Glorious Mud

Masturbation, Onanism, and Injustice

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Mizel) — Tue, 29 Jul 2025 19:23:00 +0000

The Real Sin of Onan

I was a teenage new believer the first time I heard someone talk about the “sin of Onan.” The message was clear—and honestly, kind of terrifying: don’t masturbate. God killed a guy for it once.

That story, told in Genesis 38, got repeated in various youth group talks and church settings. Onan became shorthand for what not to do with your body when you’re alone. His name was a warning: “Don’t be like Onan.” Touch yourself like that and God might just touch you to kill you.

But when I actually read the passage, I found that it doesn’t say what I was told it says.

An Old Reading That Misses the Point

It’s true that for centuries—especially in medieval Roman Catholic tradition—this passage was interpreted as a condemnation of any “spilling of seed.” The act of ejaculation outside the context of procreation, whether through withdrawal or masturbation, was viewed as inherently sinful. That interpretation shaped a lot of what was passed down in purity culture, and it’s still influencing the way some churches talk about sexuality today.

But here’s the problem: the story in Genesis 38 isn’t about that. Not really.

The passage doesn’t focus on the physical act itself. The emphasis is on something much deeper—and far more disturbing.

A Story of Injustice and Power

Here’s what actually happens.

Judah’s son Er marries Tamar, but Er is wicked and dies without children. In that culture, the responsibility fell to the next brother—Onan—to marry the widow and give her a child in his brother’s name. That child would carry on the family line, receive the inheritance, and secure Tamar’s place in the family. It wasn’t just a formality; it was a matter of honor, security, and justice.

Onan agrees outwardly. He sleeps with her. But he makes sure she never conceives. Every time they have sex, he interrupts it—instead ejaculating on the ground.

Why? Because he knew the child wouldn’t be his.

And so he used her body while denying her the dignity, protection, and future that should have come with that union. He trapped her in a kind of sexual slavery—reaping the pleasure but withholding the promise. There was no way forward for her. No way out.

That’s the sin of Onan.

And God saw it.

And He acted.

God's response makes it clear what he thought. This injustice was wicked and Onan was put to death.

It Wasn’t Just Onan

As disturbing as that part of the story is, what follows might be even harder to stomach. Because when Onan dies, Judah makes a promise to Tamar: that she’ll marry his youngest son when he’s older. But the text makes it clear—Judah never had any intention of following through. It was a way to make Tamar disappear. Out of sight, out of mind.

Judah didn’t want to take responsibility. He didn’t want to face what had happened in his own family, under his own roof. And rather than pursue justice for Tamar, he chose to preserve his own comfort.

How often do those with power act that way?

How often do we?

Tamar’s Bold Response

Eventually Tamar realizes no one is coming to rescue her. No one is going to step in and do what’s right. So she takes a drastic step. She disguises herself as a prostitute and waits for Judah on the road. When he sees her, he propositions her—not realizing who she is.

She uses his own appetites against him.

She asks for a pledge—his signet, his cord, and his staff. The ancient equivalent of handing over your wallet and driver’s license. And then she conceives.

When her pregnancy becomes obvious, Judah is enraged. He calls for her to be burned to death. The hypocrisy is stunning. He’s the one who used her. He’s the one who abandoned her. And now he’s the one demanding punishment?

Until she sends word: “The man who owns these is the father.”

And suddenly, Judah is confronted with the truth.

He says something remarkable: “She is more righteous than I.”

That moment—where his sin is laid bare—is a turning point. He’s confronted with the reality of his own behavior. The stuff he ignored, or minimized, so that he could continue to believe himself to be a man worthy of honor and respect is now open and public.

He’s humbled. Confronted. And changed.

What This Story Is Really About

The story of Onan isn’t about masturbation. It’s about the abuse of power. It’s about a man who used someone weaker than him for his own gain and denied her the justice she deserved.

It’s about a father who enabled that injustice by refusing to act.

And it’s about a woman who had no legal recourse, no protector, and no future—until she forced the truth into the light.

This isn’t a purity culture fable. It’s a warning about what happens when those with power choose self-preservation over justice. When people get used for pleasure and discarded when they become inconvenient. When injustice gets swept under the rug because dealing with it would cost too much.

The sin of Onan wasn’t private or personal. It was relational, systemic, and cruel.

So What Do We Do With This?

If we want to avoid Onan’s sin—and Judah’s—we need more than good sexual ethics. We need the courage to look at how our decisions (or indecisions) affect those with less power than us. We need to ask whether our convenience is coming at the cost of someone else’s dignity. We need to pay attention to the invisible Tamars in our lives.

And maybe most of all, we need the humility to admit when we’ve been wrong—and to let that moment of truth change us.

Because justice matters to God.

Even in the messy stories.

Even in the shadows.

And to those who, like Tamar, are living in the shadows of the abuse of power, know that God will not withhold your justice forever.

Here's something really cool. Jesus comes from the line of Judah. He is a direct descendant of this broken and repentant man.

But you want to know what's more cool than that? Matthew lists only five women in his genealogy and guess who one of them is?

That's right. Tamar.

One of Judah's sons would eventually be the messiah, and it would come through the line of Tamar. They denied Tamar her dignity, but God didn't. They robbed Tamar of her legacy, but God restored it with astounding glory.

Tamar, the great-great-great (who knows how many greats) - grandmother of Jesus was vindicated by Jesus. Not just because he was her descendant, either. Yes, that was a great honor.

Jesus didn't just come from Tamar. He came for her. And for every other outcast and outsider in need of justice, forgiveness, and restoration to God's love.

Jesus, a descendant of Judah, did not repeat Judah's sin. Instead of acting in the love of power for personal gain or pleasure, he acted in the power of love to stand with and for the marginalized, abused, and forsaken.

And the Onans of his day killed him for it.

Little did they know, though, that through his death (and resurrection), Jesus would bring ultimate justice and make life available to all. They exercised their selfish power to destroy, but God, in his wisdom, over-ruled their injustice with the greater power of love - to redeem and restore.

Yeah, so in a world of Onans, I think it's a good idea to try to stand with the Tamars.

Good Friday and Reservoir Dogs

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Mizel) — Fri, 19 Apr 2019 14:16:00 +0000

When the Church tries to embody the rule of God in the forms of earthly power it may achieve that power, but it is no longer a sign of the kingdom.

― Lesslie Newbigin

I recently rewatched Quentin Tarantino’s masterpiece of pacing and tension, Reservoir Dogs. Notorious for its profanity and violent imagery, it is broadly considered one of the most influential and important independent films ever made. Most of the movie is filmed in the suffocating confines of a former mortuary lined with coffins and a hurst, while the actors, full of sound and fury, are either dying or soon to be dead. The climactic scene of the movie comes when Mr. Blonde, the “bad guy” (in a room where even the good guy is a bad guy), cuts off the ear of a police officer while dancing to “Stuck in the Middle with You.” It was a moment where killers, men who had already bent the moral restraints of the law to suit their desires, were shocked by how far a bad man can spin into that badness. Like a Shakespearean tragedy, it is brutal, compelling, and, in the end, haunting in its exploration of human proclivity for violence and the strange ways we define right and wrong.

As I was reading the Gospel of John this morning, I was struck by a similar scene on the evening of Christ’s betrayal. Jesus had spent the whole evening preparing his disciples for these events, telling them that he would have to be betrayed and that they would, in spite of all their fear, be ok. He would be with them. The Spirit would come and comfort and guide them. The Father, to whom Jesus was going, was not only with Jesus, but with them. The world, he tells them, hates him and will hate them. The world, in all of its grubby power-hungry self-glory, has been exposed by his love and hates the exposure. And instead of changing, it will instead rise up against the Son of God to silence him through death. But it’s ok, he tells them, it’s all part of the plan.

You will be left here, he tells them, just for a little while - to be my witnesses. In the same way I exposed the hypocrisy of the world’s fragile and hypocritical morality by my love, the world will know you are my disciples by your love. And the world will hate you for it. The irreligious world will hate you because they cannot manipulate you, profit off you, or build their empires of dust on your shared ambition. The religious world will hate you even more because you will expose their Orwellian propagandist Double Speak for the greedy, profane, self-glorying blasphemy that it is. They will speak of love but will act in hate. They will speak of God’s glory but fight for their own. They will speak of truth and boast of hills to die on, but instead of dying on a hill of love, they will kill on the hill of power.

You are my disciples. You will be my witnesses. They will know you are my disciples by your love.

And then the dangerous world out there showed up in the garden. Jesus placed himself between their hostility and his disciples. He offered himself in love to suffer and die in a supreme act of substitutionary justice. Take me, he says, and leave these alone.

But the worldliness of his disciples rose up in response to the worldliness of the invaders, and Peter (bold, manly-man Peter) takes out his sword and in an ill-aimed strike, cuts off the ear of Malchus (not even a soldier - a servant of the High Priest). The hostile worldliness of the soldiers provoked the hostile worldliness of Peter and the disciples. Violence begets violence and fear begets fear.

