Safeguard: a precautionary measure, stipulation, or device; a technical contrivance to prevent accident

We have so many safeguards in place.  Annual physicals detect health ailments, life insurance provides for your family in case something happens to you and we can even add emergency contact numbers to our drivers licenses.  Many of us are protected against the larger things in life, but what if we could guard ourselves against the things rob us of everyday joys?  Wouldn’t you love to have a “precautionary measure, stipulation or device” to guard against:

1) Jealousy

2) Discontentment

3) Anger

4) Greed

5) Anxiety, and

6) Unforgiveness?

Fortunately, such a thing exists and it you don’t even have to enroll for a policy.  Look close at Philippians 3:1 and you’ll find the prescription:

Finally, my brothers, rejoice in the Lord!  It is no trouble for me to write the same things to you again, and it is a safeguard for you.” 

Sound too simple?  Give it a try.  Think about something that fuels one of the categories above.  You can take a minute and let your blood start boiling.  Now, rejoice in the Lord.  Thank God for your health, good relationships, the freedom to read and study His word freely or whatever it is that is most significant to you right now.  Let yourself really stop and think about this as you sincerely and genuinely thank God.

Remember the thing you were thinking about before?  Yeah, me neither.  Pretty good safeguard, huh? 

Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves.”  Philippians 2:3, NLT, emphasis mine

Remember when Big Idea was just that?  Bob the Tomato and Larry the Cucumber taught kids important spiritual lessons through the one food group children readily dismiss?  So what happened to it?  It grew.  Tremendously.  3,300% in three years.  So they set bigger, better goals that would land them on lists such as Fortune 500.  Executives forecasted even more growth and revenue.  Millions were spent to meet those predictions, yet they never came true.  Instead, Big Idea filed for bankruptcy, squishing the tomato into ketchup.

In an In Touch interview, Big Idea’s founder Phil Vischer answers the question “why do you think God would allow this” by saying “because I made the work I was doing for Him more important than my relationship with Him.”  His response scares me because it so easily could become my answer, too.  All too often I’ll get so excited over something I believe God is calling me to that I race towards it, asking God to bless my work while leaving Him behind. 

My mentor recently shared her perspective on this topic.  She’s come to liken her life to baking.  God is the Master Creator and could easily accomplish everything He wills and purposes.  But, just like she could bake cookies that turn out better than when baking with her children, God prefers the quality time spent together in the kitchen.  When God calls her to something, she is humbled and inspired that her Abba Daddy wants to “bake” with her.

Which will you be?  A CEO, pastor or stay-at-home mom striving to impress others or a sous chef in the kitchen with the Maker of the Universe?

What’s on your bucket list?  Sky-diving?  International travel?  Learning a foreign language?  It seems we all have at least one more thing we want to do before our time on earth is over.  Some of us purposefully have a long list, somehow hoping it’ll keep us here a bit longer.  We try to push death off as long as possible, fearing this final enemy.

But not Paul.  He wasn’t morbid, but was fully aware of his own mortality as he wrote, “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body” (Philippians 1:21-24).  Here’s Paul saying, “I’m chained and imprisoned.  I’ve watched other people who believe in God be brutally murdered for their faith and I know the same might happen to me.  In fact, I would even welcome death because then I get to be with my best friend, Jesus.  But, if I die, I won’t be here anymore.  I won’t be able to continue in my hard work of telling as many people as I can about the freedom found in Christ.”

It’s a bucket list that makes me reevaluate mine.  In fact, it causes me to look at all of my priorities again.  Do I show such eagerness to live for Christ?  Am I excited to face suffering, abuse and hardship for the sake of glorifying God?  Or do I profess a faith in God that will only remain steadfast as long as He amply provides for me and protects me from all harms? 

Maybe its time we start to live like we’re dying.

Jail time.  That was Lindsay Lohan’s sentence for a probation violation.  Some deemed the punishment too harsh, while others felt she got off easy.  Speaking of getting off easy, what about O.J.?  Public sentiment definitely sided against the verdict.  And then there are those who pay the time for something they didn’t do while others are guilty of a crime that really isn’t a crime.  Paul, the author of Philippians, falls into this category.  He lived in a time and place when professing belief in the resurrected Christ was illegal.  He was fully aware of the consequences of his faith.  In fact, he originally sought out Christians in order to persecute them.  He zealously climbed the corporate ladder of chastising, torturing and even approving of the death of those who bore the name of Christ.  And then, a radical conversion.

