Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

In the left corner of my backyard, just outside the pasture fence, stands a large well-established patch of raspberry canes, affectionately dubbed “The raspberry hedge.” It was here when we moved in, already trellised and watered by an automatic irrigation system. When we came to look at the house prior to purchasing, the sellers told us it was a very productive patch, naming a large number of quarts they believed it would produce that year. I smiled and nodded, mentally scoffing. Surely that number couldn’t be right! 

The berries began ripening in late July. A few at first. Then quite a few. Then a lot. Then quite a lot! About 50 pounds of raspberries came out of the hedge before it finally spent itself for the year. Admittedly, we were relieved to have the productivity slow. Happy to have the produce put up for winter, but also happy to preserve something, anything, other than raspberries. 

Our hedge is quiet now. The birds and bees and squirrels no longer scold us for harvesting the fruits they jealously claimed as their own. There is little for me to do out there anyway. Outside of removing dead canes and shoring up the trellis, the plants will do exactly what God created them to do. The primocanes will turn brown and lose their leaves. Leftover floricanes will give their carbohydrates to help the plant survive the winter. They will lie dormant until spring. Dormant. Not dead. 

Mid-winter, when the snow is deep, the temperatures freezing, I’ll leave my crackling wood stove and look out the window into the backyard. I’ll look over the shrubs and trees, empty planters and garden space. Eventually, my gaze will wander to the raspberry hedge. There will be no fruit, no green leaves, no birds vying for the first ripe berry. It will look dead. I know it isn’t. I will know that underneath the snow and dirt, roots are resting, waiting, storing up nutrients, ready to shoot up new canes as soon as the weather permits. Because raspberry bushes, like most other trees and plants, aren’t made for constant production without time for rejuvenation and renewal. Neither are you. 

Over the years, we have become a noisy, restless, overly busy society. There is no day of rest. No moment of contemplation. No peace, no quiet, no calm. Noise is everywhere. Possibly the largest pollutant on the planet. Useless banter. Pointless arguments. Wearisome whining. Amid the social belief that more is better, we have forgotten the treasure of solitude, the gift of quietude, the perspicacity of rest and meditation on the things of God. We have traded the wisdom of talking to God for the gratification of talking to people, forfeiting the blessing of His whispered answers for the commiseration of the crowd. Our busyness with business, our striving to keep up, show up, put up, has robbed us of our much-needed ability to shut up. It is wearing on our souls. 

We were not created to be 24-7 people, networking, working, or socializing around the clock. We were made for rest, for introspection, for communion with God. We were made for substance, not simply style. We were created to be the well-rooted, well-watered, well-tended exhibitions of God’s care, the touch of His hand in the world around us, the voice of His leading when others are going astray. God’s intentions are that we should be the godliness in the world around us. Steady, strong. Like the godly man depicted in Psalm 1. (Exodus 20:8-10; Psalm 37:7; Titus 2:12; I Timothy 6:6-7; James 5:20) 

In his artful way, with words as his brush, the Psalmist paints a beautiful landscape. A hearty, well-established tree is comfortably situated on the bank of a rushing stream. Its trunk is thick and stable. Its roots run deep. It’s not going anywhere. The stream could overflow its banks, the wind could howl and whip its branches, that tree would stand firm. The leaves sprouting from those strong branches are lush and green, healthy and vigorous. In the fruiting season, hidden beneath those leaves, in great abundance, hangs perfect, beautiful fruit. Why? Because that tree is maintained by the hand of God. It is God’s tree. Dedicated, devoted fully to Him alone. Delighted to be such. That tree is the soul of the godly, the heart of the one who puts God as chief executive officer and never rescinds the position. (Psalm 1:2-3)

This is the key to fruit bearing. Complete surrender to the teaching, pruning, nurturing of God. Spending uninhibited time with Him. Listening to His words. Knowing His laws. Obeying them. It will not always be comfortable. It will always be necessary. You won’t love everything He says to you, but adhering will increase your fruit yield. You may dislike His corrections, find them horribly unpleasant, but accepting them will improve the flavor of your fruit. You might find His pruning nearly intolerable, but when you let go and let God change your life, your soul will be the healthiest it has ever been. (Proverbs 3:12; Hebrews 12:5-11; Psalm 119:165; Proverbs 15:10) 

In the early spring, the experts say I’m supposed to severely prune my raspberries. It breaks my heart. I don’t want to do it. But I will. I’ll don my boots and gloves, take my garden shears and follow their instructions to the letter. Why? Because I want healthy, vibrant, fruitful plants. I want them to be the best they can be, the best they have ever been.

God wants the same thing for you, a million times more than I want it for my raspberry hedge. He wants to tend, water, and prune your heart so you can be the best possible image of Him in this busy, noisy world. He’s the expert. Why not let Him? Why not shut out the noise of the world, hunker down with God and meditate in His law? Soak it in. Rest in it. Ask Him what it means and how it relates to your personal fruit production. And what would you gain if you sat in quiet contemplation to ensure you hear Him when He whispers back? 

