May 2011

Entitled

Megan Breedlove May 30, 2011 0Comment

I warn you: if you love baseball, this devotional is going to make you jealous. You might get jealous even if you don’t love baseball. That’s because…well, let me explain.

Recently, we received a very generous gift: four tickets to a major league baseball game. We were seated in the front row of the ballpark. Right. Behind. Home. Plate. Despite having ticketed seats, we arrived at the ballpark an hour before the game. That’s because a complimentary sirloin and seafood buffet was also included at a restaurant upstairs. After stuffing ourselves silly, we left the restaurant and proceeded toward the section where our seats were located. As we came to the top of the stairs, an attendant stood ready to check our tickets. The attendant looked at my ticket, smiled, and said, “Go on down!” He gestured toward the front row.

The section was pretty full, and as we walked down the stairs, we passed between rows and rows of people, all seated and waiting for the game to start. We kept descending, passing more and more seats. We walked right to the front row, where another attendant met us and checked our tickets again to make sure not only that we belonged in that section, but that we belonged in one of the front two rows. The ones with comfy seats, and a game program, popcorn, and peanuts waiting for us. Where the aforementioned attendant would get us anything we needed throughout the game. We sat down in our seats and settled in comfortably, just in time to watch the first batter walk to the plate only yards in front of us.

Obviously, it was an amazing experience. It was one we never could have achieved on our own. But because of our friend’s gift, we belonged there.

Yet as incredible as this gift was, I’ve received one that’s even greater. So have you, if you’ve committed your life to Christ. When Christ is your Friend, you get far more than the chance to enjoy your beloved sport in grand style—you also gain access to God Himself and to His heaven. Someday, just as I walked into that ballpark, you and I will walk into heaven itself, and we will belong there. We’ll have a right to be there because Christ purchased our access for us. We’ll walk boldly not to the front row, but to the throne of grace. We’ll spend eternity not in the presence of an attendant who will bring us bottled water, but in the presence of the God who created water, and everything else that is.

Sometimes, we don’t feel worthy to enter God’s heaven and approach Him boldly. You know what? We’re not worthy. None of us can demand to sit in the front row because of who we are. We can only take our seats there because of who our Friend is. Likewise, when we have a front-row ticket, we shouldn’t be sitting up in the nosebleed seats because we don’t feel worthy to use the ticket. Again, it doesn’t matter one single bit who we are. Those attendants at the ballpark didn’t care who I was. All they cared about was that the person who purchased those tickets said we belonged. She didn’t say we belonged in the farthest reaches of the bleachers. She said we belonged right down there behind home plate. It would have been ridiculous for us to accept the tickets she offered, then refuse to sit where we were assigned because we didn’t feel good enough. She paid the price. She gets to determine who sits in those seats. Likewise, Jesus paid the price for those who believe in Him. He gets to determine that those people get to enter heaven.

The ballpark analogy falls a little short of the heavenly one, however. As amazing as those tickets were, they didn’t entitle me to access to the dugout or to the playing field. I couldn’t just waltz over, sit down by the star pitcher, and strike up a conversation. I would have been thrown out. Maybe thrown in jail. What Jesus purchased for us, however, allows us full access to heaven and, more importantly, to God. Jesus didn’t purchase one of heaven’s nosebleed seats (though even that would have been more than we deserved). He didn’t allow us to come only so far, but no farther. He purchased the best seats in the house: the seats right in God’s lap.

The luxury of that ballgame was a privilege to be enjoyed for a few hours, and then for all the times I will think of the memories we made there. But God intends for us to enjoy the magnificence of heaven for all eternity. The game’s never going to end. We’ll never have to leave. We’ll never pick our way through peanut shells and dropped coupons for free tacos, thinking that the experience was nice while it lasted. We’ll enjoy heaven forever and ever, and unlike a baseball game that might go to 47 innings, we’ll never become bored. Our delight will increase throughout all eternity.

This is what the old line in the song “Blessed Assurance” means—“oh, what a foretaste of glory divine”. Any pleasure we enjoy on this earth is but a dim reflection of the joy waiting for us in heaven. And if I enjoyed that game as much as I did, I can only imagine what heaven will be like!

