What’s in a Thought?

Read Matthew 26:21-28, and you’ll notice an experience that makes discipleship hard. Jesus put an idea into his followers’ minds: “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me” (Mt. 26:21b, NIV). They each questioned whether they were personally guilty of this transgression. Jesus didn’t answer them directly. He only explained that the betrayer was one who ate with him, and they were all eating at that moment. He left them uncertain. Self-doubt can make discipleship difficult, but indecision about yourself is important.

Notice that Jesus himself put the doubt into their minds. He planted the thought which disturbed the already troubled people at the meal. Why would Jesus mess with their minds at such a crucial time? To prepare and equip them for what was coming. Such training by self-doubt makes discipleship hard. Indecision about yourself leads to growth.

Does your mind become a jumbled mess sometimes? Mine does. I fill it with too much. Appointments, details of church activities, sermon preparation, blogging, family concerns, ideas I want to write about or thoughts I’m working on. When I was going to a study conference once, my mother said to me, “Someday your head is going to bust!”

As you allow legitimate ideas to enter your mind, things you ought to think about, it isn’t long before somebody asks you to consider a new thing. You’re thoughts are influenced subtly by the media. Advertising is carefully aimed at you so that in the back of your mind you’re influenced to buy a particular product the next time you need a fast-acting pain reliever or a tasty soup or an entertaining song. What you read, see on a billboard, hear on the car radio becomes part of the content of your mind. Your subconscious thinks about it more than you realize.

In The Practice of Godliness, Jerry Bridges wrote, “Our minds are mental greenhouses where unlawful thoughts, once planted, are nurtured and watered before being transplanted into the real world of unlawful actions.”

Few crimes are committed without the criminal considering whether he might get away with it. Even crimes of passion have some basis in prior thought, vague imaginings or wishful ideas. As thoughts filter into you from the outside world, you pick up all sorts of good and bad notions. This is why careful analysis of what you read in a magazine or watch on your television is critical. Expose yourself too frequently to wrong notions, and you’ll eventually act on them. Witness the child pornographer or the adulterer, the thief or tax evader. Each has been shown in courts of law to have started their bad behavior with exposure to some media that shows or discusses the wrong activity in a tantalizing light. Fill you head with too much misbehavior, and you’ll misbehave.

Jesus spoke to Peter, who was urging him not to think of dying: “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns” (Mt. 16:23, NIV). In a sense, Peter was betraying Jesus as Judas later would, and as any disciple can. Doubt yourself, and grow in self-awareness.

What’s in a thought? The germ of a deed. Sooner or later you’ll act on a bad idea to which you become insensitive. You may begin by thinking lies are evil, yet train yourself to consider some lies to be permissible, and where will your deceptions stop? The reverse is true also. Flood your mind with wholesome and valuable and praiseworthy ideas, and you’ll work hard to produce the same kind of behavior. Yet this makes discipleship difficult.

What you put into your brain sooner or later leaks back out! A good disciple is very careful about this.

 

Purity

Arthur W. Pink wrote about purity: “Genuine Christianity lays aside not only malice, but guile and hypocrisy. It is not enough to be pure in words and in outward deportment; purity of desires, motives, intents, are what should, and do in the main, characterize the child of God. Here then is a most important test for every professing Christian to apply to himself: Are my affections set on things above? Are my motives pure?”

 

Andrew, Peter’s Brother

As soon as they left the synagogue, they went with James and John to the home of Simon and Andrew (Mk. 1:29, NIV).

Andrew was an overlooked disciple of Jesus. He was often simply identified as Peter’s brother. This makes me wonder if there was any sibling rivalry between them. The scriptures don’t say the brothers were ever at odds, so apparently no rivalry existed. But what does the Bible tell us about Andrew?

He was first a student of John the Baptist. John was with two disciples as Jesus walked by, and he identified him as the Lamb of God. So the two followed him to find out where he stayed. The gospel writer reported, “Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, was one of the two who heard what John had said and who had followed Jesus. The first thing Andrew did was to find his brother Simon and tell him, ‘We have found the Messiah’ (that is, the Christ). And he brought him to Jesus” (Jn. 1:40-42a, NIV). Andrew became a disciple of Jesus almost automatically, recognizing him as the Messiah, and his first action was to introduce his brother to Jesus. The brothers seem to have been close in their affections for one another. Plus, after spending one afternoon in Christ’s home, Andrew ceased learning from John the Baptist and switched allegiances to Jesus. He was quietly convinced that Jesus was the Messiah, something his brother didn’t confess until much later in Christ’s ministry (see Mt. 16:13-20).

