BLOG 3 Part 2-- Deep Rootedness continued

Introduction from Part 1:

     “When the winds of hard times and persecution hit, will we stand or fall?  How deep our roots go will definitely be a factor.” Dana Acker

                       

Note about John’s subsequent letter:

            Part 2 is my response to Dana’s initial response (see Blog 3,Part 1). It continues the discussion we were having about my crisis of faith. In this response readers will continue to see that I felt my trust in God and His word was being relentlessly tried. In Part 1, Dana encouraged me to seek “deep rootedness” in God and His word. In this, Part 2, the reader will see his growth in deep rootedness. The reader will also hopefully gain a clearer understanding, through Dana’s life, of what God is really trying to do in us, through the Genesis account of Jacob wrestling with a man/an angel/God. https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis+32%3A22-31&version=NIV

            “It all goes back to that, being conformed to the image of Christ.  God will do what it takes.” Dana Acker

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John’s Subsequent Letter Part 2

Dear Dana, a true Brother in the Lord

            I love you buddy. Thanks.

            I know that you understand. You KNOW it. Your letter nearly brought me to tears a couple of times.

             After I read your letter, I went into the bedroom and got your post cards again—the one of the two old cowboys in prayer and the other of the two prospectors with the mules looking across the desert to the gold filled mountains, with the caption "Out of grub and the promised land in sight."  How appropriate.

            Also this time I paid attention to the cowboys' dog, sitting next to the table and looking up expectantly.  Since I'm not really a dog person, I hadn't paid much attention to it in the past. But this time the first thing that came to mind was Matt 15:21-28. 

(see http://newtheologicalmovement.blogspot.com/2011/08/why-did-jesus-call-canaanite-woman-dog.html  

While I am not familiar with this site, it seems <mostly> like a sound explanation ).

            I  have prayed.  Rev. Scott Stevenson, a Lutheran minister to whom I initially turned for counsel concerning the sins of anger and lack of self control, has prayed. But he is becoming more than a counselor. He had me look at The Message, Luke 11:1-13, especially 5-12.

https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=luke+11%3A1-13&version=MSG

He feels The Message gets closer to the true meaning of this passage because it looks at the regional nuances and personal peculiarities of the people. Based in part on this, he believes God doesn't want to have people witness His lack of propriety/manners or stinginess so He answers the caller's request.

            Then it goes on in vs10-13 and talks about a little boy and a little girl getting good things from their earthly father, therefore how much more our Heavenly Father. Joel Osteen tells the story of himself and his young son. He tells his son not to climb the tree because it's not safe and he could get hurt. Well, one day, the Joel hears his son crying out, "Daddy. Daddy. Help me." He goes to the window and sees him hanging from a limb high up in the tree. He does not say "I told you so."  He does not say, "Hang on while I go check with your mother to see if you've done your homework and treated your sister properly."  He, the father, helps his son. This example and then the Luke 11 portion are taking on strong meaning to me. As described by the televangelist, the actions of the father make sense. The father does not do those things he might, but helps the needy son. How much more should my Heavenly Father answer my calls for help.

            Thus my dilemma and my wrestling with God about trusting Him and His Word. Since He is not a man that He can lie Num 23:18-21, does He not promise and so the answer should come? I should be able to say with Job, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him”

            So, continuing to look at the dog. It doesn't look mistreated or under fed. It looks like he's waiting because he knows there will at least be crumbs. Perhaps I need to be a dog (see the above link), but how does that fit with the media evangelist’s encouragements to realize we are Victors, and not victims, in spite of what's happening. To make that a regular confession.

            Oh yes, Rev. Stevenson made a comment to me that has stuck. He credited it to Martin Luther, who is supposed to have said something like this, "I run from God but then I must run to God."  Or as Peter said in John 6:68, "But Simon Peter answered Him, 'Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.'"

            In conclusion, I think we are on the short side of Jesus' return. Therefore, I want to be able to get my prayers answered. All things considered, with the world's conditions, how can it be much longer? And Harold Camping is dead.

            So this dog, says again to Daddy, "Daddy! Daddy!  Help me. Help me help her. Help us." To whom else can I turn.

 In Christ

John

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Dana’s Reply:

 Hey John,

     "Heaven won't be like this, Brother."  I seem to remember being reminded of that many times while crouching in a spiritual foxhole, ducking the enemy's flaming ordinance.  (see Eph 6:10-18, esp. 16)

     Throughout my Christian pilgrimage, the Gospel's assaults on my pride and ego have served to remind me that no matter how many times I have been throttled and knocked to the ground, just how many more times that I need to be throttled and knocked to the ground.  It seems the closer I get to God, the more revelations and insights I receive into the Scriptures, the more that I am freely given that which I do not deserve and the more I am not given what I do deserve, the more I see just how black and icy and hard and prideful and selfish my wicked heart actually is.  You'd have thought I'd have gotten it right by now. 

     Yet when Peter recognized Jesus as the Christ, he threw himself down in a pile of dead fish and cried, "Depart from me Lord, for I am a sinful man."  When Isaiah "saw the LORD" he cried, "Woe is me, for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts." (Isa 6:1-6)

     When I was in my 20's, my parents left NC for VFCC (Valley Forge Christian College, now University of Valley Forge).  Their son was a wayward gypsy, hell bent on doing everything possible that was not of God's way.  People prayed for me, and I'm sure my parents agonized over my erring ways.  Right out of high school I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and gout in my right hip.  I began my freshman year of college on crutches.

