I once planted pumpkins that flowered like crazy. I was excited because I thought that I’d be able to supply my whole neighborhood with pumpkins since I had so many blossoms. But it was as if the plant gave all its energy to the blossom and had none left for the fruit. I didn’t get a single pumpkin. When trying to figure out why that happened, I learned that even though I couldn’t see it, the roots of my plants were so poor that they could sustain the pretty, decorative blossoms, but couldn’t support the hearty pumpkins.

That’s the picture from Isaiah 17:

“…you have turned from the God who can save you. You have forgotten the Rock who can hide you. So you may plant the finest grapevines and import the most expensive seedlings. They may sprout on the day you set them out; yes, they may blossom on the very morning you plant them, but you will never pick any grapes from them. Your only harvest will be a load of grief and unrelieved pain.”  Isaiah 17:10-11 NLT

Looking at this passage, I’m reminded again of what a great cost there is in forgetting God. Isaiah 17 and 18 give a strong message of judgment to Damascus, Israel, and Ethiopia. And verses 10-11 in chapter 17 sum up the reason why they are being judged. They have turned from the only one who can save them. They’ve forgotten the very one who can hide them and keep them safe. Although it may seem they are prospering, it’s all blossom and no fruit.

So, you may think, I don’t forget God! That was my first thought, too, as I read these verses. But as I’ve pondered them more, I’ve realized that I do forget God. I forget him when I snap at my husband, when I see a need that I totally ignore, when I go for days without reading my Bible, when I spend money on things to try to make myself happy, when I imitate the world instead of Christ. I could go on and on. These thoughts have led me to trying something new. When I wake each morning, I ask God to help me remember him in everything I do and say.  I know I will still forget God at times throughout the day, but at least I will be more aware that he is at hand and waiting to give me victory over my godless self.

I recently read through the book of Isaiah, which is what made me ponder the topic of God’s judgment. After the gloom and doom of Isaiah 3, it was a relief to get to the fourth chapter in my reading. Judah, the southern half of the divided kingdom of Israel, had forsaken God. And this didn’t happen just a few years before God pronounced his judgment. For centuries, they had ignored God’s warnings as they copied the nations around them, cycling ever downward as they worshiped idols and sacrificed even their children in an attempt to appease these false gods. Finally, God disciplined them—as we discipline our children when they are out of control morally and spiritually—and allowed them to be overrun by Babylon. Isaiah 3 gives a sober and sad description of that discipline as Judah watched all power, control, and especially their land ripped from them.

That’s why Isaiah 4 is such a breath of fresh air. God, the perfect father, is faithful to give them encouragement even as he passes judgment. After all the sorrow of chapter 3, he gives them a beautiful (and glorious) visual image of the “branch of the Lord,” which Israel would have recognized as a reference to their Messiah, or savior. As Christians we know him as Jesus Christ, and find in John 15 that he refers to himself as the vine by which all branches grow. He is truly beautiful and glorious, and gives us hope no matter how difficult our circumstances. He is the source of all life, and because of that, I can find hope for my present circumstances as well as for my future.

And that’s also the reason I think God’s judgment is good. Until we judge our own sin accurately, we will continue to spiral downward into degradation. And we can never know the joy and relief of having a savior – or truly understand what God’s love is in the first place.

If we look at Mark 15:13-14, it brings home the fact that Jesus’ crucifixion was a result of mob rule. Sure, he was given three different trials with the Jewish Council, Herod, and Pilate, but they were all sham trials. The Jewish chief priests, elders, and scribes were delighted to finally get rid of this troublemaker. Herod only wanted to see Jesus out of curiosity and Pilate just didn’t want any trouble. However, it’s telling that both men and the Jewish Council found him innocent.

The charge was that Jesus was a self-proclaimed king, thus it was a charge of treason. However, Jesus explained to Pilate that his kingdom wasn’t an earthly one, which cleared him of the treason charge. But Pilate had no courage to stand against the mob yelling for Jesus’ crucifixion.

Perhaps I don’t either. I watch as the world vilifies Jesus and I have no courage to speak up for him. Or perhaps I feel it will be hopeless if I do. I, too, bend to mob rule. But the great part of this story is that Jesus gladly died for my sins, and that’s worth telling to anyone who will listen.

But no matter what the circumstances, we know they had it wrong.  They must have known it too, because they didn’t want to tell Jesus what they were arguing about. They were interpreting greatness the way everyone else in their cultural and religious community was interpreting it. We do too.

We admire successful people—those who have lots of followers and gain a lot of attention. Strong leaders fill our hearts with pride and make us enthusiastic to do whatever they say. Yet, Jesus told them that the first will be the servant of all. And the way he demonstrated that was by taking a child in his arms, telling them that how we treat a child is how we are treating him.

