XP3: Playing the God Card - Devotional

Playing the God Card [Devotional]

by Sarah Anderson

I don’t know about you, but there are times when I read through the Gospels and think, “If I had lived then, if I had been around and seen what Jesus was able to do, hear Him teach and watch Him perform miracles, I would have had so much faith. There would be no question that I would follow Him.” Reading through the Gospels 2,000 years after the fact, I start to feel kind of confident—and I start to think that the people who were around Jesus and didn’t recognize Him for who He was were ignorant, or maybe just plain dumb. Because it seems so obvious to me that Jesus was exactly who He said He was—the Savior, the Messiah, the Redeemer.

It is easy to have this perspective when we know the full story and how it unfolds. We know what Jesus was getting at—we know there was a cross in His future, and we know there was a resurrection coming three days later. But not everyone understood.

The Pharisees are maybe the most ganged-up-on group of people in all of Scripture. They make a good victim and they are easy to dislike. They were, in a word, clueless. We tend to think of them as stupid. But that wasn’t it at all. They had years of training and schooling and education that got them to where they were. They had the entire Bible memorized and thought about the law day and night. They were seen by everyone else as having a connection with God that normal people didn’t have. So their problem wasn’t their lack of intelligence. Their problem was their perception of reality.

See, the Pharisees wanted a Savior, a Messiah and a Redeemer as badly as anyone else did at the time. They wanted God to show up and do something so amazing and so incredible that the entire world would be changed because of it.  But what the Gospels show us about this group of people is that they wanted something so badly from a God they believed they followed wholeheartedly—a God who had become an image they had perfected in their own mind—that they missed the reality of the God who actually did show up. What they wanted was a God who fit in their box, and what they got was a God who would have nothing to do with their box.

The Pharisees played the God card. And they did it by playing God—by trying to be Him. They may not have called it that, but their actions proved otherwise. They tried to outsmart Him, outmaneuver Him, and they did it not by doing something, but by neglecting something. By forgetting to go after Him, to search for Him, to discover who He really was, they instead decided to make Him out to be who they wanted Him to be. And it turned out that the people who should have had the best and most accurate perception of God were the ones who misunderstood Him more than anyone else.

In the same way, you and I get in trouble when we play the God card—which can actually look a lot like playing God by pretending to be like Him. And what makes this such a dangerous place to be is that very rarely do we realize we are doing it. Our intentions aren’t bad. Our motives aren’t wrong. Our hope is simply misplaced. We have just slipped from the bigger plans of God to our own more self-absorbed plans and hoped that God was on board with us.

So what do we do to keep from trying to “be” God—from playing the God card and actually playing God? Let’s take a cue from Scripture. In the book of Psalms, King David, who wrote most of the book, asks one question over and over: “Who is God?” (Psalm 18:31 NIV), “Who is he, this King of Glory?” (Psalm 24:10 NIV), and maybe even the most humbling, “Who is like you, O Lord?” (Psalm 35:10 NIV).

I don’t know about you, but these aren’t questions I find myself asking very often. But I think that if we got in the habit of asking, “Who is God? Who is like Him?,” we would be more likely to answer, “We are not Him. We are not like Him. He alone has the power to do as He pleases. And any time I speak on His behalf, I better be careful that I speak as He would speak. That I love as He would love. That I would be still before Him and know He is God and I am not.” Because I think if we start asking the right questions, our lives just might start reflecting the right answers. And the answer is to let God be God and quit trying to take His place.

Psalm 100:3 says: Know that the Lord is God. It is he who made us and we are his; we are his people, the sheep of his pasture (NIV). Maybe this is a scary thing to admit. We aren’t God, and we have to be careful that we aren't making Him out to be something He's not when we attach His name and His claim to something. But instead of being something that incites fear in you, what if you found some comfort in that statement instead? Know that the Lord is God. You aren’t. And that is okay. In fact, that may be the best thing in the world you could say—a confession and understanding that could do more for your relationship with God than anything else. So quit playing the God card. Quit playing God. Instead, start here: Be still. Know He is God and you are not. And that is just as it should be.

© 2010 Orange. Used with permission. All rights reserved.

XP3: Not That Into You - Session 3 Devotional

THE HEART OF THE MATTER

By Sarah Anderson


(Read Luke 18:18-23. Yeah, we really want you to read it!)

Sometimes when I read through the Gospels and listen in on the conversations Jesus had with people, He doesn’t seem like the best conversationalist. He had a tendency to avoid the question being asked and instead brings up something that seems . . . different. He had the ability to catch people off guard, to see, really see the heart of what was going on and start addressing that, and not necessarily the words that a person managed to vocalize.

