg. 6:11-16: "Hope for the Inadequate."

Do you sometimes feel like God is calling you to do something for which you know you are totally and completely inadequate? It could be parenthood (being a mom isn't for sissies, folks), it could be a job or change of jobs, it could be ministry or an office in the church, or anything else. Well, the story of Gideon's call (and all the other call narratives in Scripture as well) helps us to see that it is God's pattern to call the inadequate not the adequate (or those who think they are adequate), make them adequate by going with them, and gain the glory, which ultimately our greatest good (cf. this past post of a sermon on that subject).

So, if you want to learn more, you can listen to the sermon here or read the transcript here. I pray that it is a blessing to your soul and increases your joy in Christ.

By His Grace,
Taylor

Fear Not: Handling Fear with the Hope of the Gospel

Coming up in a couple of days is a post with a sermon I preached a few Sunday's ago from Jdg. 6:11-16, entitled "Hope for the Inadequate." It takes a look at God's call of Gideon, focusing particularly on how it gives hope to those who know they are completely inadequate to do the work God has called them to do. Now, when God has called us to do something, much of our feelings of inadequacy comes from fear, and Gideon and the Israelites in this story are filled with fear. So, today we are going to talk about fear, and in a couple of days the actual sermon will post, which focuses on hope. Before you keep reading, however, take a few minutes to go read Jdg. 6:1-16, because it is the context of what follows. ............... Have you read it? Okay, then keep reading here.

Fear is a powerful motivator in many ways. Larger fears or greater fears can often times override lesser fears, motivating us to do something we normally wouldn't have done. For example, in the story of Gideon, God's people are so afraid of the Midianites that they have resorted to living in caves. Now, I am not sure if you've ever slept in a cave, but it is not easy to do. It's kind of scary living in a cave. It's dark, damp, cold, and there are critters living there with you, usually the kinds you don't want to encounter. Yet, the fear of the Midianites overrode any fear the Israelites might have had of living in caves and drove them there.

Fear can also be paralyzing. God's people, in this story, are paralyzed. They can't gather together to go out to fight the Midianites. They're too terrified even to begin to fight back. Gideon is terrified too, and he does not want to be the one God calls to lead the Israelites against the Midianites. And, if you were facing hordes of war camels, you'd probably be paralyzed too. A camel was the most fearsome war animal of the time in the ancient near east. It's a one-ton beast whose shoulder meets you at eye level and who can run at speeds up to 40 mph. And, the rider or riders on a camel are sitting at about 7-8 feet above the ground, which means if you're on foot, you stand almost no chance. It would be like one of us going up against a tank with nothing but a 45 pistol--no chance whatsoever.

So, what's God's remedy for fear? In Gideon's case, and in ours as well, it's God's promise: "I will be with you." Courage is not the absence of fear, it's the drive to push past it because of something more compelling than the fear. For Christians, the promise "I will be with you," provides that compelling drive. Those words can override fear because inherent in them are two things about God:

Who God is: The encouragement of "I will be with you" is completely dependent on who the "I" is. When the "I" is God, there is a fear of God (in a biblical sense) that overrides the fear of the enemy, call, or task He has for us. I think we're often uncomfortable with the idea of fearing God because we don't understand it properly, but the fear of the Lord is certainly all over the Scriptures. It's everywhere in the NT and the OT. So, what is the proper understanding of the fear of the Lord that gives us courage to follow Him?

Jesus tells us in Mt. 10 to fear God rather than men because man can only harm the body but God can destroy the body and soul in hell. And, then right after that, He gives us the proper perspective on that fear of God: while God is the God who can destroy body and soul in hell, He is also the God who loves His children so much so that He knows the number of hairs on their heads, and then Jesus says, "Fear not..." That is a good example of the types of fear we see in the Bible. The Scriptures use "fear" in two ways--there's the fear that can make you run in terror or the fear that can make you stand in awe. We see them both in Mt. 10 subtly, and we see them both explicitly in other places like Ex. 20:20. There, Moses says, "Do not fear, for God has come to test you, that the fear of him may be before you, that you may not sin." So, Moses tells us that we are not to be afraid of God in the sense that makes use run the other way in terror (as if we were an enemy of God), but we are to have the fear of God that fills us with awe and reverence for Him, so that we love Him and desire to obey Him.

In the Bible, the fear of God is based on our love and reverence for Him (Ps. 33:18; 130:3-4). If you have a fear of God that comes from the knowledge that He is the forgiver of sins, then you have the right kind of fear--a fear that captivates you because of a God who is just, holy, and could punish you but who also forgives sinners like you and me. God's love and the fear and reverence of Him that comes from that love drives out the wrong kind of fear (1 Jn. 4:18). That is what drives out the fear of this world when God calls us to do His work. And, this love is from both sides: we love Him, so we will want to face our fears for His sake; He loves us, so we will be confident in His protection and promises. In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Mr. Tumnis says to Lucy about Aslan, "He isn't safe, but He's good." When a lion loves you enough to die for you, His roar will strike you with awe and reverence, but it will not cause you to run like it does to the enemies of the lion. When we are afraid, we need to hear not the battle cries of our enemies but the roar of the Lion of Judah. God showed Gideon this when fire consumed the sacrifice Gideon offered and not Gideon himself. Gideon was not consumed but loved, because later on Christ would cover his sins, and we are not consumed but loved for the same reason.

