A Status Change

No longer do I call you servants, for a servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things that I heard from My Father I have made known to you. You did not choose Me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit, and that your fruit should remain, that whatever you ask the Father in My name He may give you.

As He says also in Hosea: "I will call them My people, who were not My people, and her beloved, who was not beloved. And it shall come to pass in the place where it was said to them, 'You are not My people,' there they shall be called sons of the living God."

But when the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, that we might receive the adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts, crying out, "Abba, Father!" Therefore you are no longer a slave but a son, and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ. (John 15:15-16; Romans 9:25-26; Galatians 4:4-7, NKJV)

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The rise of the social network has given those of us who indulge in it the opportunity to declare our "status" to anyone and everyone willing to listen. We share our changes in moods, jobs, places to eat, relationships, and a host of other things that come across our minds. Frankly, it has watered down what "status" once meant.

I recall several changes in status across my life that I might consider significant. The move from high school to college – followed a short time later with the change from college student to drop-out. I changed status from being a single man to a husband (twenty-five years ago) and then from having a living father to being without one. Two of the bigger changes turn fourteen and twelve respectively this year. And all these changes in my status marked passages of time in some way or another. But they all pale in comparison with the status change that I did nothing to achieve – it was granted me as it was granted so many others by pure Grace alone.

Imagine the confused band of students in that upper room who had watched their Teacher ride into the city in triumph. A few days later, He is telling them of His death and departure. In the midst of all this, He also tells them He has changed their status. They are no longer to consider themselves students or servants. They are to think of themselves as His friends. Paul echoes this type of thought in Romans when he quotes the old prophet Hosea. God had formerly cast away His people, but, in an enormous act of Grace and Love, He promises to call them back and make them His people once again. It's a fantastic promise that He is keeping to this very day.

Again Paul, writing to the churches in Galatia, calls out the essence of the Gospel of Christ – a legal transaction changing the status of people from slaves to sons with all the rights, privileges, and duties associated with that position. In fact, he calls them out as joint heirs with the Son of God, making Jesus our Divine Older Brother … the one who made Himself a prodigal for our sake so we could be rescued once and for all.

The books I've been reading (Keller, Nouwen, and Manning) all speak to this change in status and, at times, I'm afraid we've overlooked it. Sure, we give great lip service to the miracle of Grace, but we then go about as if we were still slaves, having to prove something or earn our way out of bondage. As a result, we live lives of fear instead of victory. We need to come to terms with the fact that we don't have to be perfect; we just have to accept that Jesus was perfect on our behalf. And, in doing so, He changed our status to friends, sons, and daughters – joint heirs with Him of all Heaven has to offer.

The Crooked Path surprises and challenges me on a daily basis. One of the most recent challenges is to look at my relationship with my Father in a different way. I need to understand just how much He gave up for me personally so that I could be counted as His son. I need to stop and thank Him regularly and call Him by the most intimate name a child can use … Daddy. That's what it means to be a son of God. That's what my status should read when people see it … Daddy's child!

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1. If you try to call God "Daddy", does it make you comfortable or uncomfortable?
   
2. When you think of all the times Jesus has called us friends, His brothers/sisters, or God's children, does it excite you? Or do you find yourself feeling at odds with the whole idea?
   
3. Are you looking at yourself like some peripheral member of God's household, perhaps relegated to hanging around the fringes and doing the "dusting" or "cooking" or some other task of a servant? Are you looking at the family celebration going on right now and wishing you could join in the dance?

The Biggest Celebration

But the father said to his servants, 'Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.' And they began to celebrate. Now his older son was in the field, and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. And he called one of the servants and asked what these things meant. And he said to him, 'Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf, because he has received him back safe and sound.' But he was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, but he answered his father, 'Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!' And he said to him, 'Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.' (Luke 15:22-32, ESV)

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It's a familiar story, to say the least. We've heard it in Sunday School, listened to sermons, and even read books about it. But two particular books I've read recently (one new to me, one a re-read) have caused me to look at this parable with fresh eyes. And what I see is a portrait of the biggest celebration we'll ever know.

Recently, my wife read Tim Keller's Prodigal God and asked me to read it as well. We found a cheap copy on Amazon and I took it with me on a business trip. To say I "devoured" the small book is probably an understatement. Keller brings things into focus in so many ways I hadn't really considered before (or at least for a while). And he brings the book to a point where he describes the older son's actions as being just as rebellious as the younger son's. The younger son had overtly said (in cultural terms), "Dad, I'd like to see you dead. Give me my third of your estate now." But on his return, as he is taken back into the family he abandoned, the father restores him. This causes the older son to say, "Dad, I've slaved away without a complaint and now you are giving away a third of what is mine? I don't want any part of you anymore." And so, the younger son is celebrated in the great feast and the older son stomps away in disgust, never entering the door.

