The other day I was reading through John 4 about Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well, and I saw such an intricate plan of God revealed in their conversations. First I noticed how Jesus gently engages with her, asking for a drink, and how He entices her with a riddle to prick her mind–”Sir, you have nothing to draw with…where do you get that living water?” He draws her in closer, explaining how wonderful this water is and how there is hope and life in it. She leans into His words.

But then He mentions the issue about her husband, or rather, husbands, and she goes into all kinds of diversions, hoping to avoid the true issue in her heart. She is living in denial, trying to ignore the giant love deficit in her life. It is extremely painful for her to look into her heart and really see what is there, yet Jesus’ mercy and kindness is so pure, she ventures in. He slowly exposes her, all the while tenderly showing His love, even in the midst of the ugliness–but truth–of her past. His compassion finally gets to the core of her being as she uncaringly leaves her water jar at the well and runs back into town.

In this story, the Lord draws this Samaritan woman to Himself and she feels true, unconditional love probably for the first time in her life. Her sins were uncovered, yet she felt a blanket of love around her. This great love gave her the courage to unmask herself to the point that she even tells others about Him, and how He can make them also feel such freedom.

This is such a wonderful example of how the Lord draws us. There are many times when I sense the Lord probing me. Sometimes I am in denial about issues in my life and I’m trying to avoid dealing with them. I don’t like feeling the pain so I stuff them into a corner of my heart with a “Do Not Disturb” sign over them daring anyone to bring up the matter.

But God is faithful to gently draw me to Himself, even as He did this woman. He unveils and exposes me, not to ridicule and shame me, but to cleanse me and heal me.

May we all be attentive to His drawing this week.

Why do I speak kindly with my wife and show her patience? Is it just because it is the right thing to do? Maybe it’s because I don’t want to look like someone who is curt or angry. Maybe I fear God will be angry with me if I don’t. These types of responses all represent one level of obedience, actually a level where many of us live.

Empathy is higher.

A second level is a place where love compels us, not fear. We could say that this is “really” living. When we live and obey at this level, we have moved from a semi-depersonalized existence into agape. But to do this requires a developed personhood where I have value for my own thoughts and feelings first. I need to be in a place of feeling comfortable in my own skin, embracing and rejoicing in who God has made me to be—where issues of shame that have made me feel like an object have been resolved, and I’m walking in the dignity of being God’s child, fearfully and wonderfully made. It is then that I can express that to others.

Empathy: the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another without having the feelings, thoughts, and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner.

“I’ve always felt my dad did not have time for me. He was aloof, never there emotionally. I have even had anger toward God for putting me in the family He did.”

These are common statements I hear in prayer ministry most every day. God made little boys and girls to “feel” loved by their fathers and mothers, but sometimes they don’t. When a person can get honest about these feelings they have often carried for many years, amazing things happen.

When there is anger, people forgive as the reasons for holding the anger are resolved. However, something much deeper than that occurs. In most cases, the person feels like something was wrong with them to begin with and that’s why dad would not spend time, show affection, or even worse, be abusive. When a person can get to the place of seeing and acknowledging the shame they’ve carried, God speaks His love and washes the shame away. Here the miracle happens.

At this point the person feels compassion toward their dads (or moms). They see it wasn’t about them after all, dad had his own issues. However, better than that, the person now can receive at a heart level, the love God has for them. They move from mental assent to living connected with God’s love and it changes them.

If we could see this sweep the Body of Christ, moving her away from shame, fear, and control issues to a love that is welcoming toward all, the world would become a different place. Servant leadership, inclusive love, and a leaving behind of all the legitimacy crutches people use, would make it safe for the prodigals to come home and all manner of pre-Christians to come into the family of God.

How about this scenario: You and a friend are meeting for lunch. You’ve been thinking about sharing the gospel with him for quite some time. The two of you are sitting at the local sub shop, patrons are noisily chatting at nearby tables, and the smell of deli meats and cheeses permeate the air.  You fidget with the words in your mind, nervously take a tract out of your pocket, place it on the table next to the half-eaten pickle on his plate and say, “Accept Jesus, or you will go to hell.”

No one has ever threatened me to do something wonderful. If we were going to Disney World, my parents didn’t have to force me to get into the car. Usually the threat of punishment was used to manipulate me to endure an unpleasant experience, not a good one. So why should we threaten people with hell if what we’re offering them is so great?

What if the gospel was presented more as a surrender to love, rather than a fear of hell? How can we ever grow in intimacy—between us and the Lord, or any other person—if the beginning of our relationship is based in fear?

