Is There Quail in My Teeth?

Are you ever surprised at the sound of your own voice? To my own ears, my voice is deeper, distinguished, regal, and playful. Every once in a while though I’ll run into a situation in which I actually hear my voice as other hear it: a voicemail or a sound system. In those moments I am brought face to face with the sad and disappointing reality of my own somewhat piping voice.

In the same way, within the confines of our own minds we have an image of ourselves that we would like others to see. Often there is a huge disconnect between the illusion and the reality. I’d like to think that I’d be remembered for my intellect, my writing, or my faith. If I’m honest though what I’m more likely to be remembered for is my complaining. Too often I give in to worry and anxiety, which quickly ferments into bitterness and complaining. It is not an admirable trait, but it is a shameful reality.

Moses, as he led the Israelites toward the Promised Land, had to deal with complainers as well.

The rabble who were among them had greedy desires; and also the sons of Israel wept again and said, “Who will give us meat to eat?  We remember the fish which we used to eat free in Egypt, the cucumbers and the melons and the leeks and the onions and the garlic,  but now our appetite is gone. There is nothing at all to look at except this manna.”

But the Lord told Moses:

Say to the people, ‘Consecrate yourselves for tomorrow, and you shall eat meat; for you have wept in the ears of the Lord, saying, “Oh that someone would give us meat to eat! For we were well-off in Egypt.” Therefore the Lord will give you meat and you shall eat. You shall eat, not one day, nor two days, nor five days, nor ten days, nor twenty days, but a whole month, until it comes out of your nostrils and becomes loathsome to you; because you have rejected the Lord who is among you and have wept before Him, saying, “Why did we ever leave Egypt?”’”

Now there went forth a wind from the Lord and it brought quail from the sea, and let them fall beside the camp, about a day’s journey on this side and a day’s journey on the other side, all around the camp and about two cubits deep on the surface of the ground. The people spent all day and all night and all the next day, and gathered the quail (he who gathered least gathered ten homers) and they spread them out for themselves all around the camp. While the meat was still between their teeth, before it was chewed, the anger of the Lord was kindled against the people, and the Lord struck the people with a very severe plague.

It is so easy to only see the momentary reality of our present situation. It is only natural, really. However, this was the Israelites (and our) failing: we ignore the miracles that the Lord had performed in the past and the promises He has planned for us in light of the passing inconveniences of the day. Confronted by the challenges of the wilderness, the Israelites saw only their want and inconvenience which led them to revisit their history in Egypt through rose-colored glasses.

We are guilty of that as well are we not? How often do we look back fondly upon the memories of when the Lord ‘used’ to work in our lives; the ways we used to live for Him?

Our God is not a powerless God. He did not call the Israelites out of Egypt and then not know what to do with them. The people only saw the desperation of a life in the desert but had not the faith to trust that the Lord had a plan beyond that. It is easy to cast condemnation on them but how different are we? We worry and stress about the minutia of daily life: mortgage payments, home repairs, children’s grades. Yet we forget the miraculous that He has done for us, starting with the most miraculous moment of all: the moment in which the God of the universe reached down to save such undeserving creatures as us from death and the enslavement to our sin. In light of what He has done for us we should be willing to follow Him wherever He would lead, be it into the desert or into the Promised Land.

But the Lord IS powerful. He chose to show the Jewish people just how powerful He was. He brought the people exactly what they had been asking for: quail (I’m not sure they were specifically asking for poultry but doubtless they would have appreciated some meat). He showed His mastery of the whole of creation to bring this grumbling people what they wanted. Our God is a powerful God.

Yet He is not a God to be trifled with either. In vivid language, the Bible says that “while the meat was still between their teeth, before it was chewed” the Lord brought a plague to punish His disobedient people. While we may struggle with this difficult lesson the Israelites had to learn, we see that our God is not a God to be mocked, manipulated, or tried. He is a mighty God, righteous and just.

