Because I was able to start a few weeks before the summer crowds arrived, Doug, the manager, decided to train me to run the store, so that I could help teach the other new hires that hadn’t yet arrived, and also act as an assistant manager, giving him a chance to break away from the shop every now and then, whenever the stress of working in a tourist hotspot during the summer became too much for the older man to bare.

Just as Doug predicted, on the 31st of May, five college students from Europe, having just arrived in the country on various flights that morning and settled into their apartments, came looking for work. We hired them all: an Irish boy named Charlie; two Irish girls, a tall blonde named Christine and a more reserved red-head named Colette; a very serious Romanian boy name Bram and his girlfriend, a truly beautiful young lady called Catalina, who was venturing beyond the borders of her homeland for the first time. All six of us were the same age, give or take a year or two, and we all had the same goal in mind for the summer — enjoy living at the coast as much as possible, and try to save at least a couple hundred dollars to take back to school in August.

By the second week of June, the summer business was in high gear and our store stayed packed well into the night. One Thursday evening, Doug was burning up the cash register taking orders faster than most of our sun-bleached customers could spit them out, while Catalina and I were doing our best to keep the ice cream coming. I noticed that Catalina had been drawn over to an angry customer upset because the sundae she had made wasn’t exactly what he had ordered. His frustration didn’t phase her a bit, and she told him that he could keep the incorrect sundae and she would make him another right away. At this point, my assertive personality, eager to prove myself as a straight-laced businessman, despite my apron and ice cream scoop, forced me to step in and tell the complaining customer that, although we would quickly fill his order as he expected, I would need to discard the compromised bowl of ice cream. Catalina gave me a sideways glance, took the ice cream from my hand and slid it back over to the customer as she told me that we couldn’t let it go to waste; it was an honest mistake, and the right mix of ice cream would be coming up soon.

I stood firm and said yes, we would make a new sundae but this first one had to go to the trash. From a business perspective, this is a matter of consistency, protecting one’s image and resources. Customers may intentionally place an “incorrect” order in an attempt to exploit hospitality and steal free food; employees may intentionally prepare the wrong item as well, using the “mistake” as an excuse to set the product aside and enjoy free food on a break later on during their shift. Consistently disposing of mis-made orders is the only way to avoid either of these practices.

Of course, I didn’t explain any of this to Catalina, or to the customer. What ended up happening was Catalina ran to the back of the store to cry while I ended up filling the rush of orders and getting the customers in and out as quickly as possible. As the line died down, I went to the back to apologize to Catalina and explain the reasoning behind the policy. Before I got halfway through my apology, she broke through her tears and interrupted me. “Of course if it is the rule, it is the rule. That is fine. But I didn’t know, and you shouldn’t have corrected me in front of the customer,” she said. “It is not very nice, and it is not beautiful.”

I was dumbstruck. I realized just how bad I had goofed everything up. I let business get in the way of people, and that’s not good for the bottom line, no matter where you draw it.

As I drove home that night, I kept hearing her words over again in my head. “It is not very nice, and it is not beautiful.” Not beautiful? That didn’t make much sense. I started to think about the process one goes through in learning a second language, as Catalina had done in preparation for coming to the United States. A simple definition of “beautiful” could be “to look very good.” If this was the way she understood the word, then it would make more sense. I know what someone means when they tell me my actions don’t look good, and I knew that my management that night didn’t look very good at all; not to the customers, to my coworkers, or, in retrospect, to myself.

Though the literal meaning is nearly the same, the phrasing makes a big difference for us native English speakers. When making decisions that impact our relationships with others, do we simply seek to do what looks good, or do we truly try to make every aspect of our lives beautiful?

Absolutely, undeniably, beautiful. That’s the lesson I learned from working at the ice cream shop.

Scripture reading:

Psalm 46

Genesis 25:19-34

Everyone loves to get a deal. Whether it’s a sought after discount on a new car, a buy-one-get-one-free special on a new set of summer shoes, or just a free cup of coffee with a biscuit at Bojangle’s — getting a deal on the things we want makes us feel good. But what is a good deal? Sometimes, we find out only too late that that new car shine blinded us to the real costs of ownership — expensive maintenance, high insurance and low gas mileage. Sometimes those shoes that felt so soft and comfortable in the store end up falling apart the first time you wear them out on the town. Sometimes even Bojangle’s messes things up, and that free coffee I was so excited about ends up burning my mouth on the way down, leaving me with nothing but a bitter aftertaste.

Everyone likes a deal, but not all deals are as sweet as they seem.

My grandmother loves to shop at Belk. Her closet is full of clothes that have only been worn once or twice; quite a few things hanging in the back still have the tags on them, waiting for the right occasion to take them out and show them off. She checks the sale papers every week, whether she needs anything or not. The employees at Belk know her by name, and know what types of things to point out to her when they need to earn a commission. But that’s not why she makes a trip out to Belk every Wednesday afternoon, coupons in hand. It’s not the quality products Belk has, or the friendly staff or the catchy slogans. It’s the hope of getting a good deal. My grandmother will buy baby girl clothes if they are marked down low enough — and there haven’t been any baby girls in our family for years! She just loves to think she’s getting a good deal. One weekend shortly after Kristen and I got married, we were visiting grandma and somehow, we found ourselves in Belk. Grandma knew we needed some new pillows — we were slowly getting the household items all new couples work for when they set out on their own, and new pillows weren’t really at the top of the list, although we definitely could have benefited from some. Our mismatched, thin and torn pillows had made it through four years of college and six moves into new dorm rooms, and that takes a toll on things. Grandma saw that the pillows at Belk were marked down to 50% off, and, unable to let a good deal pass by, she insisted on buying a set for us. We turned her down, trying to make a point of providing for ourselves and living as independent adults. After a few minutes of going back and forth with each other, Grandma realized she wasn’t going to be getting the pillows for us that day, but she couldn’t let the deal slip by either. She motioned for the saleslady to come over, and when she did, Grandma asked her, “How long are these pillows going to be on sale? I think I’ll have to wait and buy them next week, when I’m shopping by myself.” The clerk stumbled over her words for a minute. She wasn’t going to lie, but she didn’t want to upset her best customer with the truth that many a Belk-shopper has already come to realize. Finally, she came out with it. “Actually mam, you can wait until next week. Those pillows aren’t really on sale. We always have them marked half off.”

Everyone wants a deal, but most bargains aren’t really as good as they seem.

Sometimes the things we bargain for are a little more serious than discounted pillows or cheap coffee. Just ask the elderly widow trying to get her insurance company to give her a fair deal, because she knows she can’t afford to buy her groceries and her medicine next month, but she needs to find a way to get both if she wants to keep living on her own. Then there’s the husband and father who knows he’s let his family down one too many times, but he feels in his heart that if he can just get his wife to give him one more chance, things will be different; things will get better. A job interview at the corner convenience store may seem like no big deal to me and you, but for the teenage mother, abandoned by her family and cast out from the church she grew up in, it’s the most serious thing in the world. She fights for that opportunity with all she has, because in that moment of bargaining, it’s the only hope she can see, for herself, and her baby boy.

Everyone likes a deal, but we often find ourselves blinded when it comes to knowing what things are really worth bargaining for.

There is a lot of bargaining going on in our scripture passage today. Jacob, whose very name means “he who deceives,” is remembered as a great bargainer, always fighting for what he perceives to be in his own best interests. But he is hardly the first person in the Bible looking for a good deal. His grandfather Abraham had a reputation for bargaining with rulers and kings, and even with God. Abraham is held up as a model of faithfulness, having uprooted his family and abandoned his home at God’s direction, yet even Abraham dared to question God’s judgment when he learned the city of Sodom was soon to be destroyed. Abraham asked God how many righteous lives it would take for him to spare the city where his nephew Lot had settled. In classic bargaining style, Abraham asks God if he would spare the city for the sake of 50 righteous people. Then Abraham pushes his number down a little to 45. Then 40. Thirty. Twenty. And finally, ten. Abraham bargained hard with God on behalf of the people he loved, and God honored him for it.

Abraham’s bargaining was prompted by his love for his nephew, but more frequently, if we are honest with ourselves, most of our attempts at bargaining are prompted by our own greed.

Us humans, both men and women, young and old, wise and foolish, often mistake the true value of the people, events and things in our lives. When we perceive greener pastures just around the bend, or fear that someone else, God forbid, has been given a better share in life than we have, we turn to bargaining — trying hard to get the best we can for ourselves.

When Rebekah was faced with the reality of a difficult pregnancy, she questioned the wisdom of even having children in the first place. “If it is to be this way,” the mother-to-be said, “why do I live?” I’m sure there were days when my mother, and perhaps some others, had a few second thoughts about the benefits of bringing children — with all of their messes and needs and whining — into the world. But I imagine you would be hard pressed to find any mother or father who couldn’t affirm that parenthood is one of the greatest blessings of life. In the midst of her trouble, Rebekah was ready to trade that future, that joy, the excitement, and the risks, of parenthood, for an easier, more predictable, and certainly more peaceful path.