And Jesus stands in the middle, quietly rebuking Peter and quietly healing Malchus and quietly extending his healing hands to be bound, carried away to be pierced, delivered up to the world by the worldliness of both his enemies and his friends. Love on display, exposing the hypocrisy of both his enemies and his friends. Love inviting both sides of the fight to repent of their violent self-glory and fearful self-protection. Love - disarming and alarming, powerful in its laying down of power, glorious in its meekness (and appearance of weakness). Love.

I can’t help but look at the landscape of our culture, as Mueller Thursday seemed to eclipse Maundy Thursday, and my social media feed was filled with people picking up their swords and taking ill-aimed swipes at their enemies, that we are reservoir dogs, dying people, full of sound and fury, seeking to kill others in the mortuary, instead of laying down our swords, undone by love to follow a Savior who calls us to the greater power of love.

Today is Good Friday. The day Love died so that I might be loved. The day the boastful and violent intentions of my heart were exposed in their true nature, in the light of his goodness, as pride and fear. The day that comes around once a year to remind us every day of the year to repent of our worldly fear, pride, greed, and desperate need to win (and see others lose). To love.

It was my sin that put him on that cross. It was his love that kept him there.

That is my security. That is my joy. That is my boast and my pride. Today I commit afresh to laying down my sword and following my Savior on the path of the cross.

When Good Theology Blocks Us From God

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Mizel) — Wed, 18 Oct 2017 14:23:00 +0000

I made a point in a recent sermon that sometimes we block ourselves from growing in our faith with good theology. I think some people thought it was a strange point and I’d like to explain why I think it is a point worth making.

First, to make it clear, theology is not the problem. Having a sound theology is a good thing - it helps clarify our thinking about ourselves and about God. It gives us a framework for understanding who God is, what he has done, and how we take hold of his covenant promises. It gives us a scope of God’s awesome control and nature and our dignity and depravity. All good things. Sound theology is (to quote Paul) “holy and righteous and good,” but sometimes how we use it isn’t.

Culturally, we have a very low tolerance for sorrow and negative feelings. We are like the character Joy in the movie Inside Out. We want to draw a little circle around our sad feelings and say, “This is your place, you stay in there. Don’t touch anything.” And the circle we draw is a commitment of the will to think only about happy things.

In fact, my social media feed is filled with quotes and memes that evanglize about the power of positive thinking (Your day isn’t about what happens to you; it’s about how you respond to what happens to you!). We tell each other that all we have to do to overcome negative emotions is fix our thinking about what has happened to us. “Think positive thoughts and you will feel positive things!”

The problem with this line of thinking is that it (1) isn’t biblical, and (2) doesn’t work.

When we read through the Psalms, we don’t see God’s people running from sorrow to platitudes, combatting negative emotions with the power of positive thoughts. We don’t see people drawing a tight circle around their sorrow and then declaring, “You stay there and I will pretend you are smaller than you really are and maybe you will cease to exist.”

We hear the Psalmists crying out things like, “Hey God, where did you go?” Or “Why did you leave me alone and vulnerable here?” Or “I am in so much pain that it feels like I am being sucked into a mud pit, never to return - why did you let this happen?”

This is called Lament. Lament is a powerful and important way of communicating with God. It is the single largest category of Psalms (even more than praise and worship), and there’s a whole book in the Bible dedicated to it called Lamentations. Lament is the guttural cry of suffering and the language of sorrow.

In the Bible we don’t see people desperately trying to make negative feelings go away with mantras of good theology (like, Well, God is still in control, or With God, the future is still bright!). We see God’s people, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, stepping into the circle of their sorrow and pulling it close to their heart in order to feel it, mourne it, and redeem it through lament. We see them crying out to God in honesty in their pain, even saying things that sound theologically incorrect.

Jesus, in one of the greatest points of pain and loneliness and sorrow in his life (on the cross), quoted a Psalmist and cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Listen: if Jesus can cry out that honestly in his pain and not be a theological traitor, so can we.

Lament is driven by pain but it is motivated by faith. In order for us to be that honest with our pain with God, we have to have faith that he really does care, understand, and love us. Our good theological platitudes are often not just an expression of fear of our sorrow but a fear of God’s response. We are afraid he won’t meet us in the valley of our darkness, that he will despise our weakness and vulnerability and not run to our aid. True lament requires us to both be honest with our pain and have enough faith that God is bound to us covenant faithfulness that he will honor our pain and meet us in our suffering.

So, ironically, while we often use good theology to shield ourselves from the growth that comes from meeting God in our pain, it is good theology that will equip us to meet God in it. It is only when we know God is loving and powerful that we will obey his voice to “Wait on me” even when the place where we are waiting feels like a pit that is swallowing us whole.

But like the Pslamists, we will discover that something beautiful happens when we meet God in that dark place. Jesus, who knows our pain better than we do, will draw near and give a profound grace in the pain, giving a comfort only a God and a friend can who has suffered in a similar way.

In pain, we need more than just a good theology of grace. We need a deep experience of grace. And doesn’t come from knowing the right things. It comes from coming before God (even crawling) in humility and with our desperate need, knowing that it is only at the throne of grace our sorrow will be redeemed and our hearts healed.

We are Losing by Trying to Win

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Wed, 05 Jul 2017 15:37:00 +0000

Most people have heard of Jonathan Swift's classic novel, Gulliver's Travels. In it, Gulliver travels from one strange place to another, encountering tiny people, giant people, talking horses, and all kinds of adventures. Most people today think of it as a children's storybook because the scene where he is tied down on a beach by little people who feel threatened by him has made its way into almost every children's cartoon.

But Gulliver's Travels is far from a children's storybook. It is an insightful and often cutting look at human nature. Swift was a careful observer of human behavior and lampooned it mercilessly. Swift was an Irish writer and clergyman and said that he wrote this novel to "vex the world, not divert it."

I think we could use some of that vexing - and could do with some learning from it.

In Gulliver's last adventure, he runs across creatures called "Yahoos." They are nasty creatures who horde shiny rocks and hurl their feces at each other as a form of defense (and offense). They all walk around covered in the filth of it, just scrambling to collect and hide more shiny things. Whoever gets near them gets defiled.

I can't think of a more apt description of my social media feed and the political and social environment of America today. It's like the high school cafeteria during a giant food fight - but people are throwing crap instead of nasty rehydrated mashed potatoes. It seems like a competition to see who can end the day with the better "burn" - an environment of mocking and ridicule.

The problem is that no one ends the day clean. Everyone has stupid people in their camp - and everyone can be stupid at times. And as enlightening as you think your sarcastic insight is, you are just playing for the applause of people who already agree with you while trying to cover those who don't with as much shame as you can before they return the volley. We all go home covered in feces.

We are at a critical point in our cultural journey and I think Christians can lead the way toward health and strength. But the only way to do that is to step away from the crap-fest. There are powerful political forces at work that benefit from the divisions in our society - so the foment our fear and stoke our pride. But we don't have to play along. We don't have to stoop down to pick up and throw the ammunition they are feeding us.

Instead of trying to attack someone's ideas today, try to understand them. Even if you find them ugly and distasteful. You don't have to agree with someone (or respect their ideas) to seek to understand them and to respect them.

Instead of mocking someone's stupidity today by reposing the latest meme (a sure way to entertain those who agree with you and alienate those who don't), laugh at it (or grimace at it). And then remind yourself that there are memes out there that you find offensively oversimplify your thinking or unfairly highlight the behavior or a few and generalize it to the whole (of which you are a part).

Instead of allowing a "root of bitterness" to take root in your heart (Hebrews 12:15) at the people with whom you disagree, seek to see them as God sees all of us: as broken, messed up people desperately in need of grace. Each of us is a "glorious ruin" - creatures made in the image of God but covered in our own selfish ambition and greed for self-glory. Don't allow someone else's ruin (and your pride) to so fill your vision that you refuse to see the glory of the image of God in them too.

Instead of wishing for karma (man, I hope what they deserve), let's truly be people of grace. Let's be so overwhelmed with the grace we have received that there is no room in our hearts for self-righteous judgment of others.

God calls us to something so much better than winning. He calls us to something so much better than defeating. He calls us to leave our "Yahoo" natures behind because He calls us to love. He calls us to grace. He calls us to be people whose hope is unshakable because it is founded on the unfailing love of God.

Sanctified Diversity: Learning how to Keep in Step with the Gospel

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Tue, 28 Mar 2017 12:56:00 +0000

Last Sunday (March 26, 2017), I preached a message at Trailhead Church in Edwardsville, IL, called Sanctified Diversity, looking at Paul's rebuke of Peter for not "keeping in step with the truth of the gospel." The clear implication of this passage is that it's not enough to only know the truth as a follower of Jesus. You must also lean in and learn to live out its implications in the difficult spaces of life.

There are few areas that our culture needs us to lean in with gospel grace, humility, and empathy more than in the area of racial and cultural diversity. It's just not optional. We can be orthodox in our words and heretics with our lives, undermining the integrity of the message of the gospel because we are not walking in its power. To be true to the gospel, we need to do more than just believe its truths. We need to walk out their applications in our lives.

