Being Human

Learning to be thankful

I’m so thankful for the humanness of the humans in the Bible.

I haven’t always felt this way. For many years after being saved, I looked down on the shortcomings of those people. I could do better than that. I could be stronger, wiser, more faithful to my Lord than they were.

After decades of humbling and growth, becoming thankful for their examples, not as instructions in what not to do, but as illustrations of what to do. Be honest. Be real. Admit to my weaknesses before God, and even before other people. See myself as I am. Accept uncertainty.

Jehoshaphat

In 2 Chronicles chapter 20, the nation of Judah is being threatened by “a vast army.” King Jehoshaphat “resolved to inquire of the Lord.” He assembles the people at the temple and prays.

First he reviews God’s attributes and actions. “You rule over all the kingdoms of the nations. Power and might are in your hand, and no one can withstand you.” And yet Jehoshaphat feels helpless. He ends the prayer by saying, “We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon you.”

Here’s God’s chosen leader, a direct descendant of the great King David. Shouldn’t he be reminding the people of how a lowly shepherd once defeated a fierce giant? Shouldn’t he be rallying the troops by proclaiming that they can do all things through God’s strength? Instead he confesses, in front of all those who are looking to him for leadership, “We do not know what to do.”

Maybe it’s okay if I say the same thing sometimes. Maybe I don’t need to feel pressured to have an answer for everything. Maybe it’s okay for me to admit to God, and in front of others who are depending on me, “I don’t know what to do.”

Always followed by, “But my eyes are upon You.” The Lord knows what’s happening. As a mere creature, I can’t possibly understand it all. Thank You, Father, for this example of Jehoshaphat’s humility and honesty and trust.

James and John

In Mark 10:35, the disciples James and John make the bold statement to Jesus, “We want you to do for us whatever we ask.” What cheek! What nerve! What audacity! Do they have any idea who they’re talking to?

And yet, how often do I have a similar attitude? How often are my prayers focused more on getting what I want than on seeking His will and His glory?

My 1985 NIV Study Bible comments that it shows “how spiritually undiscerning the disciples were.” I used to take this as saying, “Don’t be like them.” Now I see it as reassurance that even the greatest among the disciples could be completely foolish like me.

Reassurance, because Jesus doesn’t dismiss James and John as unworthy of His attention. He continues to love them and teach them and bless them. He uses them to do great things for His kingdom.

No one is hopeless. Not them. Not me. Thank You, Father, for sharing Your followers’ weaknesses in Your Word.

Peter

In Luke 9:28-36, Jesus’ appearance is transfigured in the presence of His top three disciples, Peter, John, and James. “His clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. Two men, Moses and Elijah, appeared in glorious splendor.”

Peter is caught completely off guard. But he can’t remain silent and still. He suggests building shelters for the three of them. Luke comments, “He did not know what he was saying.”

The great Peter, leader in the early church, author of two of the books in the Bible, and martyr for his Lord, says something stupid while witnessing the most incredible revelation anyone in the New Testament has seen up to that point. Thank You, Father, for demonstrating that I won’t be rejected and despised by You when I say stupid things.

A group of disciples

In Acts chapter 21, Paul is on his way to Jerusalem for the last time. He knows, and God has revealed to others, that something ominous awaits him there.

Through the activity of the Holy Spirit, the disciples are absolutely convinced that God wants them to talk Paul out of going, while Paul demonstrates his certainty that God wants him to go. They can’t both be right. 

In the end, “we and the people there pleaded with Paul not to go up to Jerusalem. … When he would not be dissuaded, we gave up and said, ‘The Lord’s will be done.’”

How often are Christian leaders willing to follow this example and simply give up the fight when there’s a conflict between two groups who both have good reasons for believing that God is on their side? How often am I willing to give up when I’m so sure that I’m right?

I’m thankful for these verses that illustrate a lack of understanding among those early believers, and their response to it. God didn’t send a clear revelation to confirm exactly what He wanted them to do. He left them in their uncertainty. Maybe I can be content with the ambiguity and confusion in my life and trust Him to do His will.

Not knowing

Thank You, Father, that these four passages tell me that it’s okay to be human, to stumble and fall and be uncertain. All of Your followers, even the greatest ones that we read about in Your Word, have the same problem.