Fortunately, though, she stayed the course. Her boys were born. Twins. Life was certainly not quiet for Isaac and Rebekah, but I have no doubt their life was filled with laughter and joy as they farmed their land, moving occasionally when the herds required new pastures, and raised their boys together. As brothers will do, though, both Jacob and Esau sought to chart their own courses, to make claims on what they saw as the most important things in life — to be their own men — and so the bargaining continued. On this one day, both of Isaac’s sons, now young men in the own rights, were out doing what they enjoyed. Esau, a man of action and adventure, but also with a deep sense of connection to his home and his roots, was out working the land. Jacob — a curious thinker who loved solving riddles, didn’t mind spending hours in solitude with just his thoughts for company, and often became consumed with thinking of new and better ways of getting things done — decided to cook a stew while he worked over some ideas that had been troubling him.

Esau asks his brother for a bowl of stew. Hardly a big request. Jacob hadn’t bothered himself much with the meal — it was really just a way to pass the time while he worked out his thoughts — he hadn’t even put any meat in the pot! It was just lentils. Jacob seizes the moment though, and tells his twin brother that the bowl will cost him his birthright. As the eldest son — though only a few seconds older than his brother Jacob — Esau was entitled to the bulk of their father’s property. Although Jacob would be welcomed, and even expected, to live his life and raise his children on the family homestead, Esau, as the eldest, would be the patriarch. He would be the decision maker, he would be the one expected to provide for their father and mother in their old age, and he would be the one in control of things as the two brothers sought to bring up the next generation of their family in some measure of comfort.

The birthright is a big deal. It’s a crazy request to ask for in exchange for a bowl of soup. “Is he serious?” Esau probably thought to himself. “Surely Jacob is joking.” Esau jokes right back. His brother knows he is more than a little hungry after a full day’s work. “I am about to die,” Esau teased. “Of what use is a birthright to me?”

Jacob didn’t laugh. “Swear it,” he said. Esau had been doing some thinking that day too. He had been thinking that the traditional way of life seemed a little backwards. Why should he expect more from his parents simply because he was born a moment before his brother? The idea of lording over his brother, and eventually, his sister-in-law, nieces and nephews, didn’t seem very appealing to Esau. Sure he and Jacob didn’t agree on everything, but he was fond of his brother, and saw him as an equal. The old way of birthrights and favoritism didn’t sound like the idea of family that God would desire. Esau loved his father deeply, but he wasn’t very fond of tradition. He wanted to make a new path, to set a new precedent. He had no intention of lording over his brother. Esau had already made up his mind to give up his claim to the birthright. So he swore it. What did it matter to him? He ate his soup, and he left.

Jacob, of course, had other ideas. Esau’s desire to buck tradition may have led him to make a rash deal, devaluing his inheritance. Jacob’s bargaining, however, proves much more costly. In his haste to seize a larger share of property for himself, Jacob effectively gives up the most valuable asset he had — his relationship with his brother. While Jacob persuaded his brother to forfeit the birthright and secured the blessing from his father, his fear of retribution overwhelms him, prompting him to run away from home without so much as a sleeping bag. Jacob misses out on the joy he could have had in his relationship with his brother. Few things are more valuable in life than family, and this was especially true in ancient times. In a society without daycares, nursing homes and health insurance, the family unit was the most dependable resource one could count on for support and welfare. Maybe it still is. Elderly parents depended on their adult children to meet their needs. Moms and dads depended on aunts and uncles and grandmas and grandpas to help raise their children. When tragedy struck, when crops failed, when wells dried up and livestock died, extended family networks were the only place most people could turn. Jacob and Esau may have been very different men, but as a team, they would have complimented each other perfectly. Building a family home, tending a farm, raising livestock and negotiating disputes with neighboring families would have been much easier with a trusted partner, but Jacob gave that up in his quest for control.

Jacob gave up the joy of raising his family alongside his brother’s. Jacob spent nearly two decades being abused, overworked and deceived by his father-in-law, Laban. He had no one to share his excitement with as he made plans for marriage. He had no trusted friend to confide in as he struggled with the challenges of parenthood, and trying to figure out how to be a good father to sons of his own. He had no one to give him advice, or to bounce ideas off of, when he began making plans for the future, trying to secure some wealth for his new family on his own, apart from his father-in-law’s household.

Jacob gave up all of this and more when he valued wealth and power over relationships. The irony is, of course, that while Jacob betrayed his brother and deceived his father in hopes of seizing the inheritance, he ends up fleeing from home. He severs connection with his mother, father and brother. He is forced to give up not only the share of property he tried to steal from his brother, but also whatever good things his father Isaac had intended to give him all along. Esau, who had no desire for the traditional birthright, gets it all by default. Jacob’s bargaining cost him everything. He is isolated from his family. He is manipulated by his father-in-law. His relationships with his wives and children are laden with strife and arguing.

It is not until Jacob gives up on trying to control people, and starts valuing his relationships, that his life begins to turn around.

When we give up on bargaining, we can fully embrace the good relationships in our lives; And ultimately, it is our relationships, not our wealth, that matter most. When Jacob gives up on battling with his father-in-law and begins to speak with honesty and truth, his family begins to experience peace for the first time.

It’s not until Jacob gives up his need to bargain, and commits to rebuilding his relationship with his brother, that he is able to begin truly living in relationship with God. To be sure, God has been with Jacob, as he is with each of us, every step of the way. God had promised to bless Jacob long before Jacob understood the significance of that blessing. Relationships always work two ways, though, and relationships with God are no different. When Jacob began to value the relationships in his life, he was able to finally begin to experience God’s presence. Jacob committed himself to being reconciled with his brother. He made himself vulnerable, and in his moment of vulnerability, he met God by the river’s edge.

The story of Jacob and Esau begins with conflict, but it ends with grace, as Jacob finally begins to understand what real wealth is. No longer concerned about hoarding things for himself, Jacob sends ahead elaborate gifts for Esau, hoping to appease his brother for all of the pain and suffering he caused him years before. He hopes for the best, but fears the worst. As Jacob came to realize, relationships are risky things.

The story continues in Genesis 33:

Now Jacob looked up and saw Esau coming, and four hundred men with him. So he divided the children among Leah and Rachel and the two maids. He put the maids with their children in front, then Leah with her children, and Rachel and Joseph last of all. He himself went on ahead of them, bowing himself to the ground seven times, until he came near his brother.

But Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck and kissed him, and they wept.

When Esau looked up and saw the women and children, he said, “Who are these with you?” Jacob said, “The children whom God has graciously given your servant.” Then the maids drew near, they and their children and bowed down; Leah likewise and her children drew near and bowed down; and finally Joseph and Rachel drew near, and they bowed down. Esau said, “What do you mean by all this company that I met?” Jacob answered, “To find favor with my lord.”

But Esau said, “I have enough, my brother; keep what you have for yourself. … Let us journey on our way, and I will go alongside you.”

(vv. 1-9, 12)

Jacob began to realize that real wealth lies not in money, or property or power, but in relationships with other people; Relationships that leave us vulnerable; Relationships that open us up to heartache and pain, but also to joy and love. For Jacob, reconciling his relationships with his family allowed him to experience an even deeper relationship with God.

It is our healthy relationships with other people that prepare us for relationship with God.

You see, scripture tells us that God loves us like a father, running out to the road to meet a son whose been away from home for far too long.

But Jesus also says God’s love for us is like a mother hen’s love for her chicks; She longs to gather all her scattered chicks together under her wings, but she refuses to pull them in against their will.

God’s love is like a grandpa, well versed in the joys and hardships of life, offering seasoned words of wisdom and encouragement to his offspring, knowing all the while that many of life’s most important, and most difficult lessons, they will have to experience for themselves.

For Moses, God’s love came in the form of a wise father-in-law, stepping in to fill the void too many men and women experience when, for whatever reason, a biological father isn’t able to do his job.

God’s love is like a mother, the first to shed a tear when her baby falls, but also the first to reach out, pick that child up and set him on his way again.

God’s love is like a brother who doesn’t cut you any slack. He can always be counted on to watch your back when you find yourself down and out. He pushes you to be more than you are, because he sees more in you than you often see in yourself.

God’s love is like a sister who walks beside you every step of the way. She shares your pain, and your dreams. She knows you inside and out.

God’s love is like a friend — a best friend. He never asks you to explain yourself. He never expects a good excuse. He never looks down on you when you fall. But he’s always there when you need him, offering an open hand, and an invitation to share the journey.

Tires are the single most important piece of equipment on any car. It’s true that a fresh set of rubber can’t do much of anything without the help of an engine, some spark plugs, an axle and a driveshaft or two. I’m all for finding balance in things, but I believe tires are often the most under appreciated component on cars. There may not be many people out there who get excited about buying a new set of tires like I do. It is true that in my high school and early college years, I may have even had an unhealthy obsession with tire technology. Whenever a new rubber compound was introduced that claimed to hold the perfect balance of soft, sticky, pliable tread that hugged the road like a long lost love, but still remained hard enough to endure abuse from rocks, trees, nails and all sorts of other debris that comes at it, I was hooked. Whenever I came across a new off-road tread design that promised to paddle through mud and climb up rocks better than anything else out there, I wanted to see it. My wife (although she wasn’t my wife at the time; resolving this issue was a prerequisite for marriage) told me, on more than once occasion, that she was jealous of the way I eyeballed another guy’s set of Mickey Thompson Baja Claws (a very fine directional radial that happens to be way out of my league) in the parking lot at Outback, when I was supposed to be on a date with her. Even if you don’t share my appreciation of designer rubber, I hope you can understand why I think tires are, without a doubt, the key part of any automobile.

