Why didn’t she know I was a Christian?
Had I acted in some way that would suggest otherwise? Had I been unkind or uncivil to those around me? Had I dressed or talked in a manner that would show me less than devoted to my conservative family values?
Years ago I remember my mother worrying incessantly about whether or not her slip was showing. Of course, ladies always worried about those things—at least they did when I was a girl. These days they sometimes dress in fashions that purposely show their slips, but back then we were mortified to have any hint of such things revealed in public. I remember so many times standing in the women’s restrooms only to hear a complete stranger ask my mother, “Is my slip showing?”
Well, I’m here today to ask you, “Is your Christianity showing?” Have you let down the undergarment of salvation enough that you reveal to others around you the basis for your foundation? Or have you hidden your faith away, neatly covering it over with a designer fashion.
Sometimes we wear Christian DuJour. You know the fashion. That’s the one we put on for the days of the week when we have to go to church or some other Christian function. We look smartly dressed in just the right style. We walk the walk and talk the talk, but when we’re out of there and safely hiding back home, we slip back into our regular clothes and save those designer ones for Sunday.
The trouble with Christian DuJour fashions is that nobody outside of those church functions knows we are Christians. We hide our beliefs for fear of retribution from an unimpressed world or simply keep quiet to avoid confrontation. Or worse yet, we don’t want to have to explain why we believe what we believe, because we don’t know for sure why we believe it.
Often we find ourselves in the position of worrying whether our undergarments of Christ are sticking out offensively to the view of those around us. We’ve adopted the attitude that the world has thrust upon us: Keep quiet; say nothing; make no one uncomfortable. We worry so much about offending someone with our faith that our faith remains well hidden, buried under layers of worldviews and politically correct behavior.
Is your Christianity showing? If Jesus came back today and had to identify His own people by nothing more than attitude and actions, would He know that you were His? The Bible says the wheat is growing up with the weeds. If we’re wheat, we don’t want to imitate and clothe ourselves in the fashions of the weeds. We need to be clearly recognized for who we are, and more important, we need to be recognized for whose we are. We belong to the King of Kings. The Mighty God. The Everlasting Father.
Instead of hiding our Christianity under the worldly designer rags of complacency, apathy, and self-comfort, let’s get a little goofy—a little crazy. Let’s hike up that hem on the garment of conservative indifference and let Jesus be revealed. We just might start a new trend in the church—in the body of Christ. We just might start to be recognized as the precious, priceless pieces of work that we are: designer fashions by the Designer of the universe himself.
Isaiah 43:1 says, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine” (rsv).
God’s designer label is stamped firmly on your heart. Wear your faith proudly. Let your Christianity show. Let Jesus be the first and last thing people see in you. You just might be surprised at the reactions.
13
Keeping Pace
Have you ever watched children at the mall as they walk with their parents? You see the tiny toddlers who yearn for independence. You can find the older children who run back and forth between store window and parent—constantly wanting, even needing to show Mom and Dad yet another new toy or game. There are even the seemingly disinterested teens who appear to be enduring the trip only for how it will benefit them in the long run.
The other day when I was at the mall, I observed several parents and their children. The first was a frazzled mother who had a child on either side of her. She struggled to hold on to her purse, a store purchase, and the hands of her daughter and son. She was in a hurry, that much was obvious. She wasn’t looking to the left or the right. Her vision was fixed straight ahead.
One child was crying and tripping every few steps. She couldn’t keep up the pace her mother had set, and so she appeared to be dragged down the mall. The boy, a little bit taller and longer-legged, was running beside his mother to keep up. He was panting for breath and calling out to her to stop. The mother angrily snapped at her son and told him to stop whining, that they were in a hurry.
Been there. Done that.
It was a rather humbling experience as I thought of how many times I’ve raced my own children from place to place. I watched this woman until she reached the exit and took her children out of the mall. The situation left me saddened and thoughtful. How many times had I been so focused on myself that I’d caused my children to suffer as they struggled to keep up with me? How many times had I been public with my anger and frustration so that others could see how I had treated my little ones?
Next, there was a man with a little girl. She wasn’t very old, probably less than two. She held tightly to his hand, and he walked very slowly. Her tiny steps were five or six to his one. But instead of getting after her for her slow pace, he encouraged her.
“Come on, sweetie, you’re doing great. Just a few more steps and we’ll be there.”
The little girl laughed and babbled words I couldn’t quite hear. The man smiled and took obvious pleasure in her progress.
“You’re doing so good. What a good girl!”
Have you ever wished you could hear God say those words to you? “Come on, just a few more steps. You’re doing so well. What a good girl!” The affirmation of this little girl’s father was important to her attitude and outlook, just as the negative attitude of the mother with her children had greatly affected their response.
The last child I observed was tired and clearly worn from the day of shopping. He was cranky and miserable, and finally his mother picked him up and soothed him. She carried him from that point on, and he settled down in her arms and immediately came to a place of peace.