This must have been such a blow to the disciples, who had visions of being great leaders in the Messiah’s new kingdom. Instead of talking about their positions of authority, he talked to them about babysitting. It must have shocked them. I know it shocks me.

To think more about this concept of the last being first, read Matthew 19:13–30. I’d write more about this, but I’m going to go babysit…

In Mark 8, Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?”

The disciples’ answers were interesting: “John the Baptist; and others say, Elijah; and others, one of the prophets.” Evidently, most people thought Jesus was a reincarnation of some kind. With answers like those, it sounds as though they were all convinced that God was no longer in the business of doing something new, but was stuck reusing those who were dead.

Jesus, however, was confident that his disciples knew better, so he pressed further: “But who do you say that I am?”

Peter doesn’t miss a beat but makes one of the most important statements in Scripture: “You are the Christ.” But what did that mean to them and what does it mean to us?

If the New Testament had been written in Hebrew rather than in Greek, that statement would have read, “You are the Messiah.” In other words, Peter was declaring that Jesus was the culmination of all those who had come before, including John the Baptist, Elijah, and all the Old Testament prophets. He was so much more than the people thought. He was the one they had all been waiting for—the promised and expected deliverer, the one on whom all of Israel’s history hinged.

Jesus is also the one we have been waiting for. He is our promised one too. With that in mind, I want to embrace him daily as my Christ, my Messiah. That means I follow him, even when it’s difficult. I stand for him, even when no one else does. I love him, even when I don’t understand what he’s doing. And I stick with his Church, even when it’s flawed.

I’ve always been intrigued by Jesus’ parable of the mustard seed in Mark 4:30-32. In that passage he compares the kingdom of God to a mustard seed, which is a tiny seed that grows into a plant so large that birds nest in it. But what is the point of this parable? Why did Jesus tell it?

If you have time, read what comes before and after this passage in Mark 4 (always necessary when interpreting Scripture). Jesus is trying to give people a glimpse of what God’s kingdom is like, and he most often chooses to do that through parables—one of his favorite ways of teaching. Instead of spelling everything out for us, Jesus likes to give us glimpses that make us hungry enough to dig for more, because, after all, the important thing is our craving for God and his kingdom, not how much information we can gather. 

So what is he telling us about God’s kingdom? The obvious answer seems to be that Jesus is explaining that the work he is beginning on earth is going to blossom into something huge. We have the privilege of living 2,000 years later to see that what he started in the small hamlets of Israel has turned into a worldwide movement that will extend into eternity.

But there could be some other interpretations too. Perhaps Jesus was talking about what happens inside the individual who enters God’s kingdom by deciding to follow him. That small, seemingly insignificant act of putting our faith in Jesus eventually grows into full-blown maturity as we spend a lifetime walking with him. As you go through this day, water that small seed that Jesus has planted in your heart and ask him to cultivate it into something vast.  Start by praying: “Lord, I thank you for the mustard seed of God’s kingdom you have planted in me. Make it grow into maturity so that I will honor you and your kingdom in all I do. Amen.”

This passage is an example of how Jesus confounded the religious people of the day, and perhaps he confounds us too. Who was Jesus dining with? Why did it cause such a stir with the Pharisees? And what was the point of Jesus’ answer?

The Old Testament Jewish law had clear guidelines to keep the Jewish people pure. There were many prohibitions because God wanted to create something unique with the nation of Israel. The trouble was that the Pharisees added to that law, interpreting it so tightly that it began to be a burden rather than a protection and delight, which is the way David talks about the law in Psalm 119. David loved God’s law and saw it as liberating rather than restricting.

In contrast, the Pharisees took God’s good law and twisted it to exclude and shun those who were “sinners.” In not recognizing that they, too, were sinners, they could only see the more obvious sins of the tax collectors and their ilk, causing them to completely ignore their own sin and lack of love. Jesus challenged their pride by eating with those they saw as sinful and pointing out that was why he came in the first place.

Application: As Christians, we too often act like Pharisees. We focus on those outside the church, pointing our fingers at their sin and exclaiming how they are ruining our society and way of life. Yet, we fail to see our own sin and repent of it. We fail to admit that Jesus has chosen to dine with the sinners—he has chosen to dine with us. 

“Lord, I have been too quick to point my finger at others and too slow to admit my own sin. Help me to recognize that tendency in my day to day interactions and especially as I am quiet before you. Amen.”

Further inspiration: Read Psalm 119 and consider what it means to truly listen to, understand, and love God’s law.

Invitation to leave comments: What sins do you think today’s Christians are blind to in their own hearts?

(I wrote this for the Narrow Way Devotional that was published on www.Trochia.org. Go there to sign up to receive this online daily.)  

