Monthly Archives: March 2017

"Do not be surprised by the fiery ordeal which comes upon you to prove you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice in that you share Christ's sufferings." 1 Peter 4:12-13

A few brief GraceWaves are not sufficient to address completely the subject of acceptance, but I want to draw this little series to a close this week by focusing on the biggest objection to the idea of acceptance, i.e. suffering.

Mention acceptance and the first response is liable to be something along the lines of an objection that we can't just sit around and accept suffering. I agree. Our faith should be both vigorous and consistent. Perseverance and endurance are two great words in the New Testament, and neither implies sitting around waiting for the next blow.

The fact is, acceptance is not an either/or proposition. It's not as if we either have to lie down as sheep or implacably fight as lions in the face of the unfairness of life. Acceptance doesn't describe resignation. It's a spiritual attitude toward a very clear fact of life.

Take a look at suffering from God's point of view. The first challenge you must deal with is reconciling the idea of an omnipotent God with the suffering of the world. Put simply, if God is all-powerful then when does He allow pain and suffering?

The clearest answer is in the incarnation, cross, and resurrection. God obviously didn't accept suffering mutely or passively. He waded right into the middle of it, not as a traditional conquering king, but as something far greater. God didn't set out merely to defeat evil and suffering, but to enter into it and thereby to transform it.

Think of the rhythm of this time of year when we remember the cross and resurrection. The cross represents and reminds us of unspeakable evil and suffering. Surely if God can enter that extreme evil by actually being nailed to it, then certainly nothing we face will put us beyond His love, regard, and care.

Then we have the resurrection. I hope you're still reading because I want you to stay with me for what I believe is a very important distinction. Most Christians regard the cross as victory, and in many ways it can be viewed that way. Victory over death, evil, suffering, etc.

But I believe vindication better describes the empty tomb. Jesus took a risk of total reliance on the Father, living a sacrificial and vulnerable life. He even doubted the wisdom of His choice when He prayed for deliverance from it. But after concluding the plea for the removal of this cup with a simple trust in and commitment to God's will, Jesus willingly went to the cross.

By every indication that Passover evening, Jesus was wrong. His disciples thought so. He was dead and buried. Even though He had predicted His death AND resurrection on three occasions, no one was at the tomb the first Easter Sunday morning to welcome Him. They thought He had lost and that all was lost.

But by the most unlikely turn of events, God raised Jesus to life. This was vindication. The resurrection was vindication that the way Jesus chose to live, the trust He had placed in God, the terrible risk He had taken, in all these things He was right. God can be trusted. God never leaves us. God never allows evil to have the final word.

The empty tomb looks like the clearest demonstration of God's power. It looks like victory. But I say the cross was the victory. Going to the very apex where trust and suffering meet is where you face the greatest test and find God most clearly. It is there, in that weakness, that His power is made perfect.

This is why the Bible has so many puzzling passages about suffering. Start with Peter who wrote that we should "rejoice" in sufferings. That sounds outrageous unless we read and understand the next phrase about entering into Christ's suffering. Because God entered into the world's suffering, to the ultimate extreme of the cross, in our suffering we enter in His life. That is joy.

James sounds equally ludicrous with his "count it all joy when you meet various trials" (1:2). Frankly, that sounds offensive, and I wouldn't recommend you toss it out to someone who is in the middle of terrible suffering. But the sufferer, in order to experience the transformation of trouble, must in their own way and time come to this understanding.

The Bible simply does not focus on the eradication of evil and suffering except in the last book. Until the misty, final times of Revelation become a reality we live in a world that has both wheat and tares. Acceptance means acknowledging life as it is, and yet living with trust, hope, and yes, joy.

Where is God when you're hurting? Right there with you, completely empathetic. "For because He Himself suffered He is able to help us" (Heb. 2:18). He never left you and He never will. I'll go so far as to say He can't leave you because of His very nature. God simply doesn't turn away from hurting people. He draws near to them, and we can sense His presence if we seek Him in prayer and meditation.

Thus the Bible, and the saints, can speak of the "gift" of suffering because in suffering we lose the flimsy veneer of self-reliance and self-confidence. Pushed beyond our feeble limits we find, through faith, not ashes and dust, but a smiling God who bears the marks of love and offers to sit with us and then lead us through the dark valley of the shadow of death.

A dear friend of mine cared for her husband during a very long illness that eventually took the life of that vibrant man. I stepped into the shadows of that difficult time with her and shared her tears and grief. But I was also immeasurably heartened to watch her faith and even her joy. It was during those days she shared with me the following poem that I think sums up the hopeful promise of acceptance very nicely.

I walked a while with pleasure, she chattered all the way

But left me none the wiser, for all she had to say.

I walked a while with Sorrow, and ne'er a word said she,

But O the things I learned from her, when Sorrow walked with me.