Someday, I won’t have to imagine anymore. I’ll know what heaven’s like, because I’ll be there. You will too, if you’ve given your life to the Lord. Why, because we deserve it? No. Because our Friend has paid the price. Do you have your ticket?

Hebrews 4:14-16—Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

Cheeri-Uh-Oh’s

Megan Breedlove May 23, 2011 0Comment

This morning, as I sat at the table eating my breakfast, I heard a familiar sound from the kitchen behind me.

“Uh-oh!”

Lindsey’s voice was accompanied by a brief whooshing sound. I turned to see her holding the box that used to contain Cheerios upside down. The aforementioned Cheerios were scattered all over the floor. Yep, the entire box.

Lindsey looked at me, her eyes open wide, her mouth a round “o”. I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

Relieved, Lindsey began laughing too. I ran for my camera to take a picture. “Wait! Don’t clean those up yet!” I called as I picked my way through the floor, trying not to mash any of the Cheerios.

I got my camera and captured the event for posterity. Then I said, “You know what? I have a great idea.”

“What?” Lindsey asked. She and Kenny, who was in the kitchen too, looked up at me.

“Let’s play with them,” I said.

They looked at me as if they weren’t certain whether to believe what they’d just heard. “What would we play?” they asked.

“Let’s get some little cars and make roads in the Cheerios,” I said.

“Yay!” they screeched, and ran off to get some Hot Wheels.

We played “drive the cars through the Cheerios”, as well as “hide the cars under the Cheerios”, and other games involving Littlest Pet Shop toys and making letters (even cursive ones) out of the Cheerios. We had a LOT of fun for about an hour. (You should try it sometime!)

Sure, I could have gotten mad when Lindsey spilled every last Cheerio. After all, they were wasted. Or were they? Those Cheerios weren’t put to their intended use (except for a few that, yes, the kids ate off the floor). But they weren’t wasted. They provided an hour of fun and memories that will last a long time.

And that’s the point. No experience in our lives has to be wasted. It might not have happened as we originally hoped or planned, but it can still mean something—sometimes even something beautiful. God can take absolutely any circumstance in our lives and bring good from it. That’s what Romans 8:28 means—not that everything that happens to us is good, but that God can bring good out of all things.

He’ll probably require our help, though. Not because He’s incapable of doing things on His own, but because He usually doesn’t force His blessings on us. Just as He knew all along that those Cheerios would get spilled and we’d end up playing with them, so He knows regarding each circumstance of our lives what He intends to make of it. But if we’re still mad that the Cheerios won’t get to be eaten anymore, we’ll miss the beauty of the playtime and the memories. In other words, if we refuse to accept that God caused or decided not to prevent our original circumstances from getting messed up, and we decide to stay resentful or mad, we’ll miss what He does intend to make out of it.

Some circumstances are hard, I know. Maybe even very hard. But the fact is, they happened. The Cheerios got spilled. The original plan (eating them) is no longer possible. So now, we have a choice. We can either hold onto our anger that we’ll have to go to Plan B, or we can let our anger go. We can accept the fact that even though we didn’t want a Plan B, even though we don’t like Plan B, we’re stuck with it. And if that’s the case, we might as well make the best we can out of it.

The Cheerios are gone. It’s not possible to eat them anymore. The only thing that’s possible is to choose our attitude—acceptance or resentment at their absence. Which will it be?

Romans 8:28—And we know that all things work together for the good of them that love God, to them that are called according to His purpose.

Forgiving Ourselves

Megan Breedlove May 9, 2011 0Comment

This is the third devotion in a three-part series on forgiveness. If you have not already done so, you might find it helpful to read the first two parts: Forgiveness: What It Is, What It Isn’t and Forgiving Others.