My sermon was called Sanctified Diversity. You can follow that link to listen to it on Trailhead Church's website or you can get the podcast on iTunes.

My final point in the sermon was that "Not engaging is not an option" and I promised I would post a blog with a few links to resources I have found helpful as a learner about our racial history and the dynamics of the racial tension around us today. I am far from an expert in this area, so this list will be far from exhaustive. I plan to update it as I continue to discover great stuff that I would recommend others read or watch or listen to. Feel free to comment with other links or resources you would recommend (comments are being moderated and abusive responses will be deleted).

It is my prayer that we as believers would learn how to lead the way in these difficult conversations.

Digital Content:

The African Americans: Many Rivers to Cross

This six episode PBS series is phenomenal as a beginning primer to the history of African Americans from the 1500's to the present day. The series is engaging to both the heart and the mind. And while it covers some of the saddest and most brutal aspects of our history, the series is able to stay hopeful, telling stories not just of suffering and loss, but triumph and courage. My only complaint about this series is that it moves so quickly. But it gave me many new things to dig into and learn about.

Length: 6 hour-long episodes
$11 for digital rights on Amazon

The Acts 29 Global Gathering 2016 Panel Discussion on Racial Reconciliation

This hour and twenty minute video is deeply moving and truly enlightening. Four African American pastors shared humbly and honestly with us what their experiences have been like as black Americans. I was honored by their transparency and moved by their stories. They gave us a real gift in opening up to us: the opportunity to empathize with their experience and see the world a little bit more from their perspective.

This panel discussion took place at the Acts 29 summer retreat the week after Philando Castile and Alton Sterling were shot and killed by police officers. The panel discussion is not about those shootings, but the conversation is definitely informed by those recent events (and I would recommend that you read about them before listening to the panel discussion if you are unfamiliar with them).

Length: An hour and twenty minutes
Free to stream on the Acts 29 Website

#Justice: A Sermon by Pastor Leonce Crump Jr.

Pastor Crump sounds a clear and prophetic call for Christians to take justice (and equity) seriously in regard to race relations in the US. I have appreciated and benefitted from Pastor Crump's clarity and boldness dealing with issues like white privilege and systemic racial injustice. He is theologically driven and sociologically insightful and full of gospel grace. This sermon, delivered in July 2016, is powerful.

Length: 48 minutes
Free to stream on Renovation Church's website

Re-education on Race: Pastor Bill Riedel's Blog on Book Recommendations and Reviews

Pastor Riedel is, like me, a white pastor seeking to grow in his understanding of the black experience in America. He set a goal in his blog of reading eight books dealing with race and racism over four months. This book list is a great place to start reading. His reading plan would be way too aggressive for a slow reader like me, but I have found the books on his list repeated on many others. I have started working my way through these books myself and find Pastor Riedel's book responses helpful to my own processing.

"Is Black Lives Matter the New Civil Rights Movement" - an address by Dr. Mika Edmondson's to the Gospel Coalition

From TGC's description: Mika Edmondson delivered this talk in May 2016 to Council members of The Gospel Coalition as they gathered for three days of prayer and discussion on the campus of Trinity Evangelical Divinity School. TGC’s Council meets every year to challenge and encourage one another in a private setting by sharing prayer requests and engaging with especially sensitive and urgent issues facing the church. In that spirit the Council invited Dr. Edmondson to help them consider how God is working for justice and mercy in our racially charged and polarized society. (See also Albert Mohler’s response, “Ugly Stain, Beautiful Hope: My Response to Mika Edmondson.”)

I recommend both listening to Dr. Edmondson's message and reading Dr. Mohler's response.

Length: 46 Minutes (Transcript on blog page)
Free to stream on TGC's blog

As I come across new material, I will post it here. But this is a good starting point. May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ free each of us into the joyful strength of humility and the humanizing integrity of empathy as we learn together.

A Case for Confession

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Mon, 08 Aug 2016 20:43:00 +0000

Confession. We need it. And we hate it.

We hate to do it because it forces us to admit things about ourselves we don't want to admit. But we all have hidden things in our lives that sit in the dark and gnaw on our souls - things that scratch at locked doors of our conscience, aching to get out... things like weaknesses, shameful appetites, betrayals, besetting sins - they almost demand that we put them into words and share them. But to do so feels often like a form of death in itself.

And this isn't a religious impulse. It's a human one. We all feel the need.

All you have to do is look at the crazy popularity of a site like postsecret. I have to admit that I like postsecret. I find it intriguing and, at times, disturbing. I have sympathy for some confessions and repulsion at others. And there have been some wonderful stories that have emerged of people actually making real, personal, human connections with others through the site when someone recognizes their card or someone is encouraged to call the suicide hotline by not feeling so alone.

But I wonder, for most of the people who send in their cards, if there is any real good that comes from anonymous confession. In my experience, anonymous confession may provide a kind of temporary cathartic release, but it doesn't last. And it sure doesn't kill the thing-I-am-confessing's hold on me. I think that the popularity of sites like postsecret show us that we have a need to truly be known, in all of our ugliness. We have a need to be honest about our impulses and actions, even if they are ugly. We have a need for forgiveness and absolution, even if we don't have the courage to actually seek it.

And that's why I am a fan of confession. Real confession. The kind of confession talked about in the Bible. The kind that is costly and difficult but is also cleansing and freeing. In fact, the Bible makes it clear that confession should be part of our regular routine as believers. The Apostle John said:

But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin. If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:7-9 ESV)

John is writing to believers and encouraging them to develop regular habits of confession in their lives. He is encouraging us, saying, "Hey, I know you sin. A lot. More than you like to admit. And, at times, you will be tempted to hide it because you feel like mature Christians shouldn't sin this much or have this much need or struggle this often. Resist the urge to fake it and pretend you are without sin. That is the way of death. Forgiveness and cleansing are only a confession away. Praise God by admitting your need. Free yourself through humility."

So, if regular confession is supposed to be part of our regular rhythms as followers of Jesus, what should that look like? What should we confess and who should we confess it to?

Here are some brief thoughts:

1. Confess daily to God. In fact, confess moment by moment. I would encourage you to develop conversational confession with God. Talk to him before you are tempted, but think you will be tempted. Talk to him in the temptation. Confess your weakness, your need, your desires that don't line up with his word. And confess when you sin. Not when after you beat yourself up or wait enough time so that you finally feel worthy to come back into his presence (as if you ever could make yourself worthy - that's the whole point. That's why we need grace). Confess while you feel most inadequate - there is forgiveness and cleansing power in confession.

2. Confess to someone whenever you sin against them (or at their expense). Yes, your sin is first and foremost a sin against God. Yes, David said to God," Against you and you only have I sinned" (after he committed adultery and murder). No, none of that means you don't actually have to confess your sin to the person against whom you have sinned. When you sin against someone, you take something from them that wasn't yours to take (security, comfort, possessions, fidelity) and it is essential to your soul and to your relationship that you confess and seek forgiveness and reconciliation.

3. Confess regularly to a close community of true friends who love you, pray for you, and are committed to calling out the best in you. You need to be careful with this one. You don't want to be "Head-wound Harry," running around just pouring out your shame on everyone you meet. But you also don't want to become isolated and unknown in your spiritual need. that is the path to pride, hiding, discouragement and ongoing defeat. You need to pray for, seek out, and nurture a close community of friends (or at least one friend) who knows how to stay confidential, knows your history, and is eager to see you grow in the future. This is very different from accountability partners who often act as "sin police" in our lives, just hunting for and asking about failures. A friend loves you, has patience with you, and is unwilling to give up on you.

Remember, our faith rests in a message of grace - unearned, unending, unlimited love and a never ending invitation to joyful intimacy. Let's never settle for faking it. We are invited to the table of grace. Let's dig in.

This weekend I preached on confession as a necessary element of God's gift of change to us at Trailhead Church, in Edwardsville IL. Feel free to listen here.

5 Questions to Ask Before Hitting Share

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Mon, 23 Nov 2015 22:45:00 +0000

Almost everyone I know has experienced post-regret, the feeling you get after you post something on social media and then wish you hadn't. I know a few people who haven't. Actually, I don't.

Who hasn't jumped into the black hole of a Facebook argument or posted something personal in a moment of frustration only have the wrong people see it (and comment on it) or impulsively hit share on a witty-but-cutting meme or tweet?

Social media is a great way to connect with others, but it is full of potential hazards and hassles. And, as a Christ-follower, this can be particularly dangerous, since what I say, post, repost, or share, reflects not just on me, but on my savior. So, how can I make wise social media decisions?

In the hope of helping us all use our social media more responsibly and effectively, I thought through five questions that we should ask before we hit that "share" button:

Is it true?

As people of the Bible, this should be a no-brainer, but it sadly isn't. If we find something funny or affirming of our thinking, it is just so easy to hit "share" or "retweet" without taking the time to find out if what we are sharing is true. When we do that, we often pass along to our friends and followers misrepresentations or even outright lies with our personal endorsement. We are telling them that we hold our personal opinions as greater value than truth. Instead of asking, "Do I agree with it?" we should be asking, "Is it true?" When we share things that aren't true, we misrepresent Jesus and deceive people who trust us. We are telling people loud and clear: I don't care about truth; I only care about being right.

