May 28th, 2012



Guest Post: “Is God Boring?” by Jon Acuff


Sometimes it just hits me: God didn’t have to make life anything more than functional. He didn’t have to give us colors, or beauty, or music, or emotions. But He did, and we often take it for granted. A while back I ran across this article written by Jon Acuff on this subject and I thought he did a great job. Acuff says it better than I could.

Last summer I got stung four times by jellyfish while visiting Tybee Island. If you don’t follow me on Twitter than you probably missed that fascinating series of tweets that mostly involved me saying stuff like “Got stung by a jelly fish again today! Why does this keep happening?”
 
Looking back on it a year later it’s pretty obvious why it kept happening. I was in the ocean. Where jellyfish live. And I have amazing skin. Pores most people kill for. Just completely irresistible to most forms of marine life. The bigger question is, “Why am I not constantly getting stung by jellyfish, even when I’m not in the ocean? What is keeping them away from me in the grocery store or when I’m playing jai lai?”
 
Once I had chopped some wood and wrestled a bear so I could forget the pain of the stings, two activities I regularly do to offset the lack of manliness my unbelievable skin generates, I forgot all about the jellyfish.
 
Until the aquarium.
 
I saw a trio of jellyfish floating in the water and the first thought I had was one I was not expecting,
 
“The world didn’t have to be beautiful.”
 
Have you ever thought about that?
 
Jellyfish didn’t need to look like canopied dreams, flying underwater with a grace that shames ballet dancers.
 
Sunsets didn’t have to look like paint sets exploded against the wall, slowly falling down the horizon.
 
The tide on this planet didn’t need to dance with the pull of a glowing sphere thousands of miles away.
 
God didn’t have to make the world beautiful.
 
He could have designed sunsets like we designed light switches. On, off. He could have been utilitarian. Function meets function with form nowhere to be found. Instead, the deeper we explore the planet, the more we see the creativity he’s whimsically hidden on every inch.
 
Fish that provide their own light. Slugs that are neon and fireworked. Hundreds of species of butterflies migrating thousands of miles on wings that are gossamer thin. He’s playful in his design, curious and colorful in ways we can barely scratch the surface of.
 
Though we often paint God in two colors, “gray” and “angry,” the more I see the world, the harder it is for me to think he’s vanilla.




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February 13th, 2012



Mercy


We hate God.
 
We are born into this world hating Him with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength. From our cribs we squeak in rebellion against our parents, against the authorities He has placed in our lives; and we would shake our little fists at Almighty God Himself—if only we could roll over onto our backs to do so.
 
We want to see His skull crushed under our heel; we want to see His Kingdom made our footstool and see all things put under us. We cry out for His death even while, in the next breath, we cry for sustenance. The God Who fills our lungs with breath, Who upholds our life, Who created our amazing body, Who provides food for us—this God we seek to destroy.
 
Shocking? Yes. Surprising? Not really. Jesus said, “He that is not with me is against me” (Matthew 12:30); and until the Spirit quickens us, we are “dead in trespasses and sins” (Ephesians 2:1)—and this period of deadness, of course, spans the entire time between the moment we were conceived (Psalm 51:5) and the moment of our rebirth in Christ. During this period, “we [are] enemies” (Romans 5:10), we are not for Him—and that leaves only one other option. It’s an either-or case.
 
But in His infinite grace, He reached down and plucked us out of our muddy hatred of Him, sprinkled us with clean water, and gave us new life. “[W]hile we were yet sinners Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). For no reason understood by us, God in His sovereign mercy sent His Son and poured out His unfathomable wrath upon Him that we might have life; Christ willingly gave His life and submitted to His Father and drank the cup of wrath (Jeremiah 25) that we, who gnash our teeth for His death, might have eternal life and fellowship with the Father. What wondrous love, what amazing grace, is this?
 
Shocking? Yes. Surprising? No doubt. After all, what have we done? Why would He do this for us?
 
We have done absolutely nothing to merit His grace and mercy. In fact, we are born with a legal case against us, and the only possible pardon is found through the shedding of blood, for “without shedding of blood is no remission” (Hebrews 9:22). We owe an infinite debt we cannot repay. While we cried out for Jesus’ death, the Firstborn, the Spotless Lamb of God, suffered separation from His Father and took the infinite punishment upon Himself as the final sacrifice (Hebrews 9:26), that God’s justice might be satisfied and our legal case before Him might be finished—paid in full. It was on Golgotha, “The Place of a Skull,” that the skull of the serpent was crushed.
 
We say, “He came to Christ”; we ought to say, “He was dragged to Christ”: for this is exactly what happens. He puts a new heart in us against our will (which “free will,” I might add, is nothing more than the free will to choose sin over righteousness) and draws us to Him in His infinite kindness.
 
Why were we chosen? Why not the next man? Why did God not see fit to save him, too? Why us? Such is His sovereign will—that is the only answer we have. In fact, until we are regenerated, there is no difference between us and the most evil man to ever live as far as our moral status before God is concerned. None at all—and this fact only adds to the amazingness of His grace. We are left with no ground to stand on. We truly, honestly, have nothing to say. We have done nothing—we can take no credit to ourselves for any part we played. How can I say it any clearer? “For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: not of works, lest any man should boast” (Ephesians 2:8).
 

What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul;
What wondrous love is this, O my soul—
What wondrous love is this, that caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul, for my soul,
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul?

 
Doubtless, some will say I am being extreme. I refer them to the Scriptures as the basis for my words, and challenge them to show me a more biblical position.
 

O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out! For who hath known the mind of the Lord? or who hath been his counsellor? Or who hath first given to him, and it shall be recompensed unto him again? For of him, and through him, and to him, are all things: to whom be glory for ever. Amen. (Romans 11:33–36)




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