I call God as my witness . . . that it was in order to spare you that I did not return to Corinth. (2 Corinthians 1:23-2:4 NIV)
If the Apostle Paul had shown up in my counseling office, I wonder what I would have said to him? He says he chose not to return to Corinth “in order to spare them.” But it sounds more like he was protecting his heart. He claims he stayed away from the Corinthians out of love for them, but in the same breath he admits: So I made up my mind that I would not make another painful visit to you. For if I grieve you, who is left to make me glad but you whom I have grieved? In psychological jargon, we’d say this was a codependent statement.
This giant in the faith, who faced torture and rejection and beatings and jail time and hardships and the burden of fulfilling God’s call on his life had triggers a-plenty. Why am I surprised? In other passages, he freely admits his short-comings, inadequacies, struggles, and fears.
I’ve been taught that Paul’s writings were inspired (not doubting that) but I think most of my life I’ve also been taught that, as a result, everything he states is truth. But was Paul being true to his own heart? Was he really staying away because he loved the Corinthians . . . or was he protecting his own pain? We don’t know of course. We only know his words.
Now . . . maybe it was wisdom to stay away—why go where he’d be rejected? But that never stopped Paul before. Why does it bother me to think that Paul MIGHT be triggered? Or does it bother me that I’m questioning his heart?
All Scripture is inspired, but not all Scripture is instruction. Sometimes it’s history. II Corinthians is a letter—it records what Paul wrote to a specific group of believers in a specific time period. It was instruction to THEM.
Here’s where discernment is necessary. How do we know what was divine doctrine vs. a reflection on local culture? Who gets to decide? Some sects of Christianity wear hats or head coverings. They want to obey the Scriptures in all things. But others believe wearing a head covering was a cultural issue and doesn’t make one spiritual.
What about instructions to Timothy? Qualifications for a pastor preclude women being in leadership (or do they?) Is that God-ordained or cultural? Who gets to decide? If we release all outward show or behavior as a non-issue and listen only to the heart, does that answer the question: it’s not whether male or female is in charge but where the heart is? [NOTE: check out Bill Rudd’s book Should Women Be Pastors or Leaders in the Church? Very insightful!]
I’ve been taught the New Testament as law and less about heart. Rules to follow instead of relationship. Does that make everyone a law unto themselves? Where do we draw the line between biblical mandate and godly principle?
Apparently the Corinthians were living in sin, full of factions, and accusatory of Paul being boastful, having no authority, and being a burden to them. Much of this letter is self-defense on Paul’s part. He ranges from sarcasm to humility.
We (or I) have placed Paul on a high pedestal of sainthood, like he could do no wrong after his conversion. He’s earned our respect for his position, perseverance, and persecution. But I’ve never heard anyone preach about his character flaws. Paul’s defensive self is in full battle gear in this letter. You can feel the anger and hurt from the Corinthians’ false accusations. Does my respect for Paul slip just a little as I read this letter? Or should I excuse and defend him for what he says?
Should Paul have defended his position as an Apostle? Did he have a right to confront the Corinthians about their sin? Of course. But Paul was not perfect. His choleric nature is showing. I’m curious if his letter convicted them or shamed them or made them dig their heels in even deeper?
What would this letter have sounded like if Paul had dealt with his hurt before responding? Would it have had the same impact on the Corinthians? Self-defense can be idolatry. It is substituting self for God. But does God forgive us? Of course! Our sin is under the blood. But there is a better way—let God be our defense. God can use my hurts and my defenses to accomplish His perfect will. But if I have a choice (and I do), I’d choose His defense over mine and healing of the hurt over carrying the wound around in my heart.
So, here’s a question: if someone wrongs me, should I confront them? Do I need to? Or can I deal with my hurt and overlook the wrong done? If I’m at peace, my motive for the confrontation changes. Then it becomes not about protecting my pain but about what is best for the other person.
It’s really hard to be reasonable when one is triggered. So how does it look to others when MY triggers show? Do they offer me grace? I hope so. And, in turn, may I be gracious when I see others triggered. I guess I can cut Paul some slack if he’s a little codependent.
How do I respond when someone is furious with me—especially when I know I have made the right decision?
Amaziah, King of Judah (the Southern Kingdom), hired 100,000 soldiers from Israel (the Northern Kingdom), to help him fight a war (II Chronicles 25:6-10).