It would have been easier to remain silent about his newfound belief.  Safer, too.  But he couldn’t.  The love of God changed him so powerfully that he couldn’t help but tell others.  Fervently, earnestly and passionately.  Shunning the cost of probable imprisonment or death, his faith oozed out of him as he went from place to place in order to tell others about the depths and the riches of God’s love.  He would have been in more bondage by squelching that which naturally poured out of him than he was in the chains that came as a result of his faith. 

We are lucky to be able to study part of what he shared.  Yet we also run the risk of forgetting his chains and gloss over the sincerity and depth of his words.  As we study the book of Philippians, I challenge you to not just read the text, but to stop and ask yourself what it means in light of Paul’s chains.  It is a powerful charge to “do everything without complaining and arguing” (Philippians 2:14), but how does it affect you knowing it comes from someone shackled to another?  How does “always be full of joy in the Lord. I say it again—rejoice!” (Philippians 4:4) resonate when we remember the status of the one who didn’t just say it, but lived it under harsh conditions?

I hope Paul’s chains change the way we interpret Philippians.  But I also pray they change the way we live.

Because of my chains, most of the brothers in the Lord have been encouraged to speak the word of God more courageously and fearlessly.”  Paul, Philippians 1:14

I used to be a missionary.  I lived on foreign soil, spoke a foreign land, and even became infected by a foreign parasite.  If I happen to mention my previous occupation, people oftentimes gulp, take a step backwards and look at me as if my face will begin glowing like Moses’.  They nervously fumble, looking for dark clouds signaling the outpouring of lightening bolts.  Others stare at me in awe.  Ultra-Christian.  That’s what they think.  They mistakenly believe I had a direct access to God that no other is afforded.

They are wrong.  I love God as much today while my days are spent trying to potty train my son to no avail as I did when I pored myself into youth.  I pray as much as before.  I still read the Bible.  And God still loves me.  Just as much.  Just the way I am.  Even on my native soil.

All too often we get hung up on someone’s position, especially if it pertains to something within the church.  In no way am I trying to disregard the hard work of pastors, elders or missionaries.  Peter Drucker, the late leadership guru, said that being a pastor is one of the four hardest jobs in America.  I personally know some of the hardships of serving overseas.  I hold elders in the utmost respect, who work at their full-time jobs and then diligently help meet the needs within their churches and communities.  They aren’t easy tasks, yet neither is living out Colossians 3:17 while collecting trash, fighting corruption or scrubbing toilets. 

This same leveling of the playing field is seen in the beginning of the letter to the Philippians. 

I am writing to all of God’s holy people in Philippi who belong to Christ Jesus, including the elders and deacons.” Philippians 1:1

All of God’s holy people.  If “holy people” is too overwhelming for you, simply think of it according to The Message’s interpretation: “all the followers of Jesus.” This isn’t intended solely for the church leadership or the ultra-Christian (whatever that faulty notion might mean).  Matthew Henry says it best in his commentary on the whole Bible.  “It is directed to all the saints, one as well as another, even the meanest, the poorest, and those of the least gifts. Christ makes no difference; the rich and the poor meet together in him.” 

Don’t dismiss a single word in the book of Philippians by rationalizing that it was written solely for those higher up in church leadership.  That simply is not true.  I can’t wait to meet here with the rich, poor, mean, ugly, married, single, divorced, mother, janitor, lawyer and everything in between as together we study this incredible book.

Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:6

Fireworks will soon fill the skies.  They will mark freedom, reminding us of what once was and allowing us to savor what now is.

Over the next several months, we’ll be studying the book of Philippians.  Today I viewed it for the first time as a book of freedom.  It, along with the entire Scriptures, provides the hope, source and keys to the freedom of living a meaningless life devoted to self.  During the remainder of the year, we’ll get to learn how to be free from:

• Living loveless lives (Phil. 1:9)
• Cowardice and fearfulness (Phil. 1:14)
• Discontentment (Phil. 2:2)
• A lack of joy (Phil. 3)
• Pride (Phil. 2:6,7)
• Complaining and arguing (Phil. 2:14)
• Anxiety (Phil. 4:6)

A friend was challenged to read the entire book of Philippians four times daily for a month.  She started skeptically, but soon found herself waiting for the next ay she’d ingest the four chapters of God’s word.  In thirty days, her life changed.  She’d open her mouth to grumble, then recall Phil. 2:14 and change the subject.  She stopped meditating on the things that worried or troubled her and began focusing on things that are true, noble, lovely and praiseworthy.  By the end of the month, she was still unemployed and there were still real-world issues that infiltrated her life, yet her countenance demonstrated one profound change: freedom. 

