Aren’t you so glad that we aren’t like those crazy Israelites in the Old Testament? I know for a fact that there is no chance that we would ever be found bowing to a golden cow, or a pig, or really any kind of hand crafted idol.  Give those Israelites five minutes of time to tinker, and it seemed like somehow an altar was built and a foreign god was worshiped. God got a bargain with us.  No need for him to repeat all this business about “other gods” where we’re concerned.

We’d never be so easily deceived.  By a golden cow.

But what if it was a god that looked and sounded much like the God who has been proven, yet with just the slightest of adjustment?    I would submit that a good many people who claim to worship “God” are actually worshiping a god created in the image of both man and God.  He is a god who conforms in so many ways to the notions of modern man, be it in the way of women’s rights, global warming, or absolute evil of war.  He is easier to understand because he approaches this world in the way man would. This god is presented beautifully in “The Shack”.

After very careful consideration, I have chosen to focus on only one statement made by the “Jesus” of “The Shack” in a conversation with Mack, the main character.  I think that I could use any one of several, but isn’t it true that one lie is enough to ruin it for proper instruction as to God’s person?

“Remember, the people who know me are the ones who are free to live and love without any agenda.”

“Is that what it means to be a Christian?”  It sounded kind of stupid as Mack said it, but it was how he was trying to sum everything up in his mind.

“Who said anything about being a Christian?  I’m not a Christian.”

The idea struck Mack as odd and unexpected and he couldn’t keep himself from grinning.  No, I suppose you aren’t.”

They arrived at the door of the workshop.  Again Jesus stopped.  “Those who love me come from every system that exists.  They were Buddhists or Mormons, Baptists or Muslims, Democrats, Republicans and many who don’t vote or are not part of any Sunday morning or religious institutions.  I have followers who were murderers and many who were self righteous.  Some are bankers and bookies, Americans and Iraqis, Jews and Palestinians.  I have no desire to make them Christian, but I do want to join them in their transformation into sons and daughters of my Papa, into my brothers and sisters, into my Beloved.” (p. 181-182)

So, it turns out that Jesus is not interested in us becoming Christians.  He is not a Christian.  Why would we want to bear a name He doesn’t bear?

The name “Christian”, meaning simply, “follower of Christ”, was first given to the disciples at Antioch.  This is recorded in Acts 11:25-27.  Christian is a Biblical term, not something contrived by people who create religious terms to make sense of things unclear.

I believe that Jesus, the Jesus of the Bible, made clear his intentions.

Mt 28:18 Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.
Mt 28:19 Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,
Mt 28:20 and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

We are to obey everything He has commanded us.  We are to follow Him.  We are to be Christian.

What harm is a little lie?

Ask Eve.

“Did God really say that you would die if you ate of this fruit?  You won’t die.”

Some of you rightly called this book a piece of fiction which should be handled as such.  I completely agree.  The problem is that this piece of fiction is being peddled from pulpits as being “inspired” fiction to the hands of people who would rather have their ears tickled by all things lovely and magical instead of solid Truth.  The problem is that the god of “The Shack” is becoming the god of many who have no clue they have eaten the cake.

My final thought on “The Shack” is that you can read it if you want to.  I don’t think it is necessary to show you any side of God that is not revealed in His Word.  If there is any new “truth” about God revealed to you in “The Shack”, I deeply implore you to test it against the Word.  And I encourage you to avoid the urgings of the publisher to purchase more copies for your friends and family. They’ll just have to settle for a plain ol’ Bible.

Just under a month ago, I was talking to a friend who said that he felt guilty because he didn’t read his Bible enough.  Another friend of ours, with great intentions, comforted him by saying, “God doesn’t care if you read your Bible.  He wants your heart”.  I somewhat disagreed, but kept silent.

The next week at church services, I was approached again by that first friend saying, “Have you read ‘The Shack‘?  I finished it in two days.  You have to read it.  It will totally explain God to you.”

It struck me as important that someone who had a hard time making time for Bible study could find it so easy to read this book in two days.  And, it explained God to him when the Bible couldn’t?  I made the immediate mental note to research Google this book.