You see, everything a car does depends on the tires’ ability to grip the road. Any cool track tricks a driver tries to pull off — every message sent through the car — must be processed through and executed by the tires. High-tech engine systems, custom gear ratios, locking differentials, finely-tuned turbo chargers and other high dollar accessories designed to squeeze a few more horses out of a car are all absolutely useless if they aren’t matched with a good set of tires that can faithfully transfer that energy to the road.

See my point yet?

Similarly, I’m afraid a lot of us spend way too much time spinning our wheels in life instead of actually accomplishing things that matter; I know I do. It’s important to prepare ourselves for the future, and every now and then it’s nice to take a turn around the block just for fun, but how much of our energy in life and ministry is lost to things that end up being just for show — things that never make the transition to pavement?

I love the feeling of riding on a new set of tires, but if my wheels stay free of blemishes and wear for more than a few days, I know I’m doing something wrong.

And what more should I say? For time would fail me to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets — who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, obtained promises, shut the mouths of lions, quenched raging fire, escaped the edge of the sword, and won strength out of weakness … Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus — the pioneer and perfecter of our faith — who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God.

Tuesday was a busy day. For anyone following the classic Christian calendar, November 2 was celebrated as All Souls Day — a day of remembrance and prayer for all of the saints who have gone before us. For those of Mexican ancestry, Tuesday was the final day of celebration for Día de los Muertos. Contemporary symbolism associated with the Day of the Dead draws on mixed traditions, but the key focus is to celebrate the lives of family and friends who have finished their mortal journey, offering prayers of thanksgiving and blessings on their behalf. And of course, for those of us in the United States, six-times-out-of-seven, the first Tuesday in November means Election Day.

Kristen and I have always been intrigued by the colorful decorations and beautiful art that comes along with Día de los Muertos, but beyond that, I’ve never really given much thought to either religious celebration. Voting, on the other hand, is something I’ve taken very seriously ever since 2004 — the first election I was eligible to vote in. This year, however, being aware of all three events, I was struck by the serious juxtaposition of these very different activities.

Honoring deceased loved ones, celebrating life with friends and family and praising God for the gift of grace that leads to eternal life is a very corporate experience. Whether it’s done in Spanish or English, with dancing skeletons and paper flowers or with fragrant incense and solemn liturgy, prayer and worship are acts that compel us to join together, offering the best of our community up to God.

Voting is done in private. It is uncouth to talk about who or what you voted for. Whenever political ideas are shared with a gathered group of people, division, frustration and contentious arguments are not far behind. Voting is also a symbol of personal power — and rightly so! Each person has the right to cast a vote for the candidate or issue that she believes is best. Each person’s vote is weighted equally: the voting booth knows no economic class and has no bias towards race, gender or intellectual ability. Voting reminds us that each individual has the power to enact real change in the world. Of course, for our votes to hold on to that power, they must be joined with the votes of thousands of other individuals — but standing alone in a voting booth, its easy to feel like my vote is the one that really matters. It’s easy to be consumed by the lure of individual power.

I’m afraid that this fever of individualism isn’t confined to the voting booth. It permeates every aspect of our culture — even our religion. We use words like “personal Lord and Savior” to remind others, and maybe ourselves, that we have been chosen to be among God’s elect. It is a wonderful truth, revealed in the first two chapters of Genesis and affirmed throughout scripture, that the almighty Creator of the universe is also a deeply personal God that calls each of us by name. But we must never forget that it is God who first called us, and not the other way around. When we move into relationship with him, we are doing it on his terms, not so that we can have him at our disposal like a personal assistant, but so that we can fit into the specific place made for us in his creation. I’m afraid that sometimes we may shout out “I am a child of the King!” so boldly, we forget that every man, and every woman, and every child has been crafted in the very image of God.

Individualism has no place in Christian community. We may have unique gifts that enable us to work towards the specific tasks God has set before us, but we are really not living for God if we’re living in isolation from his people. We may do great things tomorrow, but let’s not kid ourselves; we are, indeed, surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, and we wouldn’t be able to do much of anything without their support.

As you seek to serve God today, take the time to remember those who have gone before, and be sure to spend every opportunity you get celebrating life with those who walk beside you.

I hate the fact that the word “politics” in our culture has come to mean something along the lines of professional networking, image-crafting, backstabbing, people pleasing and basically anything else that will advance a politician’s idea of personal success. Politics, at its core, is about making policy. Families make policies — whether they know it or not — for how the household will be run. Businesses make policies for how they will operate. Societies make policies for how citizens and aliens should be treated, how justice will be administered, what services should be provided for the community and what should be the responsibility of the individual. Crafting these policies is a never-ending process; it is a process that each person should take seriously, contributing in whatever way he or she can.

Politics are important, but still, I tend to be silent. I have found that the more I learn, the less I know, and the less prepared I feel I am to make a black-and-white decision on a technicolor issue. So I listen, I learn, and I think. I think about when it will be appropriate for me to lend my voice to the discussions. Should I speak up for what I believe is right if I find myself working as a pastor in church one day? As one charged with mentoring and shepherding the flock, should I weigh in on the real issues of the day? Should I write letters to the editor of the local newspaper, speak at community meetings, and explain my views to my parishioners? Or should I be silent? If I find myself working as a reporter again, should I write editorial columns aimed at persuading my readers to join me in advocating the policies I see as most beneficial to society? It would mean harsh letters back; it would mean every news article I write from that point forward would be taken with a grain of salt, or simply disregarded, regardless of how hard I work to present a fair and balanced perspective. If Kristen and I are blessed with the opportunity to serve as international missionaries, should we limit our work to preaching the gospel and sharing with those in our small circle of friends, or should we become vocal advocates for the real needs of the people we are serving? Would we even have a right to an opinion on national policies in a country we live in, if we are not citizens? Would we have a right to share our opinions on policy in the United States if we no longer spend our lives here, no matter how passionately we might care for the land and people of our native country?

I think about these things, but right now, I mostly stay silent. That doesn’t mean I don’t wrestle long and hard with the issues of the day though. One of the things I find myself swinging back and forth on all the time is the increasing role government plays in health care. There are hard feelings on both sides of this debate. I believe that although the health care reform bill passed in Congress during this last session, and it is already in the process of being phased into effect, the policy making on this issue is far from over. It will continue to be controversial, and will continue to be a topic of debate, as it should be, probably for as long as our society exists. Regardless of which side of the debate you find yourself on, I have found nearly everyone — whether they admit it in as many words or not — agrees that changes need to be made in the health care policy of our government. Either insurance companies have too much free range and it is too difficult to get the basic health care a person needs in our country, or else government is already shelling out way to many tax dollars to people who only abuse the Medicaid and Medicare systems, encouraging personal irresponsibility and destroying the hard work of the very people who drive progress in our world.

One way or another, something has to change.

When I hear stories of how, just in North Carolina in the past few years, billions of dollars of government money have been siphoned off by phony mental health providers who claim to be serving the poor, but are actually only lining their own pockets, using fraudulent Social Security Numbers and stolen credentials to bill the government for services to people that don’t even exist, I nearly cry when I think of the percentage of my family’s income — not even a drop in the government bucket though — that we pay in taxes each year. When I walk down the street in Raleigh and I meet a woman who has fallen through the cracks in the system, who lives on the streets, who has been overlooked all of her life and doesn’t even have the interpersonal skills necessary to apply for help, if help was available, then I wonder how we let that happen.

I hear doctors tell stories about patients that play the game and milk the system for everything they can get. A woman comes to the hospital emergency room, without fail, each month, bringing in one of her children with a cold or coming alone when she has a sore throat. She parks her new Mercedes at the curb. Walks up to the receptionist with an air of entitlement, flashes her gold bracelet and diamond ring in the poor nurse’s face when she doesn’t get service fast enough, pulls out her iPhone to call her friend and complain about the poor state of things in the emergency room, and then walks out the door with a bag of free medicine, having stuck the taxpayers with the entire bill. Stories like this are endless.

Then there’s the poor single mother of three. She dropped out of college to raise her kids. She works three jobs. Her young children ride the bus back and forth to school, come home, fix their own dinner, don’t get any help with their homework, go to bed, wake up and start all over again, all without seeing their mother because she’s working around the clock just to get enough money to pay the rent and keep the water turned on. She doesn’t have a dime left to spend on health insurance, and she certainly can’t pay a hospital bill. But then her 7-year-old boy gets sick. He needs a blood transfusion and a heart transplant. Does he have any less right to it than the child of a stay-at-home mom who spends her days trying out new recipes and swapping parenting tips with her friends while her lawyer husband — who, by the way, worked hard and made it through law school on a scholarship because his parents were able to tutor him three nights a week from the time he was four-years-old until he graduated from high school, number one in his class, thank you very much — pays the bills?