Henri Nouwen wrote Return of the Prodigal many years ago after seeing the painting by Rembrandt that hangs in the Hermitage in St. Petersburg. In pouring out his heart about the parable of the prodigal and the impact this painting has on his own life, Nouwen also points to the ridiculously generous and forgiving father who throws a feast to end all feasts at the return of his previously "dead" son. The older brother is portrayed as an aloof character, watching with absolute disgust on his face. The author writes much about how the father begs him to join in the celebration, but he staunchly refuses, considering the old man as either crazy, too lenient, or both. The feast, the representation of our home with God both now and in a permanent future, goes on without him.

Both authors (Keller directly, Nouwen more subtly) talk about the unspoken older brother from the parable. In the Luke passage, this story is the "feature" told after two similar warm-up parables that both end in a celebration over recovering something that was lost. But the Teacher who is telling them is also playing a significant role, not only in the telling of the story, but in the Great Story they are all caught up in at that very moment. He is the True Older Brother who, when we younger siblings have gone off to a far land and squandered all we had, said to the Father, "Don't worry about it. I'll go bring them home again."

And that's exactly what He did. He became Heaven's Prodigal, came to us as the Perfect Older Brother, paid for our ransom, and invites us back Home to the Father's celebration feast. We have the opportunity to participate both now and, ultimately, in the biggest celebration we could ever imagine. Our invitations were delivered by hands scarred and pierced with nails yet filled with the Father's eternal love.

Don Miller (in A Million Miles in a Thousand Years) talks about a death in his family where a cousin asked where the departed relative was. Miller spoke softly and kindly about Heaven but later, as noted in the book, knew that he should have said, "He's at a celebration." As I travel my own Crooked Path, I need to check my pocket from time-to-time and pull out the invitation I hold to come celebrate with God. It is a personalized offer to join in the Eternal Dance that is going on now and will only get bigger as time rolls to an end. I have friends and family already there and my anticipation grows. There is a huge party going on … and I'm invited to join in!

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1. What's your view of the Father who lavishly offers a celebration on our return to His House?
   
2. Do you see the part of the celebration that is happening even now? Does it call to you to join in, or do you find yourself standing outside for some reason?
   
3. Are you ready to accept the freedom and joy that the current and future celebrations express? Is your perspective of God big enough to see that is what He is doing for you?

Memorial Stones

When the whole nation had finished crossing the Jordan, the LORD said to Joshua, "Choose twelve men from among the people, one from each tribe, and tell them to take up twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan, from right where the priests are standing, and carry them over with you and put them down at the place where you stay tonight." So Joshua called together the twelve men he had appointed from the Israelites, one from each tribe, and said to them, "Go over before the ark of the LORD your God into the middle of the Jordan. Each of you is to take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the Israelites, to serve as a sign among you. In the future, when your children ask you, 'What do these stones mean?' tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the LORD. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever." (Joshua 4:1-7, NIV)

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I've been traveling lately (quite a bit more than I ever have) and for my flights I need to make sure I check-in electronically twenty-four hours in advance so I am assured one of the "good" seats on the plane. As such, I try to set up a reminder either on my calendar or my phone to tell me that I need to get to my computer and complete the process. It's a device much like many of you employ to ensure you remember something important.

At other times in my life, I have also been one given to "driving stakes" in the ground so I can measure progress and not forget some of the good accomplishments enjoyed or hard lessons I've learned. I also have collected some small mementos of trips or visits that help me easily recall an event and relive some of the experiences associated with it.

All of this is a kind of "memorial stone" for me, albeit in a far less significant way than we find in this passage from Joshua. Our God is a God who often has people build altars, name places something very specific, or otherwise provide a vehicle to memorialize something significant. As such, twelve rocks in a river may not seem like anything that important, but this story tells a different tale – and gives a charge to answer questions yet unasked.

If you recall from the last entry, this was the younger generation of Israelites. They had plenty of memorial markers to help keep what happened to their parents and grandparents fresh in their minds. For one, that generation wasn't around to enter the land with them. But God isn't relying on memory alone in this case. Instead, He is giving a specific instruction about erecting a stone tower on the Jordan riverbed while the flow of water was stopped.