Let it ring in our lives, too.

A man stood trial, his life hanging in the balances.  The judge couldn’t find evidence supporting the claims waged against him and wanted to dismiss the case, but he cracked under political pressure.  An innocent man died.

2,000 years after his death, Jesus still stands trial.  If you cared, you wouldn’t allow me to suffer, I protest, asking the Lord of the Universe to defend his stance on my current circumstances.  In other courtrooms, the claims aired are “if you really loved me, you would _______  (give me a better job, make me more beautiful, or cure me of cancer).  If you really are in control of the world, then why did you let innocent children die in a natural disaster?”

Will we, like Pilate, “find no basis for a charge against this man” (Luke 23:4), yet make a final ruling to dismiss him from our lives?  Our will we allow the doubts and questions to draw us into an honest conversation with God and discover that we just might find the very thing we’ve been looking for?

It doesn’t feel like the middle of June.  There’s a slight drizzle outside my Colorado home and I’m nestled inside with a hot cup of chai.  I even had to flip my thermostat from a.c. to heat today.  I’m ready to snuggle in with a good book and hibernate.  I love these kind of days, but I just don’t expect them this time of year.

The same is true of the content of Luke 23.  The Easter season allows me to slow down and reflect on Jesus’ ultimate sacrifice for me.  I’m overcome with emotion in March and April at the thought of a perfect, sinless man dying to cleanse me of my filth.  And yet the overwhelming awe of Christ’s crucifixion tends to melt away with the last batch of snow.  By the hot, sunny months, I’m back to barging into the gates of heaven with my prayer requests before stopping to humbly and gratefully say thanks.

This sudden, temporary change of seasons beckons me to recall the most amazing gift offered to mankind.

When they came to the place called the Skull, there they crucified him, along with the criminals—one on his right, the other on his left.  Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”  Luke 23:33,34

Jesus, thank you so very much for loving me enough to forfeit the wonders of heaven to walk on this earth, knowing we would reject and crucify you.  I’m amazed that even in your most agonizing moment you forgave.  Teach me to do the same and please help me daily remember the pain you suffered on my behalf.  Amen.

Once upon a time, there was a group of people called the Swoonots.  They worked their rented vineyard day in and day out and were relatively happy, especially after stomping their crop into a magical beverage.  But the Swoonots suffered from a rare disease.  One by one, they passed away.

King Swafta owned the vineyard.  One day, he decided to send a servant to the Swoonots.  The king wanted his share of the crops, but more importantly, he had the cure to the Swoonots’ lethal disease.  But the last thing the Swoonots wanted to hear was how to live in order to prevent death, and they especially didn’t want to share what was rightfully the king’s.

“Let’s beat the servant,” they said.  And they did.

King Swafta sent a second and a third servant, who both met the same fate.

“What shall I do"?” King Swafta asked.  “I will send my son, whom I love; perhaps they will respect him.”

But when the Swoonots saw the prince, they said, “This is the heir.  Let’s kill him and the inheritance will be ours.”  So they threw him out of the vineyard and. . .

hung him on a cross.

I, too, like the Swoonots of Luke 20:9-16, am living on rented land.  Everything I have and everything I’m capable of has been given to me by King Swafta.  God.  Am I willing to share the crops of my life with God, or will I horde them, believing I am the one who makes the fruits in my life grow?  I also suffer from a deadly disease: sin.  If left untreated, it will separate me from God, forever, and cause my death.

Will I allow the Prince into my vineyard and trust him with my life, or will I, too, throw him out?

The “gimme’s” run rampant in my family.  “Can I have an American Girl?”  “I just have to have a supersonic, F453 jet pack.”  It isn’t just my kids that are infected with this seemingly incurable disease.  My husband and I both fall victim to it all the time.  In fact, I think the disciples even had a slight case of it.

One day, Jesus was teaching his disciples about forgiveness.  Their response?  "Increase our faith!" (Luke 17:5). 

Isn’t that something?  These were the guys who walked with Jesus, got to spend day after day with him.  Surely they had faith.  Probably just like my daughter has countless Barbies in her room but still isn’t satisfied.  They, too, wanted more of something they already had: faith. 