Is it helpful?

Beyond asking if something is true, we really should take the next step and ask if it is helpful. I'm not saying we should ask if it would be helpful to our cause or our personal agenda. We should ask if it is helpful to our friends and followers. Will it "edify" them - a biblical word that means to "build up into greater maturity in Christ." Will what we post encourage people to become more like Jesus? A funny cat video or an insightful political post can both be edifying (who doesn't need more laughter or real understanding of difficult political topics?), but we would do well to remember that there are many true things that are simply not going to be helpful to build people up.

Am I motivated by love?

James reminds us that the anger of man doesn't achieve the righteousness of God (James 1:20). One of the biggest temptations on social media is to allow someone else's post to rile us up, and then in self-righteous anger, to fire off a response or a competing post. I don't know anyone who has done that who could come back later and say, "Man, I'm glad I did that. Totally saw the righteousness of God come out of that!" We are our strongest, spiritually and mentally, when we are operating not from anger but humility. Before we try to post truth, we should ensure we have taken time to settle our hearts in grace, because if we speak from anything but love, we are simply adding to the senseless noise of our culture (1 Corinthians 13:1-3). On a special note, don't get sucked in to the trap of thinking that it is your responsibility to attack people because they are defaming the name of God. Last time I checked, he can take care of his own name and his own agenda, and he will do that through us as we represent him well as ministers of reconciliation (not tools of retribution) (2 Corinthians 5:18-19).

Should this be a personal conversation

Because social media is a third person dialogue (instead of a face to face conversation), it is very easy to say things about people (or even at people) that should be said to people. The next time you are getting ready to hit "share," ask yourself if what you are posting is meant to rebut, correct, or get back at someone else for their post, attitude, or comments. If so, highlight everything you typed out and delete it. Then open up messenger (or pick up a phone) and send them a personal message explaining your concern, hurt, or offense from a place of humility and love seeking reconciliation and edification. Social media is a platform for cowards and frauds - don't fall in to the temptation to try to guard your glory instead of seeking another person's good. Even if you don't know them, they are still created in the image of God and deserve the respect due that image.

If my post will offend, is this the right offense to bring?

There are hills that are worth dying on, but they are few and far between. We all know that we live in a culture that loves to take offense and cast shame on people we think deserve offense. Before you post something that you know might be offensive to someone, you should ask yourself if the offense you are making is the right offense. Sometimes love offends, even as it acts in humility and expresses itself in gentleness, but most of the time it isn't our love that offends people. It's our arrogance, abrasiveness, or self-absorption. If we are going to offend, we need to make sure what we are posting passes question 2 - will this offense bring edification. Will it build up and encourage people to mature in Christ. If not, it is better to pass on the post.

Psalm 18

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Tue, 16 Jun 2015 17:31:00 +0000

Oops. Thought I had already written about this Psalm. Guess I started and got distracted.

I love you, O Lord, my strength.

The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,

my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge,

my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

I call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised,

and I am saved from my enemies.

Psalm 18:1-2

The header this Psalm says that David wrote this on the day that God delivered him from Saul's hand. That had to be a good day for David. Saul was hunting David mercilessly and he had kept David on the run, hiding in caves, and continually exposed to danger.

Worse, David was helpless to save himself. Once Saul climbed up into a cave to take a dump, and it just happened to be where David was hiding that day. Saul had no idea David was there in the darkness. Saul was completely exposed and David couldn't do anything because Saul was Israel's rightful king. As wicked as Saul was - as unjustly as he had treated David - it wasn't David's place to bring him to justice. He had to wait on God to do that. So he just cut off a corner of his robe to let him know he could have done much more. I'm guessing Saul scouted out his johnny-on-the-spots a little better after that.

So this Psalm was written the day David was delivered from Saul's relentless pursuit. You can tell David is a little excited - he just heaps words and ideas of praise and delight together. It makes me smile, imagining his excitement.

[all in a single breath] You are my rock and my fortress and my deliverer and my God and ... my rock ... did I say that already? I don't know... I don't care! I take refuge in you - you are my shield and the horn of my salvation and my stronghold! [whew, take a breath]

There are three ideas that cycle through that crazy outflow of praise. God is my foundation (my rock), my protection (my fortress, my shield, my stronghold), and the one who works for my good (my deliverer, the horn of my salvation).

On this day, David experienced the joy of all three of these realities. He felt the firm foundation of God's promises under him. He had been anointed king long ago, and now God was fulfilling his promise to make the way open for his rightful place in the kingdom. He felt the security of God's power and protection all around him. He had been vulnerable and felt exposed, but now he could see that he was protected all along. He felt the rush of simply following in the wake of the power of God, who went before him delivering him and sounding the horn of his own glory.

David felt all this on this day, but these things were true when they didn't feel true.

David was at risk before this day and he would be at risk again after this day. The story unfolds and there are unexpected twists and turns. But God is the great storyteller and the celebration of the good days can be the beacon of light on the hard days. God is our rock, our shield, and our deliverer - and we will see it clearly when our stories have run their course.

Prayer:

Lord, you are my rock. There is no other foundation that can support the weight of my life. Thank you for redirecting me when when I seek to build on the false foundations of pride, success, the praise of people, or the luxuries of life. You are my fortress. I am so thankful that I can and hide myself in you - that the door is open to me at all hours of the night - because of the blood-bought grace extended to me in Jesus. Thank you for calling me back to the security of who I am in you even though I wander far. You are my deliverer. You are relentless in your pursuit of my soul, my love, my delight, my worship - and I am so thankful you are. If you didn't deliver me, I would wreck myself. Thank you.

Psalm 19

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Tue, 16 Jun 2015 17:02:00 +0000

Hit a busy stretch with a leadership retreat. Stayed in the Psalms, but stopped blogging. I am going to try to post a blog each day this week, but will take another break when I go on vacation at the end of the month. I know all three of you who read these really need to know this information...

The heavens declare the glory of God,

and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.

Day to day pours out speech,

and night to night reveals knowledge.

There is no speech, nor are there words,

whose voice is not heard.

Their voice goes out through all the earth,

and their words to the end of the world.

In them he has set a tent for the sun,

which comes out like a bridegroom leaving his chamber,

and, like a strong man, runs its course with joy.

Its rising is from the end of the heavens,

and its circuit to the ends of them,

and there is nothing hidden from its heat.

The law of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul...

Psalm 19:1-7

I have loved Psalm 19 for as long as I can remember loving anything in the Bible. It reminds me of that night way back when in the gravel pits when I looked up at the stars and just knew there was something more - something big and beautiful and powerful - and I was very, very small in comparison. The stars spoke to me that night, before I was even a follower of Jesus, and they didn't utter an audible word.

What I noticed as I sat in the Psalm this time, though, was that this wasn't two Psalms, but one. The first half is devoted to the stars and, more directly, the sun. The second half is devoted to a celebration of God's law - its beauty, perfection, and value. I didn't do it on purpose, but I think I always read this Psalm as if it were a collection of two poems instead of a single, unified thought.

This time I saw - David sees the law functioning like the sun. It is glorious in its light and universal in its warmth. It reveals God in his holy perfection and gives us clarity on things we may feel but not know without revelation. It calls us, in its perfection, to the God of perfection.

This is an aspect of the law I don't sit in much. The law commands but doesn't empower. It was given to show us our sin and even increase our sin (Romans 3:19-20, 5:20) to make us crave grace. As a result, I often think of the law as a mean and wrinkled old teacher with a ruler, eager to smack someone's knuckles.

But the law is beautiful in its expression of God's character and holiness. It is good and holy and just and right. The problem isn't with the law of God, but with my heart. An ugly face hates the mirror, but the problem isn't with the mirror.

It is hard, even with that realization, for me to say things like, "The rules of the Lord are true... more to be desired are they than gold." I don't like rules. They are sterile, cold, and all about performance (and always highlight where I don't quite measure up). The law is pretty clear: keep me and live or break me and die. There is no grading on a curve.

So, a second thought. For David, the rules of God were never considered apart from relationship with God. They were part of the covenant that bound him to One True God, and where he fell short, God provided a sacrificial system (which of course pointed him to faith instead of performance and to a savior instead of perfection).

When Jesus was born as a Jew under the law, he was bound under all the conditions and expectations of the law. The big difference to every other Jewish person, though, was that he kept the law - in both letter and spirit. He was the first man ever who could claim the blessing of the law instead of ending up under its curse. When he died, he died under the curse of the law to deliver those who were bound to its curse because they couldn't obey it (Galatians 3:10-13).

So, when I think of the law, I can see it as beautiful, because I see him. He is the perfect expression of God's holiness and the unconditional invitation into its blessing for a sinner like me. He speaks to me both of God's astounding holiness and God's astounding grace. And when I see him as he is, nothing is hidden from the warming brightness of his love.