Friend, you were not created to rise early and stay up late working and striving and struggling to attain some pinnacle of greatness, prestigious accolade, or social acceptance. No. You are already loved and accepted beyond your wildest dreams. So shut out the clamour of the world and let God give you rest. Surrender yourself to Him. Let Him make you what you were created to be. Allow Him to make your life the healthy, fruitful, godly place He intended. Let Him live there. Dwell there. Run the place. Let Him make you fruitful, a deeply rooted, well-watered, lovingly nurtured example of Jesus Christ in a starving world that’s too busy to bear fruit worth wanting. (Psalm 127:2; Psalm 4:3-4; Colossians 1:10; Matthew 3:8; John 15:4-5; Matthew 12:33; John 3:30)

Tears flowed down her cheeks as they were herded out of the beautiful Garden that had been their home. Sorrow and regret etched lines across her once flawless face. Questions bombarded her mind. Why had she done that? What had she been thinking? Why was she talking to a serpent in the first place?

It was a beautiful afternoon. Eve was walking in the Garden, admiring the beauty, when he laid his crafty eyes on her. As she bent to smell a flower, he crept closer. As she ran her hand over a shiny piece of ripe fruit hanging on a nearby tree, he sidled up beside her. When he caught her inquisitive gaze resting on the tree in the middle of the Garden, he knew he had her. This was his moment. He didn’t even hesitate. Like the evil, demented, cunning thing he is, the evil one stepped in to wreak havoc. 

“That’s a pretty tree, isn’t it? The fruit sure looks good!” the wily serpent hints. 

“It is, but we aren’t allowed to eat from it. God said we will die if we do.” Eve replies, never taking her eyes off the tree. 

“What?” the serpent explodes, “That can’t be right! God knows this tree will give you wisdom and you will know good and evil. You can’t die from that. Go ahead. Try it. You’ll be fine.”

I wonder how long it took Eve to reach out and pick the fruit? Did she hesitate? Stretch out her hand only to pull it back again in indecision? Did it take more encouragement from the tempter? Did she ponder her decision? Leave and come back again? Did she question if the loving God who walked the Garden in the cool of the day was even capable of disapproval? Did she finally reason her way into eating the fruit simply because her frail human mind couldn’t fathom a love so phenomenal, so potent, so permanent that fleeting approval paled in comparison?

However she made her final decision, Eve picked the fruit and took a bite, wiping delicious juice from her chin. Then she ran to find Adam and give him a bite too. A bite he took with no obvious hesitation. No question about which tree she had harvested. No skeptical glances to determine from where she had come. He simply ate the fruit. And the moment he ate it, he knew what it was, where it came from. He knew things he hadn’t known before. Things he wished he didn’t know now. They were naked. They needed clothes. They needed to hide from God. (Genesis 3)

It was an impossible task, for sure. They tried anyway. Hanging out in the back corner in their newly woven fig leaves. Ducking behind blooms. Running from tree trunk to tree trunk. God didn’t play hide and seek. He called them out. Made them accountable. Not because His love had run out, but because He couldn’t approve of the disobedient choices they had made. As they stood there before Him, garbed in their leafy fashions, answering questions that had no good answers, no excuses, no sound reasoning to back them up, the serpent outright belly-laughed.  

He started this whole mess in the first place, with his lies and temptations and twisted ideas about love. He’s still using the same tricks. He’s still saying that God didn’t mean exactly what He said. It’s open to interpretation. Surely the changing times allow for some Biblical alteration. He is still pushing the stale idea that God is love so He surely won’t punish sin. He is still busy convincing you that he only has your happiness in mind and that if God is love, surely He wants you to be happy too. 

In centuries, millennia, the tactics of the evil one have not changed one iota. Society has bought into every single one. They’ve tried to convince us to buy into them too. Surely a good and loving God would want the people He loves to be happy. Surely happiness is found in having our own way. So, surely love equals approval. Approval of our desires. Approval of our lifestyles. Approval of our selfishness. Approval of our sin. Blanket approval allowing us to live however we want yet still walk freely into Heaven. 

Society’s definition of love is woefully incorrect. Their unrealistic expectations, based on a fictional definition, have caused them to look at God’s love with a jaundiced eye. They have no concept of the deep, lasting love of God that rebukes, corrects, and chastens, all for the good of the one it loves. They have no idea how sacrificial love works. No comprehension of a love that keeps trying, keeps calling, keeps wooing, even when it knows the one they love so completely will only spurn, deny, and reject their love. True love keeps loving. It can do nothing else. It wouldn’t be love if it did. 

Still, true love is not what your five-year-old self thought it was. It is likely not what your adult self wants to believe it is, either. It is not patently permissive or inordinately indulgent. True love does not change itself to meet the demands of spoiled brats–no matter how much it loves those same tantrum-throwing minions. It is not swayed by manipulative wails or challenges to prove itself. It does not equal approval or pacifying permission. True love is so much greater than that.