But a man of God told King Amaziah he needed to let the mercenaries go, for God was not with the Northern Kingdom, and “If they go with you, you’ll lose the battle.”
“But what about the 100 talents I already paid them?” the king asked.
“Not to worry,” said the man of God. “God is able to more than make it up to you.” And so Amaziah dismissed these soldiers.
Surprisingly, the mercenaries “were furious with Judah and went home in a great rage.” They’d be paid whether they fought or not, so what was the big deal? Apparently they’d lose out on the percentages from the spoils. So, in retaliation, they “raided towns belonging to Judah . . . and they killed three thousand people and carried off great quantities of plunder” (v.13).
But Amaziah stood his ground and stayed on God’s side. Good for him! No codependence there! He obeyed God in spite of man’s response.
BUT the story doesn’t end well.
Sadly, Amaziah brought home idols among the spoils of war and began to worship them. And God was furious. (I think I’d rather have man furious at me than God!)
Next, God sent a prophet to Amaziah to tell him to quit it, but Amaziah told him to shut up or he’d kill him. And so, the prophet shut up—after this one last warning: “God will destroy you.”
Now for some reason, Amaziah invited Joash (the Northern king), to join him on the battlefield, but Joash scoffed: “Your victory over the enemy has gone to your head! Stay in your palace!”
Verse 20 (NET) intrigues me: “But Amaziah did not heed the warning [why did he obey God the first time, but not the second?], for God wanted to hand them over to Joash because they followed the gods of Edom.”
God WANTED Amaziah to go to war with the Edomites (enemies) and He WANTED Amaziah to go to war with Israel (fellow Jews), but for different reasons—one to destroy and one to be destroyed. God’s choice versus man’s choice. Check and checkmate.
Sometimes God uses man to accomplish His purposes. He could have simply killed Amaziah on the spot, but He used his bad choice in order to get the job done.
This story is an amazing illustration of Romans 8:28. God will make everything right in the end, somehow weaving in man’s choices for good or for ill to accomplish His purposes. But I’d rather do right, every time!
The idea of us casting crowns at Jesus’ feet has always disturbed me a little. My visual is of God handing me a reward for a job well done (like a piece of candy for doing a chore or a trophy for winning a race), but as soon as He gives me this prize, I have to hand it right back again and not get to keep it!
I realize how skewed this childhood picture is in my mind. First of all, in the book of Revelation, the ones doing the casting are the 24 elders. Somehow the church has generalized this to all believers. And second, the crown, I believe, is not a reward but a position. Giving someone else a crown signifies yielding authority to someone else.
I get to keep the reward that I earned. I always thought I was a bad Christian for not wanting to give Jesus my earned crown. Silly me.
I’ve learned the hard way, it’s never wise to do or say something while I’m triggered. Inevitably, the words come out harsher than planned, and I make poor decisions, making matters worse. The consequences for my reactions sometimes lead to further bad choices. What a mess to clean up!
After the 12 Israelite spies returned from the land of Canaan, 10 of the spies were triggered. And in their fearful emotions, they made some foolish statements: Wouldn’t it be better for us to return to Egypt? Let’s appoint a leader and return to Egypt. (Numbers 14:3-4) Are they crazy! Leave the protection of their God? Return to the Pharoah who hates them? They’re out of their minds—literally—with fear.
Upon hearing of their punishment from God (to wander in the desert for 40 years), the 10 spies decided to go out on their own and attack the scary Amalakites. They left camp without the Lord’s direction—and perished. How foolish!
What would have happened if they had worked through their fear before opening their mouths to Moses? No wandering in the desert for 40 years. No trail of decaying bodies. And yet . . . God was able to turn even their triggers into something good. God’s will cannot be thwarted.
You are free to choose; you are not free to choose the consequences of your choices. (Samuel Thomas)
Acts chapter 15 records controversy, conflict, disputes, and confusion between the Apostles, the Pharisees, the Gentiles, and the church elders. They debated the need for circumcision, rules for the Gentiles, and John Mark’s role in service. How could there be disagreement when they had the same Holy Spirit to teach them? We’re not talking different temperaments here or even systems or culture. Truth is truth . . . or is it? Either Gentiles needed to be circumcised or they didn’t. Does this mean that one person or group was not hearing correctly from God? Does it mean that Paul and Barnabas were triggered? Who wasn’t listening to God?
I think struggle is necessary for growth. I feel inner conflict all the time, and if I don’t take the time to connect with God, I can come up with some strange conclusions. But maybe we are like plants. God sows different seeds, and our beauty is in our diversity.