“In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And when he came up out of the water, immediately he saw the heavens being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.’” Mark 1:9–11 ESV

Look carefully at this passage. What most stands out to you? Is it that John was baptizing Jesus? That heaven was torn open? That the Holy Spirit made a visual presentation to Jesus? That a voice came from heaven? That the voice from heaven identified Jesus for who he really was? Or something that I haven’t mentioned?

I find all of the above interesting. Although Jesus was clearly a more important figure than John in God’s kingdom, he humbly submitted to being baptized by him—even though he was sinless and had nothing to repent of. From the passage, it appears that Jesus, not the crowd in general, was the one who saw heaven being torn open, the Spirit descending, and heard the voice, but we don’t know that for sure. However, immediately following this event, Jesus went to the wilderness to be tested for 40 days and then began his public ministry. So, it would make sense that God would have given him this encouragement and declaration of who he was at the beginning of a grueling three-year earthly ministry that would culminate in an excruciating death.

So what’s that mean for us? It means that from the beginning of the book of Mark, we have the privilege of hearing the inside story of this incredible man and God who would not only change history, but our lives as well.

Application: “Lord, we ask that as we walk through this book of the Bible that we will understand clearly who Jesus Christ is, and that our understanding would orient us more to knowing you through your perfect Son. Amen.”

Further inspiration: Listen to the song “Beautiful One” to think more about who Jesus is and why he came.

(This is taken from an online devotional I am writing for called The Narrow Way. If you would like to receive it, you can sign up here: http://buff.ly/11JD7R8)

That’s part of what made Jesus so attractive to me. He was always putting down the people who made rules, and rules always make me feel rebellious. At first, I thought Jesus was totally against rules—kind of a prototype for the 1970s hippies. But as I matured, I realized that he was extremely disciplined. After all, he fasted for 40 days and didn’t strike everyone dead at his crucifixion. That takes an enormous amount of discipline.

So I came to Jesus in a rather carefree way, but soon hit the hard road of discipleship and found it a lot bumpier than I thought at first. I was confused about Jesus saying his yoke is light, when it was certainly the heaviest thing I’d shackled myself to in my young life. I’ve learned since that this was a common saying back then. People “yoked” themselves to a rabbi to become their disciple. In other words, they followed him and accepted his teaching. And Jesus’ yoke is light compared to all those other rabbis.

Okay.

I’ve never had a King James Bible, except a New Testament a Gideon gave me when I was five. I treasured that Bible, even though I was too young to read it, because even at my tender age, I understood that it was a holy book—one that was too hard for me to read, but holy nonetheless.

But when I became a Christian many years later, I heard a pastor preach a sermon from the New King James on Acts 9:5, where Jesus appears to Saul (who later becomes Paul) on the Damascus road, “Then the Lord said, ‘I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. It is hard for you to kick against the goads.’” Other versions leave out the second sentence of this verse, but the New King James leaves it in.

I got curious about what it meant “to kick against the goads,” so I looked it up. Merriam-Webster Dictionary says it’s “something that pains as if by pricking, such as a thorn, or something that urges or stimulates into action, like a spur.” Ouch! No wonder it hurt to kick against it.

It’s a good illustration for me. And I like the way Jesus says it. Here is Saul, violently persecuting the flock that Jesus loves, and he gently says, “It is hard for you…” If I were Jesus, I’d be furious! I’d want to strike Saul down for what he was doing. But instead, he says, “It’s hard for you.” That’s why Jesus’ yoke is light.

I heard that sermon probably 30 years ago now, but it stuck with me. Actually, I’ve completely forgotten the sermon, but I remember the kicking-the-goads part because it sounded way too familiar. Every time I feel rebellious toward something God wants me to do, that’s the way I feel—like I’m kicking against thorns. I feel wretched and sore all over—not physically, but spiritually. So, instead of focusing on how hard it is to obey him, I’m learning to focus on how easy it is to love him.

My husband and I have had a long history of full-time Christian service. We met through a campus missionary organization and independently joined the staff of that group. A year later, we both recognized that not only was our calling similar, but our attraction to each other was too! And so began an adventure of listening to God together.

When my husband felt that God was calling him to seminary, however, I balked. It meant another move and certain poverty for three years, so I was less than excited. But as we prayed about it for almost a year after he first mentioned it, I became as enthusiastic as he was. And although I couldn’t take classes because someone had to care for our two little ones and earn some money, I felt that the call to seminary was a joint calling—mine as much as his. To this day, we refer to that time as, “When we were in seminary. . .”

Following seminary, we took on a church plant. Again, I say “we.” For although my husband was the pastor who got the paycheck, I contributed as much emotional energy—and close to as much physical energy—to establish this church, which is now healthy and thriving.

Nice story, right? Good, happy ending. Uh, not quite—because it isn’t the end.