I saw it evidenced as I read the story of Adam and Eve walking dejectedly from the Garden of Eden after their vast rejection of God’s law. I’m tempted to think the punishment unfair. Surely there was another way! But then I realized how compassionate the alleged punishment was. God saved them from themselves. Left in the Garden, their traitorous human hearts would have been unable to refuse the fruit of the tree of life. Once eaten, they would live forever.

From the comfort of your armchair as you eat your takeaway dinner, watch a show on television, and halfheartedly peruse this blog, living forever might not seem so bad. But read that list of oncoming changes again and imagine yourself back in Old Testament times. Ladies, childbirth with no pain killers, no hospitals, no ultrasounds, no sterile linens, hovering doctors, or placating nurses. There’s no one to clean your house, wash your clothes, cook your food, or do your chores. Get busy. That baby will come in its own time. Pregnancy is no cause for taking it easy. Gentlemen, figure out how to grow things out of the intractable ground. Fight weeds and thistles without weed killer from the local home improvement store. Scrape out a living for yourself and your family from what you can coax the earth into yielding. Work. Sweat. Eat. So you can work and sweat some more. Not eight hours a day. It takes much more effort than that. Sunup to sundown. Freezing cold or blazing heat. Work. Toil. Coax. Still interested in signing up to live forever on earth? (Genesis 3:16-24)

See, God’s act of punishment was also an act of love. Love that knew no human could endure thousands of years of hard labor. Love that realized no woman would want to be giving birth–again–at 250 years old. God corrects the people He loves.How often has it happened in your life? Can you look back, after working through a horrific situation brought on by your own wilfulness, only to see the terror you missed would have been worse than the furor you faced? That was love. God’s love. True love. Love that doesn’t fail to correct, chasten, rebuke, but never stops loving. It is consistent, faithful, limitless no matter how much we whine, wheedle and cajole. Love that enforces boundaries, standards, ethics, morals. True love that, knowing right from wrong, never pushes, manipulates, or guilt trips. True love loves even when it disagrees, disapproves, dislikes. True love is always present, always forgiving. It is wholly selfless. (Psalm 103:14; Hebrews 12:6-8; Deuteronomy 8:5; Revelation 3:19; Job 5:17; Ephesians 3:14-21)

It was exhibited for eternity on Calvary. Jesus hangs there. Sinless. Selfless. Taking on the sin and selfishness, guilt and punishment of His generation and every generation to come. His arms are outstretched in an ever-welcoming pose proclaiming that whosoever will may come. Come and wash in the blood that love spilled. Love that put Him on that cross even as it knew some would refuse Him, some would reject Him, some would deny Him. Love that cannot approve of our sin, yet still, it loves. Constant love for fickle humanity. Perfect love. God’s love. (Ephesians 1:7; John 14:6; I Timothy 2:4-6; Romans 5:8; Ephesians 5:2)

Society, the world, the evil one will try to tell you that love is whimsical, permissive, approving. It isn’t. Love does not equal approval, nor does approval equal love. It is so much greater than that. It is the steady, relentless pursuit of your wayward heart by the God whose very nature defines the word “love.” It is Him calling you to holiness over happiness, knowing one is eternal while the other is fleeting. It is the enforcement of rules and boundaries, not for a power trip or the stroking of His ego, but with the express purpose of preparing you for Heaven and protecting you from Hell. It is love that follows you down every darkened corridor, into every dive, watches every poor decision, yet never writes you off. Instead, it aches for you to bring your ravaged, ruined heart back home. It is the olive branch of hope continually extended from the heart of God to the lost souls of humanity. No matter what choices you make. No matter how lost you are. True love cannot be found in approval. Approval is fleeting. The love of God endures forever. The choice is yours. Which will you seek? Fleeting approval or everlasting love. (Leviticus 11:44; I Peter 1:15; I John 4:8-10; Psalm 103:13; I Corinthians 13:4-8; Matthew 11:28-30; John 14:2-3; Romans 5:1-21)

Last Friday, we traveled into the city to take our children back-to-school shopping. We made a day of it. Visited multiple shops. Went out for lunch. Mastered their lists. It was a perfectly normal day. Except it wasn’t. You see, in the back of my mind, choosing backpacks, eating lunch, loading groceries, pumping gas, was the constant awareness that across the globe, in a country I have only heard about, people are experiencing days so far removed from any concept of normal. 

It is nearly impossible to pick up a newspaper, open the Internet, or turn on your television without being bombarded by accounts of the horrific happenings taking place in Afghanistan. Normally, I shy away from writing about the news, but for so many days–weeks–my broken heart has read the stories and been shattered over and over again. My mind cannot turn off the thoughts of people in peril. All the people. Christians. Non-Christians. Normal people doing normal things. Fathers attempting to scrape out a living for their families. Mothers doing their best to care for their children. Teenagers learning the ways of the world around them, dreaming, making choices for their futures. Children playing made-up games, laughing in spite of bleak circumstances. As the tenuous stability of their world crashed down around them, my heart was gutted on their behalf. My urgent prayers have been continual, the requests varied. 