Or how about the young college grad. She comes from a pretty well-off family, not rich, of course, but they’ve worked hard and never gone without much. Growing up, she was the model student and model daughter. She worked hard in high school and got into a good college. Then she got sick. As it turns out, she has a rare disease that makes it excruciatingly painful, if not impossible, to move through the activities of a normal day. She get’s the latest medicines and has to have frequent surgeries, but she always maintains a good spirit and pushes through. She draws strength from her illness and wants to learn more about what has happened to her. She goes to medical school. She misses class all of the time because of her disease as her minor surgeries become more and more frequent. To make up for it, she works three times as hard as the other would-be doctors, and graduates at the head of her class. Then she finds out, while all of her medical expenses and surgeries were covered under her parents’ insurance plan before, now that she is out of school, she is no longer covered. No health insurance provider in his right mind would offer her a policy. She can’t get insurance — she has a pre-existing condition. She can’t get treatment — paying the bill is simply impossible. She made all of the right choices and gave it all she had, but now, she is out of luck.

The anecdotes are endless.

One way or another, change needs to happen. What kind of change, though, depends entirely on your perspective.

Politics are never black and white. Do we extend generous resources and care to help those who need it, even when we know people are abusing the system and stealing from the community chest to fund their own personal frivolities? Do we stop offering handouts and encourage people to take personal responsibility, to prove their worth first, to work hard and give back to society before expecting to get something for nothing?

What is the Christian response to this? For people of faith, making the right decision doesn’t often seem easy either. Jesus told his disciples to “Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you,” and “love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing back.” The same Jesus warned his followers not to “give what is holy to dogs or throw your pearls before pigs; otherwise they will trample them under their feet and turn around and tear you to pieces.” So what is a Christian supposed to think about health care reform? The great thing about looking at Jesus’ as our example is that he didn’t just tell us how to live, or tell us how we should treat people. He showed us. He wanted to make the right course of action perfectly clear, even in the hardest of times, so he lived life as God intended each of us to live — and, as it turns out, he also took health care pretty seriously.

Now on the way to Jerusalem, Jesus was passing along between Samaria and Galilee. As he was entering a village, ten men with leprosy met him. They stood at a distance, raised their voices and said, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.”

When he saw them he said, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went along, they were cleansed. Then one of them, when he saw he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He fell with his face to the ground at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. (Now he was a Samaritan.*)

Then Jesus said, “Were not ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Was no one found to turn back and give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to the man, “Get up and go your way. Your faith has made you well.”

Luke 17:11-19 (NET)

Abundant thanks didn’t come back to Jesus for his healing work. The vast majority of those he served were too focused inward to even acknowledge the gift they had received; none of them really seemed concerned about paying back the favor. Yet Jesus keeps on doing this kind of thing again, and again, and again.

Politics are never black and white. Understanding what Jesus would do, however, is often crystal clear. That doesn’t make following him any easier though.

Jesus said to his disciples, “Stumbling blocks are sure to come, but woe to the one through whom they come! It would be better for him to have a millstone tied around his neck and be thrown into the sea than for him to cause one of these little ones to sin.”

“Watch yourselves! If your brother sins, rebuke him. If he repents, forgive him. Even if he sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times returns to you saying, ‘I repent,’ you must forgive him.”

The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!”

So the Lord replied, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this black mulberry tree, ‘Be pulled out by the roots and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.”

I came across this passage from Luke during my devotional time this weekend. I’ve read it and heard it so many times before, the temptation is to let my eyes glaze over it without really listening. But I did listen, and I heard something I have missed all those times before in my haste to move through the book and get on to something fresh.

Normally, my mind is drawn to the serious warning Jesus gives to anyone who might lead another into sin. This business about the millstone around the neck is tough stuff; it’s hard to get past that.

“Could Jesus be talking to me about this?” I’ll think to myself. “What if I don’t mean to lead anyone else to sin, but it happens anyways? Am I still responsible? This is kind of a scary lesson. Maybe following Jesus isn’t really for me after all; it sounds pretty risky.”

This is where my mind usually stops, but for the Christ, this is only the beginning. As if this grim admonition wasn’t enough for one day of contemplation, the lesson moves on to another tough subject — forgiveness.

Offering true forgiveness is rarely an easy thing to do, but here Jesus is making it the explicit responsibility of his disciples to hold one another accountable, and, when the time is right, to eagerly offer a warm embrace and a full measure of forgiveness. It’s as if failing in these two charges could push us down the dangerous path the Teacher first alluded to. Repentance, and then forgiveness, are the markers believers must use not only in their own quests after God, but also in any efforts to lead others to Christ as well.

Then, before anybody (I’m looking at you, Peter) can second guess what Jesus means by forgiveness, the Master tells his disciples: “Even if a man wrongs you seven times — that’s seven times in a single day — you must be ready to offer him forgiveness as soon as he comes to you. Don’t put it off! Forgive him, just as your Father has forgiven you.”

Forgiving an abstract sin in the name of Christ to help your brother or sister move forward in faith can be a great joy, but forgiving another person who has seriously wronged you personally is much harder to do. Forgiving someone time and time again, over the course of a lifelong relationship that just never seems to fall into sync is one of the most difficult tasks we can deal with — one that never gets any easier as we get more and more opportunities to practice it — but still, it can be done. But forgiving someone for a serious wrong, and then to be injured again by the same person a moment later, only to forgive him again, and then to have the cycle repeat itself seven times in one day? How can I possibly do that? The best effort I think I could muster would be to just stay away from the offending party so that I don’t lose it altogether and go off the deep end.

But that’s not the action Jesus has called us to. We can’t just sit idly by while another person flounders in a sea of ever increasing sin. We have a responsibility to reach out a steady hand and offer quick forgiveness.

I’m sure my feeble response would echo that of the other disciples: “Lord, increase my faith! I know I can’t do this without you.”

Increase my faith!

That is a prayer I have voiced many times before, though not usually in this context. Typically it is connected with another clause, such as “Increase my faith so that I can be patient and trust you, God, to show me the job opportunity you have for me.” Or “Increase my faith so that I can stop stressing over my financial situation and believe in your promise to meet my needs.” Or even “Jesus, please increase my faith so that I can step into this ministry opportunity you’ve set before me; give me the words to say, and the courage to say them, so that you may be glorified. Increase my faith!”

I’m not sure that my prayers have ever been in line with this teaching. I don’t think I’ve ever said, “God, increase my faith so that I can learn to forgive as you do. Increase my faith so that I might know, as you do, that my brother isn’t going to be a slave to this cycle of sin forever. Increase my faith so that I can understand how each small act of love chisels away a piece of the chain that’s keeping him, and me, from living in the fullness of your kingdom. Please, Lord, increase my faith.”

I have often prayed for a stronger faith to help me climb the mountains I have set my sights on. Perhaps a better place to start, if I’m really serious about growing in my faith, is here, at the place where Jesus has pointed me to. Maybe it’s best to start here, with the faith necessary to forgive; or maybe, as far as faith goes, forgiveness takes everything we have.

Out of the Depths I cry to you, O Lord,
Lord, hear my voice!
Let your ears be attentive
to the voice of my supplications!

If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities,
Lord, who could stand?
But there is forgiveness with you,
so that you may be revered.

Do you ever hear something that just makes you cringe?

Maybe it’s simply a word that seems vile to your ears. Maybe it’s a harsh truth that stirs up strong feelings when you hear it brought up in casual conversation. Or maybe its a lie; you just get sick at the thought of dangerous untruths digging deeper and deeper into the social consciousness of the people you care about.

I’m not sure which category of cringe-inducing remarks this fits into, but the end result is the same: I can’t help but wince whenever I hear people, especially Christians, talk about the “Old-Testament-god of wrath and vengeance, of fire and brimstone.”

Some people I know who identify God this way are individuals with no real interest in the Lord. They have an image of a God that is cruel and vindictive — often because that is how he has been portrayed by their Christian friends — and they have made up their minds that they want nothing to do with that type of God, so they give up on him all together. My heart breaks for these people. I pray for them, and I hope that I can find a way to show them some portion of the true love that God has for them.

What is more confusing to me is how some Christians talk this way as well. They speak of one god who was legalistic, rigid, demanding and dangerous — an old god who brought down fire from heaven to consume those who displeased him — and another god who is welcoming, compassionate, forgiving and full of love — a Good Shepherd who will leave everything behind to rescue one lost sheep. It’s as if all of a sudden, God changed his mind about how he was going to run things; he changed his mind about how he wanted creation to be ordered; he changed his mind about what kind of relationship he wanted to have with his people, and so he sent Jesus to Earth to give us an update and let us in on the new plan.

This kind of thinking doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t believe God changed his mind. He has always wanted people everywhere to seek him out, to know him, to live in relationship with him and to build healthy relationships with others in order to honor him. When God revealed himself in the person of Jesus, he gave humanity its clearest and most direct glimpse at himself as part of the ongoing revelation that began at the beginning and is still unfolding to this day. In Jesus, men and women saw better than ever the love, compassion, wisdom and grace that God has for all people. That same love Jesus lavished on those he came in contact with, and the same desire he showed to live in intimate relationship with his followers, was not anything new — it had been God’s will all along, but somehow the message kept getting misunderstood; it still does today.

To be honest, not that long ago I had conflicting images of God’s judgment and God’s grace. I had a hard time reconciling the God that created the universe, that preserved Noah’s line in the flood, that lead his people on an exodus out of Egypt and established a line of priests, prophets and kings in Israel with the God who was born in a manager, lived as a homeless wanderer, built relationships with people that crossed all racial, economic, social and religious lines, and then died on a cross to demonstrate his own steadfast love for mankind. The Yahweh of the Old Testament and the Jesus of the New Testament seemed so far apart in my eyes.