One of the ties among these situations is that, in every case, the believers involved didn’t know. King Jehoshaphat publicly admitted that he didn’t know what to do. In Mark, Jesus tells James and John, “You don’t know what you are asking.” Peter didn’t know what he was saying. The disciples in Acts didn’t know what the Holy Spirit really wanted.

Sometimes I just don’t know. And that’s okay.

God promises to be with me, to lead me. Jesus promises that I’ll hear His voice. The Father gave me the Holy Spirit so that I’ll know what to do and what to say. And yet, like Jehoshaphat and James and John and Peter and a whole group of disciples, sometimes I just don’t know. Sometimes it’s because I’m being stupid, but sometimes God withholds information.

I can be thankful for these examples, though, and do as Jehoshaphat and the disciples did. Keep bringing my eyes back to Him. Keep praying that His will will be done.

One day I’ll understand it all. And my thankfulness for His wisdom and grace and kindness and love and truth will far exceed anything I can express in this life right now.

 

 

 

The Hammer and the Nail

The advantages of being a hammer

Would you prefer to be a hammer or a nail? In their song, “El cóndor pasa (If I Could),” Simon and Garfunkel say they’d rather be a hammer. Most of us would. It seems so obvious.

The hammer has a flashy job. It makes enough noise to attract attention. It has complete power over the nail. The nail can’t defend itself, beg for mercy, or talk back. All it can do is submit. The hammer is more valuable; one hammer costs more than many nails. Isn’t that what we want in this life? Attention, power, prestige.

The hammer’s role isn’t just one of pounding on the defenseless nail for no good reason, though. Its most common function is to build something new and worthwhile, like a shelter to protect vulnerable human beings. It can also help hang a picture on a wall, bringing beauty to an otherwise dull room. We want that sense of purpose and accomplishment, too.

The poor nail just keeps getting hit hard. Blow after blow after blow. It’s gotta hurt. Who would want that kind of life?

The advantages of being a nail

But the Bible often turns our natural human values upside down. We want power. Jesus came in meekness. We want to run the show. Jesus came to serve. We want to have our own way. Jesus always submitted to His Father’s will. (Matthew 11:28-30 KJV, 20:25-28, John 6:38)

We want so much to be the hammer in life. Jesus was more like the nail much of the time.

The hammer’s role might not be as fulfilling as it appears, though. It’s a solo job. No friends, no special relationships. Just domination. Even though it can be hard to admit it, that’s not a good life for any of us.

And, like the nail, the hammer is under the control of someone greater than itself. It has to wait for a human hand to pick it up and put it to use. Sometimes it suffers as that hand flings it away or the human mouth curses at it when it accidentally strikes the person’s thumb.

Still, the nail appears to have the less pleasant job. Being hit on the head. Cutting through hard wood until it’s forced down to where it will remain immobilized for many years. Sometimes being bent, wrenched back out, and thrown away as useless. Often being covered up where no one can see the hard work that it’s doing, as if it’s too ugly or worthless to look at.

But the nail isn’t just picked up occasionally for an odd job then put back on the shelf, like many hammers are. Once it’s in place, it renders a long, steady service behind the scenes. It binds things together that would otherwise fall apart. Sometimes it needs to work with other nails to do its job. It serves in a position that requires self-sacrifice, endurance, and cooperation. Kind of like the life God calls us to.

What are we to do?

Does that mean God doesn’t want any of us to be hammers? Is it wrong for a Christian to exercise power over others? On the job. In the home. At church. Within the community.

Of course not. We need bosses and parents and pastors and teachers and even political leaders.

However, like a good hammer, they’ll get the best results if they do the job right. Hitting the target accurately rather than striking wildly. Using only as much force as is necessary. Moving on when the job is done. Focusing on fulfilling their purpose to build something useful or beautiful, not on their ability to exercise power over others. Sometimes lying around for days or weeks waiting to be picked up. And just as there are many nails for one hammer, in any given situation God only calls a few to lead, while most of us serve.

Are we confined to one role or the other? Simon and Garfunkel’s lyrics make it sound like that’s the case.

Then I look at Jesus’ life. He spent much of it as a nail, submitting to God’s will in all things. He endured the opposition of the religious leaders of His day. He watched many lukewarm followers leave Him when His words offended them. He spoke and lived the Beatitudes. He washed His disciples’ filthy feet. He let Himself be nailed to a cross.

But He was more like a hammer when He cast out demons and cleansed the temple and rebuked the Pharisees. And when He rose from the dead.

