The Wages of Sandburs

When we moved to our (very small) acreage, we discovered a new plant. A variety of Cenchrus known as sandburs, otherwise known as Bighurtus Defootus and other, less repeatable names. Our first Fall we found them clinging to our pant-legs, lodged in the bottoms of our shoes, stabbed into our bare feet, dug into the carpet, and caught between our dog's toes. From mid-August until the yard was deeply covered with leaves sometime in late November, I was vacuuming the foyer rug every other day; I picked the remaining burrs out of the carpet with tweezers while remembering more four letter words than I thought I knew. We'd never encountered them before and hadn't seen any obvious sticker bushes. After consulting Oklahoma natives and 'the Googles,' we learned that sandburs are a member of the grass family; they grow in grass-like clumps, making them hard to identify until they begin to produce the distinctive stalks full of burrs.

Isn't besetting sin like that? A weakness that reoccurs so often it seems just part of who you are? It mingles in with regular life, growing undetected until you accidentally put your foot in it, so to speak. Then you're surprised to have received a wound from something that you didn't realize had become a problem. 

The most dangerous, long-term, hard-to-eradicate sin in my life has been bitterness. Most of my other issues seem to spring from that root. It skews my perspective, darkens my outlook and saps my faith. Criticism of myself and others rises, drowning hope. Over and over I confess. I repent. I turn to Jesus. Yet sooner or later bitterness rears its head again...a soulish sandbur with seed stalks radiating from a center planted deep in my heart. Over the years I've repeatedly dealt with the symptoms, yet the root keeps sending up shoots.

This summer, remembering last Fall, I determined to make a dent in my sandbur population. I've been pulling them up as I find them all summer, but to do nothing but that means that I will be pulling them every summer forever. The best way to rid the lawn of the pests is to attack from multiple fronts. Dig up any discovered plants, pull a blanket or towel over the grass to catch the burrs which have fallen to the ground, then apply a pre-emergent herbicide each spring. This is time-consuming, sweaty work, and I've been warned that this process can take five to eight seasons to have good effect. 

When I discover that bitterness has (again) reared its head, I'm realizing that repenting is good but not enough. This weed must also be battled on several fronts. As I turn to face the Lord confessing my weakness and sin, I need to have an eradication plan in place as well. I've learned that the best antidote for weeds is a healthy lawn. When depression and bitterness rear their heads, I know my spiritual lawn has fallen into neglect. Bitterness would have a harder time of it, if I consistently cared for my spiritual life. Worship and the Word are not just 'things I ought to do,' they are necessary to keep Jesus front and center in my heart. Jesus enables me to look at my life through the lens of gratitude and contentment. Then I can better resist worrying about my rights, whining about my unmet expectations and rehearsing the real or imagined slights of others. Immersing myself in the Word reorders my thinking and restores hope. Drinking deeply of His presence lessens my thirst for the things of this world, which only seem to satisfy. A heart full of Jesus leaves little room for bitterness.

So as I do the hard, physical work of pulling as many of the %#*&@ burrs as possible, I'm praying about my spiritual weed problem too. I'm asking the Lord to identify the spots where I've let bitterness grow unchecked, so it can be rooted out. And I'm working towards more consistently spending time with the Lord. I'm once again practicing silence and find it easier to quiet my mouth than my thoughts. It's hard to stop my restless mind from roaming and just be with Him, enjoying His presence and letting Him speak. To lay aside my wish list and simply adore and exalt Him. To make Him the prize of my life, rather than a bunch of other stuff I think I'm supposed to have. I'm asking for a heart that lets the Lord do what He must to make me more His own. If I can submit to His ministrations, the Master Gardener will nurture a free and full heart, not one overwhelmed with the weed of bitterness. He always gets a good result.

"The day that any of you—man or woman, family or tribe of Israel—begins to turn away from the Lord our God and desires to worship these gods of other nations, that day a root will be planted that will grow bitter and poisonous fruit." Deuteronomy 29:18 TLB

The Emperor's New Clothes

"[Jesus] is, to them, 'a stone of stumbling and a rock of offence'.

Yes, they stumble at the Word of God for in their hearts

they are unwilling to obey it—

which makes stumbling a foregone conclusion. 

1Peter 2:8 Phillips

Remember the fairy tale of the dishonest tailors who ingratiated their way into a nation's power structure by selling the Emperor woven goods which did not exist? Those smooth criminals claimed that they would craft the Emperor clothing of the richest, most fabulous fabrics and trims—clothes of the finest quality. They then insisted that only the smartest, most discerning and discriminating people would be able to see the cloth, which was actually made of nothing but air. Everyone wanting to be thought the right kind of person, from the Emperor to the Royal-Waste-Basket-Emptier, eagerly regurgitated the tailors' narrative. They admired. They gushed. They nearly swooned in their praise of the invisible clothing. They swallowed their common sense, denied what they saw, and parroted the most ridiculous lines being fed them. It goes on and on until the day a little boy who had not been coached what to say, blurts out what anyone at any time could have known had he trusted his eyes. The Emperor had no clothes on...none at all. He was naked. The imaginary cloth was just that, imaginary, insubstantial, ethereal, unable to contain his physical bulk. Not.There.