When Jesus made Andrew’s discipleship official (by calling him, Peter, James and John on the shore of Lake Galilee, cp. Mt. 4:19-20), Andrew responded swiftly. He did not hesitate, just as he did not wait to tell Peter what he believed about Jesus. When another of the disciples, Philip, raised doubt about feeding a large group of people, Andrew quickly spoke up with a half-idea about what to do. He said, “Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?” (Jn. 6:9) Jesus took his suggestion—along with Andrew’s partial belief in his ability—and miraculously fed 5,000-plus people. Andrew showed himself over and over to be willing to believe that Jesus was the Christ and had power to do what people needed. He also showed himself as ready to take action in whatever way he could in order to serve Jesus and others.

Andrew was not a prominent disciple, like his brother, but he was always willing and prepared to act. Without Andrew, Peter might not have met the Lord. Without Andrew, Jesus might have had to demonstrate his ability to help humanity in a different way from feeding the multitude. Andrew’s presence and readiness meant that much positive good happened during Jesus’ time on earth.

What about you and me? Do you think we could be a little more prepared to do whatever good we can to serve Jesus Christ in the present day? We might never become prominent, but we could be very useful to the Lord.

 

Thoughtfulness, A Christian Calling

Taking thought for people around you would seem to be a virtue Christians are quick to practice. In scripture, we’re commanded, “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Mt. 22:39, NIV). It’s repeated in Leviticus, the Synoptic Gospels, Paul’s letters, and James. We have adequate testimony that God wants us to love others, yet Christians pass by one another regularly without a thought.

A busy pastor only half-hears a church member who tells about a personal crisis; he’s thinking about an important meeting tomorrow evening. A deacon asks for a minute to explain what the board of deacons wishes to do, but it takes twenty minutes. The minister’s mind wanders off to a scheduled event he doesn’t want to attend.

Pastors aren’t the only Christians who fail to be thoughtful and considerate toward others. The member who always seeks attention accosts a weary elder who dismisses what she says by answering, “We’ll look into it,” although he has no intention of investigating her concerns. The Sunday school teacher, with thoughts about her cousin’s illness weighing on her heart, gives scant attention to Amy Brown, a student with learning disabilities who’s excited about a little accomplishment. Thoughtlessness happens all the time in church.

Why not? We’re humans, too, and people (whether Christ’s followers or not) are prone to believe that what they’re thinking at the moment trumps whatever another person contemplates. Listen to the spin Ralph Waldo Emerson put on the matter: “To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men—that is genius.” Apparently, he felt people rose to a good height by considering their own ideas superior to others’ proposals. Thoughtfulness toward others is not a spontaneous human reaction. We have to choose it.

With the advent of Facebook, Twitter, and blogging—indeed, the internet itself—the private thoughts, plans, dreams, wishes, and idiosyncrasies of individuals has risen to a new level of importance. We have greater opportunities to be heard, but also to consider our ideas as better than other people’s thoughts. Pride and arrogance have new venues for expression, and we see it regularly in what people post on blogs or tweet about. We seem to believe others care about our self-expressions, that they want to read our jottings, share our thoughts. Yet much of what is written shows a reckless disregard for neighbors and friends alike, thoughtlessness.

Christians can raise the level of thoughtfulness for the feelings and dreams of others nearby, just as their labor at food banks and soup kitchens shows compassion for the needy. We can join our voices with the unselfish voices of non-Christians when they speak with compassion for others. We can, at the very least, think about the folks who walk beside us or around us on the streets of this planet. Thoughtfulness, sympathy, attention to detail, kindheartedness, and like attitudes ought to characterize our discussions, our Bible studies, our prayers and meditations that are published on the web and elsewhere. Thoughtfulness is a Christian calling.

 

Nature

Oswald Chambers spoke about nature: “Look at the world through either a microscope or a telescope and you will be dwarfed into terror by the infinitely minute or the infinitely great; both are appalling. When you touch the cosmic force, apart from the blinkers of intellect, there is a wild problem in it. Nature is wild, not tame. No man is capable of solving the riddle of the universe because the universe is mad, and the only thing that will put it right is not man’s reason, but the sagacity of God which is manifested in the Redemption of Jesus Christ.

 

A Christian’s Influence

John F. MacArthur, Jr. has written about a Christian’s influence: “If you are a godly, obedient Christian, you will have an almost startling effect on most people. They will feel the light, and some may even shy away from it because it is so obvious that you possess something they don’t possess. Others will be attracted to it because they have a yearning to be something better than what they are. Their fate is inextricably intertwined with how we live our lives.”

 

Beyond Human Expectations

The king asked, “Is there no one still alive from the house of Saul to whom I can show God’s kindness?”

Ziba answered the king, “There is still a son of Jonathan; he is lame in both feet.”