Once more as we stuff the turkey, open the can of cranberry sauce, and bake the pies, I wonder if this Thanksgiving feast is a waste of our money. Could we not choose to eat simply and give that money to the poor? Do I need to feel guilty over our indulgence? Christmas can also be tricky. Should we give all our gifts to charity? Always? No, I don’t think so. Should we spend all on ourselves? Again, no, that wouldn’t be right either. Somewhere there’s a balance.
There is a time and place for feasting as well as fasting. God commanded and scheduled Jewish feast days. In Luke 6, Jesus is caught attending a party, a feast, and His disciples are accused of not fasting like the Pharisees.
When you’re celebrating a wedding, you don’t skimp on the cake and wine. You feast. Later you may need to pull in your belt, but this isn’t the time. As long as the bride and groom are with you, you have a good time. When the groom is gone, the fasting can begin. (From The Message)
In the Good Friday service tonight, I saw a visual of a thin waif. As we partook of the elements of communion, I shared them with her and she revived.
“Who is this, Lord?” I asked.
“She’s the young mom you were, trying to raise your daughters, mistakes and all. You’ve not been kind to that self.”
And as we sang, I helped the waif nail her shame, chains, and guilt, regrets, disappointments and should-haves to the cross, and I forgave her for being “less than.”
Looking back, I wonder how different I would have been as a wife and mom had I known then what I know now. I would have stayed more present, rather than hiding my true self. I kept her safe and hidden for almost 20 years, and another 10 before she fully came back to life.
I can hide parts of my heart from myself or from others or even try to hide them from God. But God knows each part intimately and wants connection with each one.
Check out these verses on hiddenness.
Times are not hidden from the Almighty (Job 24:1 KJV).
Thou desirest truth in the inward parts: and in the hidden part thou shalt make me to know wisdom (Psalm 51:6 KJV).
And God who knows the heart . . . (Acts 15:8 ESV).
Obadiah (not the Minor Prophet) is an Old Testament character who gets overshadowed by the prophet Elijah, King Ahab, and his wicked wife Queen Jezebel.
Obadiah was in charge of Jezebel’s palace and he “greatly feared the Lord” (I Kings 18:3). This intrigues me. How does he maintain his integrity while living in the midst of extreme wickedness? And why does the king retain him in service? Perhaps he is trusted and faithful and humble. Who knows. I think of Joseph and Daniel who were also placed in positions of authority under not-so-nice rulers.
When Jezebel murders all the prophets she can find, Obadiah secretly hides one hundred prophets of the Lord in two caves and feeds them bread and water. Meanwhile, Obadiah knows that King Ahab is furious with Elijah, blaming him for the drought. (Typical to blame someone else for one’s own sin choices.)
One day while Obadiah is walking along a desert road, Elijah suddenly appears next to him and tells Obadiah to inform the king that he (Elijah) is here.
“No way!” says Obadiah. (Apparently, someone had reported to Jezebel about his hidden prophets, and he’s afraid for his life.) The king has been searching the land for Elijah and made the nations swear they had not found him. Obadiah has heard the threats against Elijah, so if he tells Ahab that Elijah is here and Elijah disappears again, it’s off with Obadiah’s head!
Obadiah reiterates that he’s feared the Lord since his youth. He’s obviously on the Lord’s side. But Elijah assures him that he won’t leave, and so Obadiah agrees to deliver the message.
Both Obadiah and Elijah made courageous choices–Obadiah hid true prophets, and Elijah confronted false ones atop Mt. Carmel. Both also experienced fear. Elijah turned and ran for his life when Jezebel threatened him. And both faced their fears in the end and became victorious.
What gives a man courage? What causes him to doubt and fear?
This morning, when I asked God how best to pray for my friend Suzie, He gave me this visual.
Jesus scooped me up on His white horse, and we flew over to Suzie’s heart castle. I was dismayed to look down and see the devastation. The enemy had penetrated in spite of the thick stone walls around the property. The castle and the grounds had been burned and blackened, and only the charred remains of the beautiful oak trees dotted the landscape.
“So where is Suzie?” I cried.
“Listen,” He said.
