The Kingdom, The Kids, & the Cowboys

“Is this not the great Babylon I have built as the royal residence, by my mighty power and for the glory of my majesty?” ~Daniel 4:30

We must be praisers of God. We are mostly praisers of people, praisers of things, praisers of ourselves, praisers of almost anything and everything but God. But we must learn to praise God. We must give him glory. We must give him honor. We must give him credit.

We must stop praising technology. We must stop praising innovation. We must stop praising politicians and platforms and parties, celebrities and athletes, preachers and churches, corporations and CEOs. We must learn to praise God.

Without him, we are sinners condemned to hell; with him, we are righteous sons and daughters of his eternal glory. Without him, we are an assembly of misfits and morons with no potential for good; with him, we are a community of heaven’s ambassadors on a mission to change the world. Without him, we are blind and lost; with him, we can see and we are saved. We must learn to praise him more and praise him better. We must give him more glory and honor.

We must stop just sitting there in our Christian assemblies, Sunday morning after Sunday morning, refusing to praise our God. Young people, old people, and everybody in between — we must learn to praise God. We must stop sitting there as spectators while others praise. We must stop the selfish and sinful practice of choosing when to praise and when not to praise according to who’s leading and what they’re leading. We must stop the arrogant practice of, even in our singing, while singing, being proud that we’re praising correctly, being proud that we’re doing it right. We must stop spending twenty minutes at a time writing down requests for prayers of physical healing and financial deliverance and start spending hours on our knees together in earnest prayers of praise and thanksgiving to the God who has already rescued us.

We were made to praise him, created to bring him glory, empowered by God’s Holy Spirit to give him honor. We were meant to turn our eyes and energies toward him, never toward ourselves. Good things happen when we praise. When we praise God, we actually feel better — physically, emotionally, spiritually — because we’re doing what we were always designed to do.

Power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and praise. None of it belongs to us. All of it belongs to our God.

Peace,

Allan

We know there’s a battle going on between good and evil. We understand the conflict. We get it. Forget the TV and newspaper and the internet. There’s horrifying evidence of the evil on every channel, on every page, on every website. Forget that. Let’s acknowledge that we’re all personally caught up in it. We understand it personally because we’re dealing with it right now. Broken families. Bad news from the doctor. Pink slips at work. Addiction. Rebellious kids. Divorced parents. Intimidation. Depression. Hopelessness. Things are not the way our Father intended. We know that.

The earth God created and called good and the people he created and called very good are being tortured. Tortured by war, disease, violence, death, poverty, greed, lust, injustice, slavery, idolatry. We’re paralyzed by Satan, imprisoned by sin, terrified by death.

We’re in the middle of a cosmic war.

Our merciful Father knows that, too. He understands it. That’s why he gives us a beautiful vision of the already-determined outcome of the battle. He shows us the ending.

God gives it to us in Revelation 20: the battle of Armageddon. Satan calls together all the wicked of the world, all the evil in the universe. They come from all four corners of the earth. They’re gathering for battle against God’s children:

“In number they are like the sand on the seashore. They marched across the breadth of the earth and surrounded the camp of God’s people, the city he loves.”

Looks bad for God’s children. They’re surrounded. No escape. Out flanked. Outnumbered. Outmanned. Out of luck. It’s over.

“But fire came down from heaven and devoured them!”

There is no battle of Armageddon. Look it up. Revelation 20. There’s no battle. Satan never even touches the saints. None of God’s children are harmed. Not even a scratch. It’s like Jesus rides up on his white horse and says, “Make my day.” Boom! It’s over. We don’t fight anything. We don’t have to. That’s the Lord’s job.

Of course, it’s against our nature to sit back and let God do the fighting for us. The picture in Scripture of what it looks like for us to oppose the evil in our world is not typically the way we handle things. Instead, our first inclination is to politic. Picket. Petition. Boycott. Lobby. Threaten. We think if we show enough force, if we gather enough power, we can defeat evil by voting correctly or by supporting the right platforms together or by pushing the proper laws through worldly systems.

No.