Prayer:

Lord, you are a God of holiness, absolutely perfect in your nature and completely set apart from sin. That is a terrifying reality when approached outside of our Savior. Thank you that you are both holy and gracious - that you loved me enough to put the blood of your dear son over the door posts of my wretched life so that judgement might pass over me (and land on him in my place). You are glorious and I celebrate your perfection without fear because I don't measure up. Undo me both with the glory of your greatness and the weightiness of your love.

Psalm 17

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Mon, 01 Jun 2015 21:07:00 +0000

Wondrously show your steadfast love,

O savior of those who seek refuge

from their adversaries at your right hand.

Keep me as the apple of your eye;

hide me in the shadow of your wings,

from the wicked who do me violence,

my deadly enemies who surround me.

As for me, I shall behold your face in righteousness;

When I awake, I shall be satisfied with your likeness.

Psalm 17:7-9, 15

So, my heart is a little gloomy today. It's not a bad day by any means... just when I slow down and stop moving, my heart feels a little heavy. I have days like that - where I am restless and prone to feeling down. My fuse gets a little shorter. My mood a little drearier. My joy feels a little farther away. I have learned to watch my heart and to be aware that on days like this I am prone to see the dark side of things and to be more critical or more vulnerable to temptation. On days like this, God often feels farther away and I find it harder to get into the word.

So, it has been harder to sit in my Psalm today. I find myself wanting to turn it into task to get done while not engaging my heart. But the reality is that I need God to answer David's prayer for me.

David is in trouble (he's in trouble a lot), but he doesn't ask for physical deliverance. That kind of struck me. He prays for refuge - but it seems to be an emotional refuge, a quietness that comes from knowing he is loved by God regardless of his circumstances. He is asking for an increased awareness of God's steadfast love, his covenant love.

Keep me as the apple of your eye. Weird language for a pupil, but a powerful image. It seems to mean, keep your eye on me and be as protective and careful of me as you would be of the black dot in the center of the eye that watches me.

Hide me in the shadow of your wings. Gather me close. Hold me near your heart, covered in the warmth of your loving protection. I don't know why, but it puts me in mind of a memory from my childhood when my Aunt Irene held me on her lap while we were on some kind of road trip. She held me and I felt safe. I don't have a lot of memories from my early childhood, but that is a good one.

My head knows even as my heart resists - my greatest need is to be warmed by a renewed experience of God's love for me in Christ. I need to know that God delights in me. But more than know it, I need to feel it. The gospel tells me that I am loved even when I feel unloveable because I am in Jesus, and there is no condemnation, no separation, or rejection, no disappointment from God, for those who are in Christ. I am covered in his record, his righteousness.

And right now I need to not just know it, but to feel it. I need to not just accept it, I need to believe it. I need my heart warmed by the glow of God's fervent, present, steadfast love.

When I awake, one day in resurrection, I will be thoroughly, profoundly satisfied, with you as one made in your likeness. And today I need to remind myself - wake up and remember the truth of who you are in Christ. Wake up to what you have. Wake up to the love that is, even now, being poured out on you as one made in the likeness of God and remade in the likeness of Christ.

Prayer:

Lord, you are never far from me. I am weak and my body frail. Exhaustion creeps in and with it the lies that I need something other than you and your love for strength, comfort, and renewal. Awaken me to a renewed experience of your steadfast love. Hold me, even as my heart gets restless, in your gaze of love and draw me close so that my heart reawakens to your love. Thank you that my place in your love, my standing in your grace, is as sure as Christ is risen.

Psalm 16

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Fri, 29 May 2015 19:19:00 +0000

I say to the Lord, "You are my Lord;

I have no good apart from you."

The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup;

you hold my lot.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

You make known to me the path of life;

in your presence there is fullness of joy;

at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

Psalm 16:2, 5-6, 11

This only makes sense if you understand that God, the creator of all that is good, is himself the ultimate good. He is the original stuff.

Whatever we call good in this life is only a portion of the real thing. Success. Romance. The perfect cup of coffee. Your baby's eyes locking on yours in recognition for the first time. All good, and all passing and incomplete.

God, the giver of good gifts, is himself the greatest gift. His gifts were given to be enjoyed, but not as ends in of themselves. They were given to point us back to the giver, to see in him the original glory of goodness.

Amazingly, because of the work of Christ, God is not only my father, but his goodness is my inheritance. The boundaries of what I will receive as my birthright in Christ are gloriously placed in God himself.

Indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

Because of my sin though, I am born hungry for God but determined to feed on anything but him. I feast on the passing and partial good in creation to satisfy a desire that can only be satisfied in the Good Creator. The result is that I am restless, despondent, dissatisfied, and driven. I hunger and when I feed I hunger even more.

It is only by grace that these rebel appetites can be brought back into submission to their original intent. God not only won my pardon, but has claimed my heart as his own. In grace, and in spite of my dull and restless lusts, will make known to me the path of life - the path that leads back to satisfaction in him, the source of the fullness of joy.

He will retrain my heart to desire his holiness instead of fear it. He will lead me to feast on his goodness.

Prayer:

Lord, train my wandering appetites to crave what is real, lasting, and truly good. Thank you for not growing tired of my persistent wandering away from you. Thank you that you do not get angry or reject me when I reject you as the source of what is truly good and satisfying. Don't allow me to use you to get to something else, to make you a means to an end. Wake me up and give me clear vision so that I can see the true treasure - your love for me in Christ.

Psalm 15

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Thu, 28 May 2015 19:31:00 +0000

O Lord, who shall sojourn in your tent?

Who shall dwell on your holy hill?

He who walks blamelessly and does what is right

and speaks truth in his heart.

Psalm 15:1-2

Psalm 15 is an interesting contrast to Psalm 14. It goes from "There is none who does good, not even one" to "Who gets to live in God's house? He who walks blamelessly." Kind of highlights the mess of being human. If the requirement of living with God is walking blamelessly, doing what is right, and having a heart completely in tune with truth, I am beyond hopeless.

Thank God, though, that Jesus is everything this Psalm tells me I have to be.

(v2) Walks blamelessly, does right, always speaking truth in his heart? Check.

(v3) Doesn't speak untruth about others to tear them down or misrepresent them in order to get a leg up on the competition or jockey for position among friends? Check.

(v4) Isn't self-righteous or self-protective in his anger, but expresses a true and appropriate righteous indignation at the right time in the right way? Check.

(v4) Isn't self-serving or self-promoting in praise, but shows honor to what is truly honorable? Check.

(v4) Keeps his word even when his word ends up costing him pain and loss? Check.

(v5) Doesn't leverage his assets to personal gain and other's loss, seeking to always come out ahead of others? Check.

He who does these things shall never be moved. I need to hear that - all the way down to the bottom of my soul. He will never be moved. And if I believe in Jesus, I am in Jesus. His security is my security. His strength is my strength. His record is my record. I stand in grace.

Prayer:

Lord, thank you that you sent your son to live the life I should have lived and that his record is mine by grace through faith. Thank you that even though I am the man described in Psalm 14, I stand in the record of the man of Psalm 15. I am as secure as he is and he cannot be moved. Thank you for the gift of righteousness. Please increase in me the desire to become more like Jesus today.

Psalm 14

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Wed, 27 May 2015 16:00:00 +0000

The fool says in his heart, "There is no God."

They are corrupt, they do abominable deeds,

there is none who do good.

Psalm 14:1

This is not a condemnation of atheism. Philosophical atheists were far from common in the world during David's time. The world was polytheistic. They believed in many gods. Israel was unique among the nations because they were monotheistic. But everyone believed in the existence of gods.

So, what did David mean? Probably something along the lines of: The fool says in his heart that there is no God in Israel. Israelites would have sung this Psalm, quietly rejoicing that they were not all those fools out there who believed all those silly gods.

Funny enough, the Gentile nations thought that the Israelites were fools. Look at these people wandering around believing in one God when obviously there are so many different forces at play in our lives!

And we do the same thing. We all have gods, and we all think others are fools for not believing in them. We all have things to which we look for significance, approval, or security - and think others who don't value what we do are fools. We are always pouring ourselves out to something - our productivity, our creativity, our pleasure, our relationships, something - looking for them to pour back into us what we cannot provide for ourselves.

The truly ironic thing, then, is that we're all fools. Humans have always had this ability to construct an image of God that somehow loved the things we loved and rejected the things we rejected - a god made in our own image.

Paul talks about this in Romans 3 and says that David's point is universal. There really are only fools. Ancient Jews or Gentiles. Modern men and women. Ancient idolatry or modern idolatry. It's all the same and there really are none who do good. There really are only people in need of God's grace to give us the courage and clarity to be freed from our imaginary view of life where we are the heroes and "they" (whoever they are) are the fools.

Prayer:

Lord, humble my heart today as I am tempted to put myself in the class of the "non-fool" and look down on others who don't measure up to my arbitrary standards. Give me love of others, as you love others. Let me be freed to the generosity of grace instead of the greedy prison of pride, where I have to fight for my own dignity, advancement, and superiority - where I feel self-justified in sitting over and looking down on those that don't think, act, or value as I do. Thank you for loving me, a fool. Thank you for lovingly and humbly revealing yourself to me in Christ so that I can be freed to see you as you are.