Just like Jesus, most of us spend some time as hammers and more time as nails. A woman might act as a hammer to her children (choosing and enforcing the rules of the home in order to raise them to be responsible adults), then go to the office where she’s a nail.

There are powerful forces in our culture right now encouraging all of us to be hammers all of the time. Stand up for yourself. Demand your rights. Don’t let anyone take advantage of you. Seize whatever power you can and use it. Be an activist. Change the world.

Many politicians exemplify this attitude. How many presidents in recent decades have used their power hammering out executive orders that can be struck down by the Supreme Court or changed by Congress or the next president, rather than working together with senators and representatives to craft legislation that will hold together for many years?

These are our role models. They’re the ones we’ve elected to the highest office in the land.

What we really need, to counteract this destructive trend, is a whole lot of nails. People quietly serving without calling attention to themselves (1 Thessalonians 4:11). Holding things together rather than exercising blunt force. Working with others. Enduring the difficulties that come with their position. And understanding that this brings a different kind of power.

The power to contribute to greater peace in the world. To build stronger relationships and deeper community. To bring about greater justice and prosperity for more people. Jesus spent much of His life as a nail, but He’s had a more powerful influence on more people than anyone else in history.

 

 

Loving God

Agape vs. phileo love (pronunciation guide: a-gah-pay, fi-lay-oh)

Jesus: “Simon son of John, do you truly love [agape] me?”

Simon Peter: “Yes, Lord, you know that I love [phileo] you.” (John 21:15)

Agape is the greatest, deepest, richest kind of love. The love we all yearn for from others. An “unconditional, selfless, and sacrificial love.” Loving someone just the way they are, no matter what they do or say or think. Focusing fully on them and their needs. The kind of love God demonstrates. God is agape (1 John 4:8).

Phileo is “friendship or brotherly love, characterized by mutual affection, trust, and camaraderie.” Unlike agape, which is “unmerited, steadfast, and enduring,” phileo depends on things like how much we have in common, my current mood, and how easily I can be offended. It can fade over time. (Source of quotes: christianity.com)

After Peter has denied Christ three times, Jesus questions Peter three times about his love for Him (using his old name, not the new one Jesus gave him earlier). I can almost feel Peter cringing as he faces his Lord. Not only did he disown Him at His trials, now he’s going back to his old way of life, which was fishing.

Instead of being the rock (the meaning of the name “Peter”) and building the church on this rock (Matthew 16:18), instead of fishing for men (Matthew 4:18-20), he’s drawing his fellow disciples away with him to the lake and the boats and the nets. Even after witnessing Jesus’ sacrificial death and supernatural resurrection. Is there any hope for this man?

If we’ve read the rest of the story, we know there is. Most of that hope lies in God’s grace. But part of it is connected to Peter’s deeper understanding of himself. Jesus points out Peter’s failures by using his old name, then asks him if he agapes Him.

The old Peter would have loudly proclaimed his undying, sacrificial love for Jesus, as he did in John 13:37: “I will lay down my life for you.” (To which Jesus replied, “Before the cock crows, you will disown me three times!” He was right.)

The new Peter humbly recognizes and confesses that he does truly phileo Jesus, but agape is beyond his reach. He’d really rather catch fish than give his life away following Christ. Maybe part of the point of this passage is to show us that Peter has grown, even though he’s still disappointing his Lord. If there’s hope for this failure, then maybe there’s hope for me, too.

Phileo love for God

Agape demands that we love someone just the way they are. Do we love God just the way He is? Or do we want a different God, a God our warped and limited human understanding thinks is better? A God who gladly lets us conform to the world, rather than sacrificially following Him. Do we want the depth of an agape relationship with God, or only a shallow phileo friendship with Him?

Every time I open my Bible, Jesus asks me, “Ann, do you agape Me?” Am I willing to change my view of Him based on His revelation? Willing to love Him just the way He is? Or am I trying to accommodate the message that I find to fit my own ideas, giving Him my phileo but not my agape?

Looking at the list of labels in my sidebar, with “questioning.God” in a large font and “resenting.God” smaller but still there, it’s clear that I have a hard time loving God just the way He is. And I’m not alone.

Humans have always been drawn to gods who expect their followers to work their way into the gods’ favor. Sacrifice. Worship. Obey without questioning. It feeds our pride. (Look what I’ve achieved!) And it makes sense. What kind of god could demand anything less?