The expression of comfort on his face was not one of having been given his way, it was one of sheer rest. He let go of the misery and snuggled into his mother’s arms—safe and secure.
It reminded me of that great old hymn “Leaning On the Everlasting Arms.” Elisha Hoffman penned the words: “Leaning, leaning, safe and secure from all alarms; Leaning, leaning, leaning on the everlasting arms.”
The peace suggested in that hymn is exactly what this child found in his mother’s embrace.
Isaiah 46:4 says, “Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.”
That verse blesses my heart in ways I can’t even begin to put on paper. The very idea that our heavenly Father, our Abba, will carry us, sustain us, rescue us. Like a loving father who offers each of us encouragement along the walk, God is also good to remind us that we need never worry about coming to the place where we collapse on the walk.
I remember a time when I was in Skagway, Alaska. Several people were going to make a long-distance hike to see some of the historical sites. I really wanted to go, but not being a real athletic person, I doubted I could make the eighteen-mile round trip along the rough and rocky course. So I didn’t go.
I think a lot of times in life, we find ourselves up against a similar situation. We see a goal, or something comes to us as advantageous to our circumstance, yet we lack the energy or the ability to go forward. We see the distance and the path, and we know that in our own strength, we simply aren’t capable of meeting the requirements.
That rocky path might well be a marriage that has many pitfalls and boulders strewn across the way. You might have worked hard to clear the path, only to find a rockslide pouring down around the next bend.
The road might seem easy enough—a straight, flat walk—but the distance is too great, and exhaustion overtakes you. Your general
ly sweet-natured teen suddenly turns angry and confrontational. You strive to go the distance, to keep up, but you aren’t physically capable, and you collapse.
Sometimes the path seems clear of debris and fairly short distance-wise, but the weight of the burden we carry is so great that even a few steps become laborious. Try picking up your refrigerator and walking a few feet! Even if you could lift it, moving it would be an entirely different matter. Burdens are like that. Sometimes we’re able to hoist them on our backs, but then we find the weight too great to go any farther.
God tells us in Isaiah that we don’t have to worry about the path or the debris or the weight of our burdens. He says that even to our old age He will sustain us. Not only that, but God has promised to carry us. There’s no condition on that. It doesn’t say, “Now, after you’ve given it all you’ve got and have fallen apart without a single ounce of strength left, THEN I’ll carry you.” God says nothing about your desperation or need; He merely says, “Hey, I made you and I will carry you!”
It doesn’t mean that God wants us to be invalids. It doesn’t mean we aren’t to work for Him—to strive to be living examples of Christ to the world around us. Backing up a few verses in Isaiah 46, God speaks of carrying the entire house of Jacob—all of Israel. It wasn’t that God didn’t want His people to set out in faith and work for Him, He just offered the reassurance that they would never walk alone.
You won’t walk alone either.
Like the father of the toddler in my story, God is right alongside, offering encouragement and pleasure in us as we strive to keep pace with Him. Like the mother with the exhausted boy, God is promising He’ll sustain us, carry us, rescue us. We don’t have to be afraid that we can’t make the journey in our own strength, because God never once asked us to.
We’re a proud and stubborn generation. We long for self-accomplishment, and we set lofty goals and aspire to do wonderful things. Sometimes those things are based on good and loving motives. Sometimes they’re selfish and self-promoting. The world snaps at us like the mother with her two children. Sometimes the world half drags us along, forcing us to keep a pace we were never intended to walk. Often the world motivates anger and frustration in our hearts, because the demand is too great. We haven’t the strength or the ability to do what is required. But the world is in too great a hurry to see our need, much less to care.
But your Father cares. He isn’t asking you to run the race alone. He isn’t demanding that you keep pace. No, our Abba is standing right before us with open arms. He’s smiling in affirmation to let us know that the very best thing we can do is trust Him to sustain and to rescue.
“I have made you, and I will carry you!”
What beautiful words of hope. We aren’t in this alone. We don’t have to worry about the world’s pace. God has a better plan. He has a Father’s heart and strong, warm, everlasting arms. We can be “safe and secure from all alarms.”
The alternative is obvious. Go it alone in your own strength. Or go in His strength—in His arms. Don’t make it harder than it has to be. The best choice is pretty clear.
14
Thank-You Notes
I have a thank-you letter to write, and I don’t quite know how to begin it. You see, this letter is going to someone who hasn’t always made me very happy. Sometimes we’ve been at odds; in fact, sometimes we haven’t been on good speaking terms. I’ve been angry and hurt and not always very kind toward the recipient of this note. I’ve unfairly judged Him, hurt Him, and on more than one occasion questioned His actions as they related to my life.
On the other hand, I owe Him my life.
His name is Jesus Christ.
Sometimes it really amazes me that Jesus would put up with someone like me. I’ve been stubborn and hardhearted, and there have been times, I’m ashamed to say, that my very actions have denied Him. I owe Him a lot more than a thank-you note, but do you know what? It’s a good place to start.