Grace,

Dr. Terry Ellis

March 19. 2017

"But I trust in You. I say 'You are my God. My times are in Your hand.'" Psalm 31:14-15

Last week we began our brief exploration of the idea of acceptance by saying that this spiritual key begins with accepting the fact that life is not fair. That's rather easy pickings for life presents us with multiple illustrations each day of its unfairness.

The second key is a lot more slippery. It's the idea that we have a role in many of the problems we face in life. Personal responsibility is a hard pill to swallow, but it does insulate us from useless resentments, and chronic blaming of other people and circumstances. Instead of blaming and judging other people, I focus on how I got myself into the unpleasant situation. Then I can more clearly see how to get out of the unpleasant situation.

Now let's move forward. Once we've accepted personal responsibility, we are in the realm of what we can control. Figuring out what we can and cannot control is a vital but confusing challenge. Let's make it simple. Take a hula hoop and put it over your head. Hold it at your waste. Whatever is outside of the hula hoop is beyond your control. If it's inside the hula hoop, you have some control.

A great deal of personal misery lies in our attempts to control people and circumstances around us. Control is an ugly word, but it doesn't necessarily have to be ugly. I know a lot of well-meaning, control-oriented people. Most of us try it. I confess to it! I tried to make everyone happy. I wasn't just a glass half-full kind of guy, I was a "let's see how I can fill up the rest of the glass for you" kind of guy.

The result is so clear to me now, but I couldn't see it at the time. When my efforts failed I felt like a failure or was just plain irritated. When the circumstances or people did respond, and sometimes improved, I felt a surge of accomplishment at having personally had a hand in their enlightenment. It's pure pride, either way. Again, I can see that now, but I sure didn't when I was in the middle of it.

In "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree" category, my daughter realizes she has the same tendency. In a wonderfully crafted confession at lunch recently she told me "I'm a well-meaning bull in God's china shop." I do wish I had thought of that first.

Our attempts at control can be very well-intentioned. Control doesn't mean acting like an angry dictator. It may mean simply having expectations of other people and situations. Expectations sound reasonable, and to an extent they are. The danger lies in how we react when circumstances and people don't meet our expectations. If the response is anger, disappointment, anxiety, self-pity, etc. then the expectations are unhealthy and a form of control.

At first blush all of this may sound highly fatalistic, as if we're simply to give up. That's not true at all. God doesn't call us to be slackers. We are to be engaged. We should strive, work hard, have excellence as our goal. Acceptance simply means dropping our fists, refusing to fight with the world, and refusing to accept responsibility for everyone else's performance.

The psalmist wrote "my times are in Your hand." Here we meet the beautiful idea of God's Providence. Providence simply means that God's is at work in the world and in my life. God is in control of me and my circumstances. When I stop resisting this simple idea and simply accept it then life becomes much clearer and usually much easier.

Many of us operate under what I call the Invictus Distortion. William Henley is the author of the famous poem Invictus. He wrote it in the late 1800's and it is classic, unconquerable Victorian stoicism. You will recall the last two lines; "I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul." Whenever I read the poem I feel as if I could run through a wall! It's soaring, inspiring, indomitable strength!

And Henley needed it. He wrote it after his leg was amputated. More surgeries followed. He penned these four quatrains while in the infirmary, faced with a choice "do I give in, or do I press forward?" The poem is his answer. We all need Invictus.

The Invictus Distortion, however, is the idea that we have this strength in us for every situation, and that is plainly wrong. Sometimes we do master fate, and other times fate wins. I'd love to believe that my soul is unconquerable, but sometimes the circumstances just seem to blast me into submission. Sometimes my head is both bloodied and bowed, and sometimes I'm afraid. This is life. As long as I adhere to some distorted sense of control over the universe, even every bit of my personal universe, then I am destined for bitter disappointment.

Also on a very practical level, just watch Leslie's reaction if I thunder into the room with "I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul!" She wants a caring husband not a master nor a captain in the house. Her reply? "Yes dear. Now unload the dishwasher." The Invictus Distortion makes us pretty hard to live with.

Acceptance means leaving my soul, my life, my all in God's hands.

Now if you want to get into a real tussle with other believers start trying to pin down the definition of Providence. What is God's role? And what is my role? Answers will run the gamut from God ordains every detail to God has set everything in motion and pretty much sits back and watches how everything plays out.

I suggest that Providence is mysterious, like God, and that means I don't have to figure it out. It does seem obvious to me that God is at work and expects me to work. My gauge for when I cross the line (if there is a line) is when I feel agitated and disturbed. At that point, I know I've tried to bend the world to my will. When I trust God, I'm at peace. I've accepted the mysterious fact that my times are in God's hand.

God has a very nice china shop, and He doesn't need me charging in with bold proclamations about what I'm master of. Today it's enough for me to know that He is the Master of my fate, and captain of my soul. I accept that.