There was once a young man who had everything going for him. He was smart, well-educated, and at least trilingual. He was the protégé of one of the greatest minds in his field, and he was being groomed to follow in his mentor’s footsteps. He was both a citizen of the greatest government on earth and an up-and-coming leader among his own ethnic group. He took part in some of the greatest political events of his day, and when that wasn’t enough, he began to orchestrate some of those events. The only problem was that he was also a terrorist. In fact, he believed he was called by God to destroy any of his fellow men who converted to a heathen religion. He made it his mission in life to hunt down and destroy those who had abandoned what he believed was the one true faith. As he became more and more successful in murdering apostates, he was given increasing power by those in authority over him. There was no stopping this man. His zeal for slaughtering those who opposed what he stood for became insatiable. Because of him, countless lives were lost and innocents executed. And he gave approval to it all.

Until, that is, he was met on the road to Damascus by the Lord Jesus. I’m writing, of course, about the Apostle Paul.

His name wasn’t Paul at the time of his Damascus trip, however. It was still Saul. And Saul was a brutal man, full of hatred for Christians, intent on destroying as many as he could, all in the name of God. It took a blinding encounter with the risen Lord Jesus Himself to change Saul’s heart.

I wonder how Paul must have felt when he realized the magnitude of the evil he had committed. Scripture tells us that he hated his sin, and I’m sure he grieved over the terrible things he had done and the awful consequences he had caused for those left behind. He must have grieved even more over what he had done to Jesus, whom he now knew and loved.

As he described himself, he was the least of all God’s saints because he had deliberately persecuted people for following Christ. He knew the vileness of his sin and must have felt it deeply. It would have been easy for Paul to spend the rest of his life wracked with guilt, unable to put it behind him, confronted with the horror of his sin at every turn.

Some of us know how Paul must have been tempted to feel. We, too, have something in our past—or maybe repeated somethings—deliberate acts which we now see for the awfulness that they were. Or perhaps we remember an innocent mistake that reaped horrifying consequences. Either way, we know what it’s like to buckle under the weight of the misery of our sin and be unable to rise. We know we shouldn’t have done it—whatever “it” was—but we did, and now we can’t change that fact. The only thing we seem to be able to do is to constantly, unremittingly condemn ourselves for our actions and grieve over the fact that what’s done can’t be undone.

We know we’re supposed to forgive others when they sin, but how do we apply forgiveness when the person we need to forgive is ourself?

To answer that question, let’s look at what Paul did. After all, he of all people had a reason to feel guilty: he had murdered countless human beings for being Christians. He had cold-bloodedly taken their lives because they loved the Lord Jesus. Yet instead of drowning in his guilt, he went on to write two-thirds of the New Testament and be perhaps the greatest witness for Christ ever. He became victorious in Christ. Many of us desperately need victory over guilt, too.

First, he repented and threw himself upon Christ’s mercy. He didn’t deny what he had done, or the depravity of it; he admitted it fully, as awful as it was. We, too, must admit what we’ve done—no excusing it, and no minimizing it. We need to see it and admit it for what it is—sin. Even if we didn’t purposely set out to sin, we must acknowledge any part of it that was deliberate, or that we could have caused to turn out differently.

Second, Paul accepted Christ’s forgiveness and spent the rest of his life living for Him. We must accept the forgiveness Christ offers, too. “But what I did was so bad, I can’t accept forgiveness,” we’re tempted to say. Remember, forgiveness isn’t given to people who deserve it. It’s given to imperfect human beings who need it. Refusing to accept Christ’s forgiveness isn’t really humility; it’s calling Christ a liar. After all, God says that whoever repents is forgiven, by His grace. We’re forgiven, whether we acknowledge it or not. When we refuse to believe that we’re forgiven, it’s like telling Christ that He’s a liar and didn’t really forgive us. “I want to believe it, but I just can’t,” we say. Sure we can. We can choose with our minds to believe that we’re forgiven even if our hearts don’t feel like it. When we accept forgiveness with our mind, feelings will follow. If we wait to feel forgiven, though, without first believing it in our mind, it will never happen. We must choose to believe what God says is true and not what we feel is true.

