May 26, 2009: On Discerning The Will Of God (Part 2)

Just to cover a few things left unsaid in last week's essay. And some personal testimony.

I believe the strong, sincere desire on the part of many Christians to "discern the will of God" actually tends to reflect a bit of a mismatch between something we want from God and something he wants from us. We are desperate to be guided in matters that are unclear, while he desires that we simply obey in matters that are already abundantly clear.

Christians are commanded to trust that God will direct our paths – not fear that he won't. I have known cases of Christians obsessing so badly about knowing God's will that it developed into a kind of neurosis for them. They feared missing the subtlest of clues, worried about not having said the right prayers or fasted long enough. Maybe they sinned, and they figured that just ruined everything, irreparably, and made it impossible to get back on track. Sometimes they even got mad at God (how dumb is that?) when they tried everything they could think of to discover his will and things still turned out badly.

They need to relax, and learn wisdom from the prophet Jonah. I am indebted to Erwin Lutzer for pointing out this lesson from Jonah's story: if God will go to such extreme measures to re-direct a man who knows his will but chooses to disobey, how much more will he direct the person who longs to do his will, but is momentarily confused as to what it is?

Part of our problem I think is that we tend to assume we know what will be the end result of our having discovered and obeyed God's will for our life. If we get it exactly right, then of course we'll have inner peace, enjoy happy and exemplary marriages, serve God in productive ministries, etc. But how do we really know that any of that is God's will for us?

Jesus, Peter and Paul all lacked peace at times while serving faithfully in the center of God's will: see Luke 22:44; John 21:18; 2 Corinthians 11:28-29; 1 Thessalonians 3:5.

It was God's will for the prophet Hosea to have a perfectly rotten marriage - the poor man was wed to a whore who cheated on him! (I think of a woman who complained about God "tricking" her into a bad marriage when she had done everything right - prayer, fasting, seeking good counsel, everything! - and her husband turned out to be a foul wretch of deep darkness. But how could she know that it was not precisely God's will for her to marry such a beast?)

I've never known a minister or missionary who did not pray for a thriving ministry. "So, if I'm stuck in a ministerial dead end, is that a sign that I have misread God's will?" No, not necessarily. It was God's will that Noah, Isaiah and John the Baptist – biblical titans all - wind up preaching to audiences of seven, zero, and one respectively. See 1 Peter 3:20; Isaiah 6:11-12; Mark 6:20.

I have had opportunity to reflect at great length on the topic of God's will concerning whom we should marry. My past marital woes are no secret, but to this day I neither doubt the leading of God in that area, nor regret having taken the path down which he led me. It is true that, almost certainly, had I married someone else, I would have been a much happier man all these years - but does that mean I would have been a better man? No. What could a person like me have learned from uninterrupted bliss, and how could that have shaped my character for the purposes to which God called me? It was by the severe mercy of God that I was kept from experiencing the kind of happiness that every man craves. So be it. Not my will but his be done. I praise him for his good leading.

And he will continue to lead, and do so with such deft care and a loving touch that I really don't need to worry or lose sleep over it. The analogy that suggests itself to me is that of going on one of those water rides in an amusement park. The raft will careen and bounce all over, and jerk me from side to side, and it might even send me directly under that waterfall up ahead. But the course is safe, and pre-selected, and I can't go over the side if I just obey the posted rules. All I really have to worry about is keeping my arms in the vehicle at all times, remaining seated, with my safety belt fastened and my loose items secured. That kind of thing.

May 19, 2009: On Discerning The Will Of God

I was recently asked if I had any old Pastor's Pages on discerning God's will. I didn't, so here's one.

"Discerning God's will" is a favorite topic of some preachers (Charles Stanley in particular, I've noticed), but one that I ignore. The reason is because I think we already know the will of God in areas where it matters. Regarding doctrine, we know it is God's will that we believe the gospel of his Son Jesus Christ. Regarding behavior, we know it is his will that we be kind, just, fair, honest, compassionate, sober, diligent, faithful, loving, generous and pure, and that we avoid malice, lust, drunkenness, greed, slander, impurity, sloth, rebellion, dishonesty, theft and negligence. We could expound a bit more on the meaning of the gospel of Christ, and we could add a few things to the lists of virtues and vices - but we've already got the general idea. Believe what is true and do what is right. This is God's will for you.