2 Samuel 9:3 (NIV)

 

King David’s throne had been made secure after the deaths of Saul and Jonathan, and he wanted to do an extraordinary thing. He wanted to show kindness toward his former opponent’s family. It was expected that he would slaughter those who might be rivals for the rule of the nation. Such was the way of ancient kings in the Middle East. But David wanted to show God’s sort of kindness in this situation.

When Ziba told him of Jonathan’s son, Mephibosheth, who was therefore King Saul’s grandson, David decided to restore the grandfather’s property to him, including the peasants who would work the land. He also made Mephibosheth a “friend of the king,” which meant he would be treated as an honored courtier in David’s household and even take his meals at the king’s table. This was done, despite the fact that he was lame in both feet because of a fall while he was fleeing from a Philistine attack when he was five years old. David received double credit for kindness because he helped his enemy’s descendent and because he was generous to someone who was impaired.

Although David later stripped half of his grandfather’s property away from Mephibosheth, he is not faulted for unkindness, because he was duped by the same Ziba who introduced him to Jonathan’s surviving son. Still later, when Saul’s sons were slaughtered to offer an olive branch to the Gibeonites, David kept Mephibosheth safe. David was a harsh warrior, but he was also capable of great kindness and loyalty.

As I think about the nature of kind behavior, I see that it is possible for a person who is cruel in some circumstances to be kind in different ones. In other words, kindness and cruelty have contexts; they can be practiced in measurements that are required by the people, places, and politics involved. Desperate times demand desperate procedures. Or do they? Isn’t it self-justifying to say that this circumstance allows me to be cruel or rude or nasty? Why can’t I be kind in a situation that others would use to justify ruthless or spiteful actions?

To do unto others as you would have them do unto you—Jesus Christ’s measurement of human action—demands kindness from me even when others would counsel a sterner conduct. Although a particular context may allow cruel behavior, it doesn’t rule out kindness, sympathy, and gentleness. What would happen if I chose not to retaliate evil with evil? Why can’t I press kindness beyond the limits of human expectation?

 

Closures

People speak of needing closure, usually in relation to death, such as many in the community near our cottage when a police officer died on duty recently. But I find that closures come all the time. It seems like a couple weeks ago we opened our cottage for the summer, hooking up the water, gas, electric, and internet. Now, today and tomorrow, my wife and I are boxing up staple foods we haven’t eaten, putting away lawn furniture and tools, fixing a sagging window frame, and turning off the utilities. We’re closing the cottage. Yet it seems we only just opened it, although it’s been seven months! Closures come all the time in life. 

I look back and remember the worship services at the campground, the fellowship times with other cottagers, workdays, picnics or dinners out, and times for simply relaxing or swimming. I’ve gotten a lot of writing done during the summer season, and my website is up and running, along with this blog. My wife and I enjoyed the way our new dog, Finnegan, enjoyed the campground, especially his runs with Radley, a neighboring boxer who became his “brother” this summer. 

I look ahead to the winter months. We don’t plan to travel, and we’re going to settle into a quiet routine of church work and worship, household tasks we allowed to languish during the summer, and hopefully, to being isolated by snowstorms. (This is one of the reasons I love winter in Pennsylvania, getting heavy snow and not being able to get out for days! It’s like a vacation!) I intend to do a lot of writing before Thanksgiving and after Christmas, and the holidays are always happy occasions around our home. And for me, the dead of winter is always alive with indoor activities, even if they’re more the activities of the mind than of the body. 

Transitions—closures—are part of life. They’re an excellent time to look back and assess what you’ve gained and lost, to build memories that the bustle of activity kept you from making. Memories are largely evaluations we make of things we’ve done. Closures are when we appraise where we’ve been and where we’re going. When death is the reason, it’s of major importance that we pause to reflect on who and what was lost, but it’s equally important to recognize who and what was gained. When closures are needed because of simple evolutions from one phase of life to another, these twin evaluations are just as necessary. Whether it’s closing a cottage, starting a job, buying a home, having children, whatever the transition, you have to take stock of the pluses and minuses. Then you can enjoy where you’re headed. 

Closures are part of living, a indispensable part.

 

How to Be a Trustworthy Christian

If you’re like most Christians I know, you want to be known as a trustworthy believer. You want people to say, “She’s as steady as a rock.” Or, “He’s stanch in his faith, reliable in how he supports those around him.” You want to be a responsible disciple. But you’re insecure about it. How well do you practice Christlike behavior? You feel as if you don’t always measure up, as if you’re a cheat about your Christianity, a hypocrite sometimes. Is your practice of the faith a falsehood?

I read something by Philip Graham Ryken that made me think for a while. “What we say may be true, as far as it goes,” he said in Written in Stone, “but we leave out the details that might put us at a disadvantage. Or we say something that is technically true, yet nevertheless intended to deceive.”