Fast forward 27 years to the present. About two years ago, my husband felt the same kind of pull that he’d felt when God called him to seminary. Through numerous trips overseas, he began to feel compelled to help the pastors he met there. He realized that his pastoral training and experience were abundant beyond imagination to pastors in poorer parts of the world who were lucky to own a Bible. So he wanted to go with a missionary organization that trains pastors internationally. This time, it took me no time to jump on the bandwagon. This ministry seemed a perfect fit for his abilities and passions, and although he had to raise support, I could provide much needed stability until the funds were raised because I had a good, secure job. So, we saved money like crazy and he resigned as pastor of the church and joined the missionary organization.

All was going as planned until I suddenly lost my position when he had only 35 percent of his funds raised. We went from two paychecks to none since he couldn’t start drawing a paycheck until he had 50 percent of it raised.

My first reaction was not panic, but sorrow (the panic came later). I loved my job and felt it to be more than a job, but a calling. It was exactly suited to my abilities and was not just a paycheck but a ministry. I was immediately offered another job to take the place of the one I’d lost, but I felt no peace or passion as I prayed about it—and I turned it down, which showed me how strongly I feel about calling. I had experienced what it meant to be called and didn’t want to just go through the motions of obtaining employment merely for the paycheck.

The whole experience has been clarifying for me. I realized that even the job I was in had become routine. After almost 10 years, I had it down and was pretty much going through the motions. I hadn’t taken the time to ask God if he still wanted me to be doing it, but continued to plug along—unlike my husband who left his secure position to strike out in obedience.

So, I am now in a rather good place. I am open to anything God wants me to do and excited to find out what it is. And I’ve learned a few things through the whole experience about calling and what it means.

Take Time to Listen

I love that my husband has had the courage to leave the secure and known for the insecure and the unknown. The only way he could do that is by lots of prayerful time before God. He was in the same pastorate for 27 years, so periodically, he would take time to pray that God would show him if he was to stay or pursue something else. Always, the call to stay came back loud and clear—until a couple of years ago. Then the pull began to be in a different direction. It sounded like craziness for someone his age, but because he’d been faithful to obey in the past, he knew God’s voice in the present.

I am now in the same place for a different reason. I’ve lost my position, so I need to take time to listen to God. This certainly didn’t take God by surprise, and he knows exactly what he wants me to be doing that best fits with how he made me. Rather than jumping at the first secure position, I’m taking time to listen to what he wants me to do next. And I’m beginning to recognize ways that he was nudging me even before I lost my job.

Be Radical but Not Foolish

My husband and I are both very aware that there is a fine line between radical obedience and foolishness. We’ve counseled people in the past who said they felt callings that turned out to be just wishful thinking. One particular person felt “called” to an international speaking ministry. They wanted to quit their job and pursue it full-time. We knew this person’s unstable history and advised against it. The “calling” was merely a desire for affirmation that they hoped would come when thousands of people hung on their every word. We suggested that the person keep their job and begin speaking to smaller venues to see if God was in this calling or if their own needs were driving it. Fortunately, this person listened. Even the smaller speaking opportunities didn’t work out. But this person has found another ministry that is meeting many needs in their local church, while still keeping their day job.

How is that different than my husband’s calling to quit his job? Quite different in that his motivation was to help others and not primarily to meet his own needs. And he shared his ideas with many, many people before he resigned his position as pastor. Everyone he talked to immediately said that it sounded exactly suited to his passions and abilities. Not a single person thought it was a bad idea. Even his security-loving parents assured him that it sounded like a perfect fit.

And what about me turning down a full-time position when neither of us have an income? I agree that on the face of it, it sounds foolish. But I, too, talked to many people about it and got the same affirmation. Plus, we had some safeguards in place. We had saved enough money to get by for awhile in case we needed it in this transition. And I have a pretty healthy freelance writing career that brings in some income. That gave us enough of a cushion to have the luxury of taking time to truly listen to God and follow his leading.

So, if you are thinking of doing something radical, slow down and take some time to ponder it over. If you tend toward impulsive things, step back. God is not in a hurry.

Affirm the Calling

If, however, you are not impulsive but the slow and steady type, this challenge is for you. Have you taken the time to make sure you are doing what you are really supposed to be doing, or are you just going through the motions because it is the secure, safe thing to do?

If you love what you are doing, find great fulfillment in it, and are using your gifts, you are most likely exactly where you should be. Rejoice in that and renew the calling you first had.

But if you are feeling a bit restless and have lost your passion, perhaps God is trying to get your attention to lead you in another direction. Take time to listen. If he begins to nudge you in those times of listening, begin testing the idea. Present it to those who love you and know you best to get their opinions. If wise people affirm you, begin to find out what your options are. And even if it’s scary, take the first step in obedience. Because being where you are called to be is the most secure place in the universe.