But when Christian evangelicals talk about discerning the will of God (or, perhaps, "hearing his voice" or "following the Holy Spirit's leading"), they are usually not referring to things that have a clear moral or doctrinal component. They are usually thinking of choices between amoral alternatives. [Usage note: "amoral" does not mean
"bad", it just means having nothing to do with morality.] These would involve questions like, "Should I take that job in Spokane or the one in Raleigh?" "Should I attend Illinois State or Northern Illinois?" "Should I marry Alice or Barbara?" "Boxers or briefs?"

I would not say that God is aloof, uninvolved in such decisions. He guides. But he does not play a shell game with us, hiding his true will behind a fast-moving blur of opaque shields that demand our utmost concentration in order to guess which one holds the peanut. I have seen long lists of "clues" for discerning God's will, and they turn me off when they wander into Da Vinci Code complexity. The Bible tends to present the will of God as something that may be hard to do but never hard to know. In fact, there are repeated reminders of its simplicity against those who are making it too complicated.

Three examples below:

Deuteronomy 30:11-14:
Now what I am commanding you today is not too difficult for you or beyond your reach. It is not up in heaven, so that you have to ask, "Who will ascend into heaven to get it and proclaim it to us so we may obey it?" Nor is it beyond the sea, so that you have to ask, "Who will cross the sea to get it and proclaim it to us so we may obey it?" No, the word is very near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart so you may obey it.

Micah 6:8:
He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.

Luke 10:25-28:
On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. "Teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?" "What is written in the Law?" he replied. "How do you read it?" He answered: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'" "You have answered correctly," Jesus replied. "Do this and you will live."

A few months ago I referred to a minister who obsessed over the will of God concerning a job opportunity, but who somehow missed the resounding clarity of the 7th commandment, "You shall not commit adultery." Talk about straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel! Maybe one of the reasons I don't preach those "How to discover God's will for your life" sermons is because I perceive that they focus on all the wrong things, encouraging believers to guess at the unfathomable instead of just doing the good thing (or avoiding the bad thing) that is right in front of them.

Augustine famously said, "Love God, and do as you please," and he was exactly right. If you love God - which necessarily means obeying his commandments - you can go to Spokane or Raleigh, attend Northern or State, marry Alice or Barbara. Again, granting that there is no moral difference between the two. If, for example, Alice is a stunningly attractive, razor-tongued tart while Barbara is a gentle and sincere servant of God, then the moral component makes it obvious whom you should marry. You should marry Alice because you're not good enough for Barbara. For the sake of Barbara's happiness, you must leave her to a better man than yourself!

May 5, 2009: Cover Up

Summer approaches, when we all wear less clothing, so I thought this a good time to remind you (young people in particular) to be sure to wear enough clothing.

I'll set an example at church, as I do every summer. Though I shed my suit jacket around Memorial Day and don't put it on till September, I never go as far as to appear in the pulpit wearing shorts and a T shirt. That is because it would not be right of me to distract you with my finely sculpted calf muscles. And though I have 6-pack abs, I dutifully keep them covered at all times with a thick layer of subcutaneous fat. It is just one of those things that mature people do.

In the wake of the recent brouhaha about Miss California in the Miss USA pageant, I asked a couple friends if they would mind if their daughters participated in such a contest. One said "I'm not sure" and the other said "No way!" I said, "I'm just glad I don't have daughters." (It's the same thing I say at high school basketball half-time shows where the dancing squads not only wear inappropriate tights but gyrate suggestively in them, making me wonder why none of these girls have parents who say to them, "Young lady, you are not going out of this house dressed like that!")

Way back in 1996 I was teaching a Sunday School class to a group of about 20 senior citizens, and happened to ask if any of them had a problem with a Christian woman parading around onstage in a bikini so that spectators could ogle and grade her body in the swimsuit competition of a Miss America contest. None of them objected to that - they all thought I was prudish. Then, afterward, the oldest person in the class, a dear wizened widow who had never said a word, came up to me and quietly whispered, "I agree with you." So there it was, just me and a 93-year-old saint holding down the lonely fort of modesty in the face of a permissive onslaught within the church!

