Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

It seems like an incredibly strange time to ask such a ponderous question. Solomon had to be exhausted, his brain in overdrive. The maelstrom of recent events surely had his mind asking questions, but finding no definitive answers. Before his death, King David had assigned Solomon the tremendous task of building the temple. In spite of all the preparations already in place, where, exactly, does one start such a daunting task? He’d attentively listened to the speeches and blessings and prayers of his late father, mentally storing the words for later recall. So why couldn’t he remember them now? He could barely remember his own coronation and speeches, sacrifices, and offerings. The mantle of kingly responsibility now rested heavily on his shoulders. The people were depending on him. His abilities. His guidance. His leadership. In the morning he’d be expected to act like the king, but how does a king act? How do you rule fairly? On what do you base decisions? How do you judge between people?  What do you say when you don’t have a ready answer? 

Because we know the rest of the story, it is often difficult for us to see King Solomon, the wealthy and wise, burdened by a heart full of indecisive questions. It is unlikely he wasn’t. Sequestered in his room that night, pacing the floor, attempting to sleep, or gazing out a window lost in thought, Solomon got a visit. I wonder what he expected to hear when God showed up. Words of advice? A list of choices and consequences? A reiteration of the law? I don’t know. However, it is unlikely a stretch to think Solomon was surprised when the Lord said, “Ask me for anything. What do you want me to give you?” (II Chronicles 1:7)

Surely his human mind scrambled for the right answer. What should he say? Was this a trick question? What was the catch? Was it a test? Would he really get whatever he asked? And for what should he ask? Is this request for himself or for his entire kingdom? What was something they all needed and would benefit them for years to come? 

Interestingly, Solomon didn’t answer the Lord immediately. He had to find his faith. Mulling over his options, he verbally ruminates on the exhibitions of the great and faithful love of God. It seems like he’s reminding God. He’s not. Solomon is reminding himself. He’s reassuring himself that God is trustworthy and keeps his promises. His own coronation was a case in point. It was the fulfillment of God’s promise to keep David’s descendant on the throne of Israel. That remembrance was the moment faith dawned. You can almost see it when you read the passage, almost audibly hear the click as faith takes over the wheel. He knew the God who had kept all those promises to His people in the past would follow through on His word this time too. God would give him whatever he asked. And ask he did! Not for greater power, more money, or higher status among the surrounding nations. No. Solomon asked for the one thing he needed most. Wisdom. (II Chronicles 1:7-10)

Perhaps you have no trouble believing wisdom was the first thing that crossed Solomon’s mind. Me? I’m not so sure. He was human, after all. There were a million other things he could have asked for. Things we’d all think about before we considered wisdom an option. Wealth. Health. Power. Safety. Better behaved neighbors. The list is pretty much endless. Yet, after a quick mental tally of things he needed and wanted, Solomon had the wisdom to ask for wisdom. God’s wisdom. The kind that trumps human thought processes, deductive reasoning, and common sense. Solomon asked for wisdom to hear God’s speaking voice, see His guiding hand. And his request was granted. (II Chronicles 1:8-13)

Solomon earns my respect on this request alone. I’m afraid I wouldn’t handle the opportunity so well. I’d be tempted to blurt out the first thing that came to mind. I most certainly would have to reign in my humanity. I’d have to block out the silly, temporary, earth-focused matters. I’d have to sift through all the things that seem so important and necessary and impossible to live without because I desperately need wisdom. Not just for parenting, or problem solving, or choosing a career path. I need wisdom to ask for the proper things. Wisdom to guide my request choice. Wisdom for asking.

So often we are guilty of accosting God like the mythical genie-in-a-bottle. We adamantly pray for our wants and wishes. The new car when our old one is fine. A bigger house when the one we live in is sufficient. Three hundred dollars for a new designer handbag, pair of shoes, or tickets to a ballgame. We ask for silly things. Beg for them, really. Things we don’t need. Things that aren’t useful. Things that fail to enrich our spiritual journey. Requests that wildly cry out how desperately we need wisdom prior to asking. (James 4:3)

Sensing this deficit in the human mindset, James was compelled to write, “If you find yourself lacking in wisdom, ask God for more.” (James 1:5) Perhaps it would have been more accurate to use the word, “when”. “When you find yourself lacking in wisdom”…because we all find ourselves there. You. Me. Everyone. Admit it. Wits’ end is a place with which we are all very, very familiar. The truth is we rarely know what to do, how to handle things, where to turn. We are often confused, conflicted, confounded. But God is not. He is never left wondering what to do. And He is willing to share His wisdom. Liberally. (James 1:5; “God gives wisdom liberally to all who ask.”) 