I have battered Heaven on behalf of the Christians facing worsened persecution. I think of them first, my imagination wild with thoughts of what may be in store for them. As a grade-schooler, I listened to a camp meeting speaker from a region that did not embrace the Gospel. It takes only a moment for my mind to travel back to that service and replay the words he spoke. Words of torture, torment, and terror reigned down on believers in his country, spoken in gross detail to indelibly imprint on our minds. Decades have passed since I heard those words. They are as clear today as they were when I sat frozen in terror, sick to my stomach, listening to his accounts. As recent events trigger that memory, my stomach twists and my shattered heart desperately implores the God of the universe, the Father of us all, to protect, deliver, rescue. If God wills it. (Ephesians 4:6; I Corinthians 8:6; John 5:14; Matthew 6:10) 

Admittedly, I can barely push those words past my tightened throat. My heart doesn’t want to say them. I want mountains filled with heavenly warriors, enemies who fight themselves, seas that part for salvation only to crash down for enemy elimination. The flippant prayers of, “Thy will be done,” prayed over which job to take, car to buy, or how much to give in the collection plate become the hardest to pray when someone’s life hangs in the balance. They echo with surrender. They speak of letting go and trusting God. They highlight human impotence, illuminate our inability to change circumstances or end suffering. They force us to,  however hesitantly, subject ourselves, our situations, our brothers and sisters in faraway lands to the omniscient omnipotence of God whose goal is to lift up Jesus so all the world might have the opportunity to know Him. It’s the reason He came. (John 12:32; I Timothy 1:15; Exodus 14; II Kings 6:15-17; I Samuel 14:20)

So I dutifully pray those words, even though my heart breaks and balks because I know God’s ways are not like mine. I gather up my waning strength and lift up those Christians facing persecution we simply do not comprehend. I pray for the underground churches and pastors, beseeching God for strength and peace, and boldness. I pray for the helpless, the elderly, the infirm. I pray for the men and women, believers or not, caught in this terrifying scenario of insurrection and instability. My mother’s heart quakes and nearly faints at the thought of women trying to protect, hide, and console their children, quiet their cries, calm their fears. My eyes fill at the thought of teenagers watching their life dreams die on the altar of someone else’s selfishness. When my anguished heart can take no more news, no more thoughts, no more feelings of helplessness, I do the only thing I can–I place those precious people, their homes, their families, their lives in the capable hands of a loving God who cares more for them than I ever could and fervently entreat Him to do something. It’s all I can do. (John 15:12-13; Ephesians 3:18-19; Psalm 68:5; John 15:9)

At least I thought it was. Until, as I feebly searched my mind to ensure I had prayed for every possible needy soul, a little voice spoke to my heart. You know the one. The voice that tells you things. Hard things. True things. Things you don’t want to hear. The voice of God. In this moment it whispered, “Pray for the perpetrators, the persecutors.” (Matthew 5:44-45)

The words caused my prayer to stumble. They shouldn’t have. I’ve been hearing them for years. When I read of abusers, murderers, pedophiles. When I am wronged. When my initial response is to hope for the worst, God reminds me to pray for the perpetrators. Pray for those society calls hopeless. Pray for the ones deemed too evil to live. Pray for the brat, the bully, the remorseless criminal, the angry insurgent. Jesus instructs us, “Pray for those who persecute you.” And I do. (Matthew 5:44)

Unfortunately, having done so in the past and knowing that Jesus Himself instructs us to do so, does not make the prayers easier to pray. I’d much rather give heavenly air time to the persecuted, perplexed, demoralized, and abused. I’d like to see God step in and stop the events. I want to see my form of justice served. Just once, I want to call down the wrath of God and see an amazing response. Something like the earth opening to swallow the sons of Korah! But my justice is not God’s justice, nor is it my place to mete out that justice. Vengeance is God’s. He’ll take care of it. He has a purpose for keeping the ground intact. (Numbers 16:31-33; Isaiah 55:8-9; Romans 12:17-21; Deuteronomy 32:35)

My mind ruminates over the possibilities of that purpose. What could God possibly want with a bunch of people threatening, abusing, murdering His followers? Immediately, the Apostle Paul comes to mind. He started out as Saul. Groomed to be a zealot for the temple leaders of his day, he was the cloak minder as stones flew from outraged hands toward Stephen. He likely heard the final prayer before Stephen fell asleep in Jesus. Words similar to the ones echoing from the cross on Golgotha. Words of grace for the persecutors, “Don’t hold this sin against them, Lord.” (Acts 7:54-60)

It seems to have no effect. Saul grew into a deplorable human being with a well-earned horrendous reputation. No one wanted his knock at their door. Searching down Christians. Speaking threats and evil and hate toward them. Dragging them from their homes. Sending them to prison, even death. It appears Stephen’s prayer fell on deaf ears.(Acts 8:1-3; 9:1-2)

