hope and faith.

"But Jacob stayed behind by himself, and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. When the man saw that he couldn't get the best of Jacob as they wrestled, he deliberately threw Jacob's hip out of joint. The man said, "Let me go; it's daybreak." Jacob said, "I'm not letting you go 'til you bless me." The man said, "What's your name?" He answered, "Jacob." The man said, "But no longer. Your name is no longer Jacob. From now on it's Israel (God-Wrestler); you've wrestled with God and you've come through."

Genesis 32: 22-29 (The Message)

These past few days have been very interesting ones. Coming off four days of 24 hour prayer, God has been at work in the thoughts and hearts of many here at Kaleo; stories of God’s peace touching the frantic, His love impacting the disheartened, and His nature confusing the “wise”.

I would love to put myself in the category of someone who felt God’s peace – I didn’t. It would have been awesome to have God’s peace calm my heart – it didn’t. Instead – I found myself in each one of my prayer times literally pacing the room, desperately engaging God. Even now as I write this blog I have trouble verbalizing what happened – what’s happening.

Lately, I have been praying for a lot of direction, asking God to provide and make himself evident in certain aspects of my life. On occasion, mostly when I feel like it, I will worship and thank God for the things he has done – but not as often as I would like.

This struggle, this uneasy tension, reminds me a lot of the story of Jacob. Here is a man who physically wrestled with God – a man who wrestled with the Creator of the Universe. Not only does he wrestle with Him, he has the audacity to ask God for a blessing. Now, I don’t know about you but if God had me in an arm-bar I’m pretty sure I would not take that opportune moment to ask a quick favour. What is even more shocking is that God complies.

What?

At first this is very confusing, but when I let go of all my preconceived notions of how God works, it starts to become clearer.

Firstly, I think God loves it when we wrestle, when we engage Him. David, a man God called after “His own heart”, has writing hundred of Psalms of lament, supplication, and pleas. Recently, I just went through a crisis with one of my friends and coming out on the other end I know things are better between us than two weeks ago. The process was not easy and pleasant, but there is something so raw and good about wrestling with issues, confronting friends.

Secondly, God wants us to prevail. He wants us to come out of the other end of that wrestling match with a renewed vigour. The problem lies – and as I write this it is becoming clearer – in the fact that sometimes we don’t want to come out the other end. Personally, I would like to hold onto everything I can to complain about before God. We dwell in our “woe is me” state for so long that we actually start to believe it. This is the power of darkness, and the only way to come out of it is to deny yourself. Period.

A friend once told me change is like growing asparagus. You can water them, give them lots of sunlight, and even talk to them. But you may not see anything external, anything visible. That is, until one day, before you know it you’ve got asparagus.

I write this now with hope and faith.

Hope that God will prevail.

Faith that God will bring me out of this with a renewed desire for nothing of me and everything of Him.

Hope that God is working at St. John’s in ways I cannot see or put measure too, and faith that it is in ways that are beyond my limitations and calculation.

Dear brothers and sisters I would invite you to pray for me. Pray that this time of wrestling would ultimately bear good fruit for the glory of God.

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” (Phil 4:4)

Jake

a good day...

“His conversion (Brother Lawrence), which took place when he was about eighteen years old, was the result, under God, of the mere sight in midwinter, of a dry and leafless tree, and of the reflections it stirred respecting the change the coming spring would bring. From that time he grew eminently in the knowledge and love of God, endeavouring constantly to walk “as in his presence”.

-Excerpt from “The Practice of the Presence of God” (by Brother Lawrence)

Lately I have found myself doing some good things. Firstly, I have kicked my energy drink addiction due to both health and financial constraints. Secondly, I have resolved to do my laundry before it becomes a suitable ecosystem for fungi and other biological life. And thirdly, and probably most importantly, I have been living daily lately.

I know that may sound silly, to “live daily”. You may say such things as, “but Jake, I am alive on a daily basis, I’m not sure where you’re going with this...” But to say such a thing would be a failure to recognize (or possibly not) the pace that we run our lives at, with thoughts that are neither currently applicable or have a low probability of becoming relevant before you lay your head to rest.

We have heard it said, “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”(Matt. 6:34) And then, like most of the gospel, under the name of “contextualization”, we gloss this truth over with less forceful, more tolerant words; words that tell you that worrying about tomorrow is not only acceptable, but an attribute of wisdom. Heck, I would love to see the fancy footwork of one of those apocalyptic junkies as they danced around this one.