And then I heard it. Cries of anguish came from the direction of the one standing turret. I knew then that Suzie was trapped inside, fighting for her life. She had barred and locked the door from the inside, fully armed, on high alert. The enemy troops surrounded the walls and were gleefully gloating, not paying much attention except to their own shenanigans. They knew they were helpless to penetrate the turret, but they didn’t care. They knew that eventually Suzie would run out of food and water, and their mission of destruction would be accomplished.
My inclination was to rush in with a flaming sword and rescue the damsel in distress, but I knew Jesus far too well than to make plans without him. Besides, He had told me I didn’t need to bring any weapons with me because I had Him; and as long as I stayed close to Him, I’d be okay. I looked at Jesus to see what He would do.
We glided over the walls and landed softly in front of the turret. I laughed in glee as the enemy hordes scattered like rats to the edges of the compound. What will He do next, I wondered. Will He knock, inform her that all is well, and that would be that?
Instead, we slid off the horse, and He sat by the door and pulled out a bag of marbles. “Care to play?” He asked.
What!? Really? Well, okay, I trust He knows what He’s doing.
I glanced up to see a shadow cross the window above us.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
“She’s noticing the quiet,” He whispered.
I listened. The screeching of the devils around us had stopped, but no sound of birds could be heard or rustling in the trees. Just silence.
Okay, that’s good, I thought. What’s next?
“She needs to know that she’s safe before she will put down her weapons, stop fighting, and rest,” He said. (He had read my thoughts, of course.)
“So why don’t we just go on in and rescue her?” I asked. “You can go through walls.”
“I could . . . but it might scare her, and she’d pick the weapons back up if she hears noises on the stairs. I want her to learn to trust Me. I’m not like the destroyer who’s out to get her. But she doesn’t know that yet.”
“But she might starve to death while You wait for her!” I exclaimed.
He smiled. “Don’t worry, Little One. She’s been starving a long time already. That’s why she called for my help.”
“Then why don’t You help her?” I asked.
“I will . . . as soon as she opens the door and lets Me in.”
“But . . . ?”
“But what?”
The question died on my lips. I already knew the answer. I had learned firsthand the lesson of waiting—when I’m ready . . . when the Kairos time is right . . . at the appointed time, all shall be well.
“Thank You, Jesus, for letting me come with You today. I asked You to help her because I knew You would. But it’s always fun to watch You work. What’s next?”
“Wait and see the salvation of the Lord.”
And so we continued to play marbles on the soft dirt. Then Jesus began to whistle a tune—a lovely melody. (I love it when Jesus sings over me. I hoped it would reach Suzie’s ears so she could hear it too.)
And that’s when we heard the sobbing. Deep, wrenching sobs of pain coming from within the turret walls.
“Now, Jesus?” I looked to see what He would do. I wanted to rush in and scoop her in my arms and tell her all would be well.
He just shook His head, silent, and I knew I was expected to stay still and remain quiet. We both looked up at the same time. A shadow and then a tousled head appeared in the window. She glanced furtively about trying to determine where the sound was coming from. But all she could see was the desolation below in her garden. We were too close to the door for her to see us from that angle.
And so we waited. But it didn’t take long. We heard the sound of footsteps on the spiral stairs, closer and closer to the door. I held my breath. What would she do next? I glanced at Jesus. A little smile played about his lips. I could hear her breathing heavily on the other side of the door, waiting for something. Jesus paused for one beat, then two, and then very softly knocked on the door. “Suzie? It’s Me. Jesus. It’s okay. It’s safe to come out now. You are safe with Me.”
“How do I know it’s You?” she demanded. I’ve been tricked before.
“Tell you what,” He replied. “Why don’t you open the window in your front door and peek outside. Don’t open the door itself until you know it’s Me and not the enemy.”
“Yes, but the last time I did that, I saw what I thought was an angel of light. But when I opened the door, all hell broke loose.”
“Good point,” He countered. “Did you use the Demon Test first?”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“I know how much you love My words. You can trust them. They are life and they are true. Remember where I instructed John to write, ‘By this you know the Spirit of God: Every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is of God, and every spirit that does not confess that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is not of God” (I John 4:2-3)?’ Ask Me to say these words. The demons are incapable of saying them you know.”
“Okay . . . let me think about that . . . okay, yes, I do trust Your written words. So . . . whoever you are, say those words!”
“Jesus Christ is come in the flesh.”
Slowly and cautiously, the window swung open, and Suzie peered out. Jesus winked at her and smiled. “Good job!” He exclaimed.
And then He nodded over to the black spirits at the perimeter of the compound. Try making them say those words.