 Isn’t that the best word? Liberally. I love it in this context. Not every translation uses it. They should. It speaks of more, of excess. Like the enormous layer of cream cheese on my bagel. Like the overflowing pile of whipped cream on my daughter’s ice cream. Like the copious amounts of coffee I consume. Like the faithful love of God poured out on us over and over and over again. The word “liberally” speaks to the overabundant generosity of God when granting us wisdom to ask for what we truly need, for what will benefit our souls most, for what will positively impact our eternity. Wisdom that knows the difference between wants and needs, desires and demands, earthly and heavenly. Wisdom for asking and faith to believe it will be so. 

Because faith is a vital part of the equation. Solomon had to summon the faith to believe his request would be granted. James reiterates that need. “Ask in strong, unwavering faith. Believe God will grant your request for wisdom. Do not doubt.” (James 1:6) Don’t be timid. Don’t be embarrassed. Don’t be afraid. Come boldly before God. Make your request. Ask for wisdom. Believe you will receive it. Liberally. And you will. (Hebrews 4:16)

I don’t know what you would ask for if you were in Solomon’s shoes. Perhaps you are so composed and mature you wouldn’t just blurt out the first thing that came to your mind. Perhaps you would take some time to think, ponder, reflect, weigh the pros and cons of your options. Perhaps you know yourself so well you would automatically ask for something sensible. Bless you!

But maybe you are like me. A little rash. A bit quick to choose. Maybe it takes all of your strength to zip your lips and contemplate the asking before you do it. I hope you do. I hope you use your strength that way. I hope you wait and ask God for direction in prayer. I hope you ask Him for wisdom. Wisdom for circumstances, choices, chances. Wisdom for life and love. Wisdom for every situation you face. Wisdom before you ask, as you ask, and after you ask. I hope you experience the liberal outpouring of God’s faithfulness, love and wisdom every day, all day, in every circumstance. (Proverbs 2:1-6; Proverbs 3:13; Ecclesiastes 7:12; James 3:17; Ephesians 1:16-18)

There were no televisions in my childhood home. Not because they didn’t exist. They did. In color, too! My parents simply chose not to own one. If current-day programming and commercials are anything to judge by, we missed nothing.  

We weren’t without something to do indoors when inclement weather struck, though. We had a radio. Perhaps you remember them. The little box with an inlaid speaker, dials on the top or side, and an extendable antenna. Ours was a strange shade of dirty white. It looked like it had been handled by dirty hands too frequently. Perhaps it had. Perhaps that was the originally intended shade. Perhaps the look was an indication of its age. Regardless, we weren’t interested in how it looked. We cared only that it worked. And it did! 

Our radio had its own little resting spot on the half wall between the dining area and living room of our tiny parsonage home. My brother’s dining chair was closest to it. Man, he loved that radio. We probably listened to more programs because of him than we ever would have otherwise. I can still see him huddled there, chair turned to face the wall to put him in closest proximity to the little box, knees nearly pressed into the faux wood paneling, ears tuned to hear every word that came over the airwaves. Saturday morning children’s stories. Mid-day Paul Harvey programs. Evening “Unshackled” accounts of lives changed by the grace of God. I wonder if he still remembers the actual stories he heard. I know I don’t. 

What I do remember, with astonishing clarity given the decades between then and now, is a commercial-style clip played between programs. The radio waves would fill with the wild roar of a revving car engine followed by the screech of violently braking tires. Instead of the expected sound of madly crushing metal, a voice would follow, asking, “Excuse me. Could you give me directions…to Heaven?” 

As the announcer would do in the next section of the clip, that question compels me to ask, “Don’t you wish sharing Jesus with others was that easy?” Seriously. Wouldn’t it be nice if people just came up to you and ask if you could point them to a good church? How amazing would it be if folks stopped you in the grocery store and asked how Jesus could change their lives? How wonderful would it be if strangers stopped their cars, rolled down their windows, and cried out for you to help them prepare to meet God? 

Unfortunately, leading people to Heaven isn’t that easy. Especially not in America. Here everyone has their own gospel version to which they subscribe. Everyone seems to pick and choose which passage to underscore and which to eliminate. At a time when current commercials on big screen televisions or tiny handheld devices bombard our minds with the urgent necessity of self-care, hair-care, and medical care, but never suggest soul care, witnessing for Jesus can be incredibly difficult. 