But the biblical revelation makes it clear that we can’t earn God’s love. He already loves us just the way we are. We sacrifice and worship and obey because we love Him, not to manipulate Him into loving us.

In the West today, the tendency leans more toward wanting gods who give their followers the freedom to do whatever makes them feel good, letting go of the old demands for purity and righteousness. The best god will respect the highest good in the universe—each person’s right to make his or her own decisions without judgment from anyone else.

There are those who stand firmly on the concept of social justice, rightly basing their convictions on the God of the Bible. He has always cared about the poor, the weak, the vulnerable, the oppressed. We should, too. In our actions, not just in our words.

But from what I’ve seen and heard, some of the most vocal religious proponents of the modern concept of social justice are appalled by many of the biblical demonstrations of God’s justice. They cannot believe in a God who condemns nations to slaughter or individuals to hell. They don’t love God just the way He is. They want to remake Him into their idea of what a good, modern god would be. A god they can phileo.

Those who promote a health and wealth gospel might phileo God but they don’t agape Him. They want to change Him into a God who always heals them and always provides abundant wealth for them.

And then there’s me. Sometimes life seems almost magical. Hopes and dreams fall into place. I can see God’s hand guiding it all. I can believe in the power of prayer and the depth of His love for me. I think I’m agape loving Him at those times. But maybe it’s more like phileo.

Maybe what I’m really feeling is a sense of mutual affection, trust, and even camaraderie. As long as He’s doing what I want, I can have a comfortable, friendly relationship with Him. But if He disappoints me, my phileo can cool off.

Agape love for God

Agape love is difficult for humans to achieve. But not impossible. God in His grace enables us to be more than we could be on our own, including growing in us the ability to agape. He even commands us to do it.

In Matthew 22:37-39, Jesus tells us to love God with all our heart and soul and mind, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. It helps to know that “this love (the Greek word agape) is not so much a matter of emotion as it is of doing things for the benefit of another person, that is, having an unselfish concern for another and a willingness to seek the best for another” (Bible Gateway).

At the time of his death as a Christian martyr, Peter proclaimed by his actions what he was unable to honestly say in words in John 21. In the end, he did agape Jesus.

I suspect that none of us (not even Peter) has ever been capable of sustaining our agape for God for any length of time in this life. The “unconditional” part of the definition of agape might be the biggest hurdle we have to get over. It really is very hard for us to love God just the way He is.

But as we move closer and closer to doing that, as we open our minds and our hearts to grasping who this glorious, generous, perfect, just, kind, and compassionate God is, loving Him selflessly and even sacrificially are likely to come more easily.

Peter’s example shows that it’s possible for that kind of love to grow and develop in us, by God’s grace and power. The fruit of the Spirit is agape (Galatians 5:22-23).

 

 

I Love This Church

The church at its best

Sitting in Sunday school one morning. A pleasant surprise. First a confession from a leader named Bob. Then the spontaneous response.

Bob’s been through a lot in the last year. The sudden death of a young mother within his extended family. Painful and scary health issues for him and his wife and their adult children.

In addition, he and a few of his cousins have decided to take a road trip to visit some places with special connections to their childhood. They all agreed that it would be best if Bob would organize it. He’s excited about the trip, but putting it together is a big job, and he feels kind of lost as he tries to figure out the details regarding where and when and how.

Today, as expected, he opens the class with greetings and announcements. Then, unexpectedly, the confession. He’s struggling with all the stresses in his life right now. He’s feeling small and and weak and overwhelmed. With drooping shoulders and a weary expression on his face, he asks for our prayers.

Next the spontaneous response. Sylvia stands up, pulls an empty chair out from a table, and tells Bob to sit down. A group gathers around him and places their hands on his head and shoulders. They take several minutes to pray out loud for him. After the final “Amen!,” I turn to the friend next to me with a hint of tears in my eyes and say, “I love this church!”

We’re not a charismatic church or class. Some hands are raised during the worship service, and once every few years we lay hands on someone to pray for them, but most of us express our love and gratitude and dedication to God more calmly and quietly.

Personal prayer requests tend to be limited to concerns about health issues, jobs, or travel safety. The externals, not the internals. When I’m praying at home, I have to remind myself to extend my intercession to include the spiritual side as well as the physical.

This morning we’ve broken through a barrier that prevents us from sharing more deeply. A leader in the class has admitted his weakness by asking for prayer for his emotional and spiritual needs. He had the courage to make himself vulnerable to accusations from the evangelically correct: If he was really a good Christian, he should be strong enough to handle all this. If he was really a good Christian, he should trust God better.