Another widow recently wrote to me saying, "The Bible says that women make themselves beautiful with a gentle and quiet spirit [1 Peter 3:4]. Is this something that is attractive to all men do you think?" I wrote back that it was certainly attractive to me! A gentle and quiet spirit is downright sexy - and sexy in the right way. An aggressive, public flaunting of flesh in tight or skimpy clothing only attracts the wrong kind of man - or attracts only the reptilian part of the brain of a good man.

Let the reptile have his rightful place in the marriage bed. Elsewhere, in public settings - especially church! - let your behavior be governed by modesty in spirit, speech, demeanor and dress.

April 28, 2009: Against Cheap Manipulation In Sermons

This one is for my fellow preachers: Don't be a manipulative jerk in the pulpit. I suppose a stronger word than "jerk" could be applied to those who do the things I condemn below, but as a man of the cloth myself I will tame my tongue as I call to account some colleagues who irritate the living snot out of me.

A pastor I'll call "Will Bibles" recently (according to a Christian journal) "challenged members of the congregation to raise their hands if they were willing to surrender their possessions and lifestyles fully to God and actually decide to use their resources to serve the poor and honor God...Then Will said he wanted to have a word with all the folks who did not raise their hands: 'I hope you have a terrible afternoon. And then I hope you have a terrible evening. I hope the Holy Spirit keeps after you, and you have to keep thinking this one through until you're able to raise your hand as well.'"

What a cheap shot. First of all, Will doesn't have the moral authority to summon heaven's rebuke of the greedy. (I read one of his books where he wrote - guiltlessly - of tooling around in a sports car that costs more than double my annual salary, and about all the friends he made at his sailboat club. Yes, his sailboat club.)

Second, it is so easy to turn the "I-pray-you-have-a-bad-afternoon" mantra against anyone - Will included - who falls afoul of the conviction you're harping on at the moment. For example, at my former church I hosted an organizational event for the Hike For Life, and the representative from Will's church explained that she couldn't make any announcements there because the church had a policy against public pro-life statements which might offend pro-choice seekers. (Grrrr. They have no policy of refusing to condemn racism just because that might offend seekers from the Klu Klux Klan.) A man of my convictions might want to thunder from the pulpit, "RAISE YOUR HAND if you are willing to take a public, uncompromising stand against the slaughter of the innocents," and, if Will were present and did not raise his hand, stare him straight in the eye and say, "I'll keep praying that you be miserable, miserable, until you repent." But that would be wrong. It is never right to try to influence behavior by calling for a show of hands and then browbeating those who keep their hands down.

A preacher I listen to on the radio was troubled that some in his congregation did not applaud one of his rhetorical flourishes, and at the conclusion of his message he actually prayed for all those who did not clap. I'm not kidding. I had noticed in the preceding months that he was developing the bad habit of crafting emotionally laden crescendo lines, slowly biting off the words of paper-thin monstrosities like "I...Will Not...Bow...To Satan...even...If...He...CAN raise the dead!" and then stopping to wait for the applause. Sometimes he'd provoke up to five ovations in 20 minutes, and it always made me groan. I suppose that if he thought that non-applauders needed prayer, then eye-rollers like me needed exorcisms! But I maintain he was just being manipulative and should cut it out.

One pulpit manipulation trick is to treat your audience like ventriloquist dolls. At both a Promise Keepers convention and at a mega-church service I was instructed to "Turn to the person next to you and say" something really inane. I did it, like a lemming, but if it happens again I'm not going to bother. That kind of thing needs to be discouraged.

Some manipulations have heart-breaking effects. Years ago I talked with a sweet-spirited woman, a school teacher in her early 50s, who had recently experienced the sorrow of losing her husband-to-be to a sudden heart attack just before their wedding. In the course of our conversation she mentioned that she had gone to a large church where a multi-part "invitation" was given. If you were willing to give your heart to Jesus you were supposed to stand. Then if were already a Christian you should stand too. Then if you weren't in either of those categories but were "on the way" as a seeker and willing to respond to God's call, you should stand as well. She was left as the only person sitting surrounded by a sea of the standing, and she felt conspicuous and awful and never wanted to go back. I apologized to her on behalf of my Christian brothers. (Is this how we call people to Christ - through peer pressure and social embarrassment? For shame.) Thankfully she read and responded well to a copy of C. S. Lewis' A Grief Observed that I gave her.