In truth, witnessing for Jesus looks a lot different than it used to look. It used to involve handing out leaflets, knocking on doors, and singing or preaching on street corners. Today, when everyone wants you to stay out of their business, witnessing looks more like living your life the way you do every day. It looks like consistently living out the belief in Jesus Christ as alive and present in your world. It looks like weaving words of praise and prayer and faith into your everyday conversations, no matter if you are conversing with saints or sinners. It looks like being ready at a moment’s notice to take every opportunity to inject the Gospel into someone else’s life. 

It looks like deeds, too. Actions and reactions. How you treat your children. How you interact with the other preschool moms. How you react when the neighbor’s trash blows into your yard…again! How many times you sigh and roll your eyes at the person behind the checkout counter who is moving more slowly than you would like. You can use words and talk a great game about faith in Jesus and life-changing experiences, but your actions have to match up with the words coming out of your mouth.  (James 2:14-26) 

Multiple times in Jesus’ ministry, He makes a statement to this effect, “You will know My disciples by their fruits.” (Matthew 7:16; Matthew 12:33; Luke 6:43) Some believe the fruits are actions. Some believe the fruits are words. I would submit they are both. The state of your heart and the truth of your faith, are each exhibited in what you say and do. By what comes out of your life, they will know you love Jesus. By your care for the neighbors, they will know you truly follow Him. By your treatment of the drunk on the street corner, the drug addict in the alley, the prostitute on the strip, they will know how deeply you believe His commands. By the way you respond to negative circumstances, heated conversations, and frustrating moments, the people looking on can easily deduce to Whom you belong. Every minute of your life should point people to Jesus. In word, yes. But also in deed. (Proverbs 4:23; Matthew 15:17-20)

Unfortunately, it is unlikely anyone will ever walk up to you and ask you for directions to Heaven. I hope you have an answer ready if it ever happens!  I also hope you remember that it is just as unlikely that no one is watching your life, desperately hoping you will show them the way by how you live. People in your office building, your neighborhood, your ball team. People you meet at the dog park. People you see every day, all day. People who are impacted by your actions long before they are impressed by your words. People like your children, those beautiful souls who learn to imitate us long before they learn to clearly speak and reason.  

A couple of Sundays ago, I sat behind some folks who had their baby with them in service. I love that. Children belong in church with us. She loved it too. I would guess her to be somewhere around the 15-month mark. As we stood, the band played, and the singing started, her tiny hand shot up in the air in imitation of people around her whose hands were raised in praise. She’s never chatty in church. Doesn’t cause a stir during the sermon. But she is always watching. Watching and learning. Learning about the people around her. Just like the rest of us. 

I don’t know what your week looks like. Maybe it’s crazy and stressful and frustrating. Maybe the mountain of unsettling circumstances looming above has your temper short, your patience thin. I don’t know whose life you touch regularly or will touch this week for the first time. Maybe they’ll test your limits, hurt your feelings, break your heart. Maybe you’ll be tempted to retaliate with sarcasm, nasty words, or pure meanness. I hope you don’t. I hope you take a deep breath, remember that you might be the only Gospel they read, the only Jesus they meet, and you’ll live your devotion to Jesus out so loudly you point them to Heaven. (Titus 3:1-10; Ephesians 5:1-2)

The conclusion of the matter is this–love God and live like it. With every action, you are either pointing people to Jesus or away from Him. It really is that simple. Whether the question is ever verbalized to you or not, you are handing out directions to Heaven with every kind action, every time you take the high road, every time you turn the other cheek. Anyone, indeed everyone, can claim they know Jesus, but the whole world will know if it is true simply by the way you live your life.  (Ecclesiastes 12:13; Colossians 4:6; I John 3:18; James 1:22; Matthew 5:39)

So go be the light of the world. Go be the salt of the earth. Go and make disciples of all nations. Start with your children and work your way out. Tell them. Show them. The world is waiting, lost, and dying, desperate for you to fulfill the mission God gave you. So go do it. Go show them. With your life, go give them directions to Heaven. (Matthew 5:13-16; Matthew 28:19; Deuteronomy 4:9-10, 6:5-9)

I believe in the power of prayer. I believe when God’s people come before Him with needs and burdens, His heart is moved with compassion to help. I believe there is nothing too small to bring before Him. I believe there is no obstacle so large He can’t move it, move through it, move around it. I believe there is nothing God can’t do. 