It didn’t. Eventually, via an amazing Damascus road experience, a bout of blindness, and the hospitality of Christians, Saul became Paul, preacher, missionary, sufferer for Christ. He reached lands others hadn’t reached. He testified to people in powerful positions others would never have had the opportunity to speak with. His story is an amazing example of how God uses the prayers we pray over our enemies, even if we can’t immediately put a face to our prayers. Even when we don’t see results. Even if we never know the outcome. (Acts 9:3-19; 16:6-10; Acts 24-26; I Corinthians 3:6-8)

The truth is this. God might be trying to reach that teenager brandishing a gun who has been relentlessly brainwashed to believe war and hate and fighting are the path of life. God might be extending mercy and grace to a hardened warrior before his final battle. Maybe, just maybe, one of those men waving the edge of a knife in the face of a Christian needs to see their faith in God to shake him out of his stupor, make him lay down his weapon, and follow Jesus. Maybe the prayers of good people for the souls of evil people is their only hope of ever finding the God who isn’t willing that any should perish. No one. Not you. Not me. Not the persecutor. Not the perpetrator. God intended no one–not one single soul–should die in their sins. So He sent Jesus to bear our sins, die on the cross, and personally tell us, “Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you.” (Matthew 5:43-48; II Peter 3:9; Ezekiel 18:32; John 6:40; Revelation 3:20)  

You might be scoffing right now. Maybe you believe I’ve lost my mind. Perhaps you think God isn’t interested in saving some terrorists or insurgents or persecutors of his people. Maybe you’ve marked them as too far gone, a waste of grace. I hope you’ll go read Saul turned Paul’s story again. And again. And again. I hope you’ll read the story of Jesus, hanging on a cross, forgiving the last-minute confessions of the thief beside Him. I hope you’ll read the stories and remember. Remember that Jesus came to call everyone to repentance. Not just the nice people. Not just the attendees at your church or people of like mindsets. Jesus came for everyone. You. Me. The peaceful citizen. The angry insurgent. Jesus came to save sinners. All of us. (Luke 5:32; Mark 2:17; John 1:12; Revelation 22:17; Isaiah 55:1)

No matter how powerless you feel to ease the pain and suffering of a country half a world away, this is no time to do nothing. We must do something. We must do the only thing we can, wield the most powerful weapon in our arsenal. We must pray. Relentlessly. Fervently. We must not become distracted. As the battle rages and time passes, other things may begin to fill our minds and dominate our prayers. I hope you don’t stop praying for the people of Afghanistan. I hope you don’t stop praying fervent prayers of hope and peace and courage and strength over the Christians there. I hope you don’t stop praying for help and comfort for the people as they flee and hide or stand and fight. And I hope, if you aren’t already, that you pray for the perpetrators of persecution. Pray for a Damascus road experience for them. Pray that they turn from their evil ways. Pray in faith, knowing that the God who wants all people to be saved, can work miracles in the hardest of hearts and the most ruined of lives. Pray. Because when God’s people join together to do something, God shows up too. And He can do anything! (James 5:16; I Thessalonians 5: 16-18; Matthew 18:19-20; I Peter 3:12; I John 5:14-15)

I just finished reading the book of Judges…again. I’ve read it more times than I can count, heard more sermons from it than I can remember, and spent countless minutes pondering the same question, “What is wrong with these people?” Seriously. What makes them think their disobedience and sin are going to end differently from the last time they went haring off on their own paths? They remember the ancestral accounts of deliverance from Egypt. Can they not also remember the hard lessons of faith and obedience learned in 40 years of wilderness wandering? How could they possibly misinterpret commands like, “No other Gods except Me”? How could they break their covenant with the God who never breaks His? Why did it always take troubles and tribulations, wars and raids, oppression and starvation, for them to finally be tired enough of their sin to turn back to God? Why did they never tire of the cycle? (Exodus 1-13, 20:3-4; Joshua 5:6)

To be fair, I frequently ask these questions as I read through most of the Old Testament. I find it so difficult to believe the people couldn’t see disaster coming. Were they blind? The entire history of their people is riddled with this type of behavior. That journey out of Egypt they were so fond of remembering? Not exactly an idyllic picture of sweet communion with God! Did He move and lead, save and preserve? Undoubtedly. Did they complain and disobey, frustrate and provoke Him? Absolutely! As much as I shake my head in disbelief at their ridiculous antics then, it is the beginning of Judges that makes me sigh and grit my teeth. I know what’s coming. I can see it. Not just because I’ve read the book so often, but because I know, from their accounts and my own experiences, failure to obey God always ends in disaster. (Psalm 78)