This is a story poking fun at the foolishness of adopting the popular crowd's party line, but the message is a serious one...peer pressure is a powerful force. Even for adults it's hard to be the lone contrarian in a crowd. Far easier to parrot popular sentiment in order to gain membership among the enlightened. 1984 is just a novel, but its story line hews uncomfortably close to present reality. We have our own unofficial, self-deputized Thought Police who carefully examine our words to identify anything offensive. The public stands outrage-ready at any perceived slight to any race, gender, assumed gender, or demographic. We are, one and all, commanded to be tolerant, but it's a false tolerance, for no ideas other than the 'right' ideas may be expressed. Straying from the accepted script leads to immediate intolerance. More and more Christians are being asked to strain out the parts of God the world doesn't like, or risk censure in the public square.

But Christians do not get to amend the gospel message or change their beliefs to make them more palatable or politically correct. In order for Christian orthodoxy to be orthodox it must be, well, orthodox. It must conform to established biblical and historical expressions of Christianity, not the latest poll by Cosmopolitan. If I am orthodox, I can neither believe only the things I like about my faith, nor disregard the things others find outrageous.

That does not give believers liberty to be unkind, but more and more we are seeing that the Christian worldview, no matter how lovingly or kindly delivered, is not acceptable because God Himself has become unacceptable. God commands that we exhibit the love of Jesus as we live in the mission field He has assigned us. But here's the rub, Christians are permitted less and less space to be in the world, without being of the world. Our culture's relentless message is that unless we agree with the tenets of the world—every, single one—we should be allowed no place among decent people. Whether or not we discern the Emperor's nakedness, we are now required to gush about his lavish new wardrobe. I am tempted, in order to be thought a decent person, to express my thoughts in words that artfully avoid pointing out the lack of fabric. The only other safe option offered is to keep silent. In the current social climate there is real danger of losing my Christian witness in order to be identified as a 'real' Christian by the world.

It stings to be mischaracterized and disliked, but instead of doubling down to make sure I am understood, perhaps I ought to consider just how much the world's approval should matter to me. This is a good time to remember that asking the world to define what is proper is like asking a blind man to describe the view. The folks on the talk shows can opine all day long about what they think Jesus would do, but that should not sway me.  The tenets of my faith define who and what I am, so I must carefully and thoughtfully align my thinking, my words and my actions with what God says is true, what God says is love, what God says is right.  As Elijah urged the Israelites on Mount Carmel, "How much longer will you try to have things both ways? If the LORD is God, worship Him! But if Baal is God, worship him!" (I Kings 18:21 CEV) Just like them, I must decide on which side of the fence I belong and humbly stay there.

In these days of often extreme peer pressure, I want to remember that God is not out of touch or old-fashioned. He has no need to attend diversity training in order to eliminate His biases. He has not set up a cosmic suggestion box in case humanity has better ideas than His. No heavenly office meeting has been called at which we all voice our opinions, take a vote and gain consensus. God does not need vetting, nor does the Bible need redacting. The wisest, kindest, most powerful Being in the universe is in charge. He is the Decider, not me.

I am reminding myself to seek and cling to Jesus so I am less tempted to desire acceptance from the crowd. I am rehearsing His attributes to keep them fresh in my mind. He never changes, no matter what politically correct values are trending. His wisdom, beauty, kindness, and majesty are eternal. If I stand on that Rock I am safe even amid the ever-shifting sands of public opinion.

We aren't told what the little boy in the story thought. I wonder if he was uncomfortable standing in a room of adults all applauding and shouting for their naked king. I wonder if he struggled to open his mouth to say what should have been obvious to those more learned than he. They were adults. They were in charge. He was just a kid, but he spoke the truth. Can we determine to remain as children and humbly, kindly speak the truth when needed? My struggle has always been to speak the truth with love, a rank impossibility without God's great help. Can we be kind, while being thought unkind, out of step, even a peculiar people in order to be a voice of reason in a world gone mad? Can we love the world and take the consequences as Jesus did? I hope so. I want to.

"But you are God's "chosen generation", his "royal priesthood", 

his "holy nation", his "peculiar people"—all the old titles of God's people 

now belong to you [too]. It is for you now to demonstrate the goodness of him

who has called you out of darkness and into his amazing light." Your conduct among the surrounding peoples in your different countries should always 

be good and right, so that although they may in the usual way slander you as evil-doers yet when disasters come, they may glorify God 

when they see how well you conduct yourselves."

I Peter 2:9-10, 12 Phillips