As we examine the whole of Scripture we see many attributes of God displayed throughout His interactions with His people both in the Old Testament and the New. Two characteristics of the Lord are his Grace and His Justice. Often we misinterpret these attributes as being extremes on a line. Sometimes the Lord requires justice and sometimes the Lord is gracious, as if it depends on what side of the bed God wakes up on. In truth, the Lord exemplifies both of these attributes simultaneously. While the Lord rebukes and reprimands His people in this incident, the very next chapter He spares Miriam and Aaron after they repent of similar griping.

As we turn our attention to our own lives we can marvel at the grace that the Lord has shown us. He saved us from a life of emptiness and the consequence of our rebellion to say nothing of our eternity. Think of the times in which we, like the Israelites, revel in our short-sightedness; when we fail to remember the victories of the Lord; all the times in which He stepped into our lives and left us unmistakingly changed. In light of grace we can stand humbled at His power and might. In light of all that He has brought us through we can stand confident and secure in the future that He has for us, even when that future looks no more promising than an expanse of desert wilderness. He has taken us, who were dead and made us alive, surely we can forego our momentary discomfort and insecurity and trust in one who is more than able to plan our lives.

Remember:

The Lord performs righteous deeds and judgements for all who are oppressed. He made known His ways to Moses, His acts to the sons of Israel. The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in loving-kindness. He will not always strive with us, nor will He keep His anger forever. He has not dealt with us according to our sins, nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.”

Let us remember.

Identities: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

I’ll be honest; I want to be a grump. It’s kind of my dream to hole up somewhere with a window, a bed, and a pad of paper and basically become a cantankerous old man (my friends have been calling me an old man since I was 21). I’d write all day, drink strong tea, get acclaimed (by the right literary communities), and function on my own terms. Were this confluence of events to occur, my eccentricities would be viewed as quirks rather than antisocial tendencies; my desire for pattern and routine would be a quaint author’s note rather than symptoms of endemic pride.

We all have identities that we adopt to excuse our behaviors. Though they may be rooted in our distinct personalities, we so often use them to justify our selfish ambitions. How often do we hear someone referred to as a “driven person” when what they really want to say is that they’re inconsiderate? I know that I will over-emphasize my need for “alone” time when I don’t’ really want to bother engaging with others. I can’t begin to explain how many days I come home from work dejected or read the news and my only desire is to drive off, abandon human civilization, and begin a new life deep in the forest.

The life of the believer is to be one defined by a pattern of imitating Christ. If I am to emulate the habits and behaviors demonstrated in the life of Jesus then I must be willing to sacrifice all of my life including my personality and preferences. Of course, we are not meant to become automatons devoid of personality (we are created uniquely in Christ’s image, after all) but we must also be willing to lay everything, our habits and our preferences on the altar. In our lives we acquire many identities but none of them should trump our service to Christ.

“Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others. Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus,”

“I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord,”

Jesus’ example is one of self-denial for the sake of the Father’s will. If we are to be His disciples, then we too, must deny ourselves to take on Christ. My desire to retreat from society must be brought in subjection to Christ’s command to go out into all the world and make disciples of all nations. My selfish desires must be abandoned in putting on that attitude of Him who made Himself nothing when He deserved to be everything.

In truth I sometimes feel like an old man. Yet in my behavior I display all the reckless conceit of a child. If I am to progress toward complete sanctification I (and all of us) must lay down everything for the sake of Him who called me: the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Seasons of Yearning

This is the season of yearning. Here in the north, the bitter chill has settled upon the land. It creeps in through chimneys and through the cracks in the windows. Frigid drafts discourage us from getting out of bed in the morning and drive us beneath the covers early in the evening. It is a season of whiteness, when the world becomes and indistinguishable pallet of bleak tundra. The novelty of winter has long ago worn off and there is yet no promise of spring. It is the netherworld known as March.

“March sucks,” was the oft-repeated refrain of my father who used such expletives to decry the lack of outdoor activities available. In March it is too warm for ice fishing and yet too early for fly-fishing. Turkey season has not yet come and deer season is a distant memory persevering only in bitter refrains or in the bottom of freezers.