Psalm 13

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Tue, 26 May 2015 20:38:00 +0000

Consider and answer me, O Lord my God;

light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,

lest my enemy say, "I have prevailed over him,"

lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.

But I have trusted in your steadfast love;

my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.

Psalm 13:3-5

I just got done reading about a situation in a large church (that I very much respect) where broken, sinful people acted in broken, sinful ways. People were hurt. Damage was done. Well-meaning people made mistakes - or were being accused of making mistakes. The leaders could have handled it better. Or maybe they couldn't.

It's a mess. And my heart is heavy.

What's really messing with me, though, is how quickly and eager people are to jump on to the Shame-On-You bandwagon. Social media is a powerful platform for connection and communication - but it has a dark side. It has also become a chilling and powerful tool of social conformity through public shaming. Anyone with a blog and a collection of eager and angry readers can sow a scarlet letter on your reputation and call for the world to condemn and mock you.

The internet, equipped with the viral power of social networks like facebook and twitter, have created a modern platform of shame every bit as powerful as the old world public stocks, where people would be locked by the neck and wrists in a public marketplace where every person passing could hurl their insults (or their rotten fruit). Anyone enflamed with self-righteous zeal can abuse you to the adoring and echoing applause of the crowd, many of whom actually have no idea what is going on.

And I have to say that I have seen both Christians and non-Christians try to harness this new power to manipulate people into conformity and eliminate behaviors or beliefs they find offensive (or oppositional to their goals and agendas). Who leads that won't at some point offend? Who leads who won't at some point make a mistake? Who leads who couldn't have their words used against them (either justly or unjustly)?

David prays, Light up my eyes ... lest my enemy say, I have prevailed over him.

I think he is praying for courage and joy and a far-seeing wisdom that allows him to have his heart and hands, his thinking and his actions, grounded in the covenant-love of God, so that his enemies will not be able to triumph over him or take joy in his diminishment at their hands.

I think leaders need that kind of joy-fueled courage to lead well in a culture that loves throwing rotten fruit.

Prayer:

Lord, light up my eyes with hope and clarity, so I can lead with both boldness and gentle humility. Lead my heart to fear you more than I fear people, so that I will lead with a loving conviction that isn't self-protective or self-serving. Rebuke my heart when I too want to jump on the shame bandwagon, mocking and deriding people whom I do not know and whose offense I do not fully understand. Rebuke my heart as well when pridefully want to defend myself from accusation instead of humbly seeking truth. Encourage my heart in your steadfast love. The only true success any of can have is to walk in your success, for your glory, in repentant hope in your grace.

Psalm 12

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Tue, 26 May 2015 00:56:00 +0000

Save, O Lord, for the godly one is gone;

for the faithful have vanished from among the children of man.

The words of the Lord are pure words,

like silver refined in a furnace on the ground,

purified seven times.

On every side the wicked prowl,

as vileness is exalted among the children of man.

Psalm 12:1, 6, 8

My life is honestly pretty easy. I live in a safe neighborhood. I have food on my table and no one is trying to steal it. I've got some college students who live near me who pee in their yard and have parties, but when I talk to them, they are receptive enough. My kids aren't in obvious danger in their daily lives.

We are pretty safe.

But I have realized that my experience is an exceptional one in human history - and even in the world today. All I have to do is surf over to CNN or Huffington Post to get updates on all the latest atrocities around the world. If I surf over to the Post Dispatch's website, I can get updates on all the human suffering in my own city (over 500 assaults and 82 sex offenses in St. Louis in the month of May last year).

The general human story is of suffering, corruption, abused power, violence, and people stealing human dignity from other people. The world is driven by an economy of scarcity, where everything, from money to influence to societal value, is a commodity to be fought for and protected from those who might diminish us.

David reflects on this reality at the open and close of the Psalm, like bookends on a macabre collection of hopeless, tragic stories. But buried in the middle of Psalm is a glimmer of hope: God has spoken a promise of redemption and restoration. And his words are like the purest silver ever refined - bright and shiney and real.

God spoke a creative word and the entire universe existed. He spoke a recreative Word in the person of Jesus and the entire universe once again has hope.

Love will triumph. Grace is greater. The promise of God is more powerful than the self-promoting and deceptive words of man. Our hero has spoken a Word of grace, leading to an economy of generosity that will overturn the economy of scarcity like so many tables, driving out the moguls of greed like chaff blowing in the wind.

Prayer:
Lord, thank you that you have spoken a new Word of invitation and love and grace and forgiveness. Thank you that even though my heart is quick to run to self-protection, you do not reject me. You love me and your love calls me out of myself into the greatness of your generous love. Unlock my heart and hands to love in the grand flow of your grace. Let me be free from the prison of the economy of scarcity and enriched instead by the economy of grace.

Psalm 11

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Fri, 22 May 2015 18:25:00 +0000

In the Lord I take refuge;

how can you say to my soul,

"Flee like a bird to the mountain,

for behold, the wicked bend the bow;
they have fitted their arrow to the string

to shoot in the dark at the upright in heart..."

The Lord is in his holy temple;

the Lord's throne is in heaven;

his eyes see, his eyelids test the children of man.

The Lord tests the righteous...

Psalm 11:1, 4-5

Yesterday Psalm 10 focused my attention on the theme of suffering and how it makes God feel far away even though he's not. Psalm 11 deals with the same theme. It starts with images that speak of feeling helpless, exposed, vulnerable, and attacked. He feels like a small bird that needs to fly away quickly to a high place to find safety from an enemy that sits in a place of safety, able to take random shots at David even in the dark.

That's a crappy place to be and a horrible way to feel. I hate to feel helpless. That is probably one of the worst things I can feel. I don't like pain, but I can fight my way through it. I don't like the threat of failure, but again, I can mount up everything I've got and do my best.

But helplessness. That feeling of exposure and vulnerability with no safe place. An unrelenting feeling that says, "Do something! Anything!" when you can't do anything. It says, "Fly like a bird!" but I can't.

That sucks.

So, to comfort himself in the face of this situation, David reminds himself that God is still on the throne. He still has power. He will still bring justice. He is not blind to the pain or injustice. And he has a purpose for the current season - testing.

So, this phrase caught me: God tests his children with his eyelids.

What the heck does that mean? It seems to be saying that it is like God is disinterested in my suffering, far away, and unconcerned. Like I need him and when I look at him, it feels like his eyes are closed in sleep or disinterest.

But David doesn't respond in despair or anger or accusation to this. He says instead that God has a purpose in it. He is testing us. He isn't testing us to see if we will fail - he already knows we will if we are left to ourselves. He is testing us to increase our ability to succeed by increasing our faith and dependence on him.

The contrast at the end of the Psalm makes it clear that his testing of us is actually an expression of love to us. It reminds me of those times when my kids needed to grow in areas of independence, so I
made them do something on their own that they wanted me to do for them (like go to the counter at the fast food place and ask for something). They would look over at me and I would be busy doing something - but I was watching them closely. I was much more attentive to them in that situation that I was when they were just sitting next to me making obnoxious noises because I knew their need was greater. But it was important for them, in that moment, to know they could do this on their own.

The huge difference with God, though, is that he doesn't need to teach us to be independent - he needs to teach us to accept and embrace our dependence on him because we can't do anything on our own. Jesus said it clearly in John 15 - you can do nothing (as in NOTHING) apart from me. Our issue isn't learning to stand on our own two feet - it's learning that, apart from God's sustaining grace, we can do nothing. It's learning not only that we can lean on him by faith in every situation, but we have to. Our independence is a self-delusion that makes us weak and isolates us from the true power and joy of life, a walk of dependence in the Spirit.

God tests us - or pushes us in uncomfortable ways - to reveal to us that he is absolutely enough. As I have heard often said, until he is all we have, we don't see that he is all we need. God wants to free us to this incredibly freeing truth so we can stand in his strength instead of fail in our own.

Prayer:

Lord, you are a good and loving father. I often doubt your motives and your power. I don't come out and say it. I guess I am too cowardly often to acknowledge those thoughts, but I see it in my lack trust and reliance on you. I want to help myself and I get pissy with you when you don't bless my efforts at self-blessing. Thank you for the tests that free. Thank you that you push me to grow in faith and dependence. Thank you that you are never far from my pain and suffering and that you promise to redeem it and restore all that has been lost.

Psalm 10

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Thu, 21 May 2015 19:36:00 +0000

Why, O Lord, do you stand far away?

Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?

Arise, O Lord; O God, lift up your hand;

forget not the afflicted!

O Lord, you hear the desire of the afflicted;

you will strengthen their heart; you will incline your ear

to do justice to the fatherless and the oppressed,

so that man who is of the earth may strike terror no more.

Psalm 10:1, 12, 17-18

Two things struck me in this Psalm.

The first is that we are not alone if God feels far away from us when we suffer (or witness suffering). David leads out with what is often our question in suffering: Where is God? Why does he feel so far away? Is he even there?