I also believe in the power of faith in prayer. Faith that brings a situation to God, lays it down and trusts Him to handle it. Faith that rests in the knowledge that the all-knowing God who inhabits eternity will work on behalf of His people. No matter how impossible the situation, how desperate the need, how short the timing. This faith doesn’t come to God with forceful suggestions, arrogant ideas, pressing plans. It is outrageous faith. Steady faith, even if you are shaking in your boots, confused by the conundrum, stymied by the situation. The kind of faith Jehoash needed but didn’t have. (Isaiah 64:4; Isaiah 57:15)

He wasn’t expecting to play archery games with a dying man when he set out to visit an elderly and ailing Elisha. The visit alone was unusual enough. Since when do kings take time to visit dying prophets? The fact that Jehoash was carrying his bow and arrows was likely more habit than necessity for this engagement. He’d heard Elisha was ill and soon to pass away. He had come to pay his respects and mourn the loss of God’s prophet from the land of Israel. He wasn’t headed out to fight a battle. He had no row with Elisha, no idea he’d be using his weapons that day. He was simply always prepared. 

Elisha was likely not the first person Jehoash had seen or spoken with on their deathbed. In a day of such brutal and violent fighting, he’d probably seen more than he cared to remember.  He’d probably heard many requests whispered from nearly lifeless lips. Regardless of what he had heard in the past, these commands from the lips of the dying prophet of God were likely the most outrageous requests Jehoash had ever heard. Who chooses to shoot arrows in their final moments on earth? Who gets to do so with a king? Who so desperately needs to use an object lesson to make one last point, one final prophecy before meeting their Maker? Apparently, Elisha. Although the fact he needed an object lesson to convey his message is a scathing indictment of his audience, at least Jehoash knew better than to defy the command. 

Indeed, it is a point in Jehoash’s favor that he quietly did as Elisha asked. No questions. No arguments. No alleged concern for the physical limitation of the prophet. Surprised by the command or not, when Elisha tells him to take up his bow and arrows, open the east window, and shoot through it, Jehoash unquestioningly does so. Surely he wondered why. Surely his mind swirled with questions. Had the prophet finally gone round the bend? Was Elisha still in control of his faculties? Perhaps he thought simply to pacify a dying man. Whatever Jehoash was thinking, he set it aside and granted Elisha’s request. 

Was he ever glad he did! That flying arrow was Elisha’s commissioning of him as the one to lead the troops to strike down and conquer Aram. God had spoken through the prophet. Victory would most assuredly be theirs! With his heart doing a bit of a victory jig, Jehoash thinks to put his weapons away. It would seem the oddity of the hour is over. But no. Elisha isn’t done. He has more deathbed instructions. 

“Grab your arrows,” he commands, “Shoot some more.” 

If Jehoash was waiting for specifics, he’d still be waiting. No exacting instructions were forthcoming. There was no explanation for letting more arrows fly. Elisha rested back, expecting complete obedience from the king. And it came. Jehoash nocked another arrow and let it fly through the window. Once. Twice. Three times. Apparently, he thought that should be enough to satisfy the prophet. He lowered his bow, content that Elisha’s wishes had been fulfilled. He couldn’t have been more wrong. 

As he turns to Elisha with satisfaction, Jehoash is met with a stony expression of anger. 

“Why did you stop? Why didn’t you let more arrows fly? You should have sent double that amount! Now you will only strike down Aram three times! If you hadn’t been so timid, you would be able to wipe them out completely!” (II Kings 13:14-20) 

It is easy to imagine how deflated Jehoash felt. After hearing that he would defeat Aram, why didn’t he realize the shooting of more arrows dealt with the same? Proper defeat of the enemy had been within his grasp and he’d been too afraid to claim it. If only he’d had more faith. If he’d just kept shooting arrows out the window until Elisha spoke words of satisfaction. If he’d shot with wild abandon. If his heart hadn’t been too puny to believe in something his eyes couldn’t see. How different the outcome would be if only he’d have asked for the outrageous! 

Most of us find it difficult to believe in the outrageous. We call ourselves realists. We believe in logic and reasoning. We trust what we can see, feel, and write down on paper. We pray the same way. Decide what, exactly, can be done about a situation, then ask for that to happen. Apparently, we aren’t brave enough to believe the infinite Creator can handle our cares without our finite human help. So rarely do we bring things to God and ask Him to handle them, trust Him to take care of them, without also giving Him a list of possible rectifying options.

Don’t trick yourself into believing this is faith. It isn’t. Faith does not tell God how to do His job, it simply trusts that He will. Faith does not require logic and reasoning, it knows our ways are not God’s nor His ours. Faith operates outside the realm of logic and reasoning. Faith operates in the unknown. Faith goes into action when we open the windows of our lives and hearts and repeatedly fire prayer arrows into our unknown, trusting God to make it known in His time. Prayer is the bridge that takes us from the stodgy logic of our humanity to the boundless broadness of God’s infinity. Faith in God and prayer to God make all things possible, even if we have no idea how they will come about. (Hebrews 11:1-40; Matthew 21:22; Matthew 17:20: Mark 10:27)

Admittedly, I frequently find myself attempting to help God answer my prayers. I often present Him with requests followed by possible options to acquire the desired outcome. I’m learning, though. Learning that God has better ideas than mine ever were. Learning that His timing is more perfect than mine ever could be. Learning that even when my puny heart is shaking, prayers of faith–for big things and small–reap outrageous results. 