I can understand their request (and often imitate it myself), yet am stumped at their timing.  After all, Jesus was teaching about forgiveness, not faith.  Their petition seems so out of context.  I’m quick to ask for more faith when the swell of life’s worries and trials are about to overtake me, but during the day-to-day mundane?  Well, that’s quite a different story.

Oswald Chambers wrote My Utmost for His Highest, a beautiful collection of devotionals.  On June 5th he says, “Neither will I in any wise forsake thee” (Hebrews 13:5).  Sometimes it is not difficulty that makes me think God will forsake me, but drudgery. There is no Hill Difficulty to climb, no vision given, nothing wonderful or beautiful, just the commonplace day in and day out—can I hear God’s say-so (God reminding me that he will never leave me nor forsake me) in these things?”

It is harder for me to live by faith during the run-of-the mill than the strenuous.  I cling desperately to God when times are rough, yet am quick to go my own way during the calm.  I struggle to remember that God created me for a purpose, especially when my days are filled by changing diapers, watching Barney and waiting in the carpool line.  It is only when I  ask for more faith that I find a new enjoyment in my everyday routines.

Maybe the disciples request wasn’t so out of context. 

Lord, increase our faith.

I want to call in sick, use my get out of jail free card or whatever the proper etiquette is to get out of blogville this week.  Truth be told, Luke 14 makes me squirm.  A lot.  Take verse 26 for example.  A large crowd is traveling with Jesus, when suddenly Jesus says, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters—yes, even his own life—he cannot be my disciple.”  What?  Hate your parents?  Despise your spouse and children?  What happened to Mark 12:36, which says that the second greatest commandment is to love your neighbor as yourself?

The Contemporary English Version (CEV) sheds some light on this troublesome passage: “You cannot be my disciple, unless you love me more than you love your father and mother, your wife and children, and your brothers and sisters. You cannot come with me unless you love me more than you love your own life.”  More than.  Jesus isn’t asking me to detest my family.  Rather, I must make sure my love for God is always greater than my love for anyone or anything else.

“Jealous” is used 28 times in the NIV.  It is God who is jealous in 18 of those verses. 

Do not worship any other god, for the Lord, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God.” Exodus 34:14

I’m sure my English teacher would have marked down for a sentence like that, with it being overly emphatic that God is both a jealous God and is named Jealous.  Perhaps it is God’s jealousy—His utmost desire that we serve Him and Him alone—that prompted Jesus to say we must love him more than anyone else.

I’m still squirming, though.  It is a very tough verse to live out, at least for me.  If I truly  laid down my life and loved God more than anyone else, would it come at the price of those I love most?  Or would I somehow discover a joy and a freedom I’ve been too fearful to fully embrace?

I (Jesus) came so that everyone would have life, and have it in its fullest.  John 10:10, CEV

  I won’t call in sick on this post, but I’ll do the next best thing and toss it back to you.  What do you think?  I’d love to hear your thoughts.

As a young child, I had to stand up each week and recite a short paragraph in front of 100 people.  Well, maybe not in front of.  With.  Everyone said it with me.  But I always felt like people were listening to me, eager to know if I’d correctly say the large words that made no sense to me.  It was a weekly exam with the strictest of teachers:  God.  I kept waiting for lightning to strike if I didn’t say the Lord’s prayer properly.  To this day, it still makes me nervous to say it out loud, pulling at the strings of this type-A personality.

Reading through Luke 11 this week made me see how far my perception of the Lord’s prayer is from what it was intended for.  It is the beautiful response to a humble question: “Lord, teach us to pray” (Luke 11: 1).  We have the privilege of leaning in and eavesdropping as the Teacher demonstrated one form of talking to the Father.

Father,

a gentle reminder that I’m not addressing a genie in a bottle or someone so far off that he has  no concern for me.  Instead, I get to place myself in my Father’s caring arms

hallowed be your name,

Your name is holy.  You are holy. 

   your kingdom come.

There is a very real battle between good and evil, God and Satan. 

³Give us each day our daily bread.

I wear myself thin, putting away for retirement, college and more, thinking I’m somehow the reason ends meet.  This one currently hits below the belt as I’m reminded it is God who provides for me.
⁴Forgive us our sins,

Plural, yes.  My many sins, the so many ways I go against your will.

      for we also forgive everyone who sins against us.