“The Shack” was written by one man, William P. Young, and then gone over many times over for theological accuracy by about five other men.  This, according to Wayne Jacobson who was one of those men.  In his defense of “The Shack”, he says,

“Just because we didn’t put Scriptural addresses with their numbers and colons at every allusion in the story, does not mean that the Bible isn’t the key source in virtually every conversation Mack has with God.  Scriptural teachings and references appear on almost every page. They are reworded in ways to be relevant to those reading the story, but at every point we sought to be true to the way God has revealed himself in the Bible except for the literary characterizations that move the story forward.  At its core the book is one long Bible study as Mack seeks to resolve his anger at God.”

If you have a copy of this book, you will find on the back pages a call to help put copies of this book in the hands of every person you know.  The call comes from people who say they have “been touched by ‘The Shack’ [and] are convinced this book deserves a reading across the broadest reaches of our culture”.  So far, it’s working.  Since June 8 of this year, the little self published book that could has been on New York Times best seller list.

Since it was hailed by one of its contributors as “one long Bible study” and because my friend ate the whole thing on a Biblically empty stomach, I wanted to read it.  Jesus tells us in John 10:27, “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.”  Would I hear my Shepherd in “The Shack”?  Or would I hear the Deceiver, manipulating my Shepherd’s words?

Some time ago Eric and I watched an interview with a woman who had authored a fictional story about vampires.  She said that she was getting some heat from vampire enthusiasts because her vampires did not act like vampires act historically.  Her very valid point was that vampires were fictional characters and she had the freedom to make them do and say whatever it is she chooses.

She was right.  William P. Young and company are wrong.  God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are NOT fictional characters.  The Bible is not subject matter that can be adjusted to fit what we think or feel it should.

I do not feel it necessary to present the fallacy of “The Shack” in order to defend God’s name against damage, His name will in no way be tarnished by falsehood.  The damage that is done by books like this is to the sheep who still live on milk.  Those who lump Bible study in with any number of things that are good for you but just too difficult to keep up with.

I will not debate whether or not some of this book is dead on accurate in its portrayal of the heart of God.  In fact, I believe that the bulk of its accuracy is the most dangerous thing about it.  Like the cake I made for you, it is made with some of the finest of possible ingredients, but it’s the little bit of Anthrax that’ll kill you where you sit.

Tomorrow, I will post the passages from the book that look like poison and we will talk a little bit about whether or not this book makes enough valid points to make it a worthwhile read for any who may be searching for answers, like my friend.

(I decided this had to be a two parter.  Did you see how long it already is?)

]]> http://ericswife.com/index.php/2008/08/the-shack-review-part-one/feed/ 11 http://ericswife.com/index.php/2008/05/bloom-where-you-are/ http://ericswife.com/index.php/2008/05/bloom-where-you-are/#comments Mon, 19 May 2008 14:58:15 +0000 Eric's Wife http://ericswife.com/?p=476 Watch your step- I’m about to name drop.

I happen to be able to count children’s author Jane Bauld among my dear friends. She wrote a book on Texas wild flowers some years ago and I was one of several locals who attended her book signing.

I handed her my copy of her book and she wrote in it a simple line which turns out to be the best possible one line biography for Jane, and one that I hope applies to my own life: Bloom where you are planted.

What choice does a flower have about its location? None to not much. As long as there is sun and water, that flower is going to bloom. No amount of complaining that the conditions aren’t perfect can in any way change the purpose of the flower. It simply has to bloom.

It is important to remember that you are exactly where God needs you to be this very instant in order to do the work He has planned for you. You may not be where you want to be and the conditions may not appear perfect, but I highly recommend you ignore the forecasts and bloom anyway.

A day after I wrote about Johnny’s need for shoes I received an e-mail from one of you wanting to buy him a pair. Shoes and socks were purchased and one reader bloomed and fertilized my bloom as well.

The same day one pair of shoes was provided, I received a huge stock of groceries and even more shoes and clothing items from the ladies Bible class at my home congregation. Blooms abounded and I am certain the sweet fragrance reached the gates of Heaven and beyond.