Joe felt so disconnected, always on the outside, at work and school and church. As he was growing up his dad had never been around. There had never really been a man in his life to call forth his identity. Julie felt an almost continual low-level anxiety—constantly afraid things might fall apart. She had a sense of impending doom, a fear of financial disaster, or some grave illness or family crisis. It was so hard to believe God would be available to her.

Eph 3:14-15 (AMP) For this reason I bow my knees before the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, For Whom every family in heaven and on earth is named [that Father from Whom all fatherhood takes its title and derives its name].

Fathering, mothering, and family are all God’s idea and God’s design. Every little boy and little girl needs to know dad and mom love them, and be secure in that love. Children need a sense of connection and identity. They need to know they are supported in all the life skills they must acquire to grow up.

When these foundational elements are missing (connection, identity, and support), wounding often takes place. God’s plan is for a divine exchange to happen, where Christians shift from the family model their parents gave them, to connecting directly with God’s love. We should feel like sons in His family rather than orphans. Most all wounding is based right here in these three elements. Think about it. Any fears I have—anxieties over finances, health, family, destiny—are all rooted in a difficulty believing God will be there for me. It is orphan living.

All healing needs to be based in these three things as well. Finding a connection to God’s love, and having our identity in that rather than performance or independence, is what brings about healing. There is a safe place in His love for both emotional and physical needs.  Just forgiving those who hurt us or trying to get rid of pain should not be the goal. Having intimacy with God, learning to live a connected, Fathered life, daily walking in His love and in sonship, is what He wants for all of us.

I love maps. I really do—especially world maps. What I like about them is being able to see the big picture, the entire world at one time, and how things relate to one another. On a map, I can look and see how far away Cuba is fromFlorida. I can look at Colorado and see how far away the Rocky Mountains are from the Smokey Mountains. Robert was just in India last week, and I can determine from a map that he was totally on the opposite side of the world from me. Maps help me put things in perspective as to where I am.

There are times when I wish I could see the map of my whole life, from beginning to end, pinned up on a wall, but I can’t. However, I do know Someone who can—Father God. He knows all about me, when I was born and when I will die; everything that has happened in the past, and all that will happen in the future.  As the song goes, “He’s got the whole world in His hands,” and since I’m on that world, I’m in His hands.

God knows every little thing about me. For some people, this causes fear, as if He’s a “big brother” surveillance camera, waiting to catch them doing something wrong. For me it brings peace. It causes me to be at rest knowing that this world is not just some freak happenstance, and my life isn’t some chaotic randomness of time and events. No, I believe God has a map of my existence, where He can guide and direct me daily. He knows where I am in relation to everything around me, and He has a plan. Jeremiah 29:11—“I know the plans that I have for you, declares the Lord. They are plans for peace and not disaster; plans to give you a future filled with hope.” Now that’s a good perspective. I really love maps.

The other night I was helping my son study for a vocabulary test, and I have to admit, there were some words on the list that I didn’t know. But one which I did know was idiosyncrasy. What a great word. Isn’t it fun just to say it? It has a unique feel about it. I feel different just for saying it. The definition of it, according to dictionary.com, is “a characteristic, habit, mannerism, or the like, that is peculiar to an individual.” Hmm…I know a verse that mentions the word “peculiar,” 1 Peter 2:9—“But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar people…”

It is so interesting to see how diversified we all are. Each one of us has certain quirks and tell-tale signs that identify us. We have different likes and dislikes. We have our own marked style of how we talk, how we walk, how we dress, and how we eat. For example, take eating Oreo cookies. You will find multiple modes of what some say are the “right” way to do this. I know within my family there are at least three “best” procedures to eat them, and they all must include milk. However, the fact is, there is no right or wrong method, just your own.

One of my idiosyncrasies is how I put my shoes and socks on always left foot first. The order has to be left sock, left shoe, right sock, right shoe. I do not know why I do this, but I do. Just like I have always put my left earring on first before my right, and wear my watch on my right wrist instead of my left. I have some peculiar habits that make me who I am and not someone else.

God delights in our individuality. He created us in His image (Gen. 1:26), yet has given each one of us our own characteristics, distinguishing us one from another. We all develop unique habits and mannerisms that pertain solely to us, making us peculiar people. We are supposed to be diverse. Revel and enjoy your idiosyncrasies. You are special.

There was a point in time where I could hardly make a decision on my own. If you would have asked me what I wanted to do, without thinking I would have replied, “I don’t care, whatever you want.” If you would have asked me where I wanted to go out for dinner, I would have replied, “I don’t care, wherever you want.” If you would have asked me what movie I wanted to see, I would again have replied, “I don’t care, whatever one you would like.” It wasn’t that I really didn’t care, though I thought so at the time, it was that I didn’t know what I truly felt. I didn’t take the time to think and ask myself those questions—I thought my point of view had no value.

