We are not fighting for him, but he is fighting for us.

Here’s a paragraph from a devotional book I’m writing; this is on John 17 through 18.  Let me know what you think!

These two chapters of Scripture are aching for us to see that Jesus is King.  We realize this as we overhear Jesus pleading with his Father in prayer.  For what does he plead?  For safety?  For deliverance?  For self-fulfillment and happiness?  No.  Jesus pleads as a Warrior for all of his followers, both present and future.  He longs for his followers to see him for whom he really is, God and King (17:24).  He longs for his followers to be one with each other (17:11).  He longs for his followers to know the Father’s love (17:26), especially as they face trials (17:15).  When Pilate asks Jesus about his kingdom, Jesus responds, “My kingdom is not of this world.  If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have been fighting, that I might not be delivered over to the Jews.” (18:36).  That’s why Jesus quells the efforts of Peter to defend him.  Jesus rebukes Peter for using his sword to fight against the soldiers (18:10-11).  If Jesus’ kingdom were of this world, then he would welcome Peter’s efforts.  Instead, Jesus points us to a breathtaking truth: since Jesus’ kingdom is not of this world, he fights for us, and not the reverse.  Were it of this world, then he would welcome us to fight; but since it’s from another world, Jesus is the only one who can fight.  We are not fighting for him, but he is fighting for us.  He is taking care of us; we don’t take care of him.  That’s why he pleads for us in prayer in chapter 17.  By doing so, he is fighting for us.  His prayers for you are his sword.  While we fail at the front lines like Peter (18:15-18; 25-26), Jesus heads courageously to death for us.  He is fighting for our entrance into his world with his Father, one that swarms with love and joy and glory (17:26).

© Samuel Kee, 2012

So go ahead and see me and accept me how I am.

I’ve noticed a disturbing increase of racism recently.  I work with students and am constantly hearing stories about this issue.  It’s a problem that they face in their schools, at their lunch tables, in ways that I never have.  In fact, there’s a Christian college near my home that recently had to deal with this issue.  Apparently, some black students led a worship service, and multiple white students posted racists tweets about it during the chapel.  I am not connected with this school in any way, and this sort of thing most likely happens in many schools.   But it was especially ironic at a Christian school, where the gospel of Jesus calls his followers to walk in unity.

I asked one of my black friends about this.  “Is there a resurgence of racism?”  He said something quite observant.  “It’s not that there’s more racism now than when we were growing up; we were just more intentional about dealing with it.”  Growing up in the 70’s and 80’s,America was very sensitive to this issue. America had seen a great deal of racism up to the 1950’s, in particular.  Then we began to deal with the issue head on, being more intentional about equality.  It’s like having a bruise that you intentionally protect while it’s still soft and sore.  I grew up at a time when the bruise was being protected.

Of course, I could be an exception, and many could give me stories to the contrary.  But I at least think it’s worth noting.

My friend said that it’s never gone away, never healed, never been dealt with.  And now that the intentionality of my generation is gone, we see that racism is not.

Here’s another thing that bothers me, and I’ve heard this several times in my life.  A well-meaning white person will say to a black friend, “You know, John, I don’t even see you as black.”  This sort of comment is meant to be positive?  The white person is trying really hard to overcome his or her racism, but actually betrays it.  The black person most often just smiles at such infuriating statements, but really wants to respond, “I’m sorry you don’t see me as black, but I want you to see me as black.  I am black.  So go ahead and see me and accept me how I am.”

We white people fear accepting someone how they are.  We want to make them like us, first, or pretend like they aren’t like they are.  We assume that we’re better.  But there’s nothing wrong with how they are!  As if being black were a bad thing…

It’s not a bad thing, it’s a beautiful thing.  It’s perfect.  God made blacks precious in his eyes, just how he wanted them to be.  We need not pretend like being white is superior and/or desirable to being black.  It’s not.

I grew up wrestling with blacks…literally.  On all my wrestling teams, from elementary school to college, I always had a black grappling partner.  And there’s no more intimate of a sport than wrestling, where you share blood, sweat, and tears.  I’ve seen incredible young black men, who’ve had to bring great courage into their white worlds.  Their internal strength to be themselves, to stand out, and to persevere, despite us whites, has been truly inspirational to me.

February is African American History Month.  It’s a month to remember and celebrate the beauty of our diversity as we dwell in unity.  To live in unity does not mean we put away our differences, but that we display our differences, accepting each other how we are.  God looks at African Americans and he says, “You are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you” (Isaiah 43:4).

© Samuel Kee, 2012

We are called to give.

