Exaggeration

“Then answered one of the servants, and said, Behold, I have seen a son of Jesse the Bethlehemite, that is cunning in playing, and a mighty valiant man, and a man of war, and prudent in matters, and a comely person, and the Lord is with him.” – 1 Samuel 16:18

King Saul was a slave to his emotions, easily influenced and provoked. His greatest character flaw, however, was his chronic failure to take the instruction of God seriously. It ended up costing him a kingdom. In this chapter of 1 Samuel, we read that about the same time the Spirit of the Lord came upon young David, when Samuel anointed him to be the next king of Israel, the same Spirit of the Lord left King Saul, and “an evil spirit from the Lord” began to trouble him. His servants, who, no doubt, would bear the brunt of his ill humor, had a suggestion.

What was needed was some nice, soothing music, ideally from the hand of a “cunning player on a harp” (vv. 15-16). “Yes, get me one,” says Saul. And one of the servants knew just the man for the job. He described David to him in verse eighteen; I may be wrong here, but it would seem to me that in his exuberance, he painted an unnecessarily inflated resume for Jesse’s youngest son. For instance, he calls him “a man of war,” yet when war with the Philistines was waged, he was made to stay home, while his other brothers went off to war (1 Sam. 17). And when Saul questioned about his war experience, he offered only a story of defeating a bear and a lion.

“So, he exaggerated,” you say, “Big deal!” You may consider this to be questionable quibbling, but Saul was the last person to whom you should brag about someone else…especially the young, gifted David. If you’re familiar with the saga of Saul and David, you know that before it was over, Saul’s jealousy of David reached a fever pitch of paranoia that drove him to hound him like an animal. Most people date the genesis of Saul’s obsession against David from the choruses of praise about him that were sung by foolish women (18: 6-9); but I would contend that the seeds of jealousy were planted by this servant who couldn’t say enough about David, even to the point of exaggeration. And in this case, the seed of exaggeration grew to a mighty oak of ruination.

Exaggeration is going beyond the truth to what could be. It’s a sin. But it’s also a sign. It’s a sign that our argument lacks true wieght without false facts. It’s a sign of our own need to shock and/or overwhelm. It’s all right to embellish a story, as long as people recognize we’re using “literary license,” just trying to tell a good story. But, at the end of the day, we should look in the mirror and know that we have spoken truth with “our neighbor” (Eph. 4:25), and be able to say with Paul,
“I speak the truth in Christ, and lie not…” (1 Tim. 2:7). There is nothing more pristine than the unspoiled, unvarnished truth. The truth…nothing less…and nothing more.

There are some people so addicted to exaggeration that they can't tell the truth without lying. -  Josh Billings

Who Am I?

“He saith unto them, But whom say ye that I am?” – Matthew 16:15

This is life’s truly inescapable question. All others can be sidestepped, one way or another. If nothing else, death makes all questions meaningless…except one: Who is (or was) Jesus, depending on your estimate of Him? The answer to that question will determine not only your demeanor in this life but also your destiny in the next. Fortunately for him—and us—Simon Peter had the right answer: “Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God” (v. 16). But as Jesus said, this kind of certainty comes only from God, and to those to whom He reveals it.

But I want to glean something else from Jesus’ words, if you’ll permit me. It was actually George Morrison who spurred my thoughts in this direction by these words: “It is a thrilling hour when one is understood. And so perfectly human was our Lord that the cry of Peter moved Him to His depths, and stirred Him with profound emotion” (“Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-jona”). He’s right, you know. We all want to be understood and seen as who we truly are. This is why we’re drawn to those people who do. Those to whom we must constantly be explaining ourselves soon lose their attraction. But sometimes, it’s our own fault.

If we want others to know us, we have to be who we are. “Putting on airs,” or conversely, flaunting an artificial “down home” image, are both easy to spot and hard to tolerate. This is not to say that our faults and failures have to be front and center. They can be acknowledged without being accentuated; just as our virtues and strong points should be displayed without flourish and fanfare. As a young wife, thrust into the position of pastor’s wife to older women, I well remember the temptation to either flaunt my position or pretend ignorance on things. Once I realized I could be who I was, without pretense one way or the other, we all settled into a wonderful relationship and lasting friendships to this day.