“Tell me ‘Jesus Christ is come in the flesh’!” she yelled in their direction.
Some of them smirked; others cringed; but they all looked away, silent.
Jesus waited.
“But what if I open this door and they come rushing back here?”
Silently, Jesus held up His flaming sword so she could see the words written on it:
And take . . . the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God (Eph. 6.17). For the word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart (Heb. 4:12).
“They really don’t like My sword.” He grinned.
And then I smiled because I knew what was coming. I’d seen it hundreds of times. I heard the bolts scraping open. Slowly the door swung inward, and Suzie stepped out into the bright sunshine. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes. And I saw Jesus sheath the sword and stretch out His hand in invitation. She hesitated. She still wasn’t sure she could trust Him. Maybe He was mad at her. Maybe He was going to whip out that sword to cut her in two. The thought was still very scary.
He lowered His arm. “Care to sit down and play marbles with us?” He asked.
“Marbles!? Are you mad?’ she said. “This place is in shambles; my kingdom is decimated, and you want to play marbles?! Aren’t you going to fix this place? That’s why I prayed to You, you know. You let this happen. Where were You when I was being attacked by the enemy? Where were You when my grandma’s life was cut short? You didn’t care that my parents divorced and left me to fend for myself.”
“Who are you really mad at, Suzie?” He asked gently.
“I’m mad at myself! I’m mad that I trusted you; I’m mad that I trusted other people and they betrayed me. But I’m mad at You too.”
Suddenly she stopped. I could see the fear in her eyes. She had just told off the King of the Universe. Would He strike her down for such insolence and disrespect? He’d done it before. She’d read about it when he disciplined the Israelites. Would He react to her the same way? She shrank back into herself, still on high alert, ready to bolt back into the turret and slam the door if necessary.
Instead, He waited, saying nothing.
When He didn’t make a move, she whispered, “Don’t you care!?” I could hear the silent scream behind the question.
“Yes, I care very much,” He replied. “I cared so much that I died for you so that you could be set free . . . if you want it.”
“Of course I want it,” she retorted. “But You didn’t do anything to stop it. And You didn’t come when I called.”
He waited, silent and patient.
“Well!? Aren’t you going to do something?”
“I’d love to, Suzie. But first, would you be willing to hand your anger to Me? I’m big enough to take it, you know. You’ve been carrying this for so long. How has it helped you? What has your anger done for you?”
“It’s kept me quite safe, thank you.”
He glanced up at the turret. “Sure, sure . . . quite safe . . . and starving.”
“Tell you what,” He added.” How about we do an exchange? You give me your anger, and I’ll give you some bread.”
By this time, Suzie knew her blood sugar was crashing, and she couldn’t keep up the tirade for much longer. Meekly, she handed over the fireball she’d been clutching under her arm, and He produced a warm, fresh-out-of-the-oven slice of bread, thickly slathered with melted butter and raspberry jam. Quickly she wolfed it down and then drank deeply from the bottled water He handed her. It tasted like nothing she’d experienced before—cool and warm at the same time, fizzy, like little sparkles of light dancing on her tongue. And she remembered those ancient words, “I am the Bread of Life; I will give you springs of Living Water.”
Suddenly, she knew she wanted more. More where this came from.
“Jesus?”
“Yes, my child?”
“Thank You.”
There was more, much more, to this story to come I knew. The kingdom had yet to be rebuilt and restored. But I knew there was time, plenty of time, because I knew that God’s timing is always perfect. For now, it was good to know that Suzie was with Jesus, getting to know Him and learning His ways, and would be pouring out all of her pain in the days ahead. It had been a good day.
How many times have I glibly recited The Lord’s Prayer without understanding this phrase: “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil”? I have found no satisfactory explanation or commentary on this part of the prayer. I reject the notion that God is the source of temptation (which is what it sounds like). Wouldn’t it be better to say, “Lead us OUT OF temptation”?
Perhaps “testing” is the better translation for “temptation,” in which case does it mean: Don’t bring us into testing. Or keep us away from testing. But that’s not sound theology either, for He does indeed test us.
“Deliver us from evil” could mean: Deliver us from the evil that’s in our hearts. Or: deliver us from the Evil One (Satan and his minions).
If I ask Him to remove the stuff in my heart that draws me to sin, God won’t need to test me in this area. Perhaps the prayer is: Lord, help me to pass the test when I encounter evil.
In the Pursuit of Peace 