Recently, I found myself presenting a dire need to God, but being sorely out of ideas to remedy the situation. A personal acquaintance had been in a downward spiral for some time.  

Skateboarding the rails of sin, leaving the shredded pieces of her life in ruins behind her, she desperately needed a meeting with Jesus. I’d prayed for her on several occasions, though probably not as often or fervently as I should have, possibly because I didn’t have any rectifying ideas to present with my prayers. I offer no excuses. 

One morning, I couldn’t shake the burden of her calamitous circumstances. Deeply burdened, I felt encouraged to ask God to give her a Damascus road experience. Like Saul, she needed a head-on collision with Jesus Christ. A life-changing confrontation with God that would forever alter the course of her life. I remember praying these words, “Lord, I don’t know how You are going to do it. I don’t have any suggestions, but please give her a Damascus road experience.” (Acts 9:1-9)

Just a few days later, word came that she had been hospitalized. An innocuous accident had caused pain not in keeping with the event. A serious underlying condition was revealed. It took several days for her to be released, and then with cautions. The change has been remarkable. Not that there isn’t still work to do, but clearly, God is working. God is answering our prayers. And I’m still praying. Not because I have ideas, answers, remedies, or quick fixes, but because I know when we launch out in pure faith and let God do what He sees fit, outrageous, amazing, miraculous things happen. 

I’d have never chosen or asked for God to plague our friend with illness. I wouldn’t have prayed for hospitalization or dire warnings of impending death if medical advice was ignored. No one prays that way. Nor am I encouraging you to start. I’m simply saying that when we cast aside our preconceived notions and arrogant directives and come to God in blind faith, we can trust Him to do His job.

At a time when there are so many things to pray about and for and over, I hope you pray outrageous, courageous prayers. I hope you ask God for things you can’t imagine, things you can’t make happen, things you have no idea how to enact. I hope you pray over the unknown. I hope you keep praying. I hope that, when you are tempted to pray once and quit, you’ll keep praying anyway. When you feel like God isn’t answering because too much time has elapsed, don’t give up. When your faith shakes and shudders and weakens beneath the force of your human desire to know and do and rationalize, I hope you gather up the vestiges of your puny heart, boldly pray outrageous prayers, then sit back and watch God work. (Lamentations 3:25-26; I Thessalonians 5:16-18)

And He will work. He always does. So keep shooting arrows. Keep praying outrageous prayers, even when your faith is timid and puny. Keep asking. Keep seeking. Keep knocking. Keep watching. You don’t want to miss it when God’s outrageous answer comes. (Matthew 7:7-8; Jeremiah 29:13; I John 5:14; Ephesians 4:20)

A minister once stood before a chapel full of students and, speaking of Heaven, declared, “I want an abundant entrance.” I’ve sat under too many preachers to remember his name, heard too many sermons to remember every sentence, but this particular phrase has been unforgettable. So was his meaning. That man of God wasn’t speaking of a private dream for angels to line the streets and play his personal theme song on golden trumpets as his entrance was announced over a loudspeaker. He was not anticipating confetti filling the air, congratulatory saints of yore slapping his back, or people chanting his name. He had no delusions of celebrity status upon arrival. This was not his meaning.  

He wasn’t interested in slipping through the gate just before it clicked closed, either. He had no time for question marks about his eternity. He was wholly opposed to reaching Heaven’s gate to find the angels frantically searching the Book of Life, hoping to find his name. No. He wanted that eternal entrance to be a testament of how he lived his earthly life. The angelic gate guards would know him on sight. There would be no hesitation over whether he belonged. He would be welcomed into the joy of His Lord. Jesus would welcome him home. It would be a glorious entrance. A victorious entrance. An entrance like Stephen’s. 