I know some have said this crossing was during the flood season, making it all the more spectacular to see the river hold up and wait for them to cross. And, while the priests are still standing there as the symbol of God's hand stopping the current, each tribe is to send a leader over to a rock pile for a stone. Then they line up, stack the stones, head back for the banks, and the priests move out so the water starts again. But the thing here that strikes me is the future question they are to anticipate … "Hey, Dad, what is that pile of rocks in the river doing there anyway?" The answer should be swift and accurate in testimony to the time when God paved the way into the land and told them to set up the memorial stones.

I'm thinking this is a pattern of behavior that we would do well to follow today. Our generations have become so self-involved that we tend to think of ourselves more and those around us less. When we are wired for relational living (and we are), that tends to run contrary to how we function best. Along that line, it would do us some good to stop, look around us, pick up a couple memorial stones, and set them up in a way that causes others in our lives to ask, "What are those there for?" And that goes double (or even triple) for the generation coming behind us.

Along my Crooked Path, I should consider how many places I have set up memorial stones to commemorate something God has done in my life or a lesson He has taught me. They should be there not only so I can remember, but so I can pass on to other I encounter my perspective of who God really is and just how much He loves me. They can serve as reminders that God still stops rivers for me today so I can move closer to where He wants me to be.

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1. What makes you set up memorial stones in your life? Do you even consciously set up any?
   
2. Are you doing something in your life that others will see causing them to ask you, "What's that there for?" Are looking to pass on your blessings to the next generation?
   
3. Is God calling you to go pick up some stones and make a pile even now? Are you anticipating that God will stop the flow of a river for you and call you into a closer relationship?

Does God Take Sides?

And then this, while Joshua was there near Jericho: He looked up and saw right in front of him a man standing, holding his drawn sword. Joshua stepped up to him and said, "Whose side are you on—ours or our enemies'?" He said, "Neither. I'm commander of God's army. I've just arrived." Joshua fell, face to the ground, and worshiped. He asked, "What orders does my Master have for his servant?" God's army commander ordered Joshua, "Take your sandals off your feet. The place you are standing is holy." Joshua did it. (Joshua 5:13-15, The Message)

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Only Joshua and Caleb remained of the people who had either seen or heard first-hand the report the twelve spies brought back about the land they were to possess. And, while Joshua brought a good report, you have to believe that somewhere, in the back of his mind, his human nature was reminding him that these cities were walled and well-fortified. Imagine that these thoughts, along with the order from God to go in and conquer the land, are running through his mind one night and he just can't settle down. He decides to go stretch his legs and breath in the desert night air, perhaps in hopes that it will clear his mind. He's in for just a little bit more, as it turns out.

Out there, on his walk, he sees a gleaming being approaching him. He stops, squints, and sees the man is holding an outstretched sword. Much like his mentor Moses with the burning bush, Joshua gets a little closer, albeit with great caution. Then he utters the words every good military man will say in this situation, "Who goes there? Friend or foe?" The answer isn't at all what he expects.

The God of Heaven, it turns out, is standing there right in front of him. And we would expect God to answer, "Friend, Joshua. I'm here to be on your team." Instead, God says (as my pastor says the most literal translations render it), "No." Then He explains Himself. He isn't there to join up with the Israelite army. He's the Commander-in-Chief of the armies of Heaven, and He's here to take over. He lays out a plan for Joshua that no sane military strategist would even give a second glance. It involves daily aerobics and a short concert – all followed by a war cry. Do that, and Joshua need only sit back and watch what happens next.

As my pastor presented this passage and message, I found myself in pretty strong agreement. It seems to me that many of us have taken the position that God is on our side, that He joins forces with us. As we see in this exchange with Joshua, nothing could be farther from the truth. It reminds me that we are called to humbly obey and to trust. And, when we do that, just look what God will make happen in our lives! A little walk, some horns, a shout, and the walls of our Jericho crumble to rubble right before our very eyes. We didn't lift a finger in the actual battle – we merely took off our shoes as the Messenger told us to.

It was that way with Jesus when He came and dwelt on Earth for those thirty-three years. People thought He should join sides, choose their team. And what team wouldn't want a star quarterback or expert player? We'd be crazy not to embrace that idea. Yet, that isn't how God works. Jesus came as a member of nobody's team – He made Himself of no account. Instead, He humbly carried out a plan He and the Father had drafted before time began and He died the most brutal of deaths with the common criminals. Outcasts all, nobody wanted Him on their team anymore. But that was OK, because He didn't come to pick sides anyway. He came to take control and change everything we thought we knew about relationship to God.