Do you remember in the Bible where Jesus is returning to Jerusalem in triumph? The account in Luke 19 tells of the people greeting Jesus as He comes down the road. “The whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen: ‘Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!’ ”
The people were overwhelmed with the happiness and excitement of seeing Jesus. They had witnessed the things He had done. They had seen Him raise the dead to life. They had seen Him feed huge crowds with a few fish and a few loaves of bread. The blind had been given sight, the deaf could hear, and the lame could walk. The crowd couldn’t keep quiet. They had to praise Him. They had to shout to the Lord in gratitude.
The Pharisees weren’t thrilled about this. Pharisees seldom are. They didn’t appreciate Jesus’ way of doing things. They didn’t like His “love revolution.” They were so put out by this, in fact, that they turned to Jesus and demanded, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples.”
Can’t you just see it? The people are delirious. They are singing and shouting praises to their Lord. They recognize the power and the hope in Jesus, even if they don’t fully understand that He’s the Messiah they’ve been waiting for. They want to tap into that power—if only for the moment.
The other night on television, I saw a young woman who has become a pop star. She gave a homecoming concert, complete with the whole town turning out to throw her a parade. People of all ages gathered. Children screamed and waved banners. Teenagers shouted her name and danced to her music. Even the hometown adults cheered to see one of their own having done so well.
It was quite a phenomenon for this little town. It would have been quite an ordeal for a big town. Now try to imagine quelling this group. Try to imagine making them be quiet. Even if this girl had raised her hands and pleaded with them for silence, they wouldn’t have accommodated her. They were caught up in a spirit of praise.
Sadly enough, I think we often reserve this kind of joy for pop stars and political figures. We see what the world honors and respects, and we just get caught up in the spirit of it. We lose ourselves, and we lose touch with the one we really ought to be praising.
Go back to Luke and the Pharisees commanding Jesus to quiet His followers. I imagine Jesus looking at these men with just a hint of a grin. The kind of look a person has when he knows a secret that no one else knows.
Jesus says, “I tell you . . . if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”
Now, that’s a praise party that would knock your socks off. Imagine all of creation joining in with the rocks to offer Jesus praise.
“If they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”
What about us? We’ve seen Jesus at work. Maybe we haven’t seen the dead raised, although there was a woman in my church for whom the doctors gave no hope. You probably know someone like her, someone who beat the odds of cancer or some other life-threatening situation. Then again, maybe you saw the dead raised to life in the form of a drug addict who came clean or a prodigal returned home.
Maybe we haven’t seen the lame walk, although I saw a medical documentary on prosthetic appliances and watched as a young woman ran marathons on a man-made foot. Does it count as a miracle when it’s a matter of God giving wisdom and knowledge, insight and imagination to mere mortals?
I’ve seen God provide food when there was nothing left in the cupboard. I’ve seen money come in an unmarked envelope when my children needed medicine. I’ve seen storms dissipate, wayward children come home, and hope in the midst of hopelessness. I think I qualify as one of those people who has seen the miracles of God, and if you’re honest about it, you probably qualify too. It really doesn’t matter what we label it—it’s God at work.
So what about it?
Why do I bring it up? Why do I bother to write it out on the pages of this book? Because I think we’ve become indifferent in offering our praise. I think we’re relying on the rocks to cry out. God has provided and performed as He always has in His unchanging s
tate, and yet we have fallen short of recognizing His wonders and blessings. Some of us owe God a thank-you note. I know I do.
I’m ashamed when I think of the praise party thrown for a young pop star, yet know that few people would turn out if I threw a parade for Jesus. I’m saddened when praise and prayer services are offered and only a handful of the congregation bothers to show up. I’m grieved deep down in my heart when people say there is no evidence of God or that there is no God.
A pastor once said that one of the first requirements of a heart of praise is to recognize the gifts you’ve been given. Makes sense to me. Imagine trying to thank someone for a birthday present when you don’t even know what they’ve given you, or if they’ve given you something. We have only to open our eyes and look around us to see what God has done—what He is offering us. If we can’t see anything else, then we must see Jesus. Jesus was and is God’s best and finest gift.
Have you thanked God lately for His Son?
What about God’s creation? The beauty of the mountains and oceans, the prairies and forests. What about the awesome wonders of reproduction? Of animals that give birth without anyone to aid them, of plants and cross-pollination? What about our own intricate human bodies—bodies so complicated and detailed that doctors and scientists are still trying to figure out what makes us tick? What about our possessions, our jobs, our education, and even the ability to read and write?
I challenge you today to write a thank-you note to Jesus. Pick up that pen and get to work. Make a list and watch it grow as you open the eyes of your heart. Because as much as I think it would be really radical to hear the rocks praising God, I’d much rather we human beings share in the joy and praise Him ourselves.
But just in case I forget, I’m going to keep a rock close by. You just never know.
Eyes of the Heart, The: Seeing God's Hand in the Everyday Moments of Life Page 6