Stephen’s entrance must have been fantastic! Following a pointed indictment of the stiff-necked and rebellious people of his generation, Stephen comes under attack by the enraged congregation. Knowing there was only one place to look for guidance or help, Stephen looked up to Heaven and caught sight of what his entrance would be. There, before his eyes, the glory of God was on full display and Jesus stood at the right hand of the Father. Overcome by the Holy Spirit and the awe of the moment, Stephen cried out his vision. It did not elate the crowd. (Acts 7:51-56)

The infuriated mob violently hauled Stephen out of the city and began hurling stones. No one spoke out on his behalf. No one attempted to intervene. Like the people of our day standing around videoing instead of helping, the witnesses stood idly by, mesmerized by the events as Stephen was martyred. When they retold the event throughout the town that night, I hope they remembered the best part. The part where Stephen never renounced his dedication to God. The part where his faith never faltered. The time when, as fist-sized rocks ricocheted off his skull and thudded into the soft tissue of his back and abdomen, he cried out with absolute certainty his eternal destination, “Lord, receive my spirit!” (Acts 7:57-59)

Stephen knew from where he came. A world tarnished with sin. Rampant rebellion. Raging hate. Lovers of self rather than lovers of God. Stephen also knew where he was going. He knew there would be no hesitation at Heaven’s gate. No rifling through the Book of Life. No sidebar conversations or waiting for a verdict. He would be welcomed with rejoicing because, no matter who he lived among on earth, what they taught, said, or did, Stephen spent his life living as close to Jesus as he could possibly get. Stephen knew and was known by God. (Acts 6:8-7:60)

It must have taken enormous courage to preach Jesus Christ crucified in Stephen’s day. He wasn’t afforded the luxuries so many of us now have. Freedom of speech. Freedom of religion. This lack of freedom didn’t stop Stephen from preaching. It didn’t dampen his desire to see people brought to saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. When all around him, people of power were resisting the Holy Spirit, persecuting and killing the prophets, some even responsible for the death of Jesus Christ, Stephen braced himself and kept preaching. Regardless of what society was saying or doing, no matter the consequences, even when it cost him his life, Stephen chose to do what God had called him to do. Live his life for Heaven while dwelling in suburbia hell.  

In light of Stephen’s circumstances and all it cost him to follow Jesus, it is embarrassing that we, basking in the luxury of freedoms the prophets of the past and some people in the present do not have, find it so monstrous a task to follow God wholeheartedly. We sit in our easy chairs whinging and whining about how hard it is to share Jesus in today’s society. From the quaint corner cafe, we cry into our five-dollar coffee and complain how hard it is to live for Jesus in our upper-middle-class neighborhoods. Amid the siren song of the world enticing us to chase after wealth and pleasure and popularity, we find ourselves lured into complacency and failing to live for eternity. 

Somewhere we have adopted the ridiculous notion that we are living in the most difficult time to be a Christian. Pardon me? Was your life threatened as you strolled into church last Sunday? Were all the Bibles stripped from your home in a militant attack? Are you part of an underground church, struggling to spread the Gospel beneath detection, but ready to endure persecution if you are discovered? Perhaps in some other countries, yes, but here in America? Not yet. So, tell me, exactly, how is this the most difficult time for you to be a Christian?

Is it difficult because you would rather fit in with the world? Would you rather follow the new trends and habits and standards than stand up for Jesus? Is it difficult because the choice between your own unruly heart and Jesus has fallen on the south side of right? Is it difficult because you’ve set up idols like cars and sports and houses and job titles? Or is it difficult because the work God is calling you to do is not as glamorous, lucrative, or prestigious as you hoped? What, exactly, makes you think this is the most difficult time to be a Christian? (Exodus 20: 3-4; Matthew 6:1)  

I’m sorry, friend, this is not the most difficult time to be a Christian. In our “you do you” society, there has never been an easier time to adopt Christianity. I would, however, submit that this is the most dangerous time to be a Christian. The lines between being a Christian and being religious have been so badly blurred they are nearly imperceptible. The religious keeping of a series of rules and regulations in an effort to earn Heaven seems so good, so appealing. It allows you to follow yourself and the world so long as you turn up at church on Sunday, put money in the collection plate, and grab a communion cup on your way out the door. You don’t have to think about Jesus the rest of the week. You don’t have to follow Him, read His word, pray, or do His work. It doesn’t require standards and morals. It only requires a veneer of good works, enough to make people believe you are a Christian. You might even deceive yourself into believing it. But God isn’t confused and He holds the keys of death and hell. Are you interested in taking that chance? (Proverbs 21:2; Ephesians 2:9; Revelation 1:18)

Our churches, comfortably cradled in the fleshly arms of spiritual apathy, have largely become dormant halls of religiosity lacking the power and presence true surrender and following Jesus brings. The members, lulled into spiritual sleep from the boredom of complacency, have dropped their guard, changed their standards, shifted their morals. They are happy to have a form of Christianity, verbal godliness, but they lack the presence and power that comes with having the real thing. Ah, yes, it is a very dangerous time to be a Christian. (II Timothy 3:1-5; Matthew 24:10-12)