One more point on this idea of being understood: Why not be the understanding one? If we appreciate those who take the time to make an honest judgment about us, shouldn’t we do the same? The popular saying, “What you see is what you get,” is a misnomer, as far as I’m concerned. People are generally more—or less—than what you see; and we miss so much when we refuse to look further. Many of us make an initial judgment about someone, and ever after, hold to that estimate as infallible. When his or her name is mentioned, faults must always be pointed out, or their virtues used to excuse misconduct. As human beings, we’re a combination of both nature and nurture; but most of all, we’re the result of a sinful nature, and in the case of a Christian, a new nature given to us by God. There’s a lot going on there!

Who am I? It’s an important question. Jesus thought so. He knew who He was, but He was glad when others did too. If God, who knows me better than anyone else, loves me, I’m not afraid to be who I am; and I’m thankful for those who have chosen to truly know me too. And by God’s grace, I’ll do the same for you.

Finding "Fulfillment"

 “…that ye might be filled with the fulness of God.”  (Eph.3:19b)

         We hear people talk about “finding fulfillment in life,” as if it were some elusive, personal goal that can only be achieved in one way. I think the whole concept stems from the fact that we’re obsessed with feeling good about ourselves. It’s a good thing to want to be our best, if we’re using God’s standard; but if our goals change with every new “be-the-best-that-you-can-be” book that comes out, fulfillment will always be an elusive dream. Let’s examine the concept itself.

         Fulfillment indicates a prior emptiness, since one can only fill what is empty. So, in my own case, if I want to start on this lofty journey toward fulfillment, I must be ready to admit that my life now is empty.  And I’m not ready to do that. My pockets, my “nest,” and (at times) my head, may be empty, but my life is—and will always be—as full as my heart! Full hands do not make a full life; sometimes it’s just a filled-up one. Nor do empty ones mean an empty life. If anything, I have found that (forced) physical constraint has translated into more agile and muscular mental pursuits. No, fulfillment is not the opposite of emptiness.

         If, however, fulfillment is really purposefulness and meaning, I would point out that nothing has more meaning and purpose than obedience to God. We’re told in Ecclesiastes 12:13 that when all is said and done, our whole duty and purpose in life as Divinely created beings is to “fear God and keep his commandments.” When you and I have discovered our God-given talents and abilities and have accepted the place where He has planted us to use them, our search for purpose, meaning—and, yes, fulfillment—has ended. The next move is ours. We only have to follow Paul’s admonition in Colossians 4:17. “Take heed to the ministry which thou hast received in the Lord, that thou fulfil it.”

         I fear we’ve gotten the handle wrong way round with this thing. Instead of seeking fulfillment, we should be seeking to fulfill…the will of God. Like the Persian farmer in Russell Conwell’s story “Acres of Diamonds,” who left his beautiful farm to look for mythical diamonds, never realizing there were acres of them on his own land, you and I may find that our fulfillment is not to be found over the horizon, but in our backyards. Often the duty closest at hand is the one closest to the will of God. And the most humble opportunity can be an opportunity for greatness…in the sight of God (Mark 14:3-9).

Being “filled with the fullness of God” doesn’t leave much room for fame, fortune, or just “feeling good about myself.” No vacancy! Actually, I’d say, “I’m ‘fulfilled’ to overflowing.”  