Say no to homiletic pressure tactics. Gospel truth conveyed with conviction, reverence, earnestness and love has a power all its own and needs no manipulative gimmick to support it. You cannot straighten a soul by twisting an arm.

Graciousness 4: The Assist

Philadelphia 76s point guard Maurice Cheeks dished out 7,392 assists in the course of his basketball career, but his best one came 10 years after he retired. On April 28, 2003, Cheeks, then coach of the Trailblazers, stood on the sideline as 13-year-old Natalie Gilbert began singing the national anthem before a game with the Mavericks. Natalie got as far as "the twilight's last gleaming" when she froze, forgetting the words. In her silence the crowd began to whoop it up, and she buried her face in the microphone as though trying to hide. But Cheeks quickly went over to her and began singing, "Whose broad stripes and bright stars...". He draped his arm around her, and they finished the song together as the whole crowd joined in. Watch it on YouTube, and you can see for yourself why Cheeks is rightly regarded in basketball circles as a great class act.

A gracious person stands ready at a moment's notice to provide an assist like that for someone stuck in a bad situation. It can be very simple. The other day as I finished a transaction at the bank, the guy behind me said, "Excuse me, sir?" and apologetically noted that my collar was up in back. I had neglected to fold it down over my tie. I thanked him and fixed it, and told him I never would have known the collar was amiss if he had not alerted me. I was reminded of the quick work of a friend of mine who, when sitting in a high school physics class, saw that his teacher's fly was open. Rather than embarrassing him with "Mr. Johnson, your zipper!", he hastily scribbled a note and placed it atop an assignment he was handing in. The teacher soon found an excuse to leave the room and came back adjusted.

The classroom is one of those settings that provides daily opportunities for gracious assists on the part of both teacher and student. When I was at Trinity I was very impressed by the way several professors managed to respond thoughtfully to the tangled verbiage of over-caffeinated seminarians. Had I been more gracious myself, I might have gone up to them afterward and said, "Thank you, Professor. I like how you were able to make sense of that question!" I can only imagine how many times they had to resist the temptation to stare at a student and mutter, Snape-ishly, "Go regroup your fuddled thoughts and come back when you have a coherent sentence."

I believe most students probably don't realize that their teachers need assists too. Scholar and author Scot McKnight used to tell us that when he first started teaching he was afraid to go to class. Professors realize that they will get evaluated. They probably look themselves up on RateMyTeacher, and know very well when they are bombing. By the time I got to graduate school I learned the trick of raising my hand and posing lots of questions to struggling teachers, and that always seemed to energize them. It was a matter of helping out a teacher whose brain was good but needed picking.

Look for opportunities to give an assist. Jesus will some day say to the righteous, "I was hungry and you gave me to eat, thirsty and you gave me to drink, in prison and you visited me," etc. He might also say, "I was a 13-year-old who forgot the national anthem, and you came to my side and helped me to finish it."

Graciousness 3: Just Paying Attention

When I was 14 I was reprimanded by a teacher for something very rude I had done. While other freshmen were giving oral presentations I took out a book and started reading it. Believe it or not, my motive for ignoring my classmates was good. I myself hated, hated, pathologically hated giving speeches - the thought of talking publicly made me so nervous I'd want to crawl in a hole. What a horror to have everyone looking at you while you perspired and sputtered and turned red! So, in the spirit of "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you," I deliberately paid no attention to the speakers, even as (so I thought) I wanted them to pay no attention to me.

Boy was that dumb. The teacher was right to insist that I put the book away. And so I learned, by means of rebuke, what naturally gracious people know without being taught: Generally, people don't like being ignored when they're speaking. They like being listened to. Even I like being listened to now. I get flummoxed if someone reads a newspaper during Sunday School, or goes out for coffee as soon as the sermon starts. But who am I to complain? It is probably karma for my own rudeness!