You see, true Christianity, true living for Jesus has to be different. Different from religion. Different from the world. True Christianity requires repentance from sin and acceptance of the free gift of salvation offered through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ who gave Himself as a sacrifice on the cross. It is acceptance of a gift we could never earn or deserve. It doesn’t stop there. It is daily living as close to Him as possible, emulating His heart for others, and choosing to follow His commands above all else, before all else, instead of anything else. No matter what. It is consistent self-denial, complete surrender of our hearts and lives to God. It is consciously choosing to live for Heaven in a world that is decidedly unheavenly. (John 3:36; Ephesians 2:1-10; Romans 5:17-18; Philippians 2:15)

The truth is, the evil one isn’t playing. This isn’t a game to him. This is war. A battle for your very soul and he will fight with pleasant words and pretty excuses to pull your heart off track. He will dangle the eternally valueless trinkets of the world in front of you as if they are pearls of great price. He will deceive you at every turn. You have to keep your focus. You can’t afford to be distracted. If your eye isn’t firmly fixed on Heaven, your face isn’t set like a stone, your heart isn’t completely surrendered to Jesus, you are dangerously close to a disastrous eternal entrance. (Isaiah 50:7; Colossians 3:2; I Peter 1:13-15; II Peter 3:10-12; Matthew 7:13-14)  

So don’t forget what you are doing here. Don’t forget the end game. Don’t take your eyes off the prize. Don’t forget your mission. Live for Jesus when no one else is. Live for the eternal when others are focused on the temporal. Live to gain abundant Heavenly entrance even if your current residence seems to be suburbia hell. (Ephesians 2:18-20; Philippians 3:20)

It is difficult to imagine the height of Ezra’s joy as he led the people back into Jerusalem from Babylon. It had been a gloriously triumphant trek. The hand of God had moved mightily before them, working through the hearts of pagan kings to grant them free passage and donations of gold, silver, and bronze for the temple. There was no question that God had protected and strengthened them along the way. Surely they could only be dubbed a celebration band as they entered Jerusalem filled with awe and praise and glory over the mighty works their great God had accomplished. (Ezra 6-8)

It is impossible to measure the depth of Ezra’s disappointment when, after entering Jerusalem, he is confronted with the news that the previously returned people had failed to keep themselves separate from the pagan people around them. They had taken wives who worshipped pagan gods. They knew the danger in it. Danger to fall away from following the true God. Danger of breaking the commands so meticulously written on tablets of stone. No other gods. No idols. It wasn’t just a handful of rebellious people on the outskirts of town, either. Leaders and officials, priests and Levites, had actually started the whole escapade. In an instant, Ezra’s joy at their triumphant return is turned to mourning the immense indiscretion of his people. (Ezra 9:1-3)  

One would think they would have learned by now, from history if not experience. Over and again the stories of their ancestors’ defeat, captivity, and frequent need of deliverance had been told. The stories themselves were enough to prove that neglecting God’s laws would incur the loss of His protecting presence. If ancient history were not enough, many of them had lived through similar circumstances. Seventy years of Babylonian captivity had just ended. They were finally free. Free to leave. Free to move to Jerusalem and rebuild. Their city. Their lives. God’s temple. And they had. 

The stories they told their children and grandchildren must have been exquisite. Stories of how God had made a way for them where there didn’t seem to be one. How kings had granted privileges and offered gifts they would have never garnered without Divine providence. The answered prayers, miraculous events, and obvious guidance of God were impossible to deny. The treasury of stories reverberated with the joy of the Lord. The accounts alone would be enough to impress on posterity the overwhelming necessity of worshipping and obeying only the true God.  It was what they did. It was their identity. They were God’s people. He was their God. It was the very essence of their being. (Ezra 1-6; 3:11; 5:5; 6:22)

Unfortunately, those events had occurred more than half a century ago. It is possible many people with firsthand knowledge of the Babylonian captivity were elderly or had passed away. The younger generations didn’t really remember it. The accounts became less dynamic, the storytelling less prolific. The tales that used to capture their imaginations lost their luster when told by those who hadn’t experienced it. The people had settled into the mundane. Their spiritual vigilance waned. Apathy set in. They began to drift. 