I am deliberately vague about specifics when it comes to these kids I have in my home. I change names and identifying details. I do this because I sometimes feel like a tourist to what is their daily life. I know only what I observe in my home and the occasional details I hear about theirs.

What I can say with absolute certainty is that I am blooming where I am planted. My current assignment from my Father has me crammed in a tiny two bedroom apartment surrounded by the working poor. I’m going to bloom. What about you? Blooming?

I want you to get out there and walk—better yet, run!—on the road God called you to travel. I don’t want any of you sitting around on your hands. I don’t want anyone strolling off, down some path that goes nowhere. And mark that you do this with humility and discipline—not in fits and starts, but steadily, pouring yourselves out for each other in acts of love, alert at noticing differences and quick at mending fences.

No prolonged infancies among us, please. We’ll not tolerate babes in the woods, small children who are an easy mark for impostors. God wants us to grow up, to know the whole truth and tell it in love—like Christ in everything. We take our lead from Christ, who is the source of everything we do. He keeps us in step with each other. His very breath and blood flow through us, nourishing us so that we will grow up healthy in God, robust in love. -Ephesians 4

That said, I believe that no matter the financial status of any neighborhood that any of you may live in, there are likely children who need desperately to have a safe haven. I firmly believe that God positioned me right where I am in order to make the comfort of the Gospel available to the 6-10 kids who play in and around my home on most days.

While I can’t give any advice on banners or balloons, I can tell you the qualities that I believe make a home one that draws children in.

• Number one is easy. Be home. If you spend most of your time as at stay at home Mom in the car with your front door locked, the kids will find a different house to go to.
• Cover your home in prayer. I think some of these kids have a keen sense for homes where the walls have witnessed much prayer.
• Talk to the kids. Engage them in conversations about their lives. Be prepared to hear things that break your heart. Validate them.
• If they ask for food or drink, give it to them. My grocery budget is really tight, but I have never had a problem where we went hungry because of the kids’ snacking and joining us for meals. God knows what you are doing. He will provide.
• Decide on a higher level of messiness that you can tolerate. My house must be clean when I wake in the morning and before I go to bed. Between those times, chaos reigns and it’s in various stages of messy.
• Communicate with the kids’ parents. Tell them in front of their children just how great you think their kid is.

As long as Eric and I have lived in neighborhoods with kids in them, we have had the kids in our home. I fix their bikes, their roller skates, and just a few days ago I fixed my very first skateboard. My home is where they go potty, get a drink of water, lounge on the sofa and sit at the table to do some art. When I hear “Miss Amy” from these kids, it sounds much more warm that the formality implies.

I have a good number of friends who have come along side of me and provided food, bikes, and whatever else I may need for some of these kids. If you can’t make your home the haven, see if one of your friends is doing that work. Odds are that the friend will need some aid.

I was very recently given to opportunity to share the weight of my quiet little ministry with the Ladies Bible Class at my church. They are making certain that I have all the snacks I need and when the summer comes, all the meals I may need help with while the kids are out of school.

Ministry is not as complicated as it may seem. It is all about being Jesus. I cannot begin to tell you just how much I get out of the work I do. It is exhausting, heart breaking, and exhilarating all at once. I have seen Jesus, because I have seen His hands at work in my own and the hands of my friends who have pitched in.

I strongly encourage you to look for the quiet, less organized ministries that happen around you. Maybe you need to open your home. Maybe you need to sit down in a restaurant with a homeless guy and converse with him through a meal. Maybe you just need to drop off a bag of apples for the lady whose home is open.

My final advice: I highly recommend you wear an apron if you are going to set yourself up to be the open door in your neighborhood. It is very messy work.

He is among the bunch of kids that I walk home from the bus stop in the afternoon and I have noticed lately that his shoes seemed to be on a daily path for destruction. It looked as though they had taken another step closer to complete uselessness each day I saw him step off that bus.

Today he got off the bus and I saw that his sock was hanging about three inches out of a hole in the front of his shoe. He made a joke about the hole and the “tongue” his shoe had developed. My heart hurt. I wanted to load him up and buy him a pair of shoes. But I just didn’t have the immediate means.

Later in the day it was proposed by Johnny that I walk the children to the local convenient store and buy them all Icees.  For four dollars, I figure its some worth while fun.