I have lived an incredibly privileged life and my suffering has, most of the time, come at my own hands from my own foolishness. I have been abused and hurt and wronged, and have had to work through feelings of abandonment, vulnerability, and fear. But when I sit with a couple who lost their baby and they say, Where is God in this? When I listen to a young woman describe years of sexual and emotional abuse and she lets down her guard and asks, Where was God in that? When I read about Christians being dragged from their homes in the Middle East, tortured and killed in front of each other, my heart asks, Where is God?

Nothing prompts our hearts to beg for justice like unjust suffering. Nothing leads us to doubt God character or even existence faster than pain. Nothing makes us long for his just power and loving presence like the vulnerability that comes from powerlessness and vulnerability to evil.

We know the theological answer - God is not far. He is not hiding. He has not forgotten us. He is busy and active and there will come a day when we will look back and say, You worked it all together for a greater good that I could not see or understand, but for which I now give thanks.

Which is why we must fill our vision with the cross of Christ and the empty tomb. The cross speaks to our hearts of God's nearness. He is not far from our suffering - he has entered into it, absorbed the worst of it, and feels pain. And he did it for us. The tomb speaks to us his power to reverse the results of evil and pain, to retell a tragic story as a beautiful triumph, a story of betrayal as a story of fidelity and love.

When we doubt the hand of God (because we can't see it) we need to renew our vision of the heart of God. It renews our ability to say, The Lord hears and will do justice. You can count on it.

The second thing that struck me in this Psalm is that God inspired David to write it.

Seriously, the Holy Spirit of God moved through David's suffering heart and his hand to write a Psalm that is all about how far away God feels during times of suffering. That's ridiculously ironic. And weirdly comforting. God couldn't have been much nearer to David when he wrote this Psalm, and yet David is experiencing what feels like a crisis because God doesn't seem near.

This tells me that God has a purpose, a good and sanctifying motive, for letting us feel like he is far away. He is a good father and we are his children. And even though we don't understand his motives, we can trust they are good.

Prayer:
Father, thank you that you are nearer than you often feel, that you are more present in the pain that I know. "Man who is of the earth" has limited days to "strike terror" - and I am deeply thankful for the promise of coming justice and grace. Be near those who suffer, and even as they feel far from you, renew their strength to see the beauty of your promises by faith. Let them trust your heart even when they can't discern your hand. For your glory and our good.

Psalm 9

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Tue, 19 May 2015 18:45:00 +0000

For the needy shall not always be forgotten,

and the hope of the poor shall not perish forever.

Arise, O Lord! Let not man prevail;

let the nations be judged before you!

Put them in fear, O Lord!

Let the nations know that they are but men!

Psalm 9:18-20

There's a lot of talk about "social justice" in the church these days - giving a voice to the marginalized, power to the disempowered, and dignity to the forgotten and poor. I am glad for the talk. It needs to be talked about. It is too easy to sit in the seat of privilege and forget that my experience of being treated in a generally fair way and that all the advantages I don't even notice are not universally experienced.

I am thankful for the promise of these verses. Injustice exists because God's order has been upended and his kingdom rejected. We have rejected God's glory for our own. We have rejected community for competition. We have rejected humble dignity for prideful fear.

As a result, we don't even notice how rich or powerful or advantaged we are. We see what we lack and feel loss when others get more than us (whether possessions or fame or credit or whatever). We forget the needy and only feel our own need. We don't ask about other's hope - we simply focus on gaining our own.

The beauty of God's kingdom is that it reverses the kingdom inversion that took place when mankind rebelled against God. It sets God's glory at the center again and reorients our desires to hunger for what is truly good and lasting and beautiful. We stop using each other and instead love each other. We stop competing and start loving. We are enriched by sharing the riches of the outpouring of God's goodness.

Prayer:
Lord, I confess my own selfish kingdom building. I want my own security and prosperity. I want comfort and influence. I want my own glory. And in the process lose sight of those who are left behind or run over. Increase my love for others and my freedom to give from all you have given me. And, come quickly Lord Jesus - I know at the end of the day, what we need isn't reform, but rebirth. I long for the day you will return and remind us that we are just men and you are God - and how glorious it is to be loved by such a glorious God.

Psalm 8

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Mon, 18 May 2015 21:35:00 +0000

O Lord, Our Lord,

how majestic is your name in all the earth!

You have set your glory above the heavens.

Out of the mouth of babies and infants,

You have established strength because of your foes,

to still the enemy and avenger.

When I look at your heavens, the works of your fingers,

the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,

what is man that you are mindful of him,

and the son of man that you care for him?

Psalm 8:1-4

I love this Psalm. It has been one of my favorites from the early days of my faith. I looked it up when I was reading Hebrews 2 the night I became a believer. It resonated with me then and it resonates with me now.

I reminds me of a night somewhere in the early 1980's when I was at a party in some gravel pits in Northern California. I had climbed to the top of a huge pile of gravel and was standing far above the party below. I don't know why I climbed up there. No purpose. But I remember looking up and being overwhelmed. I stood there, beer in hand, looking up at the stars, and I had a deep sense of overwhelming Beauty. I capitalize the word Beauty because it wasn't an abstract observation on my part, like, "Oh, look at the stars, they are beautiful." It was more like a person invading my awareness saying, "Look at the beauty. Take it in. Because you long to take it in and it longs to take you in."

It was unsettling enough that I still remember it over 30 years later. I didn't understand it, but it was a moment where I, like David, was overwhelmed with the vast power and beauty all around me and my incredible smallness in comparison.

When we get a glimpse of how small and insignificant we are, it is the only logical question: What is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him? Why would God, the measure of all this great and powerful and truly glorious and beautiful, bother thinking about us? Little mud men and women, living short lives that accomplish so little? Little ants that run around pretending they are gods? I mean, really, what the heck? Why would God care about us?

I know the theological answer: God created us in his image and he is jealous for his glory in his creation. He wants his image redeemed that we might live to the praise of his glory.

But I think there is another answer here. "Out of the mouth of babies and infants you have established strength."

God loves irony.

He could simply flex his pinky and swipe away all of his foes - the enemies of God's glory and the avenger bent on robbing God of his glory. With less than a thought he could unmake all he has made. Instead, though, he demonstrates his power by giving his glory to the inglorious and manifesting his strength where there should be none. He loves us because not because we are glorious and incredibly beautiful - but because we are so weak, so foolish, so limited.

God's strength receives glory by flexing its might in the weakest of muscles. It's like God looks at Satan, the most powerful and glorious of his angelic creatures (who also rebelled against him) and says, "Really, you think you can rob me of my glory? Really? You see that little thinking mud pie over there? He is mine. I love him. I care for him. I think of him. And because I do, he is more glorious than you in all your rebellious beauty. He is stronger than all your incredible might. I don't need to defeat you - he will. I will. In him and through him. And he will be the trophy of my glory. He will be the trophy of my grace."

Prayer:
Lord, I am so thankful that you love to show your strength through weakness. There would be no hope for me otherwise. I bring to you all I have - weakness - and when I am the weakest, you show me your strength. Thank you for your patience with me when I think I am strong - when I try to do for you what you are waiting to do in me. You wait. You smile. You love - and when I find the end of myself (and I discover humility) you act, and I am amazed. Thank you for loving me, a mud man created in your image and for your glory.

Psalm 7

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Sun, 17 May 2015 11:38:00 +0000

God is a righteous judge,

and a God who feels indignation every day.

I will give to the Lord the thanks due to his righteousness,

and I will sing praise to the name of the Lord, the Most High.

Psalm 7:11, 17

I love to meditate on the grace of God. It is a beautiful welcome and, as the song says, endless second chances. I love grace.

But God's grace to me comes at a dear price to him. He is a righteous judge (the one to be truly so), and is provoked by the unrighteous behavior he sees every day, moment by moment. He sits over a world he created to center on his glory and to exist in the atmosphere of his Shalom (his peace, balance, life, and wholeness). But that world has gone crazy.

I can't stand to read the news. The Internet has made the world too small. Every crisis is reported to me before it even has a chance to be played out. Every massacre. Every rape. Every child starving while there is plenty food to feed them. Every self-centered and self-glorifying despot of fame, feeding on the worship of people who hate them but want to be them.

And he sees me. A man who is walking around created in his image but with so little idea of how to be like him - and so many desires that reject him... a man in whom the potential for every evil resides.

So, why would I give thanks for his righteousness when it is the very thing that reminds me that I don't measure up? The very thing that speaks reminds my soul, "You are not God and you fall short of the glory of God"?

Because, while I am not what I am supposed to be, I can see that he is. His perfection is shown in all the areas where he exists in non-tension where I can only see conflict. He is love and justice. He is absolute power and the epitome of meekness. He is the giver of righteous judgment and unending grace.

So when I consider his perfection, even though I am not perfect, I am drawn to praise him for his right-ness. He is what I long to be. He is where I long to be. He is the center around which I was designed to revolve.