Deception and self-deception are common ailments among human beings, don’t you think? Even Jesus wasn’t immune to the charge of lying. In John 7:12 (NIV), we read of people’s divided opinions about him:

Among the crowds there was widespread whispering about him. Some said, “He is a good man.”

Others replied, “No, he deceives the people.”

We not only suspect people of being deceptive, we expect them to tell lies or half-truths which can be turned to their advantage. Without noticing, we enter into the same behavior.

Haven’t you explained your absence from church with a vague comment about being out of town, without admitting that you were in a neighboring city at a professional sports event or a rock concert? “White lies” are often as acceptable among Christ’s folks as they are among the heathen! But should they be spoken at all? Is a mild prevarication a way of allowing your light to shine so that an audience will see your heavenly Father?

One issue behind deception is your dependability. Are you a steadfast Christian? Can the church, can God’s Son, rely on your loyalty and soundness? Lies undercut your credibility. Dishonesty with words leads to trickery through deeds. Deception, whether a deliberate falsehood spoken to someone else or a private pretense aimed at lying to yourself, sooner or later worms itself to the surface. Your sham will be noticed. Your guile will be unmasked, especially when you try to keep the details from demonstrating your shortcoming.

What can be done to guard yourself against deception’s fraud? Labor to become sincere in everything. Practice openness and frankness. Be truthful with yourself first, then come clean with everybody else. Isn’t this part of the second great commandment, to love others as you love yourself?

One of Job’s friends counseled him about being an honest man. “Let him not deceive himself by trusting what is worthless,” Eliphaz said about a wise person, “for he will get nothing in return” (Job 15:31, NIV). Deceiving yourself about anything is an empty practice. No prize awaits at the finish line, only the embarrassment of having stumbled.

So how can you avoid deceiving yourself and others? James offered helpful advice: “Those who consider themselves religious and yet do not keep a tight rein on their tongues deceive themselves, and their religion is worthless. Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world” (James 1:26-27, NIV).

Sincerity and honesty develop when you’re careful with your words. Think before you speak or act. Self-deception starts on the inside, but it’s soon on the tip of your tongue in a boast or a half-truth or a believable lie. Avoid this trap by thinking about how you can help other people. See the distress in their lives, and ask how you might do a useful, compassionate deed. Soon, you’ll not look for excuses to explain why you didn’t notice the need. Instead, you’ll forsake your self-image in order to improve the cruel world you found, the world as it should not have been.

To avoid deception, look inside yourself for the love of Jesus Christ that prompts you to forget who you are and to serve others. Before you know it, dishonesty will be unattractive to you, and people will know they can count on you as they could count on your Lord.

 

Finding Life’s Value

I denied myself nothing my eyes desired;

   I refused my heart no pleasure.

My heart took delight in all my labor,

   and this was the reward for all my toil.

Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done

   and what I had toiled to achieve,

everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind;

   nothing was gained under the sun.

                                                                 Ecclesiastes 2:10-11 (NIV) 

The author of Ecclesiastes has always been a friend to me. We think alike sometimes, and I get decent advice when I read what he wrote. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t strive to be dour and sour. I enjoy life much too much for a continual dose of pessimism. But Ecclesiastes is not a pessimist, as many Christians think. He’s a realist, and this is my connection with him.

We all need a friend who will do whatever it takes to get our attention and knock some sense into us. Someone needs to call us to faithful living in the real world. Otherwise, we become inordinate optimists. Our successes carry us into flights over Neverland. We dream of ultimate triumph in the face of all odds, or we think we can conquer and achieve whatever we set our mind to do. Ecclesiastes bursts my bubble again and again, and that’s healthy.

He tried an experiment. He denied himself no pleasure. Whatever he thought of doing, he did. He built houses. He planted vineyards. He set out gardens with wonderful irrigation and made a pleasant oasis for himself. He acquired slaves, herds, and wealth. He denied himself nothing and came away empty. The delightful acquisitions of life, the freedom from labor, the property and people he controlled—all came to mean nothing. He was chasing after wind! For all his building, nothing was gained.

This isn’t the moaning of a fatalist. Nor is it a surrender to the inevitable lot of the human race. It’s a recognition of the place of wealth and power in human behavior. Run after these worldly goods and goals, and you’ll achieve what you set out to do. But you won’t be happy, satisfied, or fulfilled. A missing piece will be gone from the puzzle table. Your life’s picture won’t be complete.

This is the basis of my friendship with Ecclesiastes. He returns me to sober remembrance. He teaches me to see the deceitfulness of wealth and position. He reminds me of what I should do most earnestly in my life.

A person can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in their own toil. This too, I see, is from the hand of God, for without him, who can eat or find enjoyment? (Eccl. 2:24-25, NIV).

Ecclesiastes reminds me to find life’s value in God, not the pleasures and the profits of this world, or even in my own achievements.