Their unruly hearts were drawn aside by things of the world around them. Apparently, they forgot they were a holy people set apart for God. (Deuteronomy 7:6; Ezra 9:11-12) They got distracted. Their heads were turned. A pretty girl, a comely widow, a persuasive father eager to marry off his daughter. It doesn’t seem they rebelliously set out to defy God’s laws in the beginning. It was probably nothing so obvious. It likely snuck up, catching them unaware. And when the apparently innocuous opportunity presented itself, they were drawn aside by the lusts and desires of their unguarded hearts and enticed to sin. And they did. (Ezra 9; James 1:14)

From our comfortable seat on the observation deck overlooking the Israelite history, we find ourselves sighing and wondering why they keep doing the same things over and over again. Why do they not stay close to the God of their ancestors who has proven Himself more than capable of admirably handling their care? Why do they get distracted by the people around them? Why do they fall prey to the habits and customs of the world? Surely by now they know what happens when they follow something besides God? Why don’t they just stay the course? 

We should certainly be able to answer that question. We are expert course jumpers. We do the same things over and over again, distancing ourselves from God, cuddling up with the world. We know the rules, the commands. We are aware of the punishments and rewards. We understand the compensation for sin is spiritual death. Yet still, we stray, drawn aside by the lusting of our foolhardy hearts for the things of the world. (Romans 6:23; Genesis 6:5; I John 2:15-17; James 4:17)

Devastated, disappointed, and distraught by the sin of his people, Ezra rips his garments, yanks hair from his scalp and beard, and sits down to mourn, surrounded by those who still hold to the commands and words of God. That must have been quite a sight. A grown man in such outrageous disarray. I’ve never seen mourning like that. Mourning that illuminates the severity of the committed offenses. Mourning so great others are compelled to mourn with you. Mourning that stops the presses, stalls the busyness of the day and starts people thinking what must be done to salvage their relationship with God. The type of mourning we so desperately need today.

We’ve been apathetically drifting for a long time. We have deceived ourselves into thinking that we are spiritually safe, when really, we’ve been edging closer and closer to the world all along. We’ve adopted their habits, their ways. We’ve replaced prayer meetings, revivals, and camp meetings with wealth seminars, marriage retreats, and Christian concerts. Isn’t that a page from the world’s book, with their conferences, networking, and team building exercises? Are we patterning our churches after the world instead of after the Word? 

In the hustle and bustle to grow a bigger congregation, be the next megachurch, have the best activities, be the next big name in lights, have we foregone the mourning of repentance for the mirth of earthly acceptance? Have our values slipped? Have our morals changed? Do we make more allowances for sin, more caveats for disobedience? What eternal gain comes from following the world? And how can it possibly profit our souls? (Mark 8:36; II Corinthians 6:17: Hebrews 11:24-26; Psalm 103:9-14,18; II Timothy 2:4)

It doesn’t. Worldly mirth doesn’t equal eternal joy. Ezra knew that. Eventually, he changed his stance from sitting in devastation to kneeling in contrition. In search of revival, Ezra makes mourning a fine art poured out as a prayer before God, “I’m embarrassed and ashamed to enter Your presence when my people are in this disastrous shambles. Our immeasurable guilt and iniquity is insurmountable. You have rescued us and blessed us beyond measure, yet we have repaid You by abandoning Your commands. I don’t know what we can say in light of the sin we have welcomed into our midst. We have egregiously broken Your laws and do not deserve the grace You have so mercifully bestowed on us. We know You are righteous because you haven’t struck us down immediately, which we deserve. We humbly bow before You in guilt and shame, because the enormity of our sin makes it impossible for us to stand upright in Your presence.” (Ezra 9) 

Truer words have never been spoken. For the people then and for us today. How urgently we need to learn Ezra’s art of mourning! The art of taking responsibility for our thoughts and words and deeds. The knowledge that we are desperately shabby, and hopelessly far afield. We need to come before God, fall on our faces before Him, admit our sin, our straying, our complacency, our love of all things worldly. We need to own our shame. Admit our guilt. Make no excuses, because there are none. Shoulder the blame because we made the choices. We need to fall before the Lord in weeping, mourning, repentance and change. In mourning we will find rejoicing, for true spiritual mourning births soul freedom and unimpeded, internal joy. Things to which the world has no access. (Ezra 10:1)

Before God, there is no excuse for sin. But there is mercy. Mercy that extends to the drifters, the sliders, the blatant sinners. To You. To Me. To Everyone. We don’t deserve it, could never earn it. We can’t even hold our heads up in His presence, so intense is our guilt.  But God freely offers mercy to all who come to Him in a spirit of mourning seeking the joy and peace found through forgiveness, obedience, and change. So fall on your knees. Rend your heart before God. It is time to seek the Lord. Time to mourn your sin. Time to allow God’s mercy to cleanse your soul and bring you joy from the mourning. (Psalm 103:10; Ezra 9:13; Lamentations 3:22; Ephesians 2:4-5; Joel 2:12-13; Matthew 5:4)