A Life Worthy

Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow (Psalm 51:7).

Lady Macbeth knew.

Most of us can recall little of our high school Shakespeare, but we remember the murdering queen who walked and talked in her sleep.  Night after night she got out of bed, still asleep, and tried to scrub the blood of her crimes from her hands.  There was nothing visible on her skin, but she knew the blood—the sin—was there.

“Out, out, damn spot!” she cried, but she could not make herself clean.  When the doctor saw her somnambulistic scrubbing, he commented that she did not need a doctor—she needed the Divine.  This doctor knew his stuff—most would have gone with leeches.

Bad news—no one can cleanse your heart except God himself.  Few would be willing, and none would be able.

Good news—God is more than willing, and he is more than able.  Whiter than snow, Baby.  Whiter than snow.

Put down the Boraxo, Beloved.  Lift your heart to Him.

Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me (Psalm 51:5).

Well, there’s a comforting thought.

It’s not bad enough that it’s Thursday;  I‘ve gotta get hit with the concept that I’ve been sinful for as long as I’ve been me.

Still…there it is.

It’s not like sin is just a onetime, or even sometime, thing.  David can’t say, “Oops, I slipped.  Apart from this episode, I’ve pretty much been perfection.”  Even David—giant killing, Psalm writing, man-after-God’s-own heart David—knows that sin seems to be woven into the very fabric of his nature.  He doesn’t even stand a chance of standing on his own.  It’s like fighting cancer with cough drops.

Poor David.

Poor me.

Poor us.

And yet God, because of who he is, loved us anyway.

And so God, because he loved us, didn’t want us to die in sin, as we were born in sin.

And then God, because he didn’t want us to die, died in our place.

And now God, because he died for us, raises us to life in him.

And this God, who had raised you to life, calls you Beloved.

I guess it’s not such a bad way to start your day, after all.

Happy Thursday, Beloved.

For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me (Psalm 51:3).

There are only two people you can’t hide your sin from.

As it happens, they are the only two people who matter.

Hmm…that may be more than enough to chew on for a Tuesday.

So chew, Beloved.

…and, beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!”  Immediately, Jesus reached out his hand and caught him.  “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” (Matthew 14: 30-31). 

Peter was in over his head—literally.  He had taken his eyes off Jesus, focused on his immediate circumstances, and panicked.  His grand venture of faith was falling apart rather quickly.

So he cried out to God.

Good move, Pete.

There are two things that really hit me in this passage.  The first is Peter’s faith.

Yes, I realize that this story highlights his doubt—Jesus points this out himself.  But I think that his doubt is not so much in God’s ability to work as it is in God’s willingness to work in Peter.  It’s a feeling I know all too well.  I know that God can do anything he wants; I just can’t imagine that he wants to do it through me.  It’s a weird mixture of pride and self-doubt that we all fall victim to.

Except you, Beloved.  I know—you’ve got it all together.

But Peter’s faith in God is rock-solid—no pun intended.  After all, to whom does he cry out in his fear?

To whom do you cry out?

The other thing that strikes me in this passage is the Lord’s reaction to Peter.  “Immediately, Jesus reached forth his hand and caught Peter.”  Jesus did not let Peter founder and flop and flail in the water.  He was there, waiting, at the moment his child needed him.

Then he spoke to Peter.  Now I can’t be sure in what tone of voice he said, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”  Perhaps he was frustrated; maybe he was genuinely curious.  My gut tells me, though, that there was a smile in his eyes, and that small shake of the head that a parent uses when his child has goofed.  I haven’t found it in any translation of this passage, but I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Jesus had followed up this statement with, “You knucklehead.”

Maybe that’s just me.

The more I think about it, the more I am convinced that Jesus was pleased rather than frustrated with Peter.  I think he truly enjoyed seeing Peter take these few faltering steps of faith, just like I loved seeing my kids learn to walk.  Sure they fell, and I chuckled when they did, because I knew that ultimately I would keep them safe.

I don’t know what God is calling you to today.  Could be adventure; could be trial.  But I do know this—he’s calling you out on the water.  He has a challenge for you.  He wants to show you what he can do in and through you.  Sure you might fall—and he stands ready to catch you.  Sure you might fail—and he stands ready to pick you up and let you try again.  Don’t be afraid of letting him down.  Every step you take in him makes him proud as can be.  Don’t be deceived into thinking that God wouldn’t work through you.  Trust me, he’s worked through a lot worse than you.

He’s worked through me.

Just look to the One who loves you, Beloved.

Step out.

Then Peter got out of the boat, walked on the water, and came toward Jesus. (Matthew 14:29).

Wow.

He did it.

I know it’s easy to focus on the fact that Peter sank—and we will look at that tomorrow—but for today, let’s give the young man some props.  He wanted to do what Jesus was doing, he got the go ahead from the Lord, and he went for it.

And he did something that, frankly, you and I have never done.

No you haven’t.

One of Peter’s great strengths was his ability to take decisive action without overanalyzing every situation.

Of course, the negative side of that is called, “Going off half-cocked without thinking things through,” which was probably his greatest weakness.

But we’re praising Peter today.  And in this verse we see that Peter didn’t allow logic to override God’s call.

Now, let’s be careful here.  Don’t hear what I’m not saying.  Am I saying that we should throw logic and wisdom out the window and just follow our feelings?

Uh, no.

Am I saying that we should make all our decisions with our hearts and not our minds?

Huh uh.

Am I saying that sometimes God may call us to something that makes no sense, by the world’s definition of “sense?”

Ding ding ding!

Now, he may not be calling you to something as blatantly wacky as waterskiing sans boat and skis.  But maybe, just maybe, that desire in your heart, that secret dream that makes no logical sense, is there because he put it there.  Maybe, just maybe, your Lord is calling you to do something the world calls crazy, but he calls right and good.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

What will you do about it, Beloved?  Will you analyze and dissect and debate his call until you convince yourself that it can’t be done?

Or will you climb out of the boat and walk?

Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to get your feet wet, Beloved.