Recently I came across a picture that Time Magazine had cited as one of the most profound of 2008.




In case you are unfamiliar with the man picture above, it is Warren Buffet, one of the world’s richest men – an investing guru. Here is a man who serves as an idol for our culture, someone who had nothing and got it all, right? Yet, as he waits for his shareholders meeting to get underway he finds himself checking his watch – click – and for that millisecond the great Warren Buffet gives us some deep insight into the frailty of life.

With this in mind I set out for a walk the other day with a friend, and on this walk I thought of nothing but today. I thought of all the people who need to be told they are loved. I thought of all the people I had been neglecting, all the people I was too busy to sit down with.

And you know what; I found that Jesus was right. In that moment I was overcome with all that needed to be done that day – just that day. It would be as if a man was in a battle with an enemy soldier and the entire time his thoughts were on the soldiers to come, he wouldn’t make it past that soldier, he would die.

I don’t think Jesus was giving us a suggestion – a tip, He was letting on to a much more vital piece of information;

How to live.

How to take each breath.

How to seek first his kingdom and his righteousness (Matt 6:33)

Lately I have found myself becoming greatly discouraged in my ministry at St. John’s, finding myself confused and unable to see my purpose in this congregation. I am finding that living moment by moment with the God of the Universe is the only way I will be able to love the people of St. John’s, and God has been revealing this to me – even as I write this now I am finding clarity that did not exist half an hour ago.

So pray. “...so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; and that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God. Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen.” (Eph 3:17-21)

Thanks again dear brothers and sister,

Jake

Living in the Kadosh Hakadashim...

And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook and the rocks split. The tombs broke open and the bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life.

Matthew 27:50 – 52

So I was washing my hands in the bathroom the other day (that one’s for you mom) when a friend of mine came in who had recently attended a worship service in Victoria. When I asked Him how it was he remarked on the joy that can be found when the music is so loud your voice is completely lost. I smiled, concurred, and then went back to class, but my friends comment got me thinking.

What would it be like to be completely surrounded by the presence of God – to be engulfed by Him? How would that change the way I live, think, and dream?

In the Bible it speaks of such a place, a place where the strong became weak, the proud –humble.

Kadosh Hakadashim, the Holy of Holies, the Most Holy Place.

Every year at Yom Kippur the High Priest, and only the High Priest, would pass through a curtain in the temple and enter into the Holy of Holies - with a lower priest gripping onto a rope that was attached to the ankle of the High Priest, why you ask? Well in case the sacrifice was performed improperly and the High Priest had to be smitten of course (in which case the other priests would not have to enter the Holy of Holies but rather could drag him out).

My first reaction was to wrap my head around this, to comprehend the glory that was being revealed that caused these men, these spiritual leaders, to keel over and die. Wait though, that can’t be the God I know, can it?

When Jesus died the curtain was torn. Men who had trembled at the mentioning of Kadosh Hakadashim, could now see what was behind the curtain, and it must have been a disappointment. This veil was a symbol of distinction between man and God - between us and Him.

Now don’t get me wrong – I am beyond grateful, beyond appreciative for the atonement of our sins, but lately (in my humanness) I’ve been wondering. What would it be like to be so insignificant, so weak, so frail – in the presence of God? And why, if I worship the same God who took residence inside this Holy Place, why has my reverence subsided? Why has my humility not increased in light of who He is? Why am I still as arrogant, as proud, and as boastful as I was yesterday?

In no way is this year about me. It is not about the kids I will come alongside at church, the people I will reach on the streets of New York, it is about a God who can do “abundantly more than we can ask or imagine” (Eph. 4:20).

I am not a good person. In the sight of God our “righteous acts” are considered used menstrual rags (Isaiah 64:6).

The One who will love the people of St. John’s will not be me.

The One who will weep when faced with the realities of Brooklyn, will not be me.

When I cry because of a brother in anguish, those will not be my tears.

When I stand against opression - the enemy, those will not be my legs.

"He must increase, but I must decrease" (John 3:30).

So dear brothers and sisters I ask that you pray for me – not that I would find out who I am, what I can do – but that God would remain consistent in his grace, considering me worthy to hurt for the ones he loves.