Expectations

One of my favorite rides at Disneyland, back when I was a kid, was the miniature cars that you drove around a long, long race track. I’m sure that the track was not nearly as long as my memory now suggests. And the cars are only miniature when I see them now, because back then they were the real deal. I was thrilled to sit in that car, buckle up, step on the gas and grab the steering wheel.

In reality, the steering wheel did not steer the car at all. The car rode on a steel track. But the most disappointing aspect of the ride was the gas pedal. About half way around the track I began to realize that no matter how hard I pushed down on the gas pedal that little dream car was never going to go faster than about two miles an hour.

Needless to say, my dreams were dashed. Mr. Disney had put limits on my expectations by putting a limiter on the gas pedal. All I could do was sit in the car and putt-putt along.

We can put a limiter on God by our expectations. We can box him in, steer him on a predetermined track, and rig the gas pedal so that he can only putt-putt along. You may want to disagree and say that nothing you say or do, nothing you believe or trust can limit the awesome greatness and power of God. Think again. Think personal, not universal.

There is a story in the gospels of a woman who was subject to bleeding, a condition that had persisted for twelve years. She heard that Jesus was passing through her town. She thought to herself, “If I just touch his clothes I will be healed.” (Mk 5:28). So she came up behind Jesus, in the midst of the crowd, and touched his cloak. Immediately her bleeding stopped and she was healed of her suffering. Jesus knew that power had gone out from him and demanded to know who had touched him. Why? So that he could commend her faith and speak blessing and peace upon her.

Think about it.  There were many, many people crowded around Jesus, many who crowded around close enough to touch him and his coat. They had heard of his miraculous power to heal. Yet no one else in the crowd was healed. They did not come to see Jesus with any expectation of him doing something unique, powerful, or personally transforming. They only knew him in that region as a local boy who had learned how to draw a crowd.

We can limit God by our biased beliefs and lack of faith. God will not rise above our expectations. If we believe God will not do miracles, that He does not speak to his children, that he doesn’t deliver the power to overcome sin, that he cannot give peace, hope, and joy, that he cannot transform my broken life, then guess what. He won’t. We are then left with our own self-effort, our own willpower, and prayers that we believe are full of faith but only exhibit a general belief in the goodness of God.

I recently had the opportunity to direct a week of camp for a hundred Jr Hi boys. My biggest goal was to lift the spiritual expectations of the counselors and staff. By mid week the expectations were swallowed up by petty criticisms and a focus on program concerns.  We took stock, refocused our expectations, and prayed fervently for God to move in the hearts of the boys. The last few days of the week the Holy Spirit poured out his power and love in the hearts of many of the boys, and we saw revival that only God himself could have accomplished. Personally, I think God was glad to answer our prayers and meet our expectations.

“Dear Lord, increase my faith, help me to trust you with ever larger expectations. I’m really not happy to putt-putt along at two miles an hour.”

Did Jesus Sin?

Jesus was twelve years old (Luke 2:42). He should have known by that age that he was supposed to be respectful of his parents. He should have known better than to just stay behind in Jerusalem while his family hit the road to return to Nazareth. He put a huge imposition upon his mother and father, making them return in search of him. The young boy Jesus adopted the practice that many of us engage in. It’s easier to ask forgiveness than it is to ask permission. If a half lie is really a full lie, then perhaps masked disobedience may be full disobedience. Did Jesus sin?

When his parents found him his mother said to him, “Son, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you” (Luke 2:48). Jesus gave them an answer, an excuse for his disrespectful behavior, saying that he had to stay behind in the temple, in his Father’s house. Again I ask, did Jesus sin?

But you say that Jesus had to be sinless to be the sacrifice for our sins. Maybe this disrespectful behavior, if it was a sin, was forgiven. Like a sacrificial lamb in the temple worship, the small blemish was surgically removed and the Lamb of God was pronounced perfect.

You don’t buy that?  Neither do I. Jesus was the perfect Son of God (Hebrews 5).

The point of the argument is this. If we were to judge Jesus’ behavior on the basis of right and wrong, black and white, legalistic and moralistic obedience, we should probably say that Jesus sinned. But we know that his faith-relationship with His heavenly father, even at the age of twelve, moved him to do what he did. And we justify it based on standards of trust and surrender that we are reluctant to apply to others. For Jesus we can freely grant grace, but for the many who believed God and walked in faith (Hebrews 11) we hold them to moralistic standards of law and obedience.

