When John the Baptist heralded the coming of the Messiah, he used the words of the Prophet Isaiah, saying, “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight paths for Him. Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill made low. The crooked roads shall become straight, the rough ways smooth (Luke 3:3-5).” And I believe that this imagery was meant to portray to the Jews (& ultimately to those of us who would one day be grafted into the covenant) what His coming could mean to them. The redeeming work of the cross would soon facilitate the abiding presence of God in their lives, and put an end to their long cycle of seeking Him in times of oppression, and drifting from Him in times of prosperity. With the Spirit of God active in their day to day lives, He could become their source for life, love, security, provision, strength, hope, and justice. By becoming partakers of the divine nature, they would no longer be at the mercy of their fickle human nature. These images speak of the steadiness that naturally flows out of that kind of singular focus. So great was God’s plan to dwell within them, that Jesus told His disciples it was actually better that He would leave them, so that the Spirit could come. And in looking at the first century church, we see those words largely validated.
But as we endeavor to make straight pathways in our own lives, it doesn’t always seem to work out. Sadly, many who identify themselves by the name of Jesus live lives of quiet desperation; often times battling sickness, depravity, insecurity, abandonment, depression, condemnation, fear… Though we can have some mountain top experiences, we often find ourselves in the depths of the valley. Like a person trying to plant a garden, we try to cut a straight row, only to turn and see that it’s anything but.
Experienced gardeners tell me that the best way to till a straight row is to fix your eye on a specific point (on the opposite side of the plot), and to plow directly toward it. This would seem to be the same advice the scripture gives us, as the Hebrew writer tells us, “fix your eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of your faith (Heb. 12:2),” and Paul says, “whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things (Phil 4:8).” Along with scriptures like, “be anxious for nothing (Phil. 4:6)”, “let not your heart be troubled (John 14:27)”, and “Don’t worry about tomorrow. It will take care of itself (Matt. 6:34)”, the New Testament is filled with directives about what we need to be focused on, and what we can’t afford to concentrate on. If our God, who is the same yesterday, today and forever, becomes our singular reference point, then our pathways can’t help but straighten out.
Many would cite the manic nature of our spiritual walk as evidence of poor faith, but I think that conclusion requires a little further dissection. Some see the terms “believing” and “faith” as being synonymous, but I would disagree. At its lowest level, believing can be very superficial, and little more than mental assent. We believe a lot of things in the abstract, or in principle, that never really make their way into our practice. For instance, I believe in eating a healthy diet and exercising regularly, but my normal pattern doesn’t necessarily reflect that notion. My tendency to overload my schedule, and to eat on the run, generally takes precedence over that concept. Faith, even at its lowest level, requires more than that. It requires enough belief to make us willing to risk something, and maybe even to act upon it. Because I was raised in church, I always “believed” that there was a God, and that His son Jesus died for my sins. But it wasn’t until my early thirties, when the life I’d built without Him began to collapse, that I actually found the faith to fully invest myself, and my life, in Him. I sense that many others are living this same kind of existence, where they claim to believe, but have little or nothing really invested in it.
The wisdom of the world encourages us to diversify our investments as a hedge against big losses, but the wisdom of God calls us to put all our eggs in one basket. The erratic, and sometimes tortured, path we take is an indication of which philosophy is prevalent in our lives. To the degree that our identity is invested in Him, we should be able to walk free from the oppression of what other people might say or do, and from the identity crisis’s that so frequently beset the natural man. To the degree that our security and hope are invested in Him, we should be able to walk free of anxiety, fear, and depression. The Lord tells us that everything in the seen realm is perishing, so investing ourselves in temporal things sets us up for disappointment and failure. The old axiom says, “you can’t take it with you.” But for those who’ve invested themselves in the eternal kingdom, that’s not really true. Straight pathways may not be the norm, but if we’re willing to adopt a singular reference point, they could become our destiny.
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The Cares of Life
Posted in Commentaries, Opinions, tagged cares of life, cast your cares, fix your eyes on Jesus, fruitfulness, Parable of the Seed and the Sower on August 15, 2017| Leave a Comment »
One of the more familiar parables of Jesus has come to be known as “The Parable of the Seed and the Sower” (or sometimes just the Parable of the Sower). This title is somewhat of a misnomer, as the focal point of the story is neither the seed nor the sower; ultimately, it is about the soil. And for those of us who count ourselves as believers, it is the words in verse 22 that most directly apply.
Matthew 13:22 “Now he who received seed among the thorns is he who hears the word, and the cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and he becomes unfruitful.” (NKJV)
Implicit in the manner this example is given, the depth of ones roots is not at issue here. The lack of a deep rooted faith is addressed in verses 20-21. This passage speaks to the object of our focus, and it may be surprising to consider that it isn’t necessarily sin or evil that chokes off the seed of God for the believer. Often times it is simply the cares of this life. It also worth noting that the consequence of this distraction isn’t necessarily the loss of one’s salvation, it is generally a lack of fruitfulness.
It is tempting to gloss over the words and to convince ourselves that He is talking about caring about what the world cares about (i.e. fame, social status, the praise of men…), and/or about being greedy, but I sense the message of this passage runs much deeper than that. I believe that the “cares of this world” quite naturally occur as part of living in a fallen world, and dealing with the world’s system for getting things done. I also sense that when He speaks of “riches”, He isn’t necessarily talking about money. He’s referencing what the world sees as valuable.
On a personal level, this passage hits me where I live. As I’ve endeavored to answer the upward call of God upon my life, being a good husband, a good father and a good neighbor have become a much higher priority. But embracing those roles also creates an endless supply of practical issues that need to be dealt with, and those things often grab hold of my attention and require the bulk of my energy. In those instances the reality of my circumstance tends to overwhelm my grasp of the reality of God’s word, and when it does, I flounder.
No doubt, there is a balancing point that needs to be reached with all this, as we are called to be in the world, but not of it. It is an equilibrium which I doubt that I’ve experienced for any sustained amount of time. I don’t generally struggle on issues that relate to me personally, but I can be very susceptible when it comes to the people I love. The truth be told, I often ride the rollercoaster of their situation until it dawns on me how nauseous it is making me, and I choose to step off. In those moments I must cast my cares on Him who sustains me. And when I do, I always wonder at my tendency to get back on that ride.
Jesus said that the key to producing fruit was “abiding in the vine”, which means maintaining a constant connection to Him. The Hebrew writer encourages us to fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith. Ultimately, it’s all a question of what we’re focused on. Like Peter, we are capable of “all things” when we’re looking unto Jesus, but when we fix our eyes on the storm, we are bound to sink.
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