I have my kids plus two with me as we cross the busy intersection to get to the store. On the sidewalk right in front of us we saw a pair of brown leather flip flops. The lining was torn slightly, but they were otherwise in perfect condition.

I look around. We are about 100 feet from a shopping strip and at least a block from anybody’s home. These flip flops were clearly abandoned. Johnny grinned at me and only half jokingly said he should try them on.

I didn’t see why not. Turns out, they were a perfect fit. Johnny had a clear look of complete happiness on his face.

“Johnny, I want you to never forget today,” I told him, “Today I hope it was made very clear to you that you are on God’s radar. He knows where you are and what you need.”

“Naw, Miss Amy,” he responded, “It was just a coincidence.”

“No, Johnny. Had it been a coincidence, they would have been two sizes too small and pink.”

Don’t shrug off the flip flops that get put on your sidewalk as coincidence. He knows where you are. He knows what you need.

Somewhere out there is a mother wondering just why her child abandoned his flip flops in the middle of nowhere. I hope she reads blogs.

I have seen the true identity of God stretched and renamed by a number of religions, and I think I am naturally wary when I see something new applied to the basic truths I already know.

So I did what any web savvy member of my generation would do when faced with a question with no answer on file: I Googled it.

Rapha means “The God that Heals You”. I was directed to read Exodus 15:22-27 in which God reveals Himself as the God who heals. I’ll give you a brief overview of what I learned, because it really is something worth knowing.

Those poor Israelites. So much of what we know about their journey from slavery to freedom is wrought with all kinds of trials that begged them to ignore God’s hand on their lives. Exodus 15:22 finds them in the moments after Pharaoh and his armies were swallowed by the Red Sea right on the heels of God’s chosen.

Surely at least some of the Israelites looked upon the gurgling bubbles of drowning men and said, “God is for us”. Surely they would not doubt His sovereignty after such a great rescue.

Their backs to the bubbles, they walked on. In the hot, hot sun. For three days. No water. So. Thirsty.

And then finally, Marah. Water.

Can you just see how their eyes must have bulged a bit as they swallowed hard on their parched and swollen tongues at the sight of water? I bet they ran. I bet there was much laughter and even a bit of skipping as they jumped in and splashed about in the first reprieve of water they had seen since the Red Sea.

I’m not sure how it looked, but I imagine that one man scooped a nice handful of water up to his mouth and perhaps took a moment to let his distended tongue take in the sweet, sweet…

Gak! Spewing out the water, he raises his hands and alerts the others, “This water is bitter! We can not drink it!”.

Crushed.

How is this possible? Is God not aware that He has led us to bitter water? Did we follow the wrong pillar? We at least had water for our babies in Egypt. We have been led here to die. Why must our darkest moment conceive an even darker one?

Still so thirsty, the Israelites do the only dignified thing they know to do: they complain to Moses. (I would never do that.)

Moses takes their complaints to his best girlfriend and he tells her that the people are being mean and hurting his feelings. His best girlfriend then takes the complaints to her mother, because you know your girlfriends tell their mothers everything, and her mother sits down to the computer to blog about how dreadful it is that the water is bitter.

Wait.

They didn’t have blogs back then.

And also? Moses didn’t piddle around with his best girl friend, like we sometimes do. He went straight to God about the bitter water.

God directed Moses to a tree and Moses threw the tree into the water. The water became sweet and the people were saved. They were saved by Jehovah-Rapha, the God who Heals You.

Go read Exodus, or at least this site to learn more. Right now I just want to tell you what I took away from this lesson.

Sometimes we have to drink in the bitter before we can know what the sweet tastes like. Sometimes God will actually lead us to the bitter waters and this will be a moment when we are given the choice to decide what we believe.

Has God led you here to meet your death? Will you be left exposed in your shame? Does God not intend to fix what is destroyed?

You cannot answer those questions with authority until you have tasted the bitter.

Will He leave you exposed in your shame?
NO. (say it with authority)

Will He leave you here to die?
NO. (own it)

Really want to stick to the devil? Praise God for the bitter waters you cross. Praise Jehovah-Rapha for the healing we received from the tree. We only know the sweet because we have tasted the bitter.