I recently heard a sermon about the belt of truth, which the speaker mysteriously made into the belt of truthfulness. Our own obedience, he suggested, not an armor supplied by God, is our defense against the fiery darts of Satan. As an example he made Abraham out to be the Father of Lies, not the Father of Faith that the Scriptures declare. Oh how my heart was grieved.

The law demanded obedience, a standard that was impossible to attain. God’s glory still shone through that old covenant of impossible demands. But how much greater is the glory of the covenant of grace (II Cor 3:8-11).  How much greater is the glory of living in the righteousness of Christ, than in our own self-effort.  How much greater is the glory of living in surrender to the love of God than in pretense and self-righteous obedience.

When obedience is the measure of faith then men pretend and they hide. They glory in their self-righteousness while looking down on others who don’t measure up. They fail and then live in guilt and shame. They give up. Or worst of all, they want nothing to do with the moralistic demands of a religion that they cannot live up to. As one young man said to me recently, “I have decided that I do not want to be a Christian. The expectations are too much, and I know I would fail. And then everyone would say to me that you said you were a Christian, but look what you did.”

It is the goal of my Christian walk to ever increase in my knowledge of living in relation with God by faith – that is by trusting grace rather than observing the law, by living in surrender rather than mere obedience, being empowered by the Holy Spirit rather than self-effort, being motivated by the incredible love of God and the far-reaching forgiveness that is the heart and soul of His grace. His truth gives me direction as I surrender to His great love. But if we put obedience as the measure of faith, we can call Abraham the Father of lies, and we might even have to conclude that Jesus sinned when he was disrespectful to his parents.

Austin

He almost shocked me with his statement. Not almost, he did shock me. I had to think long and hard, and pray myself to sleep that night asking God to give me wisdom to help this boy understand God’s love and grace.

Austin was just eleven years old, one of nine boys in my cabin at Boys Camp. We were walking together, just me and Austin, on our way across the camp to an activity. I had five minutes of rare one on one time and did not want to waste it. The previous night I had asked the boys to share when they had become a Christian, and he was one of three boys who did not volunteer a response.

So, as we walked I asked him quickly about his family, about his church life, and then asked him if he had ever thought much about asking Jesus to be in his life. He responded clearly and thoughtfully, “Yes, I have thought about it. And I have decided that I do not want to be a Christian. There would be too much expectations put on me and I know I would fail. Probably big time. And everyone would say to me that I had said I was a Christian, but look what you did. So, no, I don’t want to be a Christian.”

Before I had a chance to follow up we came to Thursday morning mass invitation, where everyone who wants to accept Jesus is asked to raise their hand, then go outside to talk with their counselor. Six of my boys raised their hands, so we set in a circle while I attempted to do spiritual triage. Two boys were solidly saved, already, so I prayed with them to renew their relationship with Jesus. Of the other four, two had prayed repeatedly, at camp or elsewhere to accept Jesus, but I decided to include them with the other two as we prayed to invite Jesus into their hearts. One of those two was Austin.

When the invitation was given the hands popped up right on cue, and the boys were chomping to run outside, some, perhaps, just for a diversion. They knew the drill. But Austin was reluctant. In fact he had not raised his hand. I noticed it and said another prayer, a quick one, that the Holy Spirit would be powerful in his heart at that very moment. And he came out to talk with us.

I talked to him some more, later, and discovered that he was from a divorced family. His mother had basically deserted him, and his father had pretty much turned away from the faith. Austin had always assumed he was just about as “Christian” as he was going to get because a clergy had crossed his forehead with holy water one time.

But grace and love were making an impact on his heart. The more we talked about it the more I could see that the light was coming on inside him. I went out of my way the last few days to guard him against the fiery darts of legalistic demands and from the nagging criticism of young demanding counselors that almost ripped at the very fabric of his tender heart a few times.

I had shared with the entire staff of counselors what Austin had said. They were moved to pray, and to root for him.  Priscilla, the nurse, was one in particular who came alongside, big time, like a loving mother. On Saturday morning, as the boys were leaving, she went out to talk to him and his folks driving out of camp. But it was his grandfather who picked him up. She told him that Austin had accepted Jesus into his life. She came and pulled me aside from the mayhem and with utter joy told me that Austin’s grandfather burst into tears of joy when he heard that good news.

Praise you Jesus, your love is powerful, amazing, and life changing. The angels in heaven rejoice when one person repents (Lk 15:7, 10, 32). Austin is a child of God.