Finally, Paul made a point of using the memory of his sins as a reminder of God’s grace instead of a reason to condemn himself. Each time we read in Scripture that Paul remembers his sins, we also read that he turns the memory into an occasion for remembering and rejoicing in God’s incredible grace. I know this works. There was one time when I made an innocent yet terrible mistake that could have had horrific consequences. For a long time, each time I found myself in a similar situation, I would remember what I did and realize anew the awfulness of it. It wasn’t until our pastor preached on a similar situation in his life and told how he had handled it (exactly the way Paul handled it) that I realized what I needed to do. Each time I remembered my mistake, I refused to dwell on it, instead giving praise to God for His grace in what could have been a very bad situation. At first, it was hard to turn my thoughts away from what had happened and toward God’s grace, but with practice, it became easier. Now, when I remember it, I no longer feel awful. Instead, I rejoice in God’s grace. Whether your situation was a sin or a mistake, the same principle applies to you. Each time you remember what happened, refuse to dwell on the awfulness of it. Instead, magnify God and rejoice in His incredible grace. And let His grace motivate you to tell others about Him, so that they too can turn from their sins and be forgiven.

I don’t know what situation is burdening your heart. But I do know that God offers you forgiveness if you truly repent and turn to Him. I also know that He will redeem your memories so that they don’t cause you further pain but instead bless you with the opportunity to rejoice in His incredible grace. Why not run to Him right now? Let Him heal you. Let Him comfort your soul and set you free.

1 Corinthians 15:10—But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect.

Forgiving Others

Megan Breedlove May 2, 2011 0Comment

This is the second devotion in a three-part series on forgiveness. If you have not already done so, you might find it helpful to read the first part, Forgiveness: What It Is, What It Isn’t. Part three in the series can be found here.

Here’s where the rubber meets the road. We’ve learned what forgiveness means and what it doesn’t mean. We now need to look at how forgiving looks in our relationships with others. Of course, we’ll also look at what forgiveness doesn’t mean, because again, there are some very common misconceptions we need to overcome.

First, though, I’d like to share a story about forgiveness. It perfectly illustrates much of what we’re going to talk about today.

The story involves my son Kenny and his favorite toy at the time: his wooden train set. Kenny had a huge set of wooden trains, tracks, and various accessories. He liked to spread them out all over creation, building intricate layouts that covered more square miles than a real city. One day, he had created a metropolis in the highly-trafficked area between our master bedroom, bathroom, computer room, and guest room. His sisters were off in another part of the house playing a game that apparently involved lots of running around and giggling. I was sitting at the computer working a few feet away from Kenny when I heard Lindsey’s running footsteps getting closer. She darted into the room and right into the middle of Kenny’s train set, stopped, looked both ways, then ran back the other way.

“Hey! You stepped on my toy!” Kenny called after her.

She didn’t hear him. She was already on the way back to her own game.

Kenny waited briefly for her response, but there was none. So he called after her, “I forgive you!” and went back to his trains.

That, precious mom, is the nature of forgiveness. It involves knowing an offense has been committed, knowing that therefore, forgiveness is needed, and deciding to grant that forgiveness whether or not the offender even knows he or she needs it.

True, this is different from the forgiveness God offers, which comes only after sincere repentance. He forgives this way because His completely righteous, holy nature demands that sin be paid for. It’s His nature—and His job description—to require payment for sin. But it’s not our nature. And it’s not our job.

When we choose to forgive those who don’t deserve it, we reflect His nature and bring Him glory. Forgiveness for us does not and should not come only after payment has been made. We do not say to others, “You have adequately paid for your sin; therefore, I forgive you.” Instead, we say, as Kenny did, “You have offended me. But I forgive you, which means I choose not to punish you for what you did. And I do that so that I can move on.”

I want us to look at those two things today: what it means (and doesn’t mean) to forgive but not punish; and how we move on.

We’ve already talked about how it’s not our job to punish. Most of us would agree with that, at least in theory. But if we are not to punish the offender, does that mean we must seek an intimate relationship with the offender? Does it mean we need to act towards the offender as if he or she had never offended us? Not necessarily. For some offenses, yes. But for others, absolutely not.