In one story, a wealthy ruler searches Jesus out to ask him a question—a pretty important question too. “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Luke 18:18 NIV). I can imagine that the ruler, the disciples and everyone gathered close enough to listen in on the conversation leaned in a little closer in hope of catching what Jesus had to say.

“Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone (Luke 18:19 NIV). Jesus said this because He wanted to help people start connecting the dots between Him and God. Then Jesus says: “You know the commandments: ‘Do not commit adultery, do not murder, do not steal, do not give false testimony, honor your father and mother’’” (Luke 18:20 NIV).

The ruler responded: “All these I have kept since I was a boy” (Luke 18:21 NIV).

Jesus knew what this guy was really getting at—after all, He was the Son of God. Jesus knew that this pointed question was one the rich ruler thought he already knew the answer to. He thought this whole eternal life deal had a lot to do with keeping the commandments, something he wasn’t ashamed to admit he was pretty good at—really good at. So good that he had the courage to tell the Son of God he had kept every single commandment since he was young. It was almost like he was expecting a gold star, a pat on the backside, a high five for all his effort—maybe even an extra special spot in heaven because of his obedience.

But Jesus doesn’t give him a star. He basically says, “You’ve kept all of the commandments? Then there is only one thing left for you to do to ensure eternal life. Go, sell everything you have and give it to the poor.” (See Luke 18:22.) You can probably imagine how the rich ruler reacted to that. Maybe he mentally started going through the law seeing if he missed something about selling all your possessions. Or maybe he started to think of an excuse, a quick way out of the conversation. All the Bible says is when the man heard what Jesus was asking of him in order to get the eternal life he longed for, he became very sad (Luke 18:23).

We don’t ever hear about what happens with the rich ruler after this. Maybe he walked away angry. Maybe he was embarrassed. Maybe he was convicted. But whatever happens, Jesus doesn’t talk him into anything—He doesn’t guilt him into making a life-altering decision. He doesn’t condemn him in front of everyone hanging around. He doesn’t even plead with him to reconsider the life he was leading. Jesus lets the rich man go. He leaves the ball in his court, and allows him to be the one to ultimately make the decision about what will define his life.

It was a sobering reality check. Here was a man, who had done things right, followed the right rules, attended the right services, observed the important holidays and observances but somehow still fell short of the one thing he was looking for. Life. He wanted eternal life. And he thought all he had managed to accomplish and acquire was enough to get exactly what he wanted. But it wasn’t. And he didn’t even know it until Jesus Himself spelled it out.

I don’t think the moral of this encounter is that selling all you have is the key to eternal life. I don’t think tucked in the book of Luke is the real key to a relationship with Jesus—poverty. Not that holding loosely to our stuff is a bad thing. But I think the point being made here has more to do with holding loosely to ourselves. I think the point is that even when we are doing all the right things, we can still miss Jesus—because we are so bent on us, so focused on what we have to offer, what we have accomplished, that we miss the point of it all. And Jesus is the point. Nothing we own, nothing we have done, nothing we will do outweighs the importance of Jesus.

A lot of us would look at what the rich ruler was about on the outside and think that he had it together, that his example was worth following. But at the end of the day, the rich ruler was really about nothing more than himself and that was enough to stand in the way between him and the life he needed—the life Jesus wanted to give him.
All of us, at some point or another, are going to have the kind of encounter with Jesus that the rich ruler had. Sooner or later we are going to have to decide whether we are going to “sell our stuff”—whether we’ll let go of ourselves for the sake of life, for the sake of seeing Jesus. It might not look the same for everyone. It may not have anything to do with your possessions. But eventually you have to make a call. Is what I am living for, is what I am living about, me? Or is it about Jesus? Have I built my life to glorify myself, or to point towards the One who got me where I am? Life is on the line. Not just eternal life, and not just physical life—but significance in life, purpose in life, direction in life. Where are we headed? Are we walking away from an encounter with Jesus, sad, because we can’t get over ourselves, or are we looking Him straight in the face and saying, “Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. It isn’t about me. It’s about You. Make me about You.”

© 2009 The reThink Group, Inc. All rights reserved.

The XP: Not that into you

Hi guys! I really enjoyed the XP last night and hope that you did too. I wanted to follow up with you to see if you had any questions or comments. Just a note... when you comment on these, you have the option to do so anonymously, in case you want to ask something but don't want everyone to know it was you.

Did you enjoy the panel? Was it helpful to know that you're not the only ones who struggle with feeling "not that into" God?