The ones who are called “conquerors” in Revelation, the “over-comers,” are the ones who have submitted faithfully to suffering and death, totally trusting in God to deliver. God’s children are the ones who live in patience and mercy and grace and trust God completely to take care of the battle.

It’s important for us to know that the victory of Jesus Christ has already been won. In a blowout. A rout. Not even close. And it’s important for us to live with that expectation. Or into that expectation as though it’s already here. We live every moment today in light of what we know is ultimately going to happen.

We don’t wait to acknowledge the complete and sovereign rule of God. We acknowledge it and we submit to it right now. And we witness, we testify. We change the world. Not by power or force or influence. But by patience and gentleness and mercy and love. By faith and loyalty in our God and his victorious Christ. And, yes, even by some suffering. For a little while.

Ephesians 2 says we are already, right now, seated with Christ in the heavenly realms. We are. So we live like it.

Peace,

Allan

“Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on. ‘Yes,’ says the Spirit, ‘they will rest from their labor, for their deeds will follow them.’” ~Revelation 14:13

It’s a promise from the future that impacts our every moment in the present. Your labor in the Lord is not in vain. Not at all. The things you’re doing right now for the Kingdom will last forever.

You know, salvation is not a private thing. God saves us to work through us to save others. And everything we contribute to the cause — everything! — is used by God toward that great and ultimate end. Just like the parables of the talents, what we use to his glory, whatever it is, will be multiplied and used by God for his purposes. Like the cup of cold water given in his name, it will be rewarded. Like the weekend food packed for needy school children. Like the check written for Breakthrough Sunday. Like the prayer lifted for the single mom and the errand run for the divorced dad. Our deeds will follow us into eternity. Our efforts for the Lord are going to last forever.

We are building for the Kingdom. All our work matters. Every minute is packed with heavenly potential. Every action is loaded with eternal consequences.

To his enduring praise and glory!

Peace,

Allan

Our God shows his glory to Moses in a burning bush in the middle of the desert. God reveals his holiness to Isaiah in a throneroom vision in the middle of a desecrated temple. God shows his glory to John in a similar vision in the middle of a prison island. In the midst of national trial and personal hardship, God reveals himself to be the One in charge. He is holy and righteous and sovereign. He is surrounded by eternal beings. The air is filled with holy songs. The Creator of Heaven and Earth is revealed to be almighty and everlasting, faithful and good. Very good.

And these scenes show us very clearly that the only appropriate response to these visions of God’s glory and holiness is worship. The creatures who see the glory of God, the heavenly beings who witness the greatness of God, they give him never-ending praise and worship. And we are invited by Holy Scripture to join in.

We cast our crowns daily before our God. No reservations. No holding back. We give our God everything we have and we submit fully to his holy authority. We recognize our own unworthiness in his gracious presence. And we fall to our knees in gratitude and thanksgiving. We remember who he is, what he has done, what he promises to do, and how truly worthy he is of our praise.

Holy worship. Today. Every day. Not just on Sunday.

“I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God — this is your spiritual act of worship.” ~Romans 12:1

Peace,

Allan

Our holy Scriptures are full of lofty ideals. We listen to Jesus say, “Love your enemies,” and we realize, “Wait a second, I don’t even like my friends!” Give to everyone who asks. Never lust. Always forgive. Rejoice in persecution. Put the needs of others ahead of your own. Our Lord calls for a single-minded fidelity to following him without reservation. And it’s demanding. Impossibly so. Yes, the Holy Spirit of God empowers us to do what Christ is calling us to do. But we don’t always do it. We mess up. We sin. We fall.

To borrow from Yancey, I find that, personally, I talk and write about spiritual disciplines far better than I practice them.

How about you?

Yeah, I know.

But we keep trying, right?

We never put our feet on the floor in the morning and allow that, “I’m human so I’m going to sin today. There’s no way I’m going to be perfect today. I’m going to mess up. I’m human.” No! God forbid! We strive with everything in our power and by the strength of the Spirit to pledge that, today, I’m going to be like my Lord! We don’t ever give in to the world’s conclusion that we cannot possibly be like Christ. We keep trying.