It strikes in the very first chapter of Judges. God sends the Israelites to conquer specific territories. He gives explicit instructions. Conquer. Drive out the current residents. Don’t let anyone, any idols, any trace be left behind. Everyone must go. Every altar, god, and tradition must be eradicated. Completely. Left there, the temptation to seek a tangible god over their eternal God would be too great. They would break their covenant, abandon Him, worship idols. All those precise instructions, as tedious as they might have seemed, were for their good. God was trying to save them heartache. He would have. It was a foolproof plan. Foolproof if they obeyed. (Judges 1:1-20)

They didn’t. Oh, they started out well. God rewarded the obedience of Judah and Simeon, making them victorious conquerors in battle. The account starts out grand and triumphant, instilling optimism that others will follow suit. They don’t. Things fall apart. The tribe of Benjamin chose to allow current residents to stay. It started a trend. Manasseh, Ephraim, Zebulun, Asher, and Naphtali all have failure written next to their names. They didn’t drive out the people, didn’t destroy the false gods, didn’t decimate every possibility of temptation. No. They kept them there. Lived among them. Made them servants. Allowed their gods. Traded their covenant with Almighty God who never breaks His word for a covenant with enchanting, enslaving, erroneous sin. (Judges 1:21, 27-33, 2:1-5)

 Because consequences are a direct result of our own choices, unpleasant lessons of earth-shattering magnitude began to befall them. They found themselves caught in a relentless cycle of sin, slavery, sorrow, salvation. A slide into sin. Eight years of slavery. Forty years of peace. A slip into idolatry. Another defeat. Another 18 years of slavery. Another time of repentance. More begging for a rescue. Another miracle from God. Another victory. Another eighty years of peace. (Judges 3: 7-30)

It’s a long time. Eighty years. A lifetime, really. Enough time I optimistically think the Israelites have finally figured it out. They have surely learned the lesson. They are undoubtedly tired of choosing evil and reaping the same. They are finally ready to obey God alone. Except they aren’t. The pendulum keeps swinging. They choose evil, reap destruction, cry out to God, and His mercy sends a rescue. Over and over and over again they sin. Over and over and over again God sends someone to set them free. (Judges 4:1-23; 6-8)

Until He almost doesn’t. By now, I’ve lost track of the times the Israelites abandoned the true God for the gods of the world. I’ve forgotten how often they have rebelled. Perhaps I simply can’t count that far. God didn’t have any trouble. When, enduring 18 years of crushing defeat and indignity imposed by the Philistines and Ammonites, the Israelites cried out to God for one of His amazing rescues, He has no trouble reminding them how many times their choices have caused their oppression. God literally makes a list of all the rescue efforts He has engineered on their behalf. Time after time He has rushed to their aid, and for what? Abandonment? Every time He has rescued them in the past it was for nothing. They always went back to sin, back to evil, back to idols. Not this time. He sadly responds to their request, “No. Go ask the gods you have chosen to replace me.” (Judges 10:6-14)

Although I’m a bit shocked at that response, a little part of me cheers for God. I’m tired of their pattern. I’m tired of the sinning and begging and forgiving only to sin again. I’m tired of people who want the world for life, but Heaven for eternity. I’m beginning to resent their impertinence. I’m beginning to think God is too. 

Until He isn’t. The patience and mercy and compassion that are the hallmarks of God’s character will not allow Him to abandon the people who call on Him in repentance. He enacts another rescue. Sadly, it won’t be the last. They will abandon Him, do evil, follow the desires of their darkened hearts again and again. They’ll hate the consequences of their actions. Their cries for rescue, release, rejuvenation will reach His ears over and over. And every time they call, He will answer. They just have to get tired enough of their sin, their waywardness, their woe, humble their hearts, and cry out to God in repentance and change. Only then does deliverance come. (Judges 10:6-16; 13:1)

The Israelites are not the only ones to tread this vicious circle. We, too, have left our moorings, surrendered our morals, sacrificed our mindsets. As a society, our moral compass points nowhere near the vicinity of due north. As Christians, we have become comfortable with the enemy in our midst, embraced it, loved it more than God. We’ve created idols of pleasure, money, possessions. We’ve snuggled up close to the world and lived like it. Our impassioned speeches blaming society’s moral and spiritual decline on politics, celebrities, television, and the media fall flat when we realize we, too, stand in incredible decline. We are not the church we used to be. We have accepted a form of godliness. We have become lukewarm. We have excused sin. We have altered the truth. Like the Old Testament Israelites, we have abandoned God. (Jeremiah 26:2-6, 44:1-14; I John 2:15-17; Revelation 2:4, 20, 3:15-20; Deuteronomy 12:32) 

Apparently, we aren’t tired of it yet. We have yet to acknowledge our sin. We refuse to admit our shortcomings. We resent the intrusion of God into our daily lives. We hoard our time for our own desires. We’ve bought into the world’s idea of self-care, but neglected the necessity of soul care. And we are reaping the consequences of our choices. Stagnant churches, starving souls, societal mayhem. We don’t have to live like this. God can change us, change our circumstances, intervene in our world if we humbly repent and ask Him to do so. I guess we just haven’t gotten tired of the mess yet. 