And we didn’t respond in judgment. We didn’t rush to assure Bob that God is in control, so he should just accept the situation and be happy. Our hearts were open to his pain. We valued his spontaneous confession. We surrounded him with love and understanding and prayers.

This is the church at its best.

The foundation

How did we get here?

Church leadership has a lot to do with it. Our head pastor sets an example. He’s real. Human. We know that he faces the same struggles as we do.

Recently, a friend and I were talking about the strengths in our church. Without going into the specific details, she told me that several years ago she had asked Pastor for guidance regarding a problem within her family. Over time it became clear that his advice was pretty bad.

She went back to him feeling disappointed and a bit angry. He freely admitted that he was wrong and humbly apologized. No attempt to justify himself or to place the blame on her.

During the time that I’ve been going to this church, I’ve seen Pastor grow spiritually and in his ability to communicate more compassionately. I don’t know that I could say that about any other pastor in any other church that I’ve belonged to.

The age of my Sunday school classmates might have something to do with it, too. I’m in my mid-sixties. More than half of the class is older than me.

Several have lost spouses and adult children. Many have chronic health problems. A few are experiencing financial difficulties. Some grieve over children who are abusing drugs or alcohol or who’ve strayed from the Truth. At least one has had to face the trial of seeing her son sent to prison on drug-related charges after years of attempts to get him through rehab successfully.

Suffering tends to either drive people apart or draw them together. We tend to respond to it in one of three ways: by denying the pain, by doing the opposite and constantly griping about it, or by working through our sorrow with the support of those around us.

In my experience in the past, many church members who were hurting either left or felt pressured to pretend in order to continue attending. I don’t know if there’s been a shift among evangelicals in general or if my church is an exception to the rule, but more people here seem to remain through the tough times as they draw together and reach out for support.

Maybe we can be trusted with our leader’s vulnerability because we’ve been in his shoes and we’re willing to admit it.

Room to grow

As good as it is, my church has its shortcomings, too. Some of the teaching is shallower than I’d like it to be, but it’s better than other churches that I’ve been in. In spite of our concern for each other, as demonstrated this morning, it can be difficult to build deep relationships.

One of the biggies that grieves me is the lack of children in the Worship Center. They call the service “big church.” As if it’s only for big people. As if they don’t belong there. They worship in their own groups with others their own age.

What will happen down the road when they graduate out of those groups and their only choice of where and when to worship at church is in the main sanctuary, with people who are all older than they are? Will they be mature enough to appreciate worship that doesn’t focus on the needs and preferences of a narrow range of ages? Or will they simply walk away?

So my church isn’t perfect. But I love it anyway. I pray that we would continue to follow God faithfully and to grow in Him. And that He would protect us from the attacks of Satan as we do that.

 

 

Don't Get Used to it

Holy vs. common

The first time I heard a Bible teacher define “holy” as “set apart,” it really bugged me. Being set apart in and of itself doesn’t necessarily mean better or higher or deeper or richer. Or worthy of worship. I could set apart paper plates for casual dining. That wouldn’t make them more valuable than my fine china. I want something more, something bigger, in any definition of that very special word.

Many years later, my Sunday school teacher described holy as the opposite of commonplace. That’s when it clicked. In His holiness, God is the complete opposite of the commonplace. He is set far apart from all that is common.

The common doesn’t hold our attention. God is more beautiful, more gracious, more creative than anything we can imagine. We will spend an eternity with Him and still be unable to take our eyes off of Him.

The common is ordinary, mundane. God is extraordinary, full of surprises. His compassions are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23). We will spend an eternity with Him and still be delighted by His presence.

The common can easily be discarded and replaced when it wears out or when something better comes along. God will never wear out or run down. He is always the same gloriously perfect Lord whose years will never end (Psalm 102:27). There will never be anything better than Him.

We don’t worship the common things in life. In ancient times, people made idols out of the precious metals, gold and silver. One reason those metals are valuable is because they’re rare. Not common.

Our idols today are the best-looking actors, the most skilled athletes, and the most talented artists. They go so far beyond the ordinary that we recognize them as set apart from the rest of us.