My Dates With Nathan

Nathan’s first car was a 1960 something Cougar. In the first several months that he owned that car it sat in the driveway with bricks behind the tires while he spent every spare minute crawling all over it to get it running.

A Glimpse

It was the e-mail that my dear cousin Gina sent to me well over a year ago about her friends the Powells that got me started on the desire to know more about prayer.

That the request came from Gina made me all the more prayer dyslexic. Gina, my dear cousin whom I love as a sister, Gina who buried her sweet Mariah even though I know the saints were pounding on Heaven’s gates for almost the full length of that fragile pregnancy.

We prayed. We all prayed until we wept. We believed that God could make her whole. And still we lost Mariah Grace. Were we lacking? Did we not move the arrow on the faith-o-meter enough?

Was God mad at us?

And in this condition, I began praying for Ethan Powell. This is what I prayed:

Forgive me for thinking my greatness matters in your decision to bless me and those for which I pray. It is your glory I seek, in all things. Lift me up to expose your glory in exaltation. Let me crumble to expose your glory in grace. Use me to fulfill your will and forgive me when I would rather use you to fulfill mine.

In all things, and especially Ethan right now, I pray that it can never be debated that your hand was present in battle. May no man view the scope of the war that raged, both spiritual and physical, to save this little baby and ever deny that the LORD’s eye oversaw the whole matter.

“And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.”
Revelation 21:4

I can’t recall ever in my life not talking to God. From a very young age I remember talking to God about the things that mattered to me and asking Him what mattered to Him. Though I was talking to God, I always wanted to know about praying to God.

I would hear talk about “effective prayer” and wonder just what that meant. Effective implies that there is an end goal. What am I praying for and am I doing it right? ‘Cause right now, all I’m doing is talking.

My latest and longest prayer problem came in the area of prayers of petition. I have to be honest and tell you that I used to cringe when asked to pray for someone. Prayer requests that went like this, “Please pray that I get the job I applied for and that my cat doesn’t need surgery” made my underarms get damp and a bead of sweat to appear on my upper lip.

How am I supposed to go to God and ask Him to make sure you get the job you want? What if God doesn’t want you to have that job? What if your life is actually supposed to stink a bit longer and God has a different plan altogether? What if your cat secretly doesn’t like you and it’s in your best interest to let it go? You don’t know. And neither do I. So I ask you, how am I supposed to go to God with a list of prayer requests and tell Him how I’d like to see things work when I’m already pretty sure He has a plan that is completely different than anything we could come up with because He usually does?

I felt a certain sense of spiritual small mindedness in making my long list, like I was going to Santa or making wishes with a coin tossed in the fountain at the mall. But I also couldn’t very well say, “No. I certainly will not pray that you get your dream job and that your cat passes that fur ball. The idea. Ha-rumph”

See what I mean? I had me a prayer problem.

Some months ago, Ian and Mackenzie were learning the Lord’s Prayer in Matthew 6. What struck me like an absolute ton of bricks to the forehead were the words Jesus spoke just before He said the prayer.

“In this manner, therefore, pray.”

My ears were pricked by that. In this manner… I got real excited to actually learn this prayer all over again like new with the notion that this was indeed the manner in which to pray.

Our Father in heaven,
Hallowed be Your name.
10 Your kingdom come.
Your will be done
On earth as it is in heaven.
11 Give us this day our daily bread.
12 And forgive us our debts,
As we forgive our debtors.
13 And do not lead us into temptation,
But deliver us from the evil one.
For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.^[a]

Can I tell you what I saw there?

Our Father who lives in Heaven, your Name is holy, you are set apart from your creation. You are God, you are Father, you are Creator. (Notice that the prayer starts out talking right away about how great God is. I wince to think of how often my prayers begin, “God! Why? Why is it so hard? Why?” and go on for a good bit before I remember to tell God how great I think He is.)