The Crooked Path brings many times when I want to cry out, "God, aren't you supposed to be on my side?" I feel abandoned and I'm sure you do as well. During these times, we would do well to remember Joshua's encounter in the night and God's answer of "neither". He has promised not to abandon us, and what He really wants is for us to trust Him completely and know that He will fight all our battles in the way He deems best. It would be far better that we seek to be on His team anyway.

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1. So, do you find yourself asking if God is really on your side? Can you see from this account in Joshua that God's answer is "no"?
   
2. Are you tired of fighting your own battles, at losing sleep while you plot and plan how to carry out your next move? Can you set aside your pride and self-sufficiency long enough to see that's not the best approach to take?
   
3. Do you need some "fresh night air" where you can encounter God and hear Him tell you to stop trying to do it yourself? If you had that encounter, do you have the heart to listen and know how much He cares about you and wants to take control?
   

Rescue and Refuge

I love you, God — you make me strong. God is bedrock under my feet, the castle in which I live, my rescuing knight. My God — the high crag where I run for dear life, hiding behind the boulders, safe in the granite hideout. I sing to God, the Praise-Lofty, and find myself safe and saved. The hangman's noose was tight at my throat; devil waters rushed over me. Hell's ropes cinched me tight; death traps barred every exit. A hostile world! I call to God, I cry to God to help me. From his palace he hears my call; my cry brings me right into his presence — a private audience! (Psalm 18:1-6, The Message)

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In a recent sermon, our associate pastor was charging our graduates with some thoughts from Psalm 18. The setup for this offering from David, as Dan put it, is God's view of what David had come through after being pursued by Saul and others before finally finding relief from the constant conflict. David may not have originally viewed his circumstances this way, but God inspires the king to write this reflection from His perspective. The result is an amazing testament to God's provision and sustenance.

As is often the case, my eyes drifted across the columns to Eugene Peterson's rendering of this passage. The word "crag" stuck out immediately. The picture in my mind was of a high, protected space where God brought David to safety. It isn't a large spot – you wouldn't want to camp out there for an extended time, but it has a sense of safety and soundness that can't compare with anything else.

God's rescue and protection for David is so evident in this Psalm. David records his personal plea and God responds in kind. That thought – personal – really struck me as it was presented. God is a VERY personal God and treats us like the individuals He created us to become. It comes as no surprise that David's rescue follows this pattern and the Psalmist acknowledges it that way.

The crag is not a permanent place for David. The verses that follow are basically God's charge for him to "Go get 'em!" It is a powerful response based in a swift and furious love of an awesome God. Refreshed, David strikes out from his place of refuge and becomes the mighty king we read about. And though we know he falters, his place as "a man after God's own heart" was confirmed and his legacy lead to the Christ.

God provides the same comfort for us today as He did for David. We may not be literally running from people who are trying to kill us, but no doubt we feel the same way at times. Life can be very difficult and having a place of refuge and a Gold who will rescue are amazing things. That He does so in a distinctly personal way just amplifies that. The God who personally rescued and refreshed David will do the same for you and me.

The Crooked Path takes many turns as it leads toward our Final Home. Frankly, we just don't know where it is going at times and it gets downright difficult. In the midst of that pain, we have a God who has a specific design for our lives and has promised to pick us up and rescue us. Our perspective might be quite different from His and perhaps we can learn from David in Psalm 18. I'm sure David didn't see it that way when he went through it, but I like the version he wrote better anyway. It's God's perspective on how He loves us and it is ALWAYS the best way.

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1. Are you in need of rescue right now? Would you like nothing better than to have God swoop in and carry you off to some high crag that feels safe and secure?
   
2. If you've been taken to the crag, do you realize that it isn't a permanent place? Do you find yourself wishing you could stay there instead of heading back out to face life?
   
3. What is God's personal message of refreshment to you? Can you hear His words from His perspective like David wrote?
   

Powerful Secrets

Now there was a man of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews; this man came to Jesus by night and said to Him, "Rabbi, we know that You have come from God as a teacher; for no one can do these signs that You do unless God is with him." Jesus answered and said to him, "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God." Nicodemus *said to Him, "How can a man be born when he is old? He cannot enter a second time into his mother's womb and be born, can he?" Jesus answered, "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit he cannot enter into the kingdom of God." (John 3:1-5, NASB)

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I was listening to a reading of John's Gospel the other day, and the familiar story of Nicodemus was playing. Like many of you, I've heard this story since my early Sunday School days. We learned early how the man came at night, what his position was, and his puzzlement at Jesus saying he had to be "born again" to experience God's Kingdom personally. I even remember one of these verses being used for "X" in the alphabetical listing of Bible verses we were to learn (relying on "except"). But this time through, a different thought struck me.