Scripture paints a beautiful picture of the Kingdom of God and the coming wedding feast of the Lamb. It’s a gathering of “every tribe and language and people and nation.” We find “the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame” around the table. Paul makes it clear that, in Christ, there is “neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female.”

I believe the very core of the Gospel of Jesus is that our Christ died and rose again in order to destroy completely and eternally all the barriers that exist between God and man and man and one another. Social distinctions. Cultural differences. Language obstacles. Socio-economic disparity. Zip codes and tax brackets. None of these things register as even a blip on our fellowship radar. These differences don’t even exist in Christ.

But we have black churches. And white churches. And hispanic churches. And rich churches. And poor churches. And somehow we’ve fooled ourselves into thinking that’s OK. We have begun to believe the lie that church has always been this way and it will always be this way. The cultural differences are too great. The language difficulties are too much. We’ve tried to integrate, we’ve tried to come together, but it’s just never worked. And it never will work.

So, why try?

Because there is honor in the trying. Trying is an act of faith. Our Father wants us to engage that struggle and try. He wants us to try.

Scripture gives us a crystal-clear mandate. It tells us in no uncertain terms that the table of Christ and the house of God is to be enjoyed by all. Together. United as one. Everybody equal. Everybody just as wretched and lost and condemned to death without Jesus and everybody just as holy and saved and righteous because of Jesus. Together. We uphold the ideals we find in Scripture. We lift up those ideals and we try with everything we have to bring heaven to earth, to practice God’s will on earth just as it is in heaven.

And we slip. And we fall. And fail. And do really stupid things. But we never give up. We never give in to the world’s conclusions that division along racial and economic and language lines is necessary. We keep trying. And we trust that Jesus, our King, is watching even as we are “straining at the oars.” He’s interceding for us as he watches. And he’s proud of us. He’s pleased with us as we keep trying.

Peace,

Allan

Jesus is at a fancy dinner party in Luke 14. He’s dining in the home of a “prominent Pharisee.” Fancy people in their fancy clothes telling fancy stories about their sophisticated lives. Scripture says Jesus is “being carefully watched.” Jesus notices and heals a sick man. Then he uses the sick man as sort of a sermon illustration:

“When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed.”

And then, I’m assuming, there was a long period of some really awkward silence. You don’t just walk into a fancy dinner party with lots of fancy people and tell the host and the guests that they’re doing it all wrong. “Why would Jesus tell us to invite losers to our parties?” You can almost hear a nervous cough. Imagine the sound of a lonely fork scraping against a dinner plate. Things are really awkward.

Finally, in order the break the tense silence, some guy blurts out, “Blessed is the man who will eat at the feast in the Kingdom of God!”

And Jesus immediately begins telling another story about another feast, but with the same guest list: the poor, crippled, blind, and lame.

Jesus is making the point — and he made this same point every day of his ministry — that the Kingdom of God is a big party with a bunch of losers you wouldn’t be caught dead with on a Saturday night. This is God’s idea of a great time. God takes a bunch of losers, he fixes them, and then he breaks out the roast beef and wine. Revelation says we’re all going to eat and drink with Jesus forever. We’re going to take our places around the table with him at the wedding supper of the Lamb.

What we do when we come together on Sundays is a warm up. It’s party practice. It’s like the chips and hot sauce before the fajitas and enchiladas. It’s at these dinner parties in the Gospels where Jesus shows us what the world looks like when it’s fully healed. When everything is finished, when the Kingdom has finally come in all its fullness, when all of creation is finally redeemed and restored to its original Garden of Eden intentions, it’ll be like this. Our Christian gatherings on Sundays anticipate that huge wedding bash. We’re getting ready for the massive celebration, not just on Sundays, but for all eternity. For all of us.

Isn’t it cool that the Church’s number-one liturgical act is practiced around a supper table? The Lord’s Supper. His meal. And we’re all invited. All us losers have a seat at the head table with the risen Lord of the Universe. A salvation party with a bunch of sickos. Again, that’s God’s idea of a really good time. And Jesus showed it to us all the time.

Peace,

Allan