Guys, bearers of the XY chromosome, what is your role in relationships?  Is it dependant upon her role or who she is?  Or can we guys find a role that is rooted in our identity?  If I had to boil it down to just one word, I think the role of men in relationships is this: give.

Nobody is perfect at this, myself included, but “giving” still needs to be our goal.  How do I define “give?”  Sacrifice.  That’s the heart of the word.  Give your time, your energy, your resources, your affection, your attention, your provision, your protection, your abilities, your love.  We are called to give in such a way that she is better for it.

I am not saying that women are insufficient without us.  Neither am I saying that women cannot take care of themselves.  Far from it!  I have seen too many examples of highly capable women.  Nonetheless, when a man and a woman are in a relationship, we must not confuse her capability with his calling.  He must not toss out his role, just because she is highly capable.  My advice has nothing to do with her or her abilities, but with him and his posture.

Guys, are you in a relationship to give?  Are you willing to make sacrifices to show her how much she is worth to you?  Again, this has nothing to do with whether she is capable or not, but with whether or not you treasure her.  We will make sacrifices for that which is important to us.

In your relationships, lay aside personal promotion and selfishness, and give.  Both you and she will be better for it.[1]

Could it be that there is so much more?

My wife took a pinto bean out of our cupboard—you know, the kind that you eat.  Only she didn’t eat it.  She gave it some water, some sunlight, and some time.  After several days, a miracle happened.  The ordinary pinto bean broke open.  Then a stem started to emerge from it.  Quite shocked that this sort of thing could happen from one of the beans that I had been planning to eat, I asked, “What’s it going to turn into?”  Okay, so I wasn’t thinking.

“A bean plant,” she told me.  Wow: a bean plant, which would eventually produce more beans.  All that from a little bean.

Looking at the bean, now beginning to sprout, I could plainly see that it had “life in itself.”  There was energy inside of it, just waiting to be tapped into.  It was not just food; it was potential, just sitting in a bag in our cabinet.  It was just waiting.  Waiting for someone to give it the things that it needed to thrive, water and sunlight and time.

Most beans in my house will never see the light of day.  Most beans in my house will suffer the same fate: being boiled or cooked, made into soup or chili or sandwich spread.  Most beans have totally flown under my radar, as I never realized all the potential lurking inside of them.  They had life inside of themselves, and I didn’t even know it.

There are two lessons that I learned from this.  First, there is more of “God” lurking about than I ever realized.  This bean was proof.  How did that bean sprout?  I know, light and water and time.  But really, what triggered it?  What’s behind the chemistry of it all?  What said, “Go!” to the bean, as it soaked in the water and light.  Some call it metaphysics, but I call it a miracle, because it displays the original energy of God, left over in it, “planted” in it.  God is the source of creation and life, we know that.  But God has left residual energy and life within the creation he made.  He’s left crumbs from the original feast, sparks from the original fire.  Living things have life within them, leftover from God’s creative action.

But soon the bean will die, as will all living things.  There’s just not enough “juice” left in them.  You see, all living things have been cut off from the source of life, the Creator himself.  Having been cut off from the source, like a battery away from a power outlet, living things will “run” for a little while, but eventually they will die.  Life drains away if it’s cut off from the source of power.  The bean is a testimony to the existence of God, the power source, from which its life came, and through which it needs to be renewed.  But now we’re talking about people.  Unless we humans can get back to our power source, we will perish.  We’ll live and sprout for a little while, but eventually we’ll drain.

Second, the pinto bean serves as a metaphor for how complex human beings are.  We cannot reduce humans down to just biology, as materialists and naturalists do.  Neither can we reduce humans and their problems down to spirituality or psychology.  Humans are incredibly complex, consisting of body, emotion, and spirit.  We fail at truly helping individuals when we just write them a prescription, in other words.  Or we fail them when we just teach them about God, without addressing their physical or emotional needs.

Here’s my point: the pinto bean had so much potential, but it was just waiting for the right ingredients to crack it open, to release its true beauty and purpose.  It could do its job just fine being an ordinary bean, sitting in a bag and awaiting to be eaten.  But with water and light and time, its true potential was released.

Could it be that you are like that bean, full of potential and waiting to serve your purpose?  You care about your body and try your best to take care of yourself emotionally.  But you’ve never been awakened by God, by his living water and eternal light.  Could it be that there is so much more potential in your life, if you just soak yourself in God’s word and fill yourself with his Spirit?

You feel empty, you’re just sitting around, you wonder if there is more to life.  Do you know that with God, there is so much more?  He’ll grow you into a thriving plant, so that you can truly give back to the world, multiplying your little life beyond your years.

If your life only consists of the physical and the here-and-now, then you’re missing out on a truly full life.