Well, I am. I’m tired of it! Tired of the lukewarm, decaf “Christianity” that has pervaded our churches. Tired of emotional stirring but spiritual stagnation. Tired of Christians who play more than they pray. Tired of buzzwords and gimmicks to build congregations of people who choose Jesus as long as He comes with a big dollop of the world. Tired of evil masquerading as good. Tired of begging God to change the hearts of our leaders when the modern church and its inhabitants refuse to let God change theirs. Tired of longing for revival that isn’t welcome. Tired of the apathy, the atrophy. Tired of the repercussions from the choices we’ve willingly made. Tired of the deep spiritual slumber that keeps us from tiring of our mess and crying out to God for a desperately needed rescue. (I Peter 4:17)

 So wake up, church! Wake up and pray! Shake off your spiritual stupor. Get out of your religious rut. Throw out your idols. Eradicate all those things God said have no place in your hearts. Get on your knees. Bombard Heaven with your prayers! Repent. Reconcile with God. Rectify the error of your ways. Choose Jesus once and for all. Choose Heaven over the world. Stop playing games. Stop swinging the pendulum of sin and repentance. Commit to walking in truth alone. Sincerely cry out to God for a rescue. Keep praying until it comes. 

And it will come. Perhaps not with an ox goad, a double-edged sword, or a strongman, but it will come. You can count on it. Because the God who always keeps His covenant responds when people, tired of their sin and its consequences, call out to Him. He can’t help Himself. His great heart of love and compassion and mercy compels Him to respond, to rescue, to restore, every time you get tired of the error of your ways. The question is, are you tired of it yet? (Judges 3:21,31, 16:29-30; I John 1:9; Acts 3:19; II Chronicles 30:9b; James 4:8; Joel 2:13; Zechariah 1:3b)

It was truly the worst of times. The worst in Gideon’s memory, at least. Heavily oppressed by the Midianites, his people had gone into hiding. Mountains and caves had become their homes. Some had built strongholds for themselves. Their crops were continually ransacked by the enemy. Food was scarce or nonexistent. Their animals had disappeared, been killed, or stolen. The Midianites had effectively placed Israel below the poverty level. They were miserable and starving, their future the darkest it had been in recent memory. 

The Israelites were not innocent, their current circumstances a revolting result of their penchant for evil. Choices had been blithely made. Consequences disregarded. Whatever they interpreted God to mean when He told them to serve and obey only Him, they had been woefully incorrect. His words necessitated no interpretation. They stood as spoken. “I am your God. Do not worship any other.” They had disobeyed. The repercussions were inevitable. (Judges 6:10)

In desperation, they cried out to God for a rescue they didn’t deserve. His scathing reply through the prophet was a rebuke for their lacking love, their errant eyes, their honorless hearts. It was a perspicuous reminder that sin brings punishment. Discomfort. Destruction. Death. They were getting no less than they had bargained for. Mercifully, God takes no pleasure in the despair of the people He loves. His heart beats steadily with mercy and grace. It has to. There is no other explanation for the curious conversation Gideon had with the angel of the Lord or the intriguing rescue that ensued. (Romans 6:23; James 1:15; Ezekiel 18:20; Isaiah 54:10; Lamentations 3:22-25)

If Gideon was not surprised by the visit from the Angel of God, he most definitely was surprised by the message he brought. Him? A mighty warrior? Hardly. Had the angel gotten the wrong guy? Was he supposed to visit the neighboring tribe and somehow ended up in the wrong set of caves? Gideon didn’t come from a line of warriors. His family wasn’t known for strength and battlefield prowess. Quite the opposite. So clearly were they not cut out for battle that Gideon wasn’t busily discussing a strategy for revolt with his peers. He was busy threshing wheat with a wine vat! 

As strange as that sounds, everyone was doing it, finding ways to creatively harvest food. They had to. How else could they hide their activity from the Midianites and salvage their meager crop? But surely, as the angel of God sat resting against that oak tree observing Gideon, he would have noticed a certain talent for farming and a dearth of one for war. Gideon’s work left no question as to his aptitude as a warrior. He wasn’t one. It was as simple as that. No matter his boyhood dreams or clumsy teenage efforts with a sword, Gideon had never made the cut. Yet the angel stood and approached, addressing him by the moniker, “mighty warrior.” Someone was clearly confused. 

Oddly, that confusion was not the first item Gideon felt compelled to address with the angel. No. He had questions. He needed to know things. Things about God. His character. His promises. His faithfulness. His love. Gideon needed to know that his depleted faith, no matter how deficient, was still placed in a God of ultimate sufficiency. Thus questions came spilling out in response to the angel’s salutation. Questions whose answers were of utmost importance if he was to truly be God’s mighty warrior.  