     There was an old man in my parent's prayer/home meeting group of crazy Charismatics, a retired Mt. Airy City Chief of Police, Howard Sumner by name. Upon learning of my condition he stayed awake all night long one night praying for me.  He had never met me, and by the time I had learned of this, he had already been called home to his reward, so I never got to thank him. Long story short, I was miraculously healed.  I threw my crutches away and had Dr's verify that not a trace of either disease could be found.  You'd have thought that would have gotten my attention. My total release from pain and limited mobility only gave me more opportunities to pursue the "pleasures of sin for a season."  I was as clueless as I was hopeless.

     Later, after my parents had gone to Phoenixville, PA (several years later), I began to have pains in my back.  Having been doing carpentry work, I reckoned that I had strained or pulled something, and that with enough alcohol and pain killers I would eventually mend.  I didn't. It got worse. It was diagnosed as an extremely rare and particularly vicious form of arthritis known as Ankylosing Spondilitis. There is no cure, or even a commonly agreed upon treatment outside of dangerous anti-inflammatory drugs.   I cannot remember one day since my mid-twenties that I have not felt pain.  Some days worse than others.  Some days a dull ache, others a bone crunching agony that takes my breath away with every step I take. 

     Jump ahead a couple more years and I had returned to the Lord, and found my way to VFCC.  Those goodly and Godly Pentecostal folks practically rubbed bald spots on my head laying hands on me and claiming the victory over the disease that ailed me and caused me such great suffering. I found my way to the myriad altars of myriad churches and evangelistic meetings, witnessing others getting healed while all of my prayers and the prayers of the faithful who sincerely beseeched God for mercy on my behalf remained unanswered.  I too have been the dog beside the table.

     It's been 30 + years (can you believe it?) since those days.  I no longer pray for healing.  Not because I disbelieve in Divine healing, no sir, I firmly believe "God is the same yesterday today and forever," (Heb 13:8) and His healing power has not diminished one bit. Over time as I read more, and studied more, and learned more, one day the light bulb went on over my thick head, and God revealed to me that the Ankysosing Spondilitis hit about the time as when He finally got my attention.  Duh…..

     Through a devotional reading of Genesis, He showed me one day where Jacob wrestled with the Angel, and consequently walked with a limp the rest of his life, and that this disease and all my pain was my Jacob wrestling with the Angel experience.  When I finally surrendered and really met God, I never walked right again.  It's what God used to get my attention, and despite pain and prayer for decades, God's grace has allowed me over said decades to continue to do hard physical labor and be somewhat useful to those around me and not a burden.  Do I still hurt every day? You bet'cher boots.

     But it's my Jacob's limp.  My blessed limp!  It was a gift to me, John, because through it God revealed Himself to me and made me His own through it. Call it my spiritual "trip to the woodshed" with my Heavenly Father, or what have you; it's what He purposed through the divine counsel of His will to use to bring me to Him, and to hold me fast, and even when it hurts the worst, I don't ask for prayer for it to be taken away, because it's my gift.  It's worth more to me than gold.  When it hurts, I know that I know that I know my Father loves me.                                                                                            

     Some might be offended at that, and I try to be sensitive to that. I don't mean to propose my case as a doctrine to state that God goes around making people sick, and that for their own good.  This is just something between me and my Heavenly Father. I don't hold it out there to be any kind of normative Christian experience, or think that anyone else need go through what I've gone through to find God.  I'm not proud that God had to employ more drastic measures to get my knee to bow to Him. But as I'd imagine, that if truth be told, old Brother Jacob probably was thankful for his limp, and I'll always be grateful for mine. Some people have gifts of incredible ministerial ability, some gifts of powerful and persuasive oratory, some are gifted musicians, some skilled surgeons, some spectacular athletes, mine is a life of pain.  This won't go down in the history books as anything memorable or important, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. It's my blessed limp, and I thank God for it all the time.  But it was a hard learned lesson, and not one I would recommend, if it can be avoided.

     It all goes back to that being conformed to the image of Christ.  God will do what it takes.  He has predestined it--if I am His child, He has to do it. His Word says so.  And He will do it whether I go with Him hand in hand, singing His praises, or whether I go digging my heels, kicking and screaming. His ways and means may not (probably won't) be to my liking, but that only goes to show how ungodly my old heart remains.  It is a hard thing for me to wrap my head around, but to the Father I am worth...the Blood of His Son.  And despite all the obstacles my sinful heart can throw up in the way, He will prevail, and I will look like Jesus. 

     But the more rough edges He chips and sands off, the more I see that need to be chipped and sanded off.  What it takes for good or ill to complete that process, He does lovingly and faithfully, and may I add once again, whether I like it or not, or think it's fair or not.  Agree with His plan or not, I am going to look like Jesus, John.  It can be no other way, and when it is all said and done, I'll thank God for every ache and every stab of pain and every tear, and every hardship, and every drop of blood and every mark upon my body, because those scars are the tangible and undeniable proof that my Father loves me... 

     ...and nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, not even me, can separate me from that.  The old hymn comes back to me, "Be still my soul, the Lord is on your side...."

     "Heaven won't be like this," my Brother.

     "Momentary light affliction?"  "An eternal weight of glory!"  Hallelujah!

     "Tidings of comfort and joy...."

     Love you, Bro.,

     Dana

P.S  I heard Alistair Begg ask one time, "What was God doing in Stephen's life when he was being stoned to death?" The answer?  "He was making him look more like Christ."  And when you think about it, Stephen, nearing the moment of his most cruel and merciless death, prayed and asked God to forgive his killers.  We get to see the process completed and therefore we have hope.  At the end, Stephen looked in the mirror, as it were, and no longer saw Stephen looking back at him.