1 John 4:18-19 - There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because he first loved us.

Have you ever done something that won almost unanimous praise? Did the experience teach you what it taught me? That almost unanimous isn't worth much? As a pastor, I get a lot of feedback on things our church does, whether it's my sermons or the music or some other choices I've made. I've been blessed to have had many people compliment me on the way things are done at our church. Occasionally, though, someone will have a criticism. And you know what? The criticisms are far more memorable than the compliments.

I think this is probably true for most people. It seems like 99 compliments can be swallowed up by one bit of criticism. It just goes to show you: for love to be love, it must be perfect. To feel loved, I can brook no criticism at all. In other words, it is only perfect love that can cast out fear.

So why are we still afraid of God?

To borrow the language of John's first letter, we fear because we "have not been perfected in love." Our love is still addicted to the reactions we get. I love the positive comments, but that love dies under the poison of criticism. In other words, our love is reactive. We love the things that appear to be loving us, and hate the things that we think hate us. We assume that because this is the way we relate to the rest of the world - and the way the world relates to us - this must be the way of God, too.

But God loves differently than we do; we love, in fact, "because he first loved us." That God loved us first means He loved us before our performance. When someone walks up to me, I reserve my love until I hear what they have to say. God lavishes His love on us whether we're good or bad, to Him or to one another. We are only capable of love because of this radical, one-way love of God, a love that doesn't depend on anything I might give or withhold.

Helping people live life with Jesus everyday,

Acts 13:39 Through him everyone who believes is set free from every sin, a justification you were not able to obtain under the law of Moses.

Andrea Bargnani, the number-one overall pick in the 2006 NBA Draft, was having a terrible season. So terrible, in fact, that he was being loudly booed by his home fans. Bargnani's case is certainly not unique. Underperforming players are often booed at home. But we have to ask: Does this strategy work?

In theory, home fans boo their own players to shame them into working harder. Some, of course, might be expressing simple hatred, but most fans would prefer that their players actually play well. So let's take a quick look at Bargnani's stats: he's shooting 47% from the field on the road and an absolutely horrific 30% at home.

The Apostle Paul said that "the law was brought in so that the trespass might increase" (Romans 5:20). This is evidenced by Andrea Bargbnani's stats at home. When subjected to the law (the chorus of boos that tells him he's not good enough), Barnani's performance is significantly worse. The law comes in, the respass increases. The more Bargnani is reminded of how terrible he is, the more terrible he becomes. The same is true of every one of us.

Christians have an outlet that Bargnani lacks: when we hit bottom, we have a Savior there to pick up the pieces, a Christ who substitutes His perfection for our failure. The more shots Bargnani misses, the more likely he is to be out of a job. The more we fail, the more likely we are to call for that Savior.

So what are we left with? Does the strategy work? Well, yes and no. The application of the law only works to weaken. Those who are oppressed perform significantly worse than they do otherwise. The law, remember, was brought in so that the trespass might increase. But for the Christian? The law works, absolutely. Paul again: "Therefore no one will be declared righteous in God's sight by the works of the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of our sin" (Romans 3:20).

Thank God Christ has come for failures.

--Helping people live life with Jesus everyday,

Genesis 9:8-11  Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him: 9 “I now establish my covenant with you and with your descendants after you 10 and with every living creature that was with you—the birds, the livestock and all the wild animals, all those that came out of the ark with you—every living creature on earth. 11 I establish my covenant with you: Never again will all life be destroyed by the waters of a flood; never again will there be a flood to destroy the earth.”

I don't know about you, but I don't particularly like what God said to Noah after the flood. I mean, I like part of it, I like the part with the rainbow and the whole not destroying the earth part, but if you look carefully at the reading, I think you'll notice two pretty nasty things. First of all, God only promised not to destroy the earth again with a flood. That's sort of like some one promising not to punch you in the nose again...with their left hand. It leaves some flexibility. It's not the most comforting thing in the world: "Never again will there be a flood to destroy the earth" (v. 11).

This is the part of God's covenant with Noah that we remember: the promise not to destroy the world with a flood. But has easily remembered is the fact that God told Noah that He will "demand an accounting" from both mankind and animals for how they conduct themselves on this newly clean earth.  God demanding an accounting is a scary thing.

But let's look at another covenant that God makes, this time with Abram. In Genesis 15, God told Abram to set up the butchered halves of several animals in the normal arrangement for covenant making. Ordinarily, both parties entering into a covenant would pass between the animals, implicitly saying that if they broke the covenant, they would end up with the animals.

But then God did something amazing: He put Abram to sleep and passed between the animals alone. He guaranteed both sides of this new covenant! This is the kind of deal God makes with us: instead of condemning His people for not living up to His standard, He comes Himself in the person of Jesus to suffer the consequences of our covenant breaking for us.

God says to us, "Our relationship doesn't depend on you. It depends on Me." And He shows His faithfulness in both calling for the accounting and the sending His Son, Jesus, to give the account. Through His atoning work, the account is settled.