Back in the early 70s my mother celebrated my father's gracious spirit with an essay she wrote about the things he did to make her happy, shaping his deeds into words of counsel for husbands who had "more love to offer than money." One of the bullet points was: "Listen patiently, try not to yawn, while one of her loquacious relatives rambles endlessly on." It is a mark of a man's character that he can listen patiently to a woman's boring relative, not merely when he is trying to woo her, but when he has been married to her for 25 years and no longer stands to gain anything by it!

Of course there are limits to how long even a polite individual can listen to some people. When my sister feared calling an acquaintance because she knew the woman would monopolize her time for a whole afternoon, I said, "I can help! Just let me know when you are about to call. Then I'll call you 15 minutes later, say that I need to talk to you right away [to help you end the call on the other line, but we'll leave that unsaid], so you can get back to your friend and say, 'Hey, that's my brother, he wants to talk to me right now.'" She declined my offer, and, instead, patiently endured a long listen.

D. L. Moody once spared some congregants a long listen by boldly interrupting a droner. At an evangelistic rally a guest minister was praying an impossibly long prayer and people were getting restless. A physician in the audience, W. T. Grenfell, was so bored he was about to walk out. But Moody, sensing the problem, sprang to his feet and announced, "As our brother finishes his prayer, let us sing a hymn!" (Grenfell, relieved, stayed, made a profession of faith in Christ that night, and eventually became a medical missionary to Canada.)

Within limits set by prudence, it is usually a good and gracious thing to let others say their piece. The Bible says that God extends the grace of focused attention to witless mortal sinners like us. It is a fact about him that amazed King David, who asked in Psalm 8:4, "What is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?" (Or, as Eugene Peterson put it, "Why do you bother with us? Why take a second look our way?"). But he does pay attention to us somehow, and the Holy Spirit even intercedes on our behalf "with groans that words cannot express" (Romans 8:26).

I don't know why he "groans." Maybe it is because many of our prayers are a tedious test of his patience!

Graciousness 2: The Art Of Cover

When I studied linguistics I learned that speech errors can be an interesting source of data, because it turns out that even our mispronunciations and grammatical screw-ups follow certain rules embedded in our minds. If I garble the word "shrug" in rapid speech, for example, I might say "shug", "sug", or "shruk", but probably not "srug" because "sr" does not exist in English as a word-initial consonant cluster, and so my brain does not have easy access to it.

I heard about a professor who captured on tape a fascinating error from a native speaker of some foreign language, and he played it over and over for his students so they could hear the crucial mistake and see the point it illustrated. But about the 5th time he pressed the "play" button, the native speaker, who was present, jumped up and ran out of the room crying. What was for others a mere linguistic novelty was for her a grievous shame, and hearing it again and again in front of everybody was unbearable. We were all warned from that incident, "Be careful not to replay people's mistakes in front of others."

There is a principle of graciousness to be gleaned from that warning. We all have things that cause us shame - stupid comments we make, sins we commit, errors in judgment we manifest. Graceless people call attention to those things and replay them in front of everybody, while gracious people cover them up for us. Gracious people master the appropriate use of the passive voice, saying things like, "I'm afraid this got broken" rather than, "Lundquist dropped this." They can speak in exquisite generalities, saying, "There may have been some confusion about directions" rather than, "Paul got lost again." They plant us in the protection of the plural, saying, "Our team shooting percentage was a little low" rather than, "Preacher bricked a bunch of shots."

St. Peter wrote, "Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins" (1 Peter 4:8). It also covers over (by declining to mention) our lisp, our limp, our lack of height or surplus of weight, the ravages of our advancing years, or any of those bodily features of ours (we know them already!) that the opposite sex might find unappealing.

A heartbreaking scene from The Elephant Man shows Doctor Frederick Treves displaying the misshapen Joseph Merrick before his medical colleagues, outlining in detail every ghastly bulge of bone and warp of flesh. Only later does Treves come to understand that Merrick is a man of sensitivity and not a lab specimen, and that the manner in which he had put him on display was cruel. It brings to mind something my brother once said - though I'm afraid I can only remember five words of it, and I forget completely the context and story they were attached to. They are good words, and can be attached to many stories, and those who want to be gracious will often find them useful. They are, "Let him have his dignity."