I readily long for forgiveness, but to give it?  Please Lord, help me release my hurts, disappointments and pains to you.

   And lead us not into temptation.’

Be the light unto my path and keep me from the places where I shouldn’t go.

Lord, teach us to pray.

13.  That was my answer to a friend’s text asking how many people I personally know who are unemployed.  Thirteen!  A baker’s dozen wondering if they will keep their house or how they’ll pay this month’s bills. 

Luke 8:14 talks about those whose faith is choked out by life’s worries.  Some of my thirteen unemployed neighbors, friends and family members fall into this category, as do others battling worries over health, relationships and so much more.  Have you felt those storms?  Have the tough economic times caused weeds to grow among the crops of your life?  Has heartache, deception or illness created a tempest around you?  Jesus can quiet it. 

He (Jesus) got up and rebuked the wind and the raging waters; the storm subsided, and all was calm.  ‘Where is your faith?’ he asked his disciples.” Luke 8: 24,25

Jesus’ disciples feared death as a squall came down on the lake.  The problems around them were real, as were their fears.  Yet all became serene with just a word.  And then the next words?  “Where is your faith?”  I’ll show you where.

A woman bled for twelve years.  Anemic and tired. Poverty-stricken from seeking medical advice to no avail.  Her remedy?  Pure, unadulterated faith.  She reached out and touched Jesus’ hem as he walked by.  What the doctors couldn’t accomplish in twelve years changed in seconds.  Instant healing.

Daughter, your faith has healed you.  Go in peace.” Luke 8:46

Two similar situations with two different outcomes.  The disciples and the hemorrhaging woman knew their circumstances were bleak.  Twelve panicked and were chastised.  One reached out and found healing.  Which one do you most want to be like?

Some of my friends had tuberculosis a few years ago.  In order to prevent spreading this highly contagious disease, they had to stay in their apartment all day, every day.  They ordered groceries online with instructions for the food to be placed outside their door.  Only at night were they allowed to leave their enclosure, and then only with masks on.  The few people on the streets stared at them, then quickly dispersed.  The once social couple lost touch with humanity—real touch that it is.  They talked to friends on the phone and kept up on the news.  But to be hugged by their grandson or embraced by anyone other than another infectious person?  Well, those days were over until they completed their long round of medications.

We find a leper in Luke 5:12-15 who no doubt felt the same amount of social chastisement.  More actually.  He could no longer live with his family, but had to move outside the city to the leper colony.  He had to shout “unclean” wherever he went, watching passerby’s scurry away like mice.  Touch was a distant memory—both the ability of being able to feel anything, as well as the presence of another human’s hand on his.

And then. . .

He saw Jesus.  Throwing all shame and embarrassment aside, “he fell with his face to the ground and begged him, ‘Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.” (Luke 5:12)

Savor the next few words with me:

“Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man.  ‘I am willing,’ he said.  ‘Be clean!’  And immediately the leprosy left him.” Luke 5:13, emphasis added

The man got so much more than he longed for.  His health returned and the Son of God touched him.  The Son of God!!  Maybe if I’m willing to cast my fears and shame aside, throwing myself with faith and adoration at the feet of my Maker, I’ll also receive not just what my body needs, but what my heart longs for.

Jerusalem  A twelve year old boy has been missing the past three days.  His parents, Mary and Joseph, were returning to Nazareth after celebrating the Passover and mistakenly believed Jesus was in their company.  It wasn’t until they traveled a day that they realized the child was not with any of their relatives.  They immediately returned to Jerusalem and have been searching for the boy, but he is no where to be found.

“I am wrought with guilt,” Mary reports.  “The angel told me this was the Son of God, and I’ve lost him.”

Family and authorities plan on continuing the search until Jesus is found.

I can’t imagine the anxiety, guilt and fear that plagued Mary and Joseph as they searched for Jesus.  Two full days passed looking high and low throughout Jerusalem to no avail.  Two days!   I lost my son in Kohl’s once for less than five minutes.  It took at least four hours for my heart to stop racing.

The hunt ended as Mary and Joseph entered the temple.  Jesus sat among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions.

“Son, why have you treated us like this?  Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you.”

“Why were you searching for me?” he (Jesus) asked.  “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?”  Luke 2:48, 49

Jesus wasn’t lost or absent.  People just looked for him in the wrong places.

Isn’t the same still true today?