Then I decided to read the Old Testament; Not just the stories of Adam, Noah, Abraham and Moses, but the sacred writings of God’s prophets and priests. Imagine my surprise when I saw the love of Christ embodied in these ancient scriptures.

If any preacher epitomizes the “Fire and Brimstone” style of homiletics, Amos is the man. The book of Amos begins with harsh words for Israel’s neighbors, who have attacked their distant cousins living across the border and pillaged cities that were living in peace. Amos declares God’s judgment will literally be demonstrated by fire raining down from heaven and consuming these people. Then he turns his sight on Israel. Because God’s people have traded in real justice and loving relationships for hypocritical religion and shrewdly-amassed wealth, they also will reap their just rewards. Yet the book of Amos isn’t all doom and gloom. It is a desperate plea to the people. Amos, again and again, calls for his listeners to turn back to Yahweh, to repent, to denounce their greedy lifestyles, to stop paying lip service to God and start living in community with one another as God intends.

The first several chapters of Amos seem to be all judgment with no hope, but don’t give up! Keep reading, and you’ll learn that even when God’s people have utterly disregarded his word and turned their backs on the needs of their neighbors, the Lord is still waiting with open arms to take them back, to call them his own children again, to forgive their sins and guide them into a better life.

Listen to this funeral song I am ready to sing about you, family of Israel:
“The virgin Israel has fallen down and will not get up again.
She is abandoned on her own land
with no one to help her get up.”
The sovereign Lord says this:
“The city that marches out with a thousand soldiers will have only a hundred left;
the town that marches out with a hundred soldiers will have only ten left for the family of Israel.”

The Lord says this to the family of Israel:
“Seek me so you can live!
Do not seek Bethel!
Do not visit Gilgal!
Do not journey down to Beer Sheba!
For the people of Gilgal will certainly be carried into exile;
and Bethel will become a place where disaster abounds.”

Seek the Lord so you can live!
Otherwise he will break out like fire against Joseph’s family;
the fire will consume
and no one will be able to quench it and save Bethel.

The Israelites turn justice into bitterness;
they throw what is fair and right to the ground.

(But there is one who made the constellations Pleiades and Orion;
he can turn the darkness into morning
and daylight into night.
He summons the water of the seas
and pours it out on the earth’s surface.
The Lord is his name!
He flashes destruction down upon the strong
so that destruction overwhelms the fortified places.)

The Israelites hate anyone who arbitrates at the city gate;
they despise anyone who speaks honestly.
Therefore, because you make the poor pay taxes on their crops
and exact a grain tax from them,
you will not live in the houses you built with chiseled stone,
nor will you drink the wine from the fine vineyards you planted.
Certainly I am aware of your many rebellious acts
and your numerous sins.
You torment the innocent, you take bribes,
and you deny justice to the needy at the city gate.
For this reason whoever is smart keeps quiet in such a time,
for it is an evil time.

Seek good and not evil so you can live!
Then the Lord, the God who commands armies, just might be with you,
as you claim he is.
Hate what is wrong, love what is right!
Promote justice at the city gate!
Maybe the Lord, the God who commands armies, will have mercy on those who are left from Joseph.

Because of Israel’s sins this is what the Lord, the God who commands armies, the sovereign One, says:
“In all the squares there will be wailing,
in all the streets they will mourn the dead.
They will tell the field workers to lament
and the professional mourners to wail.
In all the vineyards there will be wailing,
for I will pass through your midst,” says the Lord.

Woe to those who wish for the day of the Lord!
Why do you want the Lord’s day of judgment to come?
It will bring darkness, not light.
Disaster will be inescapable,
as if a man ran from a lion only to meet a bear,
then escaped into a house,
leaned his hand against the wall,
and was bitten by a poisonous snake.
Don’t you realize the Lord’s day of judgment will bring darkness, not light —
gloomy blackness, not bright light?

“I absolutely despise your festivals!
I get no pleasure from your religious assemblies!
Even if you offer me burnt and grain offerings, I will not be satisfied;
I will not look with favor on your peace offerings of fattened calves.
Take away from me your noisy songs;
I don’t want to hear the music of your stringed instruments.
Justice must flow like torrents of water,
righteous actions like a stream that never dries up.”

Amos 5:1-24 (NET)

What do you read there?

Amos reminds me, first of all, that God is inescapable. Whether we acknowledge him or not, trying to hide ourselves from God is as futile “as if a man ran from a lion only to meet a bear, then escaped into a house, leaned his hand against the wall, and was bitten by a poisonous snake.” Sounds like a scene from a movie, doesn’t it? We cannot hide our actions, or even our motives, from the one who made the stars in the sky and the hairs on our heads. This brings us to the next point, that even if God’s big plan for the world, and for my life, seems hard to decipher, it’s important to remember that the most important task he has called us to is to live honest lives, to practice social justice, to love our neighbors as ourselves, and in so doing, honor and worship him with our lives — not just with our organized religious services. “Seek good and not evil so you can live! Hate what is wrong, love what is right. … Justice must flow like torrents of water; righteous actions like a stream that never dries up.” This is the faithfulness God demands from us! This is the type of faithfulness he tried to communicate to his people through the law given to Moses, it is the type of faithfulness the ancient prophets tried to call the Israelites back to, and it is the type of faithfulness perfectly embodied in the person of Jesus.

Then there is the prophet Hosea. Working through Hosea, God took another unique approach to getting his message across to the people. While Amos courageously proclaimed God’s truth to the people until they couldn’t hear it anymore, Hosea modeled the steadfast love and forgiveness God shares with us in his own family relationships. Apparently, at the Spirit’s guidance, Hosea was lead to marry a local prostitute. After the honeymoon period, he continued preaching, and she continued plying her trade; yet Hosea was more than ready to take her back, never hesitated in forgiving her infidelity and always offered unfailing love — even to one who spurned him again and again! When the prostitute is so buried in her life of sin that she is taken into slavery, Hosea goes into town and buys her back. He pays for his own wife, like any other man in the street could, so that he can take her back home with him, forgive her once again, and try, one more time, to begin building an intimate relationship based on love, not selfish pleasure.

This is the type of enduring love the God of the Old Testament has for his people — for all people — even in the darkest of times. The writings of Amos, Hosea, Jonah and the other prophets speak of painful things — suffering, poverty, slavery and death. These hard things are a part of life, often brought into being by our own hands. These things are not God’s will for our lives, but he is committed to finding a way to work through them for the good of creation.

When Israel was a young man, I loved him like a son, and I summoned my son out of Egypt. But the more I summoned them, the farther they departed from me. They sacrificed to the Baal idols and burned incense to images. Yet it was I who led Ephraim, I took them by the arm; but they did not acknowledge that I had healed them. I led them with leather cords, with leather ropes; I lifted the yoke from their neck, and gently fed them.

They will return to Egypt! Assyria will rule over them because they refuse to repent! A sword will flash in their cities, it will destroy the bars of their city gates, and will devour them in their fortresses. My people are obsessed with turning away from me; they call to Baal, but he will never exalt them!

How can I give you up, O Ephraim?
How can I surrender you, O Israel?
How can I treat you like Admah?
How can I make you like Zeboiim?
I have had a change of heart!
All my tender compassions are aroused!
I cannot carry out my fierce anger!
I cannot totally destroy Ephraim!

Because I am God, and not man — the Holy One among you — I will not come in wrath!

Hosea 11:1-9 (NET)

The way I see it, God hasn’t changed at all.

Unfortunately, I don’t see that we have changed much either.

The Lord said [to Elijah], “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of Yahweh, for Yahweh is about to pass by.”

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before Yahweh, but Yahweh was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but Yahweh was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but Yahweh was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.

Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

He replied, “I have been very zealous for Yahweh, God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, broken down your altars and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.”

Yahweh said to him, “Go back the way you came, and go to the Desert of Damascus. When you get there, anoint Hazael king over Aram. Also, anoint Jehu son of Nimshi king over Israel, and anoint Elisha son of Shaphat from Abel Mehola to succeed you as prophet. Jehu will put to death any who escape the sword of Hazael, and Elisha will put to death any who escape the sword of Jehu. Yet I reserve seven thousand in Israel — all whose knees have not bowed down to Baal and all whose mouths have not kissed him.”

1 Kings 19:11-18

No one likes being told what to do. We all want to find our own way, make deals on our own terms, and build lives that reflect our individual concepts of success. Self-sufficiency is a heavily lauded virtue in the 21st century. The great American dream maintains that anyone, willing to work hard and think a step ahead of the masses may find wealth, success, and comfort, so long as he sticks to his guns and doesn’t let the whining voices of naysayers distract him from that purpose.

Today, however, it seems harder than ever to avoid the cackles and hollers of the crowd. We live in a world where everyone seems to be an expert on everything. Parents are being constantly drawn into magazine articles and books written by experts who all claim to have the key to raising good children; the only problem is, most of those experts have never raised any children of their own, and none of their methods seem to match up. Any hour of the day I can turn on CNN and listen to four self-proclaimed experts breaking down the critical issue that’s crippling our government today. They’ll tell me what I need to do about it, who I need to vote for and what club I need to join to fix the country; it all sounds great until I realize if I heeded their advice, I’d have to run in four different directions all at once. Go strolling through the grocery store on a Tuesday evening and chances are you’ll run into a friend and find yourself caught up in conversation about the week. Let a concern about a budding conflict at work slip out, however, and you’ll likely find every shopper within ear shot, whether they have a clue about your life or not, has a piece of advice to offer that will surely clear up the matter once and for all.