The time in my life when I can look back now and really see myself in that state was my sophomore year in college. In high school, I was very involved in church... Being the only senior high student in our youth group, I really took hold of the leader role, so I always felt the need to be a good example. Even during my freshman year at Clemson University, all my Christian friends were there, so it was easy to keep up my spiritual habits and stay "close to God."

But my sophomore year, I transferred to Troy (State) University. I tried out a couple churches there, but my home church was really awesome, and I couldn't find one that compared to it... So I just didn't go to church. I still tried to do the right things, and I still prayed and (sometimes) read my Bible, but my spiritual life was flat. I was still a Christian, but I wasn't actively growing my relationship with God.

That lasted for about 4 years, until Matt invited me to come to Mulder. I was instantly reminded of my home church and have been an active member ever since. I know looking back that I used the "no good churches around" thing as an excuse, and even without a church, I wish I had spent all those years at least reading my Bible more and spending more time in serious prayer. But when I started getting active at Mulder, it felt like I was right back where I left off as a youth. I'm sure God would have liked it more if I had stayed in a church and all during that time, but He doesn't focus on the past... Isn't that wonderful news!? Even though I pretty much put God in a corner for so long, as soon as I took Him out, our relationship was going strong again. And I know that during that time, God was fighting for me to turn back to Him. Can you say that about all of your friends?

Just something to think about... Hope you all have a great week! :)

This Week's Challenge

Hello ladies! At last week's Small Group, we decided to challenge ourselves to pray for one another this week, focusing on our fights to have a better relationship with God. I would love for you to share any comments about that. Maybe one or two specific things you prayed for, or how you felt after the prayer was finished.

XP3: Not That Into You - Session 2 Devotional

Should I stay or should I go?
By Sarah Anderson

Many of you have probably heard the story of Jesus feeding the five thousand. Each of the four Gospels tells this story, or versions of this story, when Jesus, on the side of a mountain about ready to teach, decides to feed the mass of hungry people who came to hear Him. It was a big task, one that the disciples weren’t sure they could handle, but with one boy’s lunch sack of fish and bread, Jesus miraculously multiplied the food and fed each empty belly. He even made enough for leftovers. Most of what we know about this story stops here, but following the miracle, the story goes on. Not long afterwards, Jesus and the disciples cross a lake only to find more people waiting for Him on the other side. The crowd had heard what Jesus did with the bread and were thinking this was the kind of guy they could really get on board with. But their motivations and their intentions weren’t fooling Jesus—He knew what was going through their minds. He knew their flaky devotion had more to do with what He could do for them and He called them out on it. So, while still holding their attention, Jesus launches into some pretty heavy teaching—teaching that caught the crowd off guard.

The people who had been waiting on the other side of the lake listened for awhile, but it didn’t take long before they started grumbling and then arguing sharply with each other. The problem was that what Jesus was saying didn’t make a lot of sense. The people were confused, offended, and frankly, probably disappointed in what Jesus was asking of them—so much so that the Bible says many abandoned Him. They turned their backs on Him. In other words, Jesus didn’t live up to the expectations the masses had in mind, so they decided maybe He wasn’t for them after all. And, they left.

Maybe you know the feeling. Maybe you can relate to the masses. Maybe you have heard some cool stuff about this Jesus guy, and experienced some really amazing things through relationship with Him, but then all of the sudden, He asks something of you, or He confuses you, or suddenly starts to seem distant. Maybe your expectations go unmet and before you know it, you are left with a choice to make. Do you stay or do you go?

The crowds left. And I can imagine the scene was a little uncomfortable. Maybe they all left at once, or maybe one by one—as Jesus continued to baffle and bewilder. Regardless of how it happened, by the end of His teaching only twelve remained—the twelve disciples. And after the crowd disbanded, Jesus turned and asked those who lingered, “You do not want to leave too, do you?” (John 6:67 NIV). And in the substantial pause after the weighted question Peter looks at Jesus and answers, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68 NIV).

Peter and the rest of the disciples heard the same message the crowd did. They probably had the same questions and dealt with the same confusion as those who walked away. But Peter vocalizes what the twelve knew and the crowd didn’t. “No one else can do what You do. No one else talks like You talk. No one else offers what You offer—not just bread to eat, but words that satisfy. We may not get You all the time. We may not understand what You want so badly for us to understand, but where else would we go, if not here? Who else would we turn to, if not to You?”