In Heaven, your will is done the instant you speak it. I long for the day your Son returns and this is once more the case on Earth. May your Son’s return bring us back to a place where your will is that of all people and nature. Come quickly, and give me a heart that wants to see you come quickly. (I’m no scholar, but this is my interpretation of this scripture. I have heard enough unrealized prayers of petition to know that God’s will is not done on earth currently. It is not God’s will that any of us should die, or any of our children get sick beyond help. This world is not His end game plan for us. Phew.)

Just for today, Lord, only today, give me my physical need. I have no worry about tomorrow, my only concern is today and its work. Give me today what I need to carry out my tasks. (It’s scary, but this bit of the prayer makes no provisions for retirement or my kid’s college fund. Just today.)

Lord God, I challenge you to forgive me in the same manner that I forgive others. Give me a heart of forgiveness. There is freedom in forgiveness and I ask that you grant it to me as I grant it to others in the same manner. (This is also scary.)

Don’t lead me to places where I will be tempted to stray: poverty so deep I’d steal, anger so raw I’d destroy, envy so strong I’d rot. Deliver me from evil, and give me the wisdom to recognize I’ve been delivered instead of complaining about the method.

Right here is where I interject my petition. And it is usually only one word long. Truth.

I pray for truth in my life, and the life of whomever I may be praying for. If I have ever said to you that I’ve been praying for you, that is my prayer: Truth.

Truth makes clear what is necessary. What is important. What is going to further the Kingdom. Truth is the Gospel. Truth is the one way to Salvation. Truth is what allows for faith.

And then of course, there’s that awesome close. I leave that one unchanged. Say it with me and own the truth:

For Yours is The Kingdom, and The Power, and The Glory
Forever.

Amen.

I’m a 30 year old believer who has been sitting on church pews since the second Sunday of my life, and I think I just got schooled on how to pray.

I looked around and did a survey of where all the bikes lay. My eyes rested on a certain pink, mid-sized girl’s bike leaning against the fence. This bike belonged to a former tenant who still comes to my place after school until her Mom gets off work. I talk often with this girl’s mother and I knew that this bike was not in good riding shape on account of it’s need for new tires. Bailey, the little girl, had stopped riding the bike months before. The plan was to get her a new bike or a better used bike* and so this one was simply left behind in the move.

The neighborhood kids were often guilty of riding this lame bike and leaving it all over the place. It seemed odd to me that a bike with flat, bald tires and a torn seat would be such a prized item, but it was nonetheless.

Wanting to avoid further notices and seeing a good opportunity, I walked over to the bike and all the children watched as I picked it up and started to walk across the lot.

“Hey Miss Amy! What are you doing with Bailey’s bike?”

I chose not to answer and my stone silence deepened the mystery among the kids. I wound up with quite a group clustered behind me as I tossed the bike into the dumpster.

“Miss Amy! You just threw Bailey’s bike away!” several shout as the bike settles among the trash.

“That’s right, I did,” I say, making a sweeping gesture over their heads with my crooked index finger as I continue, “And I’ll throw your bikes away too if I see them left un-parked.”

I dust my hands on my apron and head inside.

It was a bit later before I was back outside. I saw a few of the kids stop what they were doing to watch as old lady Peterson’s eyes roamed the area for poorly placed bikes. My eyes landed just as theirs did on little Jay Jay’s bike.

I walk over to the bike (the brand new bike) and had no sooner laid hand to it than the clamoring of curious voices gathered right at my heels.

“Ohhhh, Jay Jay. Miss Amy’s gonna throw out your bike.”

“Please don’t throw away my bike, Miss Amy. Please.”

This is where empty threats get you in trouble. Of course I wasn’t going to throw away Jay Jay’s bike. I’m a bully, but I’m no tyrant.

I take his bike and simply lay it down on the stairs leading to his apartment. My theory is that either he will pick it up and put it away, or his parents might actually engage him in a discussion about where it goes. That was my real hope. Actual parental engagement.

I love all these kids. I really do. Even when I wind up with notices, scowls from neighbors, and all the tattle telling. I still love them. I have prayed to be useful in God’s Kingdom. That is my constant prayer.

Turns out that right now, my usefulness involves scaring little kids. And then giving them cookies. Cookies and fear.

*Any local folks with a lead on a girls mid sized bike in good shape for really cheap (or free)? I can promise it will always be put away properly.