Prayer:

Lord, when I try to consider your righteousness, I feel like a non-artist trying to appreciate great art. I can see that you are beautiful in all your ways, but I am so limited in my ability to rightly praise what I see - or even notice the so much of what makes you a masterpiece. Lord, train my eyes to appreciate your beauty, to see, appreciate, and love your holy righteousness. Thank you for grace - without it, I would only exist as a foil to your greatness. With it, I get to be a trophy of your love. Man, that is so cool. Thank you.

Psalm 6

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Sat, 16 May 2015 21:48:00 +0000

O Lord, rebuke me not in your anger,

nor discipline me in your wrath.

Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing...

Turn, O Lord, deliver my life;

save me for the sake of your steadfast love...

Depart from me, all you workers of evil,

for the Lord has heard the sound of my weeping.

The Lord has heard my plea;

The Lord accepts my prayer.

Psalm 6:1, 4, 8-9

How often, when I am languishing, do I approach God in the same way? Don't reject me. Don't crush me. Don't give me what my heart tells me I deserve.

Emotional exhaustion makes my heart decline toward depression, and depression often brings with it a blanket of condemnation. I feel rejected, worthless, and angry. And when I am there, I tend to make it worse by condemning myself further for feeling inadequate or lonely or restless.

David is there - Lord, don't rebuke me. Don't discipline me. Don't pour your wrath out on me - I am languishing. But there comes a point where he can hear the still, quiet voice of God in the turmoil of the emotional storm. It whispers, "My love is steadfast. It is based on my covenant to you, not your commitment to me."

And David's head bobs up, like lost dog who thinks he hears his little girl's voice. There's a sudden glimmer of hope in the darkness. His attention is diverted from his failure and inadequacy to the promise of God's love, and it's enough to lead him to pray a mustard-seed faith prayer: "You love me. You said it was forever love. Save me because you love me."

Then, when his eyes have turned from the storm of his emotions to the quiet voice of eternally committed Love, he finds comfort. He says, "Depart from me." Get out darkness - you have no place here. This heart is not your home. The Lord has heard me and he accepts me. There isn't room in here for both him and you. Get out.

How many times have I walked this path? Seems like it is almost daily sometimes. I am so thankful that the path is well-worn. That David, inspired by the Spirit, not only validates this cycle of discovering and rediscovering God's love - he points to the path by which we find it again.

Prayer:
Lord, my heart is dark and my body tired. I am made of dust, and today I feel the wind threatening to blow right through me. Save me for the sake of your steadfast love. Deliver me from my dark impulses, my fear, and my critic's voice. Thank you that you love me because of Jesus, the one who died and rose again so I could rise too.

Psalm 5

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Fri, 15 May 2015 13:01:00 +0000

But I, through the abundance of your steadfast love,

will enter your house.

I will bow down toward your holy temple

in the fear of you.

Lead me, O Lord, in your righteousness

because of my enemies;

Make your way straight before me.

Psalm 5:7-8

David calls out his enemies pretty often in the Psalms, calling for God to judge them. There are always two groups: the godly and the wicked. The problem is that, as I read the Psalms, I often identify with the wicked. I see in my own heart the duplicity of deceit, the selfish ambition of greed, and the haughty heart of the boastful. That makes it hard for me to take comfort in the promises to the righteous - I feel outside of that group.

That is why I love the little reminders that I do not approach God in my righteousness, but Christ's. I enter God's house (his temple - the place of sacrifice) not on my own merit but through "the abundance of your steadfast love." It is God's unwavering, unlimited, covenant love that equips me to draw near. He has absorbed my rebellion, claiming its penalty as his own, and draws me to his house. I stand there, on the blood of Christ, accepted, loved, and accepted - because Jesus was judged for me.

I come now, then, as a son, not a rebel. The problem is that I still have a rebel's heart. But God, in his grace, urges me to pray, "Lead me in your righteousness because of my enemies." My greatest enemies are not the world or the devil. My greatest enemies are the broken desires of my flesh that would lead me down a crooked path of trying to find outside of God what can only be found in him.

Prayer:
Lord, thank you for Jesus. Thank you that I am invited - even compelled to come - to your house because of your covenant love to me. I come not in fear of judgment or fear of rejection, but in awe-inspired, joyful fear of your glory. You are great, I am not, but you love me anyway. Lead me today, Lord, to desire your kingdom more than my own. Make my path straight today, Lord, because my heart still longs for the crooked path of self-indulgent self-destruction. Thank you for grace.

Psalm 4

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Thu, 14 May 2015 14:43:00 +0000

There are many who say, "Who will show us some good?

Lift up the light of your face upon us, O Lord!"

You have put more joy in my heart

than they have when their grain and wine abound.

Psalm 4:6-7

I find my heart asking this question all the time: where can I find a lasting, satisfying good? There are good things around me all the time, and I enjoy them.

I love a good cup of coffee in the morning. I love spending time with Lauren and my kids doing fun things. I love physical exercise, especially riding my mountain bike. I love a good book or a good movie or a good day of sunshine.

You know what sounds great right now? A good almond croissant. I love a good almond croissant. Light and flaky. The sweetness of powdered sugar. The crunch of thin cut almonds.

But this is what I know - everyone of those good things will pass. They are good for a moment, or even for many moments. I eat the croissant, but I get hungry again. I enjoy time with my wife, but then we fight. I laugh with my kids, but then there are times of tears.

The grain and wine of my life abound, but it isn't enough. My heart craves something more - something deeper, and more permanently satisfying.

And it is right here: in Christ. His love for me, his delight over me - gives me more joy than any earthly pleasure.

The problem is that I like my need for joy to be met quickly. I want my croissant, and I want it now. So I grow impatient with my wife and kids. I eat when I'm not hungry or run to my bike instead of to God to deal with my angsty lack of satisfaction.

And yet, I am continually invited back into God's presence - and I can attest, those moments of deep satisfaction in him are more satisfying and do more to awaken a true and deep hunger for joy in me than all the other experiences combined.

Prayer:
Lord, thank you that you are good. Because you are good, I don't have to figure out how to calm the insatiable craving within me with things that just can't do it. You, Lord, are the creator and giver of all good things - lead my heart to be satisfied in you today even as I enjoy the things you have given.

Psalm 3

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Thu, 14 May 2015 14:24:00 +0000

But you, O Lord, are a shield about me,

my glory, and the lifter of my head.

Psalm 3:3

David was overwhelmed with life. His son, Absalom, was leading a coup against him. His heart was broken and his kingdom was in jeopardy. He needed protection not just for his kingdom, but for his heart. And in that place of desperation, he found in God the "lifter of his head."

I look to any number of things to "lift my heads" - to give me energy, to give me joy, to make me feel worthwhile and worthy of respect. The things I look to usually remind me of my strength, intelligence, or influence. I like to win.

The problem with this is that the same things that lift my head also make it very, very heavy. When I live by my success, I die by my failure. When I am trying to lift my own head, I am ultimately trying to establish my own glory.

I am trying to be God.

God's glory is my shield, not my own. He has covered me with the glory of his nature and love.

When my head is down, my mind is filled with my own thoughts. Those thoughts are usually prideful (man, I could be, should be, will be better - and people will know it) or shameful (I am a failure, if people only knew the real me). My glory is just not very glorious. But when I allow him to gently reach out and lift my head from my failure, my sorrow, or my shame- when my eyes are lifted from my lack of glory, I am met not with rejection or disappointment. I am met with the glory of love.

Prayer:
Lord, you are glorious, so I don't have to build my own fame or be afraid of its loss. Help me today to rest in your glory - to have my vision filled with your loving acceptance of me in Christ instead of the myriad other things that remind me of my shame and failure. Thank you that you are my shield, my refuge, my glory.

Psalm 2

noreply@blogger.com (stevemizel) — Thu, 14 May 2015 14:10:00 +0000

Kiss the Son,

lest he be angry, and you perish in the way,

for his wrath is quickly kindled.

Blessed are all who take refuge in him.

Psalm 2:12

The power, authority, and wrath of God are uncomfortable topics for me. When I read about God's holiness, I always walk away with a sinking feeling - I am on the wrong side of this battle. I know my heart too well, and I don't know it well at all. What I do know is enough to tell me that I am selfish, vain-glorious, manipulative, and pretty much not what I think God intended me to be.

That is why I love verses like this.

It doesn't say, Blessed is the man who gets it all right.

It doesn't say, Blessed is the man who has infinite self-control.

It doesn't say, Blessed is the man who is everything people think he is.

It says, Blessed is the man who takes refuge in God.

To take refuge is to seek asylum from a hostile force, to find cover in a storm, to find a home when you are displaced.

This comforts me because Jesus is my asylum, my cover, my home. His death removes my guilt and his resurrection seals my acceptance. Like a refugee, I don't bring anything by my need. And like a good and gracious King, he receives me, covers me, and blesses me.

And this leads my hard, rebellious heart to kneel, take his hand, and kiss the king - learning what it means to submit and follow in love and not in fear.

Prayer:
Lord, thank for my place of refuge. Thank you for Jesus, who is both my king and my savior. Thank you for taking the rebel and making him your son. Lead my heart to take refuge in him today instead of in my performance, obedience, success, or the approval of others.