Getting used to it

We worship God because of His greatness. He is the King above all kings, the Lord above all lords. We worship Him because of our sense that He is set apart from us. But as we grow in Him, He becomes closer to us. We see His hand working in our lives. We get used to having Him around. We begin to treat Him as common.

The most blatant example of this tendency is Israel’s journey from bondage in Egypt to the blessings of the promised land. God appeared in a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night to guide them (Exodus 13:21). Their clothes didn’t wear out for forty years (Deuteronomy 8:4). Manna supernaturally appeared six mornings a week to nourish them (Exodus 16:4-5).

But because all these signs of God’s presence and provision happened every single day, they became common in the people’s eyes. Ordinary. Expected. Deserved. The Israelites lost their sense of awe and wonder at the miracles that were happening all around them all the time.

Some professional athletes refuse to honor America while the national anthem is being played before a game. They accept our amazing prosperity and freedoms and legal system as ordinary, everyday, expected parts of life. Instead of being grateful for them, they focus on the faults that remain. They magnify those faults out of proportion to their actual size in comparison to our country’s strengths.

Brittney Griner, of the WNBA, made it a point to leave the basketball court during the singing of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Then she went to Russia. When she arrived, customs officials found vape cartridges in her luggage. She was arrested for drug smuggling, convicted in a closed court with no jury, and given a nine year sentence. She spent ten months in prison before President Biden was able to negotiate her release.

Brittney now stands beside the basketball court during our national anthem (source: WORLD magazine Opinions, “Britney Griner finds gratitude for America,” June 19, 2023). She’s gone from seeing this country as common and ordinary and even despicable, to developing a sense of appreciation for the progress made in trying to offer freedom and justice for all.

As a Christian, it’s so easy for me to take my salvation, my answers to prayer, my many other blessings for granted. I might not say it out loud, but my attitude becomes something like this: Of course God saved me. Because He loves me so much. God is love (1 John 4:8). What else could He do? After a while, there doesn’t seem to be anything spectacular, anything beyond the ordinary in the extraordinary idea that I will spend an everlasting eternity in the presence of the most spectacular Being that exists.

It’s easy to think of God as my big buddy in the sky. In John 15, Jesus calls His disciples His friends. My friends are just like me. Common, everyday people. It’s easy to lower God to their level. Or raise myself to His.

It’s easy to get used to the idea that I can take all my burdens, all my pain, and all my joy to the Lord of the universe. Prayer becomes a routine practice, rather than an incredible privilege.

It’s easy to resent spending time reading my Bible when there are so many other things that I need to do. God’s Word becomes nothing more than an ordinary book, rather than the supernatural revelation of God Himself.

It’s easy to talk about salvation and Jesus and answered prayers as if they’re just common, expected parts of life. Shouldn’t we, instead, feel a powerful sense of wonder and awe every time words like God, forgiveness, and eternity pass our lips?

Some churches I’ve attended seem to try to overcome this tendency to get used to the miraculous and the holy by generating excitement. Worship turns into a pep rally. But pep rallies and excitement are common, ordinary things. We need something more, something different, something set apart from the ways of the world.

Near and far away

That’s one of the reasons why I’m thankful for my church. My pastor teaches about the God who loves us so much that He sacrificed His most precious and perfect Son to save us from our sins. Pastor encourages us to take all our troubles to a God who is near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18). He reminds us that this God cares about every detail of our lives and is ready to forgive us no matter how many times we go astray.

But he also emphasizes the need to remember that we are not just slightly lower than God. By our very nature, there’s a great distance between Him and us. Even the angels in Isaiah’s vision, who are without sin, were so awed and humbled in His presence that they covered their faces and their feet (Isaiah 6:2). They recognized their complete unworthiness compared to His glory. Thank you, Pastor, for helping us to walk in God’s miraculous grace without just getting used to it.

What happens when we start to take God for granted? Sometimes only suffering can bring us back to a better appreciation of who He is and what He’s done. The Israelites’ journey to the promised land illustrates this reality. Every time they treated God as common and ordinary, every time they began to grumble against Him, He afflicted them in one way or another. Their grumbling stopped. Their awe and wonder were restored.

Brittney Griner is an example from the secular world of the way hardship can help us appreciate a blessing or privilege that we’re treating as common and expected and deserved.

God is holy. Set apart. The opposite of commonplace. I pray that we as believers would be better at fighting our natural human tendency to lower Him to the level of the ordinary and expected, to take Him for granted, to get used to having Him around. The consequences of losing that battle are always painful.