Even I, who share few of my father’s predatory tendencies, find myself aligned against the moth. Hiking is difficult amid the ankle-scraping drifts. Pants always return home with their cuffs soaked. Few animals brave the winter woods and the chance of an encounter is rare. A lack of flora yields unimpressive views. On top of all this, the blustery winds make it far more attractive to lament the season on the dry side of a pane of glass.

Yet there is value in longing. Our daily lives are an exercise in instant gratification. We expect (and sometimes get) things to come to us immediately. Technology is largely to blame but we must accept responsibility for our attributes. We have lost, it would seem, the satisfaction that comes from patient expectation. We might instruct our children in the virtue of patience but we buck against it when it rears its head in our own lives. There are some pleasures that only come by trial; some flavors only come through the ripening. When we rush through the process or (as is more often the case) bitterly complain our way through the waiting, we spoil the victory that we have gained.

The seasons are the perfect remedy for our demands for instantaneous action; the perfect teacher for our impatience. Regardless of our wishes, we are bound to the rhythm of the earth. Autumn paints the leaves at a constant rate every year. Summer remains a tantalizing prize in the heart of winter. The seasons--- their opportunities and their complications ebb and flow as the tides and if we are to not waste away our days on this earth, we must learn to find the beauty in the hours before the dawn, the joy in the pain. We must train our eyes to see the crocus emerging from the snow drifts, to find solace in the shade of a tree in the heat of the day, and to find beauty even on the greyest of days. We must slow and discern if we to find value in all things.

Ashes and Tears

I held tightly the bowl of ashes in my trembling hands. I stood as straight as I could … until I remembered the lessons I learned from participating in several weddings and unlocked my knees so I wouldn’t swoon, pitch forward, and make it a memorable Ash Wednesday indeed. The pews before me begin to empty as strangers and friends queue in the aisles, faces fixed in looks of contemplation.

I was asked to administer the ashes during the Ash Wednesday service by our pastor about a week before. It was something I had never done before and while it most certainly isn’t the biggest deal in the world, it seemed to me a solemn and holy service I really felt the Lord wanted me to do. So I agreed.

Ash Wednesday, and the Lenten season as a whole, is meant to be a season of reflection during which we remember our own sinfulness and Christ’s sacrifice. It is meant to be a solemn endeavor aiming to deepen our understanding of just how much Christ’s selfless sacrifice means for us. The more we understand about the depths of our own failures and depravity, the more we understand our inability to produce anything good or holy. Only when we comprehend our un-holiness do we really grasp our absolute need for dependence on a Savior.

As I waited patiently for my role in the service to begin, I started contemplating my own life and my past. My past--- oh, what a sordid picture of me at my absolute most selfish and disrespectful. It continually amazes me (dreadfully) how much of my time, my energy, and my thoughts have been wasted pursuing my own disgusting, horrible goals --- all of which left me empty and depressed.

I held the bowl of ashes in my moist palm. I ran my thumb through the coarse palm remains. I listened as the Scriptures were read: “if My people who are called by My name humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, will forgive their sin and will heal their land.” Oh how unworthy I am, I thought. There is nothing I have ever done to warrant the way that the Lord has used me, nothing. All that I have been and all that I have done in sin and selfishness should have more than disqualified me from His service, and yet He has seen fit to use me despite my past, despite my shallow faith, and despite my obvious deficiencies. Praise the Lord for His mercy is great!

Tears welled in my eyes (I never cry) as my friends and family approach. I mark their foreheads or hands mechanically while my thoughts remain marked by my own sinfulness and stricken by the boundless mercy of the Lord. His mercy is great indeed.

Earnestly We Seek Thee

Sinners, orphans, the world we sought,

Its pleasures and its approval.

From utter bondage our souls He bought,

By grace our sins acquitted.

Perfect love from Christ received,

New life in You is giv’n.

Your salvation in us conceived,

Our anchor fast in heav’n.

Earnestly we seek Thee.

Earnestly, we lift our hands.

With contrite hearts our offerings bring,

Our actions speak, our voices sing.

Our hearts, our souls have careless been

Trading heaven’s joy for pleasures fleeting.