Where was the God who had rescued his ancestors from Egypt, anyway? Vacation? Where were the miracles they had all heard He could perform? Where was their rescue? Did He no longer care about His people? Had they strayed too far, done too much? Or had God’s faithfulness run out, His love gone cold, His care for humanity dimmed? Could they still count on Him? Was the loving care of God he’d heard so much about still unfailing? Would He still be faithful even if they themselves had failed? (Exodus 15:3, 34:6)

Miraculously, God’s love for them was still intact. They didn’t deserve it. After all their blatant disobedience, unconcealed idolatry, and lavish lusting after the world, God was still going to rescue them. But they were going to have to make some changes. Changes He’d enact through Gideon’s obedience. The greeting was not at all off the mark. With God, Gideon would indeed be an impressive warrior. (Judges 6:12) 

Gideon didn’t get it right away.  Maybe he was caught off guard by the approach of an angel. Maybe he was too focused on his own frustrations, fears, and frailties. Whatever distracted him, he had to hear it again in more direct verbiage. He got it the second time. The Lord was actually telling him to rise up and defeat the Midianites! “I am sending you to defeat the Midianites and free your people. Gather your strength and go do it.” 

There really could be no misinterpretation. The straightforward command left room only for obedience, yet Gideon felt the need to notify God of his own inadequacies. His family was the weakest of his tribe. He was the youngest of his father’s sons. Warrior training had gone uncommonly poorly. He was really just a farmer, secretly threshing grain in a wine vat. He was hardly a great choice to defeat the people that had oppressed them these seven years. God planned to win, right? So was He sure Gideon was the right choice for the task? 

Absolutely! God doesn’t make mistakes. When He plans a rescue, He executes it flawlessly. When He chooses a warrior, He chooses one who finds their strength solely in Him. Gideon was unequivocally the right choice, in spite (or possibly because) of his shortcomings. He had no confidence in his own abilities or strength. It would all have to come from God alone. So with one phrase, God silences the arguments flowing from Gideon’s tongue. “I will be with you.” And it was so. 

From the destruction of the idols in Israel to the death of Midian’s kings, God made Gideon, a man of no strength, no fighting skills, no aptitude for war, into a mighty warrior he thought he’d never be. Rescue came to Israel because one man who thought himself weak and useless was willing to follow God and allow His power to work in and through him for the good of his people. (Judges 6-8)

I hope you can see the correlation between Gideon’s story and ours. We are distressed on every side. Evil is rampant. So many around us have chosen disobedience to obedience, the temporal over the eternal, Hell over Heaven. We find ourselves hanging perilously in the balance, begging for a rescue, concerned it isn’t coming, yet desperately hoping it will. As the world around us continues its headlong plunge into eternal darkness, caring nothing for the consequences of their hazardous living, God is still speaking. Speaking to you. Speaking to me. Speaking of a rescue for the people He loves in spite of their sin and degradation. God is speaking and He is calling us to do something. (Ecclesiastes 8:11; Acts 1:8) 

Admittedly, I have never felt so completely inadequate as I do today. The sorry state of our world has me wanting to gather my family together and hide. But God is calling. He’s calling me to write words on paper, type words in posts, speak words in conversation. Words that mean something. Words of hope. Words of peace. Words of forgiveness. Words that speak of rescue. Mercy. Grace. Second, third, fourth chances. Words that convict. Convict me. Convict someone else. Words of action when I feel completely inadequate, totally hesitant, entirely terrified to act. (Psalm 73:26; II Timothy 4:2)

Today, in the midst of my self-doubt, God speaks these words to me:

“You are a mighty warrior because I said so. Your prayers and words and actions are all part of my plan. Just because you can’t see Me working, don’t see miracles of Biblical proportions, evil forces collapsing, or milestones of godly change in the world doesn’t mean I’m not busy. I am still working. Gather the strength you have. Not your own strength. Mine. Draw from My unending supply. Use as much as you need. I never run out. Throw your inadequacies, hesitancies, insecurities out the door and follow me. Do what I have called you to do. You are not alone. I am right beside you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m working through you. Trust Me. Go and do it.” (Psalm 121:8; John 5:17; Isaiah 41:10) 

The words are not just for me. He is saying the same things to you. You are valiant through God. You are His warrior. You have His strength. You are useful to God. You are integral to His kingdom. He has a purpose and a plan for you. There is no one too weak, too faulty, too timid to do something for God. None of those things matter. You simply have to be willing. (Psalm 60:12; Psalm 18:32-34)

So go do it, warrior. Do that thing God is calling you to do. Visit that neighbor. Befriend that lost soul. Pray that prayer. Make that move. Fight that battle. Take that stand. Do whatever it is He’s called you to do. Go and do it. Draw from His inexhaustible strength supply, put your boots on the ground and let God do the rest. Do it and you will find that God uses the willing, not just the strongest, the loudest, the most articulate. No. God uses the weak as long as we are willing. Just lay your willing weakness at His feet, go in His strength, do as He asks, and let God make your weakness His strength. (I Corinthians 15:58; II Corinthians 12:8-10; Deuteronomy 31:6; Ephesians 6:10; II Timothy 1:7; I Corinthians 1:27; Romans 8:31-37)