My emotions had been pushed so far down in order to please others and “follow the rules,” that I had stopped considering what my own feelings were or what opinions I might have.  This happened because I allowed my emotional boundaries to be crossed—I had allowed others to tell me what I should think and feel.

Boundaries are where one thing stops and another thing begins.  Think about borders of countries or even a fence, for example—one area is separated from another.  In people, there can be physical, mental and emotional boundaries that define who we are, and who we are not. Whenever these lines are crossed without permission, it takes away from my personhood, blurring the point of what makes me, me and you, you.

If I agree with everybody and everything, changing my beliefs, opinions, and morals to morph with whomever I am with, then I am not defined. I become like a child, as Paul states in Ephesians 4:14, who is “tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine.”

Others can influence me to the point where I really don’t know what I believe, nor why. My own personhood doesn’t get developed. I stop making decisions based on what I think or want because I’m more concerned with what others think or want. Eventually, for me, this led to believing that they really do know what’s best and that my views or impressions didn’t have any value or worth.  I didn’t set an emotional boundary that said, “You have a right to your likes and dislikes, and I have a right to mine.”

At times I still struggle to set boundaries with others, but knowing Father God sees me as a unique individual with value, and Who made me different from others for a reason, has given me great strength and courage to define myself.  My decision making has gotten better too. Now, if I say, “I don’t care, whatever you want,” then it’s because I already thought about it, and I truly don’t have a preference. Although Chinese food is one of my favorites.

How do we Christians come across to the world around us? What do our friends, family, and co-workers think about our Christianity? Do we display the attributes of Christ in our daily lives? I was challenged by these questions just the other day and wondered how I appear to the people I meet every day.

Last week I was having a conversation with a friend and afterwards I realized that I dominated the conversation. It was all about me. What pride! Oh, I asked about how she was doing but I wasn’t really listening. I was waiting to share some more things about me the minute she stopped talking. And then when I got caught in traffic driving to another part of town, I was extremely impatient and furious with all the incompetent drivers I was around. “If they could all just drive like me it would be so much better,” I thought. Yes, dear reader, sometimes my Christianity is quite hard and harsh. It’s not always a pretty sight.

So I picked up Andrew Murray’s Humility book and decided it was time to re-read it again. (I think this is one of those books you need to read at least once a year—at least I need to.) I found this particular line quite interesting:

In striving after the higher experiences of the Christian life, the believer is often in danger of aiming at and rejoicing in what one might call the human, the manly, virtues, such as boldness, joy, contempt of the world, zeal, self-sacrifice, while the deeper and gentler, the diviner and more heavenly graces, poverty of spirit, meekness, humility, lowliness, are scarcely thought of or valued (pg. 56).

So I can take the “onward Christian soldiers” approach, plowing through everything and everyone who gets in my way of living for God, or I can attempt to live by the “more heavenly graces,” as Murray says. If I were humble, I would carefully listen to my friend share about how she was doing—her challenges, her delights—so that I could pray for her or rejoice with her as Rom. 12:15 instructs me to do. If I were meek and lowly, I would not stress out in traffic, or get angry and judge the inapt drivers, but be patient and kind instead—-preferring others (Rom. 12:10).

I have repented for my rude behavior of the past and am trying to focus on the sensitive side of Christianity. Yes, I still think there is a place for the harder, stronger virtues of fasting, fearless preaching, and warring in the Spirit, but maybe our world needs to see more of the softer, gentler, loving and forgiving attributes of us Christians.

By Robert

Dominion or Domination

I know of a martial arts instructor who has clearly mastered his art. Not too many could mess with this guy. He can also impart his knowledge to others in a life-giving way. He does not lord his knowledge over others, nor is he on an ego trip. He does not get threatened or feel inferior if a student does not learn quickly enough. He teaches, he imparts, he empowers.

Many of us remember the antagonist instructor in the movie the Karate Kid. He clearly was on an ego trip. It was not about the kids, it was about him. He was dominating, demeaning, and cruel.

These two styles of authority play out in many ways from business managers, educators, coaches, to even pastors and missionaries. I have met many missionaries who were on the field for all the wrong reasons. They were belittling toward the people group they worked with and arrogant toward other missionaries who “did not know as much as they did.”

Dominion through identity

Wounded people seek authority in order to dominate others. Basic emotional wholeness and a solid identity enable an individual to move into dominion that is life-giving to those under him. Healthy dominion is rooted in our identity and not in our authority. Our identity comes primarily from the way we were fathered.

Basic Trust

The way a father responds to his children builds identity in them. When the father has been diligent in establishing the child’s identity there is a freedom, wholeness, and willingness to risk.