© Samuel Kee, 2011

Our noble calling as humans, is to participate in God's cause.

I’m reading Karl Barth’s little book on prayer; I came across this provoking thought:

In Jesus Christ, God has manifested himself as a God who, while being perfectly free and self-sufficient, yet does not wish to be alone.  He does not wish to act, exist, live, labor, work, strive, vanquish, reign, and triumph without the human race.  God does not wish, then, for his cause to be his alone; he wishes it to be ours as well.  

Barth agrees that God is self-sufficient; God did not create humans because of a lack in himself, in order to quench his divine distress or loneliness.  Neither was God somehow forced to created humans, by a greater power.  God is completely free and has no needs, neither does he have superiors.  When he created humans, he did so out of complete fullness, rather than lack.

He created us out of love, in other words.  He created beings to share his cause with, because he did not wish to be alone in it.  What is God’s cause?  God’s cause is the spread of his name, his kingdom, and his will, as Barth deduces from the first three petitions of the Lord’s Prayer.  God did not wish to be alone in his cause; he wished it to be ours, as well.

Our noble calling as humans is to participate in God’s cause.  Within his cause, we find fulfillment.  As we cherish his name, acknowledging his presence and our dependence, his cause abounds.  As we sculpt this world into shape, turning wrongs into rights, and making the ugly bits beautiful, his cause abounds. As we give living performance to his heart’s will for justice and mercy and righteousness, his cause abounds.  And when his cause abounds, our satisfaction with life abounds, for we’re functioning in the ways that our Maker intended.

Living for our own name, our own kingdom, and our own will, is self-destructive.  Putting the human cause at the center causes us to implode.

But Barth goes on to acknowledge the rest of the Lord’s Prayer, which includes petitions for the “human” cause: daily bread, forgiveness, and deliverance from evil.  The Lord’s Prayer, while champing God’s cause first as foremost, does not hesitate joining it to the human cause.  We first are called to participate in God’s cause; then he participates in ours.  God and humans live life together.  Humans are not to live atheistically; God does not live humanlessly.

Today, my job is simple: I am to live for God’s cause.  Today, God’s job is simple: take care of me.  My cause becomes utterly glorious, his cause utterly loving.

© Samuel Kee, 2012

If you accept God's grace, you do a dangerous thing.

I would rather serve you than be loved by you.  Here’s what I mean: service is cheap, but love is costly.  Service is controllable, but love is controlling.  I can go home after a day of service, but I can never be free from love.  It follows me, haunts me, and enslaves me.

Don’t believe me?  Then imagine two different scenarios.  In the first, I am your boss and you are my employee.  You work for me and I pay you.  If you work well, then I reward you accordingly.  If you need some time off, then I give you some time off.  When you’re at work, you work.  When you leave work, you leave work.  You can rest and not think about me.  In just 8 or 9 hours, you can fulfill all of your duties to me and I will be satisfied, and so will you.

Now imagine a second scenario.  You contract some horrible disease and the only way to be cured is through a certain type of human blood.  As it turns out, my son has just the right kind of blood that you need; and for you to have the right amount, his life must be terminated.  I look at you in love, and then decide to give the life of my son for you, so that you can live.  Though my son dies, you live.  How do you feel about our relationship, after such a costly display of love?

You have to live for the rest of your life, day by day, knowing how much I have loved you.  When you wake up, it’s because of me.  When you eat a meal, it’s because of me.  When you go to work, it’s because of me.  When you go on vacation, it’s because of me.  Everything you do is shrouded by the act of love that I performed on your behalf.  Without me and my love for you, you’d be nothing.

Service is fair; love enslaves.  Love demands everything.  True love shown to another enslaves the “victim.”  You no longer belong to yourself, but to the one whose love has freed you and given you new life.

God does not want our service, that is why he gave you his.  You cannot simply work for God as an employee, for he wants far more than 8 or 9 hours.  He wants everything.  That’s why he saves you by grace, through a gift of love, the death of his Son.  God put to death his Son beneath the legal record of charges written against you.  Jesus took your punishment; and now God wants to take you by his grace.

If you accept God’s grace, you do a dangerous thing.  It’s not cheap, by any means.  Not only did it cost God the life of his Son, but also it will cost you your freedom.  You’ll become a love slave, just like the apostle Paul, who identified himself like this:

Paul, a slave of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle (Romans 1:1).

Becoming a Christian sets you free from sin and its eternal consequences, but it does not set you free from God.  I think too often Christians think that being saved by grace means being saved from God.  That’s not it at all.  You are actually saved for God.

And for the rest of your life, you’ll live with the knowledge that the Creator of the cosmos has given everything in order to be with you and love you.