Nicodemus, a Pharisee, came to Jesus and presented a confirmation from the council regarding who Jesus was. Now, they may not have all believed He was Messiah (though Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea did), the statement made reveals that the most learned, religious men in Israel recognized that Jesus was teaching with specific authority from God. This had to have been some sort of secret acknowledgement, because any public position from the council was that Jesus was an insane heretic!

Yet, here we have a man who genuinely is seeking the truth about something he has seen but cannot explain. We may never know the exact transcript of the conversation that took place that night, but something in Nicodemus' tone or words prompted our Lord to point him to new birth as the key to God's Kingdom. Jesus goes on to describe a second birth - a re-birth of the heart that is now pitched toward God. It wasn't about religion (Nicodemus had that nailed as a Pharisee), it was about something else entirely. And then, as every Sunday School kid will recite to you, Jesus sums it all up with what we know as John 3:16.

God's heart, embodied in Jesus as a man, reached out to Nicodemus encouraging him to believe even though he didn't completely understand it. The "powerful secret" that the council tried so hard to cover up was not only true, it was so much more. It wasn't just about a new authority coming with God's blessing; it was about God blessing us all with His very presence and taking on the complete human experience to show us just how passionate He really is about His creation. That passion is so great, it requires a re-birth of our souls, a heart transplant to make us capable and fit for the Kingdom. It comes at no price to us and yet the cost was immeasurable. Ultimately, Nicodemus embraced his own inability to comprehend it all from a textbook perspective and followed Christ. He was re-born!

How about us today? What are we looking for and how are we going about it? As I see it, God is still the same (at least that's what I read that He tells us) and offers that same point of entrance. However we frame it: new birth, coming as a child, transplant of our stone hearts for a flesh heart, or connecting to the Spring of Living Water ... the call is the same. Jesus wanted a relationship with Nicodemus and He wants one with us.

As I journey by Crooked Path, I am astounded how much God looks out for me. In times of trouble or want, blessing or relative ease, and every step of the way, the God of Eternity has my best interest at heart. He continues His pursuit of me for the sake of the relationship He desires. Like Nicodemus, my only part is to come to Him in honesty and humility. He will take care of everything else the best way He can think of.

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1. Does God's requirement for being "re-born" strike you as odd? Do you find yourself in the position of Nicodemus, questioning the logistics of it all?
   
2. Are you able to see past all the metaphors and images? Can you grasp that what God is really after is a change of our heart?
   
3. Do you find yourself comfortable or uncomfortable with this type of God? Does His passionate pursuit make you uneasy? Or can you swallow what you think you "know" in order to experience a deeper relationship and understanding of the Kingdom?

I Contribute Nothing

On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, "If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, 'Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.'" Now this he said about the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were to receive, for as yet the Spirit had not been given, because Jesus was not yet glorified. (John 7:37-39, ESV)

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As we wrapped up our last class of the quarter, we reflected on what we had discussed. We had talked about Lent, to which most of my friends had never given a second thought, and how we might apply that in our non-liturgical forms. We had moved through several Christian discipline subjects (Meditation, Silence/Solitude, Prayer, and Study) after our initial discussion and challenged each other how we can deepen our relationship with Christ and know God more fully. We generally agreed that Meditation and Solitude are foundational to all the rest and are not an easy thing to accomplish. And today, as we summed it all up, my friend Jim made a fascinating observation.

We aren't required, or even capable, of doing anything to enhance our relationship with God. In choosing to pursue the disciplines, whether at the time of Lent or in some other way, the goal is not to give something up for temporal, human reasons (though there isn't anything wrong with that by any means). The goal is to lay aside what I think is important so I can hear and experience God. I need to, as Jim said, let the life He offers wash over me completely. Only in doing that can I deepen the experience God wants me to have and grow in the relationship. Much like Christ said in this passage from John, the result of this connection is not an increase in me, but in the Spirit flowing from God through me.

The Crooked Path offers many opportunities for learning and spiritual growth. I have been challenged, as were those in the class, to take every opportunity provided to move closer to God. He is the constant and has already provided what will suit me best. God is the single source for it all and I, in the end, contribute nothing except my obedience and a willing heart.