There is no end to the “expert” advice available today. New philosophies on living are a dime a dozen; most of them seem so blatantly ridiculous on their face, you just can’t help but say, “Come on man, are you really serious Joe? Can’t you see that listening to that crackpot is just a waste of your time?” But you can’t say that. You try to get the words out, to steer your friend down the right path, but your voice is overpowered by the excited shouts and fury of the crowd, and before you know it, Joe has jumped onto the next bandwagon that just came into view. At the same time, your friend is still firmly parked right where he’s always been: Lost in a sea of noise.

This is the situation the prophet Elijah found himself in as he tried to remain faithful to God amidst a people who proudly clung to an “anything goes” way of life. At the urging of their crooked queen and her puppet husband, King Ahab, the people of Israel began to worship Baal alongside Yahweh. They didn’t want to sever their ties with the Lord completely — you never know when a second opinion might come in handy — but just to keep their bases covered, they figured it would be alright to follow the trend and pay homage to Baal as well. To Elijah, the absurdity of this line of thinking made it laughable on its face. The people couldn’t see it that clearly though. The noise of the crowd, the pressure of the experts, was simply too great. The prophet’s voice, and the people’s reason, were lost in the chatter. So what did Elijah do? How could he show this people the error of their ways? You know what happened next. Elijah proposed a test. He had the people build an altar for Baal while he straightened up the neglected altar of Yahweh. Sacrifices would be made for each god, and which ever god acknowledged the sacrifice by consuming it with fire — proving his deity with supernatural power — that was clearly the god to follow. The people agreed. They built their altar to Baal, but crying out to the phony god didn’t seem to be working. Elijah, being the human that he was, couldn’t help but rub it in their faces a little. “Maybe Baal is sleeping. Or maybe he’s relieving himself,” Elijah teased. “Shout louder, then he’ll hear you!”

Then Yahweh showed up. He lit up his altar with a fire and heat the people hadn’t known before. Scripture tells us that the flames licked the water out of the moat Elijah had built around the altar. If that wouldn’t get the people straight, what would? The people believed all right, at least the ones who were there, at least for a little while. Elijah had done it. He had given the job his all and he had made good on his claims. The prophet was a model of success. But his troubles were just beginning. Queen Jezebel didn’t take Elijah’s rebuke sitting down. She wanted his head, and normally what Jezebel wanted, Jezebel got.

So Elijah, the great model of success — the symbol of a job well done; the man who had all the answers — very quickly found himself in a place where he needed some help. Elijah needed some good advice.

Don’t be fooled into thinking that just because we have an abundance of cheap, one-size-fits-all advice floating around in the world today that good advice has become a relic of the past, or that quality guidance isn’t worth the trouble often required to find it.

John D. Rockefeller, the famous oil tycoon of the 19th century who still, all things considered, holds claim to the largest fortune amassed in a single lifetime, wasn’t above heeding good advice. Of his wife Laura, Rockefeller once said “Her judgment was always better than mine. Without her keen advice, I would be a poor man.”

A modern-day tycoon, Eric Schmidt, chairman and CEO of Google, told CNN Money in 2009 that one of the keys to his success was hiring a coach to guide him through the murky waters of business dealings. Schmidt didn’t come to this realization easily though. “Why would I need a coach? Am I doing something wrong?” Schmidt thought to himself when the idea was first proposed. “My argument was, how could a coach advise me if I’m the best person in the world at this?” Then Schmidt realized a coach doesn’t come in to take over the game for you. A coach doesn’t even play the game. A good coach gives you the advice you need to be the best you can be at the game you play.

Abraham Lincoln, faced with the most difficult circumstances a president could imagine, also knew where to turn for advice when all other options seemed bleak. Following the Battle of Gettysburg, considered by most historians to be the turning point of the Civil War, Lincoln spoke with Gen. Dan Sickles, who had witnessed the travesty and successes of that pivotal moment first hand: “Well, I will tell you how it was,” Lincoln, always the statesman, began. “In the pinch of the campaign up there (at Gettysburg) when everybody seemed panic stricken and nobody could tell what was going to happen, oppressed by the gravity of our affairs, I went to my room one day and locked the door and got down on my knees before Almighty God and prayed to him mightily for victory at Gettysburg. I told him that this war was his war, and our cause his cause, but we could not stand another Fredericksburg or Chancellorsville. … And after that, I don’t know how it was, and I cannot explain it, but soon a sweet comfort crept into my soul. The feeling came that God had taken the whole business into his own hands and that things would go right at Gettysburg, and that is why I had no fears about you.” ¹

Elijah also knew where to turn for a word of guidance when all other voices rang hollow. Elijah needed to hear God’s voice! Elijah needed to hear the Lord say that everything would be all right! Elijah needed someone to tell him “get back on your feet and get back to work!”

Elijah knew he needed to hear God’s voice. He wanted to hear God so badly, but he wasn’t ready to listen. He wasn’t in a place where he could pick God’s voice out from the noise of the world. So, Elijah left. He left the place his own work had brought him to and he went looking for God.

Elijah already knew he needed to stay away from his enemies. He was steering clear of Ahab, Jezebel and any others who obviously meant him harm. But Elijah also needed to get away from his friends, from his helpers, his supporters. As encouraging and well meaning as they were, Elijah’s friends were still not the ultimate authority for him, and they were not the ones he had to answer to when his work was done. So Elijah went off, alone, to find a quiet place. Finding peace wasn’t easy though. Elijah didn’t walk into a quiet office and find God sitting in an easy chair ready to hand over the plan. Scripture tells us Elijah spent an entire day in the wilderness, where he became so discouraged he simply wanted to die. He asked God to let him give up, to let him quit. Elijah cried: “It is enough; now O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.” But despite his frustration, his emotional emptiness, and the scattered, distracted state of his own mind, Elijah still wanted to hear God’s voice. So he continued in the desert for 40 more days, each day getting a little further from the things that had been distracting him.

When we’re tired of listening to the dull drone of this world, or when the sweet words of our companions just don’t have the kick we need anymore, we have to be willing to put ourselves in a place where we can hear God speak. We have to be willing to take the time to search for a spot where we can clear our minds, where the distractions that keep calling out to us can’t reach us anymore. Sometimes trying to ignore the world around us simply isn’t enough. Sometimes turning off the t.v. and putting up a mental wall to protect us from the noise on the street just doesn’t cut it anymore. We must be able to recognize that. If we truly believe the message God has for us is worth listening to, we must be willing to go through the trouble of finding a place of quiet solitude; A place where we can hear him speak.

Elijah found his place in an empty cave, on a desolate mountain in the middle of the wilderness. The Spirit of God had led him there. Elijah knew it was the place he needed to be, and he was willing to go through the trouble of clearing off his agenda, of rescheduling his appointments and going to this place where he could meet with the Father.

Still, the voice of God didn’t ring out loud and clear. The account of Elijah’s encounter with God is one of the most poetically moving stories in scripture:

“Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.”

How often do we want God’s guidance to be as clear and obvious in our lives as a hurricane. There isn’t much anyone can do to deny a hurricane. Caught in the middle of a storm, the reality of the situation is all around. The fallen trees, the ruined houses, torrential rivers running down city streets, overturned cars and broken power lines — everything declares the truth of the situation. This is a hurricane. But that would be too easy. God doesn’t typically speak that way, and Elijah knew it. He knew that God’s fiery, undeniable message to the prophets of Baal was not something he could expect every time he needed a word from the Lord. Elijah knew he would have to be patient, and he would have to listen closely to what was coming next.

“After the fire came a gentle whisper.”

Other translations describe this word of the Lord coming as “a sheer silence.” Either way, it was something Elijah would have likely missed had he not been deliberately, patiently waiting for it.

A reading of this text begs the question “How did Elijah know what to listen for?” How do we distinguish the voice of the Lord from the other unexpected storms that come our way? Elijah knew what to listen for because he had heard God speak before. Long before God brought down fire to consume Elijah’s sacrifice at Mount Carmel, Elijah had seen the way God spoke through scripture. Elijah knew the stories of Moses, of Joshua and Gideon, of Samuel and David. Elijah knew the scriptures and the stories of his people. He had heard them, and studied them and told them so many times, that the God they described was not just a character in a book. The God they described was a real deity, who loved his people and cared for them. By the time Elijah had a personal encounter with God, he already knew the sound of God’s voice, he knew the rhythm of the stories God told and he knew the purpose God had in mind for his people, for his world. When God spoke to Elijah, he didn’t have to bring him up to speed on the mission, on how the world had gotten to the point it had or why he cared enough to reach out to the people of Israel — Elijah already knew all of that, so God could get on to the details of the day, of the present assignment and the immediate obstacles that needed to be overcome.

If Elijah knew God’s voice from his study of scripture, how much more prepared should we be to listen to God today! We have nearly four times the sacred texts that Elijah had at his disposal. We live in a world that has not only experienced and recorded the messages of God’s prophets and kings, but we have a record of the life, the teachings, and the Word of God’s very son! We have the Gospel of Jesus Christ! Are we any better off for it? Do we study the scriptures to understand God as Elijah surely did? Studying the scriptures is not a task reserved for pastors and scholars; It is the first step Christians must take toward knowing God.