Of course, that’s not a bad thing; it’s a love thing.

© Samuel Kee, 2012

In the grip of Christ, we have no need.

My dad drew up my hand and placed it next to my grandfather’s, who was in the casket.  He then placed his next to mine, so that all three were in a row, saying, “You see, Sammy, where you get your hands?”  My young eyes noticed the similarities between my grandpa’s hands, my dad’s, and my own.  Each had the same wrinkly skin and stubby strength, passed on from generation to generation.  In that moment, as a little boy, I learned more than just genetics; I learned that everyone you love, will leave you, no matter how strong his hands.

Our safety in life is not found in all the trivial and temporary things that can be stripped away in a second.  Our comfort in life is not found in plans, pleasures, power, or people, for all will vanish.  If we place ourselves into their greasy hands, we will slip right out.  These things will always let you down.  People will always let you down, your possessions will always let you down, pleasures will always let you down.  None of these have hands that are fit to hold the human soul.

So what should you give yourself to and where is your solace found?  Recently, some have said that religion is not the answer.  They are quick to point out that Religion will let us down, too—that religion hurts, drops, kills.  It is graspless.

When your friends fail, when your money disappears, when your reputation is tattered, where is your comfort to be found?  Even more, when your life itself refuses to breathe again, what is your comfort in death?  What will hold you then?

It seems that we need hands that have been both to heaven and earth.  We need hands that hold the power of the cosmos and that hold the palm of the child.  We need hands that have thrust the stars into their orbits and that have thrust the heart into the human.  We need hands that have both the power to heal and the tenderness to hold.

The hands of Jesus Christ are the hands for us.  Not only did they spin the world into motion, but also they touched the oozing sores of a leper and dried the tears of a prostitute.  They wakened the universe with power and they writhed in pain from mortal nails.  His hands were both divine and dead, miraculous and mortal.

The holes in his hands are a portal through which heaven and earth touch.  And that is where he holds us.  That is our solace and comfort.  That is where we will never be shaken, the spot from which we will never be let go.  In the grip of Christ, we have no need.  In the grip of Christ, we can let go of our troubles, our idols, and our self-definitions.

What is truly, deeply, our only comfort?  Even the most non-religious person can see that our comfort is not in what we can hold onto, for our grasp is so weak and the natural course of this life rips everything out of our grip.  My solace and comfort come not from what I can hold onto, but from Whom is holding onto me.

So reads the Heidelberg Catechism, “What is your only comfort in life and in death?”  The answer: “That I am not my own, but belong—body and soul, in life and in death—to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ.”

You belong to Jesus Christ and he will never let go of you.

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.  For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him.  And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.[1]

© Samuel Kee, 2012

Resurrectionless words just make the gaps wider.

As WWII began, some of the students of Dietrich Bonhoeffer were called up to fight for the Germans.  Over half of these future pastors and students would be killed in battle, including Theodor Maass.  In a letter to Maass’ family, Bonhoeffer wrote:

“He was a good brother, a quiet, faithful pastor of the Confessing Church, a man who lived from word and sacrament, whom God has also thought worthy to suffer for the Gospel.  I am sure that he was prepared to go.  Where God tears great gaps we should not try to fill them with human words.  They should remain open.  Our only comfort is the God of the resurrection, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ…”

Great gaps were being torn into the fabric of families.  Great gaps were being torn in the human heart, as the brutal war ensued.

As one who depends on words, I find Bonhoeffer’s prescription for suffering both staggering and exact.  Bonhoeffer himself was a lover of words, as an academic, professor, pastor, and writer.  Yet not even he would dare presume his words on this hour of anguish.  His words would never due; never would he minimize the size of the gap by throwing mere human words at it.

When those we love are suffering, let them suffer, in other words.  Let the wound bleed itself to where it needs to bleed.  Mere human words are offensive at the point of great affliction.  Wounds should remain open in order that the pure ointment of God might be applied.

The prescription is the resurrection.  That is our only comfort and solution.  Words that fail to point to the God of the resurrection fail to point to any sufficient help at all.  Resurrectionless words just make the gaps wider and longer.

Because of the resurrection, death just makes us better.  In the shadow of the resurrection, death is forced to bow and worship.  Like a seed thrown down to death in the soil, so will the burial of God’s child lead to better life.  Death gives us life.

We learn two things from this.  First, don’t rush upon a wounded soul with your words.  Let the wound remain open.  Acknowledge the pain of the suffering one, hear their story and allow their wound to open a gap in your heart, as well.  Second, with a few cautious and confident words, tell them about the life that stands at the end of every trial.