For example, if I invite my best friend to come have lunch with me, and she accidentally steps on my foot on her way into the house, then yes, I need to let it go and not let it affect our level of intimacy. If my child forgets to put her bicycle away, that shouldn’t affect our level of closeness.

On the other hand, if—may God forbid!—someone were to molest one of my children, I would NOT seek intimacy with that person. I would NOT continue as if the violation had never happened. Instead, I would put safeguards in place for the rest of the offender’s life so that the offender could never hurt my child again.

So the first thing forgiveness doesn’t mean in terms of our relationships with others is that we don’t necessarily have to act as if nothing ever happened. Some offenses are simply too awful; some are ongoing, and we may need to erect boundaries, not for the purpose of punishing the offender, but for the purpose of protecting ourselves and our loved ones.

Another thing forgiveness doesn’t mean is that it doesn’t necessarily come as a response to the other person’s asking for forgiveness. Sometimes, your offender might truly repent and desire your forgiveness. Many other times, the offender might feel mere remorse, or perhaps not even that. The offender might not acknowledge the offense, or might deny that it was as bad as it was. But forgiving doesn’t mean you have to wait for that person to see the offense as God sees it. You can admit—completely independent of whether the offender agrees with you or not—that you have been sinned against. You can even admit how bad it was. After all, God knows how bad it was. You can agree with Him in this.

Now, let’s talk about what forgiveness does mean. We’ve said before that forgiveness means deciding not to punish the offender. That includes verbal comments, which means no snide or sarcastic remarks to or about the offender. These comments reflect bitterness in our hearts, which means we haven’t truly forgiven—we’re still holding onto at least a little bit of the idea that “he/she owes me something.” No deliberately excluding the offender from places you would normally invite him or her, unless that is necessary for protection. No rehashing the offense over and over in your mind or to others so they can be angry with you about how bad it was. Granted, there are times you will need to seek counsel or simply comfort from others when someone has offended you. But there is a difference between talking about the offense for the purpose of receiving comfort and talking for the purpose of stirring up your emotions so that you can feel righteously (or unrighteously) angry.

Forgiveness also means leaving the door open for a restored relationship as much as that might be possible. As we’ve said, there are some situations where that won’t be possible or desirable. But there are many other situations where if the person were truly to repent and demonstrate a changed heart, some degree of restoration might be possible.

One more thing that forgiveness isn’t—at least not necessarily. It may not be a one-time action. Forgiveness may very well be a repeated action. Every time the offense comes to our mind, we must continue to choose forgiveness and refuse to punish or to dwell on angry thoughts. That doesn’t mean we must forget what happened. It means we shouldn’t stew about it. We shouldn’t let it take control of our thoughts until it’s all we can think about, or until it begins to grow into bitterness. We must constantly and consistently choose forgiveness every time we remember the offense, and that may be hundreds or even thousands of times. Forgiveness isn’t easy. It always costs the one who chooses to forgive. It costs your “right” to punish, to demand recompense from the offender. It costs your thought life and your emotional energy.

With such a high cost, then, why bother forgiving? Because it’s even harder on you not to forgive. Continuing to hang on to the offense will cost your mind, heart, and emotions, but at a much higher level than forgiveness. To the degree that you have not forgiven, you will be stuck at that point until you do forgive. And if the offense is truly that bad, that’s not a point at which you want to be stuck.

God doesn’t tell us to forgive so that the offender can “get away with something”. The offender will not get away; he or she will one day answer to God for any offense against you. Rather, He tells us to forgive so that we can heal. He is the Great Physician, and He knows exactly what is necessary to heal a broken heart. He knows how to release us from the painful chains binding us to what happened to us. When we’re stuck, knowing we should forgive but not being able to, He’ll even help us do it. He’ll help us make that decision. And as we crawl into His lap and the hurt begins to flow away, He’ll hold us close and whisper words of comfort. I’m here. I will heal you. One day, you will be whole.

Psalm 71:20-21—You will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up. You will increase my honor and comfort me once again.

May 2011

Entitled

Cheeri-Uh-Oh’s

Forgiving Ourselves

Forgiving Others

You Missed

Priorities

I Wouldn’t Do That

Little Things

8 Seconds