There is going to come a time when we find ourselves in the same place as the disciples did. When this happens and we get before God and confess our confusion and admit our disinterest, He asks us, “You don’t want to leave too, do you?” And this is the point where we need to make a choice—when we need to make a call. Do we really believe that Jesus holds the words of eternal life? Do we really believe it is worth sticking it out—despite our uncertainty, our confusion, our expectations? Do we really believe that this relationship—as difficult as it may be at times—is worth fighting for? And if we do, then we have the chance to say, like Peter, “Lord, to whom shall we go? I haven’t got this all figured out, but I know this. You have the words of eternal life.”
And that is a great place to start. The best place to start. Not with answers, not with clarity, not with complete and total understanding. Just a simple statement that says exactly where you are—with no place else to go, and the confidence and the faith that being with the Jesus is the best place to be.



© 2009 The reThink Group, Inc. All rights reserved.

XP3: Not That Into You - Session 1 Devotional

The Cover Up
By Sarah Anderson

I don't know about you, but there are some things I just don't need to be taught how to do. Some things just come naturally to me - like covering things up. Chances are you know this. We know how to sound good, look good and even act good, when deep down there may be a mess about ready to erupt inside of us. For whatever reason, we aren't always that great at admitting when something is difficult, when things confuse us, when life doesn't make any sense or when God seems far away. Rather than run the risk of being judged or looked down on, we put on a pretty smile and figure it out ourselves.

It's stupid really. Because pretending usually doesn't fool anybody, and it certainly doesn't fool God. There is a story in the book of Mark where we meet a man who got this. Take a look at Mark 9:17-27. In the story, a dad brings his son, who is possessed by an evil spirit, to Jesus. It seems this boy is thrown into convulsions and unable to speak when the spirit takes hold of him. And the boy's dad is feeling hopeless. He simply wants his son to be healed from a childhood marked by his horrible affliction, but no one can figure out what to do to help him - the disciples themselves tried to free the boy with no luck.

The dad is in a tough spot. He is out of options. Out of answers. Out of opportunities. So when his son is brought to Jesus, the father pleads with little expectation of any change, "But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us" (Mark 9:22 NIV). It is an honest request. "If you can do anything, take pity. Help." Here is a guy at the end of his rope. Here is a man who has nowhere else to turn but to a Jewish rabbi who has a group of ragtag followers and the tendency to declare Himself God. At this point he is willing to try anything.

And it seems that Jesus knows this man's situation. He picks up on the subtle condition in the man's request. "If you can" the father asked, and Jesus responds with, "'If you can?' Everything is possible for him who believes" (Mark 9:23 NIV). This is the chance a desperate dad has been waiting for. "Anything is possible?" He wonders. "Even healing? Even freedom from this spirit? Even a chance at a normal life?" But what Jesus is asking for is belief, for faith, for hope in an outcome that has seemed stubbornly illusive and far from a reality. Jesus is asking for trust and after all the disappointment this dad has seen and experienced, he isn't sure he can muster any up.

Mark records this happening, Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!" (Mark 9:24 NIV). This is a man in a desperate situation who knows Jesus can handle his desperate faith. In one swift profession, a father makes clear his craving for healing and for hope, and his utter lack of confidence in both. He knows that all Jesus is asking for is belief, but after all these years of disappointment, he isn't sure he has much to offer.

It isn't often that we live that honestly - not with one another and certainly not with God. If someone asked us if we "believe," if we have faith, if we have hope, many of us would answer with a confident "of course," even if deep down we can't figure out what we think or who we hope in. But this man with the sick son looks into the eyes of Jesus and tells him exactly where he is. "You want me to believe? I want to believe, but I am not sure I do and I am not sure I can." Jesus was not mad, disappointed and certainly not surprised. And do you know what He does? He heals the boy. Not based on the grand amounts of faith a fearful father can muster up, but in spite of his lack of faith, coming on the heels of his honest confession. "I do believe, but I don't believe. And I need more than just a healed son. I need help with the part of me that doesn't know who You are or what You can do."

There is freedom in coming clean - with your struggles, with your mistakes, with your unbelief. God does not run and hide from your honesty. In fact He embraces it and is able to work in spite of it. The possessed son was healed. And in a way, so was the dad. They got more than just a solution to a physical remedy. They had an encounter with God - who wanted nothing more from them than belief and an honest confession of what they were lacking.

If you encountered Jesus today, what would you cry out to Him? Think beyond what you need. What would you honestly and sincerely tell Him? "I do trust You, help my lack of trust!" "I do want to follow You, help where I don't." "I do think You exist, help me when I just don't feel sure." "I do think You have a plan, help me when I don't think that plan includes me." "God, I'm not that into You, help me."

You may be surprised what happens when you get that honest with God. You may get more than what you came for. You may get an encounter with a God who can handle your doubts, your disappointment and even your disinterest - and who works in spite of it.