It's All About Me

 “And it came to pass, when he saw her, that he rent his clothes, and said, Alas, my daughter! thou hast brought me very low, and thou art one of them that trouble me…” – Judges 11:35

Because of their ever-recurring rebellion against God, Israel was under siege by a neighboring nation, and in their desperation they asked Jephthah, the outcast son of a harlot, to lead them in battle against the Ammonites. After reminding them that up until now they weren’t willing to give him the time of day, he used their desperation to strike a bargain with them. “If I agree get you out of this mess, I’ll be your leader from now on,” to which they agreed. Jephthah first tried negotiation, but when it became apparent there was going to be war, he struck one more bargain. He made a vow to God that if Israel prevailed, whatever came first out the door of his house to meet him when he returned home he would offer to Him as a burnt offering. You will notice in verse thirty-one, he was expecting a “what,” not a “who” to come running to him. Perhaps a pet lamb? I don’t know. I do know that when he returned home a victor in battle, it was his only daughter that met him at the door.

Now, I don’t propose here to discuss the merits of his vow, or the trusting obedience of his daughter. What has always struck me were his first words to her: “[T]hou hast brought me low, and thou art one of them that trouble me” (v. 35). Excuse me? I long ago wrote these words next to that verse: “No, it was the other way around.” It seems to me the one in real trouble here is his daughter, yet his main concern is how this is going to affect him. You may argue that he simply meant to let her know that he would be suffering with her; but I can just as strongly argue against that, since the text gives us no exact knowledge of his motivation.

Am I being cynical in my personal interpretation? I can only say, having lived all these years, knowing myself and observing others, I think Jephthah only voiced what is in the hearts and minds of many people. I fear that too often when someone near us suffers an illness or calamity, or falls into sin, our first thought is, “How is this going to affect me?” How will it disrupt my life? Will it lead to sleepless nights, needless worry, or even loss of personal prestige? It’s possible to minister to others “selflessly,” while all the time doing so with a grudging heart. Am I only speaking to myself here? If so, it’s still true and I’m glad I said it.

I realize the good we do can be, and almost always is, a blessing to others; and that’s a good thing. But shouldn’t we want to do it for the right reasons? We’ll never have complete purity of motive while we’re housed in this flesh, but Paul seems to be urging us upward by such admonitions as, “Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves” (Philip. 2:3). It was Charles Spurgeon who said, “You will never glory in God till first of all God has killed your glorying in yourself.” As long as it’s all about me it’s never going to be about Him. You can’t have it both ways.

Our Center of Gravity

“Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith…” (Heb. 12:2a)

         We’re told that balance has nothing to do with age and can be improved no matter how old you are. However, I must say, my own experience seems to run counterbalance to that proposition. J But I do know that the key to standing continuously on one foot, while holding both hands clasped above your head, is to remain focused on one place in the room or landscape. If your eyes begin moving from side to side, so will your body! In other words, if you want to keep your balance, you have to remain focused.

         This same physical principle holds true for our spiritual lives as well. There is a reason why God says in Isaiah 45:22, “Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth…” Not only does it save you from hell, it also is the way to keep from falling over in this world of spiritual pitfalls and morally uneven terrain. There is a constant tugging on all sides to try to tip us one way or another. Our own personal world, like the earth itself, must revolve around the Son if we are ever to experience equilibrium in this life. The first ten words in Hebrews 12:2 tell us why.

Our faith begins and ends with Jesus Christ. He’s the “author and finisher.” Everything else is just incidental. Even spiritual things. Our church and its doctrines, our ministry and the good things we do for others, even prayer and Bible reading, are all good things; but none of them are an end in themselves. Jesus Christ, the “finisher of our faith,” (I say this reverently) is where the buck stops. His is the face on which we must focus if we want to keep our spiritual balance. And when we set goals for ourselves—and we should—they should be in a direct line with that vision. The answer to any question we have in life will only be right if He has been factored into the equation.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, “A body is said to be in stable equilibrium when it returns to its original position after being disturbed,” and a Christian’s Spiritual balance can be gauged by how long it takes him or her to return their gaze to Jesus Christ. For the believer, He is our Center of Gravity, and the only One who can keep us from losing our balance and falling (Jude 24a). Mark it down, big, plain, and tall: When we look away at anything or anyone else, we always run the risk of a bad fall. (Ask Peter.)