After Elijah received his message, he didn’t keep it to himself. He went right away and confided his experience with other believers. He took his interpretation of God’s message and went to find out what other, trusted believers thought about it. The prophet went, as God had commanded, to anoint a young man, Elisha as his successor. Elijah shared his vision with Elisha. He didn’t force it upon him as a decree, but he confided it to him in an effort to seek confirmation. Elijah found his successor ready, and most importantly, willing, to step into the role God had prepared him for. Elijah found confirmation of God’s directions in his relationship with other believers. God had told Elijah to find these three young men — Elisha, Hazael and Jehu — and set them to work. All along, though, God had been leading these other faithful Israelites toward the same goal. Their life experiences and their relationships with God confirmed Elijah’s interpretation of God’s message for him, and it was only after confiding in them, and listening to them, that the instructions God had given Elijah began to make sense.

Picking God’s voice out from the crowd isn’t always easy. It certainly wasn’t easy for Elijah. With so many voices competing for our attention today, we must strive to be evermore diligent as we seek to follow his will for our lives. Finding a time and a place to be still and listen for God’s voice is essential for anyone hoping to draw closer to him. Living lives that put us in constant fellowship with the scriptures and with other believers is key to staying within the boundaries of God’s will, and a sure way to find yourself growing into the Christ-like servant each of us longs to be.

If you haven’t seen a demo for FaceTalk yet, take a look. If you’re a tech-type person and you still don’t follow Apple news, you may be interested to know that FaceTalk is going to be released under an Open Source license as well. That’s Apple Computers’ proprietary technology — with an Open Source license. Didn’t see that one coming, did you?

Doesn’t that just make you want to run out and buy an iPhone for everyone in your family? It sure makes me excited, and, although I’ve had a computer with video chat capabilities for years now, I’ve yet to go through the trouble of setting one up. Why is it that everything just seems so much more meaningful when it’s packed into a 3″ x 5″ glass box that you can drop into your shirt pocket?

This ad is so powerful because it’s not selling you an iPhone; it’s selling you a connection to your loved ones. It doesn’t spend an ounce of energy showing off the ridiculous capabilities of this new handheld computer; it shows you how your friends and family will smile when they know you’re calling.

Companies have been using this strategy more and more lately. When I worked for Chick-fil-A, establishing emotional connections wasn’t just a part of our marketing strategy, it was the key mission that drove the business model for the corporation. Whether it was preparing a special sandwich just the way a customer liked it, greeting regular guests by name, offering first-time guests a free sandwich, no strings attached, or refilling drinks before customers even realized they were running low, everything that Chick-fil-A does is about building emotional connections with customers to keep them coming back week after week.

It works. Chick-fil-A knows it. Apple Computers knows it. Coca-Cola knows it.

Understanding this emerging marketing strategy was a big part of my mass communication courses in college. In many ways, it makes me uncomfortable. It doesn’t feel good to know that companies are actively trying to play with my emotions in order to win my business. Is that right? Is that a way to make business more human, or does it take away a little bit of our humanity?

What can the church learn from Apple Computers? How much value do we place on emotional connections within our congregations, to keep people coming back week after week? How much value do we put into establishing emotional connections with people we come in contact with who may not be ready to buy into our theology yet, but want to learn a little more about we’re offering?

As powerful as these ads may be, they certainly don’t reach everyone the first time around. Still, Apple and other companies persist, trying new methods and new techniques to keep their products on the forefront of people’s minds. Is the church being just as persistent in its efforts reach out to new audiences, to those who might have already heard the message, but still haven’t seen the light? Or are we more concerned with repacking our message again and again to make it seem like we’re offering something new without making the personal investment necessary to truly build emotional connections with the people we seek to serve?

Let me know what you think.

First Scripture Reading:

Some time later there was an incident involving a vineyard belonging to Naboth the Jezreelite. The vineyard was in Jezreel, close to the palace of Ahab king of Samaria. Ahab said to Naboth, “Let me have your vineyard to use for a vegetable garden, since it is close to my palace. In exchange I will give you a better vineyard or, if you prefer, I will pay you whatever it is worth.”

But Naboth replied, “The LORD forbid that I should give you the inheritance of my fathers.”
So Ahab went home, sullen and angry because Naboth the Jezreelite had said, “I will not give you the inheritance of my fathers.” He lay on his bed sulking and refused to eat.

His wife Jezebel came in and asked him, “Why are you so sullen? Why won’t you eat?”
He answered her, “Because I said to Naboth the Jezreelite, ‘Sell me your vineyard; or if you prefer, I will give you another vineyard in its place.’ But he said, ‘I will not give you my vineyard.’ ”
Jezebel his wife said, “Is this how you act as king over Israel? Get up and eat! Cheer up. I’ll get you the vineyard of Naboth the Jezreelite.”

So she wrote letters in Ahab’s name, placed his seal on them, and sent them to the elders and nobles who lived in Naboth’s city with him. In those letters she wrote: “Proclaim a day of fasting and seat Naboth in a prominent place among the people. But seat two scoundrels opposite him and have them testify that he has cursed both God and the king. Then take him out and stone him to death.”

So the elders and nobles who lived in Naboth’s city did as Jezebel directed in the letters she had written to them. They proclaimed a fast and seated Naboth in a prominent place among the people. Then two scoundrels came and sat opposite him and brought charges against Naboth before the people, saying, “Naboth has cursed both God and the king.” So they took him outside the city and stoned him to death. Then they sent word to Jezebel: “Naboth has been stoned and is dead.”

As soon as Jezebel heard that Naboth had been stoned to death, she said to Ahab, “Get up and take possession of the vineyard of Naboth the Jezreelite that he refused to sell you. He is no longer alive, but dead.” When Ahab heard that Naboth was dead, he got up and went down to take possession of Naboth’s vineyard.

Then the word of the LORD came to Elijah the Tishbite: “Go down to meet Ahab king of Israel, who rules in Samaria. He is now in Naboth’s vineyard, where he has gone to take possession of it. Say to him, ‘This is what the LORD says: Have you not murdered a man and seized his property?’ Then say to him, ‘This is what the LORD says: In the place where dogs licked up Naboth’s blood, dogs will lick up your blood—yes, yours!’ ”

Ahab said to Elijah, “So you have found me, my enemy!”

“I have found you,” he answered, “because you have sold yourself to do evil in the eyes of the LORD. ‘I am going to bring disaster on you. …’”

I Kings 21:1-21a (NIV)

Second Scripture Reading:

When Uriah’s wife heard that her husband was dead, she mourned for him. After the time of mourning was over, David had her brought to his house, and she became his wife and bore him a son. But the thing David had done displeased the LORD.

The LORD sent Nathan to David. When he came to him, he said, “There were two men in a certain town, one rich and the other poor. The rich man had a very large number of sheep and cattle, but the poor man had nothing except one little ewe lamb he had bought. He raised it, and it grew up with him and his children. It shared his food, drank from his cup and even slept in his arms. It was like a daughter to him.”

“Now a traveler came to the rich man, but the rich man refrained from taking one of his own sheep or cattle to prepare a meal for the traveler who had come to him. Instead, he took the ewe lamb that belonged to the poor man and prepared it for the one who had come to him.”

David burned with anger against the man and said to Nathan, “As surely as the LORD lives, the man who did this deserves to die! He must pay for that lamb four times over, because he did such a thing and had no pity.”

Then Nathan said to David, “You are the man! This is what the LORD, the God of Israel, says: ‘I anointed you king over Israel, and I delivered you from the hand of Saul. I gave your master’s house to you, and your master’s wives into your arms. I gave you the house of Israel and Judah. And if all this had been too little, I would have given you even more. Why did you despise the word of the LORD by doing what is evil in his eyes? You struck down Uriah the Hittite with the sword and took his wife to be your own. You killed him with the sword of the Ammonites. Now, therefore, the sword will never depart from your house, because you despised me and took the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be your own.’”

Then David said to Nathan, “I have sinned against the LORD.”

Nathan replied, “The LORD has taken away your sin. You are not going to die. But because by doing this you have shown utter contempt for the LORD, the son born to you will die.”

After Nathan had gone home, the LORD struck the child that Uriah’s wife had borne to David, and he became ill.

II Samuel 11:26-12:10, 12:13-15 (NIV)

A Tale of Two Kings

We all love heroes. As children, our heroes are always the clear good guys — Superman, Batman, Spiderman and Wonder Woman. We look to our heroes to see what we like best about ourselves. Our fictional heroes often personify this goodness. When we see them on the streets fighting the good fight, living honest lives and helping others, it makes us feel better about ourselves because we see a little bit of our own desire in them.

From time to time, though, even the strongest heroes stumble. Every other movie or so, Spiderman seems to stray off the straight and narrow path for a bit, only to recognize he’s not really himself unless he’s there, fighting on the side of good. Every now and then the egotistical, slightly conceited Bruce Wayne leaks through into Batman’s persona.

We turn a blind eye to these flaws in our childhood heroes. Maybe it’s because we’re still so pleased with the overwhelming number of good things they do that we let them off the hook. Or maybe it’s because we see ourselves in their failures too; we understand what it’s like to be human.

Of all the shining heroes of the Bible, perhaps David is the brightest.