Grace,

Dr. Terry Ellis

March 12, 2017

"Do not resist one who is evil." Matthew 5:39

A woman came to my office and after the initial pleasantries, began with a long sigh and said, "my family has issues." Though I didn't say it, my thought was "if you have family you have issues."

The same can be said of any particular problem we bring to a pastor, counselor, or trusted friend. To say we have problems is like admitting we breathe. Problems are an inescapable part of life. The real problem with problems is when they multiply and run into one another and seem to shut out the light of Spirit. We begin to believe that problems are all we have. Or as I heard a friend put it one time, "My issues have issues."

Our typical response to the preponderance of problems is to attempt to crush them out of existence, or at least to control them. Problems are to be solved. Pain is to be avoided. As an aside here, we apply this solution to other people's problems also. Someone brings us their problems and we try to solve them. Most of us respond that way.

The pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of pain is a basic human instinct. In fact, there are many ways we can increase our relative pleasure with life, and many ways we can avoid pain. However, as we must readily admit, we cannot avoid all problems, and we cannot expect a life of uninterrupted pleasure. Try as might these two goals are like smoke. We'll never get a hold of them.

Jesus suggested an unusual solution to problems, and as with many of Jesus' teachings we're going to find this one puzzling and objectionable. He said "do not resist one who is evil." If we boil down this teaching to a single word it would be acceptance. We accept our problems, and thereby we accept life, and we accept truth.

I can hear the bristling! Before you raise all of the typical objections and cite the various ways we can resist evil, just listen to the words of Jesus. Too many times we live based on the exceptions. So instead of learning the value of an eternal truth and its application to our lives, we cite the example of Hitler and dismiss something that could really be of value to us. So let's try that with acceptance.

Acceptance. Acceptance does not mean approval or agreement with evil. It doesn't mean we're acquiescing to evil and becoming part of it. Acceptance is not weak resignation. Jesus certainly, by some definition, resisted evil by challenging it, speaking the truth to it, and, most importantly, responding to it with love.

In fact, His example guides the way. Jesus certainly possessed the power to eradicate any problem He faced. He could have neutralized the Pharisees and Sadducees. He could have overthrown the Roman empire with all of its unjust brutality. Etc. etc. Instead, Jesus accepted the cross. I believe that made all of the difference. The cross as opposed to power. Or even more mysteriously, power made perfect in weakness. He did not resist evil in the classic way. He accepted the brokenness of the world and subverted it's evil with love. That's acceptance.

But what does acceptance mean for us in day-to-day experience? Or better, how can acceptance help us from feeling like life is nothing but a series of uninterrupted problems?

First, acceptance means that once and for all we give up the notion of life being fair. Life is not fair. Life is hard. We will be treated unfairly. Bad things will happen to us. We can pursue pleasure and happiness, but we will never finish that race. Mixed in with the successes and blessings will be ample failures and challenges. That is simply life. Accept it.

Second, we accept the fact that we have a role in many of the problems we encounter. Not all of our problems are by our own hand, of course, but some directly are. When that's the case, admit it, and stop trying to rationalize destructive behavior or find someone to blame for it. One of the most overlooked powers we have is to accept responsibility for ourselves. At that point, real growth and change begin.

Of course, many problems we face are not directly by our own hand. Someone else has a problem that disturbs us. We're convinced that if that person changed and stopped causing us a problem, then we would be again at peace.

The folly of this is so obvious when we stop and really take a look at it. First, we're simply foolish if we're waiting for other people to solve their problems for us. We're doubly foolish if we think we can solve their problems for them. We're triply foolish if we believe solving their problems is our responsibility.

Psychologists speak of attachment, where we attach our sense of well-being or value to another person's performance or assessment. In my present line of work, I see this often. A parent, for example, is understandably devastated by a son's or daughter's drug use. They obsess over the addiction; trying to control it, solve it, manage it, and confront it. They have no sense of happiness or peace because of another person's behavior. That may sound like deep love. It's actually quite unhealthy. In fact, the addicted child often becomes the parent's drug.

Attachment occurs in many other ways, of course. We can attach our sense of value and peace to the company's bottom-line, the girlfriend's response, grades in school, a job evaluation, etc. In every case, we're attached to something external, and, in fact, have given over control of ourselves to someone else or something else. At that point, we've surrendered any possibility for peace or contentment because of the first point above: we're all treated unfairly and bad things happen to us. It won't matter how many positives come our way, there is always something in this broken world to tell us that we're broken. And if those are the voices we listen to, then we're going to feel broken all of the time.

Now obviously, there's much more to be said about acceptance, but for this week I ask you to work on accepting the fact that life is hard and unfair, and I mean really accept it. Also think about the people or things you're attached to. It won't be hard. Any time this week you feel agitated or outraged that will be a sign of attachment. Next week, we'll delve a little more deeply into the freedom of acceptance.

Grace,

Dr. Terry Ellis

March 5, 2017