I know what you may be thinking: I’m being way too reductionistic, for humans and suffering are incredibly complex.  Nonetheless, I also don’t want to reduce healing down to mere mortal solutions.  Humans are so complex, that nothing short of divine power will ultimately be effective.

© Samuel Kee, 2012

The weight room at Ashland University, where I went to school.

I remember the day that I first started working out—pumping iron.  It was 1987 and I was in the basement of an old school, where there was a simple room of free-weights.  I was in junior high and let’s just say, I was “under-sized.”  Yes, I was small, maybe 65 pounds with my backpack on.  And the weight room was not my favorite place to be, but I had to if I wanted to be on the wrestling team.

It was so embarrassing.  I couldn’t even lift the bench press bar ten times.  Girls my age were lifting more than I was.  I was so weak.

Fast forward to my college years and again see me in the weight room.  After a decade of working out, I could finally lift the bar!  And maybe a little more.  One time I was trying to out-bench (impress) another person in the weight room.  So I slapped a bunch of 45-pound weights on the bar, totaling about 300 pounds.  I got on the bench and put it up and then slowly lowered it to my chest; only, I couldn’t get it back up!  With some serious metal squashing down on my chest and neck, I panicked.  After struggling with it for a while, and seeing stars in the process, I finally got it up.  I think a girl helped me…

These are the images I get when I read Romans 8:3:

“For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do.”

Our “flesh” is totally weak when it comes to spiritual lifting.  And if we think that the law is going to help us, we’re dead wrong.  We’ll be crushed under the weight of it, no matter how many years we work-out.  The truth is that there is no one who can lift the burden of the law.  That’s why the verse says that God did it for us, “by sending his own Son” (also verse 3).  God’s Son came and lifted the weight of the law for us, since we were so weak.

The lesson of this is deeply profound.  This means that we can never impress God.  It means that God is not in Heaven, wringing his hands, waiting for us to finally get it right.  God has no expectations for us, none at all.  He knows that we will be crushed, unless he comes to rescue us.

We are crushed by lies, crushed by accusations, crushed by failures, crushed by doubts, crushed by despair, crushed by envy, crushed by rejection, crushed by loneliness, crushed by purposelessness, crushed by insufficiency, crushed by slander, crushed by misunderstanding, crushed by ridicule, crushed by un-forgiveness, crushed by misfortune, crushed by hatred, crushed by apathy, crushed by evil, crushed by sickness, crushed by death.  All of it is jammed near our neck, and it’s only a matter of time before it kills us.  Then Romans 8:11 says:

“If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you.”

So long as we’re being crushed, then life is not possible.  But if we allow God to take the weight from us, then we can finally have life.  Purpose and joy are not found in performance (as an employee, spouse, friend, athlete, citizen, etc.), but in God.  Did you get that?  This needs to be repeated: purpose and joy and not found in performance, but in God.  If you want to be free from the stuff that is crushing you, then stop trying to lift it.  Cry out to God and say, “Take everything that I can’t, and then take me.”

© Samuel Kee, 2011

Allow yourself to be His beloved.

We have a choice of whether or not to let negativity reign in our lives.  This is not because we did something to stop it, but because God has done something to stop it.  God went to the cross, where he absorbed all the evil we have to offer.  He stopped it on the cross.  It goes no further.

Unless, of course, we allow it.

“Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal bodies, to make you obey its passions” (Romans 6:12).

Yes, yes, we know we’re weak and frail, being “mortal” as the writer Paul says.  But even our mortality, our weakness, has been made stronger than sin.  Even our mortality doesn’t have to obey the passions of sin, for the cross breaks its power.  So it is up to us: are we going to allow evil to reign in our lives?  It doesn’t have to, you know.  Unless, of course, you want it to.

We have a choice to make today.  Either we allow our self to be ruled by death and all his friends, or we allow ourselves to be God’s.  The next verse says,

“Present yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life” (Romans 6:13).

Give yourself to wickedness or give yourself to God.  The power is yours to choose.

Nothing is standing in your way.  God has made a way and the path is clear.  You’re going to have to allow yourself to be free.  As you writhe in the emotional pain of your life–the deep and real pain–there is an exit in view.  You must allow yourself to see it, to go for it, to be released.  You must allow yourself to be God’s, to be loved, to be his beloved.  You must allow yourself to be empowered, healed, beautified, and ravished with unconditional love.  You must allow yourself to refuse to hear the lies, to halt the feelings of rejection, to step off of the platform of inferiority.  You must allow God to pull you out of the pit, clean you up, and turn you into his precious bride, his courageous man.

There is nothing in heaven or on earth stopping you.

© Samuel Kee, 2012