David, Israel’s best king, established the temple at Jerusalem, led the people to live within God’s law and brought prosperity to the nation. He would forever be known as “A man after God’s own heart.”

In contrast, Ahab, Israel’s worst king, disregarded the Lord and condoned the worship of Canaanite gods. Ahab ignored the law Yahweh had given to the people of Israel and oppressed the nation. “Indeed,” scripture says, “there was no one like Ahab, who sold himself to do what was evil in the sight of the Lord.”

At first glance, David and Ahab are polar opposites. Yet both of these men have committed grave sins — conspiracy to murder and steal

David’s story is a familiar Sunday school lesson. He has fallen into a trap of ever-increasing sin, beginning with his lust for Bathsheba and ending with the conspiracy to murder her husband, one of David’s own top warriors. The prophet Nathan tells David a story about a rich man who takes something that doesn’t belong to him. David regains his moral compass, his sense of what is right and what is wrong. He repents, and God forgives his sins. There are still consequences to his actions, but David’s humble confession allows the Lord’s grace to move into his life, washing away the sin. He will go on to be Israel’s greatest king.

Ahab’s plot to steal Naboth’s vineyard is the final episode in a long series of bad decisions and sinful acts. Honoring God was never a priority for Ahab. At the beginning of his reign, Ahab married Jezebel, the daughter of a rival king. He built temples and altars to honor Baal, the god of Jezebel’s homeland, while neglecting the altar of Yahweh. He oppressed his people. Ahab valued building projects more than the lives of his citizens. At the request of the queen, he had the prophets of God murdered. Even when the Lord continued to bless Ahab, giving him a military victory in what seemed to be a hopeless situation, Ahab disregards God’s instructions about dealing with the enemy king in order to gain a little praise and flattery for himself. We have no trouble understanding how this corrupt king could stoop so low as to plot against an innocent man for a few acres of choice farmland — land the king doesn’t really need at all. It’s simply in his nature. He’s that kind of guy, and Elijah is ready to give him what he deserves.

In “The Message” Eugene Peterson provides a little bit of color in the dialogue between the corrupt king and faithful prophet. Ahab’s “greeting” — if it can be called that — is characteristic of his relationship with the prophet. “My enemy! So, you’ve run me down!” “Yes, I’ve found you out,” said Elijah. “And because you’ve bought into the business of evil, defying God. ‘I will most certainly bring doom upon you, make mincemeat of your descendants, kill off every sorry male wretch who’s even remotely connected with the name Ahab. And I’ll bring down on you the same fate that fell on Jeroboam and Baasha — you’ve made me that angry by making Israel sin.’”

Confronted with the harsh reality of his sin, of what his life has become, David says “I have sinned against the Lord.”

Ahab says “So you have found me, my enemy!”

David confesses his sins because he comes to recognize them as evil.

Ahab admits his sins because he knows he has been caught.

Without hesitation, Nathan offers history’s great king a word straight from heaven: “Your sins are forgiven. The Lord has taken them away.”

“Your sins are forgiven.” Is it really that easy? For God it is. For Nathan it was. For David, it had to be.

Elijah’s answer to Ahab’s confession is just as quick, but not quite as comforting. “’I will destroy you,’ says the Lord. ‘I will bring disaster on you. I will consume you.’”

On second thought, maybe Elijah’s judgment is just as comforting as Nathan’s. Don’t we want a God who delivers swift justice to the evil ones? Don’t we want a God who can look into the hearts of men and separate the sheep from the goats, the righteous from the rebellious, the penitent from the insolent? Don’t men like Ahab — men who let selfish ambition and reckless greed — need to get what they have coming to them? It’s only fair.

David understood this. He knew what was fair and what wasn’t. His strong sense of right and wrong is what ushered Israel into its greatest period of prosperity.

David also understood that he couldn’t do it alone. David’s relationship to Nathan is one of the best prophet-king partnerships in scripture. David appreciates having someone he can trust hold him accountable. He is always willing to listen to what Nathan has to say and considers his advice.

Ahab’s relationship with Elijah is likely the worst prophet-king relationship in Israel’s history. Elijah’s confrontations with Ahab get more and more heated as time goes on, to the point that Ahab seeks to have the prophet killed. Why is it so hard for some people to take good advice, or even to listen to someone who may come from a different perspective?

David also understood that he needed God. Hear the good king’s own words, recorded in Psalm 5:1-8:

        Give ear to my words, O Lord;
                Give heed to my sighing.
        Listen to the sounds of my cry,
                my King and my God,
                for to you I pray.
        O Lord, in the morning you hear my voice;
                In the morning I plead my case to you, and watch.

        For you are not a God who delights in wickedness;
                Evil will not sojourn with you.
        The boastful will not stand before your eyes;
                you hate all evildoers.
        You destroy those who speak lies;
                The Lord abhors the bloodthirsty, and deceitful.

        But I, through the abundance of your steadfast love,
                will enter your house,
        I will bow down toward your holy temple in awe of you.
        Lead me, O Lord, in your righteousness
                because of my enemies;
                make your way straight before me.

NRSV

We may say we want a god of justice; a god who punishes evil and destroys liars. It’s true that God hates evil. David told us “The Lord abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful.” But thank goodness he didn’t stop there. Our God is not a simple God.

In 1787, the Constitution of the United States marked the beginning of a new era in human society. It set a precedent for how government should be run and how justice should be administered. It has been replicated throughout the world and has withstood the test of time largely because of its revolutionary simplicity. For many people, justice and government, right and wrong, evil and righteousness, are simple things.

Fortunately for David, and for us, our God is not quite that simple. If he was, David would be right there with the worst of them. David’s sins put him in the same class as Ahab. Ahab conspired to murder a man because he wanted to steal his family farm. David conspired to murder a man because he wanted to steal his wife.

“The Lord abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful.”

“But I, through the abundance of your steadfast love,
        will enter your house;
I will bow down toward your holy temple in awe of you.”

History might record David as the great king, the righteous ruler of Israel, but David wasn’t quite so proud of himself. He knew that no matter how good he was, no matter how bad he was, it was ultimately God who had the power to save, and it was only through God that he, the king of Israel, could be redeemed.

From time to time, we may ask God for justice, but I for one am glad that what he offers is not justice, but grace; not judgment, but an abundance of steadfast love.

What, then, is to become of our friend King Ahab? How does he fit into God’s order of things? If there is a limit to this abundant love David spoke of, surely Ahab found it. Let’s go back and listen in a little more on this scene between Ahab and his “enemy,” the prophet Elijah. Elijah has pronounced his sentence on Ahab: total destruction. This is the justice man seeks. This is the justice Elijah cries out for with every ounce of mortal passion within him. This is the justice Ahab deserves.

“When Ahab heard those words, he tore his clothes and put sackcloth over his bare flesh; he fasted, lay in sackcloth, and went about dejectedly. Then the word of the Lord came to Elijah: “Have you seen how Ahab has humbled himself before me? Because he has humbled himself before me, I will not bring the disaster in his days, but in his son’s days I will bring disaster on his house.”

I Kings 21:27-29 (NRSV)

This business of the son being doomed for the father’s sin is confusing at first, but rest assured that Ahab’s son gets a fair chance as well. This line tells us more about how each person is responsible for their own choices before God, that is, each child has to seek out God’s grace on his own, not ride into heaven on the coattails of his parents. But that’s another sermon for another day.

What’s important here, is Ahab doesn’t get what he deserves any more than David got what he deserved. They are both helpless victims of God’s abundant, steadfast love. They are two of Israel’s most notorious kings — David is notorious for his general goodwill, his desire to serve his people and to please the Lord; Ahab is notorious for the way he oppressed his people and spent most of his life scorning Yahweh and all those who called on him. They are both great sinners. They are both helpless to save themselves, and, in the end, they both turn to the God of Creation, the God of Love, the God of Mercy, the God of Grace, to redeem them. And he does.

God is still able to redeem us today. He sent his son, Jesus Christ, to demonstrate his love for humanity. Confronted with this desperate need for salvation above and beyond the power of men, the world responded in much the same way Ahab responds to Elijah. “So, Jesus, you have found us out. “

Jesus was scorned, attacked and brutally murdered so that shameful men might not have to deal with their own shortcomings, with their own sins. Even this was not enough to test the limits of God’s abundant, steadfast love. To make his point once and for all, the Lord Jesus rose from the grave. He went back into the world of men — the world that had beaten him away in an effort to beat back it’s own sin. Jesus’ message to us is the same message Nathan took to David, the same message Elijah took to Ahab. “You can’t do it on your own. Admit it. Believe it. And then, once you’ve found your limit, believe in me. Believe in the God of all Creation. Believe in my power to save you. To wash away your sin and give you new life, abundant life, in me.”

This is the message everyone — humble fishermen, sun-burnt farmers toiling away at the family vineyard, and even the world’s mightiest kings — everyone, needs to understand.

In his letter to the Galatians, Paul writes:

We ourselves are Jews by birth [you and I, we are already members of God’s family]¹ and not Gentile sinners; yet we know that a person is justified not by the works of the law, but through faith in Jesus Christ. And we have come to believe in Christ Jesus, so that we might be justified by faith in Christ, and not by doing the works of the law, because no one will be justified by the works of the law. … For through the law I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing.

Galatians 2:15-16,19-21 (NRSV)