Who God is not: The thing about God that are inherent in the words "I will be with you," is who God isn't. Gideon had the intellectual knowledge of the stories of the exodus. Yet, he and the other Israelites were still syncretists--worshipers of Baal and God. That syncretism was exactly what had been getting the Israelites into trouble during their whole history. They were trying to hedge their bets with a false god who supposedly controlled the fertility of their crops (i.e. Baal) and still get the protection and provision of Yahweh--the true God of the Bible. But, God's people cannot have it both ways, and they were thinking they could. "Yahweh would redeem you, but when it comes to fertility, Baal is your man," is what they thought. Pagan gods may accept that--may accept serving multiple gods at once--but Yahweh will not have that, because He is that kind of God. He's not like the pagan gods of Israel's time or our time. He demands exclusive worship. And, of course, this is true love from Him, because the moment you have another god, you're depending on something that will fail you, and God will not let you do that. He's not that kind of God. This is why the very first job for Gideon was not rescuing the people but getting rid of Baal in their midst.

The God of the Bible who is not like the pagan gods requires fidelity only to Him, but that fidelity comes with the knowledge that He will care for His people and redeem them from their enemies. It's like a marriage. What kind of husband wouldn't get jealous and angry if his wife tried to have a second husband? Why kind of wife wouldn't do the same if her husband tried to have a second wife? If they had no problem with their spouse entertaining other intimate relationships, then we'd probably question how much they really love that spouse. We'd also question their desire to care for that spouse above all others (for they don't mind infidelity from the spouse, they'd likely engage in it themselves). So, it is with us. If God didn't require our exclusive worship and love--setting aside all false gods--then we'd have reason to wonder if He really loves us and really will be faithful to His promises to care for us. But, our God is not like the pagan gods (who were as fickle as the most unreliable human). He requires fidelity, and that comes from an intense love and care for His people--intense enough to send His own Son to die for us.

When we have that kind of God and that kind of love and when we live in awe and reverence of that kind of God, our fear (in the biblical sense) of Him will cast out the lesser fears of enemies or fulfilling the call He has given us. It did it for Gideon and God's people (eventually), and it will for us. As God says in Is. 43:5, "Fear not, for I am with you."

By His Grace,
Taylor

Hope for a New Year

So, in the week leading up to this past New Year's Eve, many people were making resolutions, as they do, of course, every year. And, of course, since Jan. 1, 2015, the number of broken resolutions has been growing steadily. This year I got a little curious about the resolutions people were making, so I went to Twitter and searched #NewYearsResolution, and, as you might imagine, a bunch of tweets came up. Most were about the standard resolution stuff—losing weight, eating healthier, stopping doing _____, travel to _____, change my life, etc.—but there were also many tweets that reflected a loss of hope for many individuals—people who have made many, many resolutions and know they never stick to them.

Now, you may not be into New Year's resolutions (like me), but when we Christians come up on mile markers in life like a new year, it's not uncommon for us to reflect on the previous year and maybe even feel a little twinge of that loss of hope—I want to change, but I never stick to it. Sometimes I think about how I'm still struggling with the same sins that plagued me a year ago or two years ago. Sometimes I wonder if I'm increasing in personal holiness and growing in the likeness of Christ at all. Now, that may be partially because I'm the kind of person who tends to focus more on the negative, and you may be a more positive thinking person. But, even so, I'd venture the guess that all of us would like to grow more in Christ and get over certain sins faster or altogether. Paul expressed the common human experience when he said, "For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate…. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?" We know God's moral will for our lives and then we see what we're doing and how we've been doing it for a long time, and it's easy to think, "Is there any point? Is there any hope?"

Well, Ro. 4:13-25 is a passage that talks about the true hope of the gospel, even when it seems hopeless, and I had the blessing of being able to preach a sermon on that passage a couple of Sunday's ago. If you are interested in hearing more, you can listen to the sermon here or read the transcript here. I pray that it is a blessing to your soul and increases your joy in Christ.

By His Grace,
Taylor

Good News of Great Joy for All Peoples

So, I am little late on getting this sermon up. It is actually a Christmas sermon, of sorts, for it was preached on Dec. 21, 2014 and certainly has an advent theme. But, just a few hours after I preached it, my family and I left to drive to Atlanta for some time with our families there, and I have not had time to post it since. However, even though it is a "Christmas sermon," it the subject matter from God's Word applies to our lives at all times of the year, so hopefully it can still be helpful to you.

What is the center of your life? That is an important question because the answer tells you what your life revolves around and a little about your goal in life. We might also ask, "What is the center of history?" And, without going into the longer explanation that the sermon presents, the center of history is the advent of Christ. The calendars of the world revolve around the advent of Christ, and every person in the world dates their life, in their day-to-day existence, with reference to the birth of Christ. That tells us what history revolves around, and it tells us that goal of history as well: the second advent of Christ.

Well, Ps. 117, which is the text for the sermon, is the exact center of Scripture, which is entirely appropriate (maybe even providential) because in a nutshell, this psalm describes what the Scriptures revolve around—the firm foundation of Jesus Christ—and they describe God’s ultimate goal: all His people from all tribes and nations praising Him for His steadfast love and faithfulness.

So, if you want to find out more, you can listen to the sermon here or read the transcript here. I pray that it will be a blessing to your soul and increase your joy in Christ.

By His Grace,
Taylor