May we recall all that we’ve seen;

That sin and death are beaten.

Kindle a fire within our souls---

A consuming flame ever enduring.

May thy Holy presence be our goal

That we may worship never ending.

Earnestly we seek Thee.

Earnestly, we lift our hands.

With contrite hearts our offerings bring,

Our actions speak, our voices sing.

Longing always, may we seek

Thy Spirit’s leading all our days;

A simple word for us to speak

An act of love to bring you praise.

Our sword and shield shall ever be

Our Lord, Our God in life and death

Who rules and reigns eternally

He supplies our life and breath.

Earnestly we seek Thee.

Earnestly, we lift our hands.

With contrite hearts our offerings bring,

Our actions speak, our voices sing.

If We Would Still

I’ve got a thing about gorillas. They fascinate me. I’ve read books about them. I’ve begun visiting different zoos to see each zoo’s gorilla exhibits. I love to observe their behaviors, their facial expressions, and mannerisms. Each time I find myself able to watch them I become transfixed by them. Often I’ll sit in front of the exhibits while the crowds gather around, gradually disperse, and gather again. If I had enough time, I’ll spend hours watching them. It’s amazing the things that you notice when you pause and allow time to take in your surroundings. When I watch the gorillas I begin to comprehend their personalities and quirks. I notice things that I would have missed otherwise.

We live lives that offer few easy opportunities for us to stop and still. The blessings of technology create an ever-connected lifestyle that, while offering us convenience and comfort, also presents us with innumerable distractions and temptations. We fill even our free time with appointments and distractions. There are few margins in our lives that afford us the opportunity to still ourselves.

I love to hike and one of the reasons that I love it so much is the prospect of seeing different animals and plants. Often, as I’m hiking along, it appears as if I am alone in the woods. Normally, I just plod along through (there are many miles to go after all) but sometimes (it needs to happen more) I will stop, take a seat, and observe the silence around me. The silence, it turns out, is not silence at all. Birdsong resumes faintly in the distance. The breeze high above moves the boughs. Some animal off in the distance pads along the fallen leaves. All along the silence had not been silence but rather a symphony of activity that I miss 99% of the time when, in haste, I hike on by.

We have erased the margins in our lives. We don’t allow time to pause and examine either ourselves or our surroundings. I even find myself feeling guilty for having downtime. We need to stop. We need to still. We need to relearn how to observe. We will never be healthy until we still ourselves even for a moment. We will miss out on hearing the voice of the Lord if we turn prayer, service, and the Word into another line on a to-do list. We will never perceive the hurts and needs of our neighbors if we never allow time for a “purposeless” conversation. Let us stop. Let us still. Let us listen and observe.

In the Absence of Words: Embarking on a Journey

For the last few months I’ve been thinking about prayer and Scripture. See, I enjoy teaching the Bible. I enjoy asking questions and proposing applications. I’ve been doing this in student ministry for nearly ten years and I have learned the gifts I have and the things that I don’t do well. I’m pretty regular with my own reading of the Bible (I don’t say this with any pride) but I’ve always been a little reticent when it comes to prayer, especially spoken prayer. Throughout the month of January, my church has been going through a study on prayer. None of it was especially revelatory if I’m honest, but it got me thinking: am I just learning about prayer or am I doing it? Is the knowledge I’m learning simply enabling me to teach others or is it actually affecting my behavior? These questions ran up against, and coalesced with some other thoughts I’ve been having about teaching others. A question emerged: Am I learning or am I experiencing?

So I made a course change. I dedicated myself to give up teaching for a month. In my Sunday school class we decided to focus entirely on reading the word aloud and to praying for the things that we always say we’ll pray for but never do. It is hard? Yeah. On day one, I had to fight back the tendency to fill the silence with my own observations. It is awkward at times? You bet. Are there weird silences? Absolutely. Perhaps though, the Lord will speak in the silence. Perhaps the Holy Spirit will move in the absence of exegesis. Perhaps we need to feel uncomfortable to ever be able to grow. I have no idea what the outcome of this course will be, but I figure that the world will benefit from less of me and more of the Lord.