--Helping people live life with Jesus everyday,

Luke 5:8 When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at Jesus' knees and said, "Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!"

When Simon Peter met Jesus for the first time, Jesus told the fisherman where to fish. When Simon let down his nets, he caught so many fish that he struggled to get the boat to shore. So what were Simon's first words to Jesus after this encounter? Did he say "Wow! How'd you know there'd be so many fish there? Is there a hidden camera around here somewhere? Are you the Fish Whisperer?" Simon said none of those things. He dropped to the floor of the boat in fron to Jesus and said, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!"

Now I'm going to suggest that this is not an overreaction. It certainly seems extreme to us, but we are unaccustomed to coming face-to-face with God. We've also become unaccustomed to thinking of ourselves as sinners. Neither is a very tasteful proposition, and we'd just prefer not to think about them. And yet, here's Simon, falling at the feet of Jesus and making this exclamation: "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!"

Once again we hear the two words of God. The first, an implicit word of judgment; it doesn't even need to be spoken. Christ's merer presence caused Simon Peter to acknowledge his sin. He exclaimed, "I am a sinful man!" But as always, the first word is never the last word. Jesus said to Simon, "Do not be afraid." The final word completely obliterated the first word. Peter came to the shore, dropped everything he had, and followed Jesus.

When we come face-to-face-with God, it's bad news. God's holiness, His perfection, His very being, causes us to say, "I'm not the person I want to be." Bad news. German theologian Rudolf Otto called this experience the mysterium tremendum, the moment of personal unraveling when overwhelmed by the glorious perfection of the divine. We cry out, "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man," and the good news is that God, knowing our hearts, knowing the depth of our selfishness, anger, frustration, and envy, hears our command to depart and simply says, "No."

He doesn't depart from us. Instead He draws near with words of comfort: "Do not be afraid."

--Helping people live life with Jesus everyday,

1 Peter 2:16 - Live as free people, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as God's slaves.

How do we use our freedom? Usually, it seems we use it pretty selfishly. A couple of years ago, LA Laker Andrew Bynum (an all-star center who plays close to the basket) took a ridiculous three-pointer in a game. It barely touched the rim, missing by a mile. Incensed, coach Mike Brown immediately called Bynum to the bench and put in a substitute.

"I'm good," Bynum said postgame. "I guess 'Don't take threes' is the message, but I'm going to take another one and I'm going to take some more, so I just hope it's not the same result. Hopefully, I make it."

So there you have it - message received, freedom asserted, and message ignored. People think that punishment will correct behavior. Andrew Bynum's postgame comments illustrate a competing (though more accurate) truth - punishment incites rebellion. The law asks for a certain behavior. Bynum got it right, don't take threes. When it doesn't get what it's looking for, the law inflicts punishment, hoping that a program of reeducation will produce better results the next time. Unfortunately, as Christian theologians have always noted, the law is much better at asking for a result than it is at achieving it.

Martin Luther likened the relationship of the law to the results of a lion held down by steel bands. As the lion fights against the bands, the tighter the bands become and the more viciously the lion fights. We fear freeing the lion because of the ferocity with which it strains, forgetting that, all the while, the lion is fighting the bands, not us. Released, the lion has nothing to struggle against and will likely cease its struggling.

The true freedom of grace overwhelms the asserted freedom that we shout in the face of the law. Here's real independence: the freedom that comes from the Savior who has kept the law in our place, allowing us to live and delivering us from bondage.

Helping people live life with Jesus everyday,

Romans 7:19  For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do - this I keep on doing>

In the 2011 film Terri, John C. Reilly plays a high school assistant principal. In one central scene, he's caught by a student in a lie. When confronted, Reilly's character responds in an interesting way. He shifts the focus away from the lie and tells the kid a story about a temp who's working in the school because his secretary is very sick and in the hospital. he says, just that morning the temp had, through a series of sideways questions, tried to figure out just how sick the regular secretary was, because she would really like the job for herself. In a deep, dark secret place that she likely won't even admit to herself, Reilly says, a part of this temp wants the regular secretary to die. It'll get her the job.

When the secretary does die, and the temp finds out that she will be hired permanently, the temp makes a big show of being sad, even though she's happy about the job. Reilly finishes his story with these words: "Life's a mess, dude... Maybe I will do better or maybe I'll do even worse. I don't know. I screw up all the time, 'cause that's what people do."

We think, as Reilly's temp does, that the important thing is how we appear. We know when it's appropriate to be sad, and so we make our display. We know we're supposed to love our neighbor, so we act the part. But Reilly (and, usually, the people in our lives too) see right through us. We are significantly more transparent than we believe we are, and everyone know inherently that what's most important is what's inside us.

And then Reilly admits that, ultimately, he's just like his temp. He messes up. He does his best, but he's likely to keep messing up. This is true of enlightened guidance-counselor types and this is true of Christians. We screw up all the time, 'cause that's what people do. It reminds me of the saying, "People are bad, and Christians are people." Simple, yet profound.

As usual, the best news for us is the good news, and the good news is only good if it's true for Christians, too. Jesus said that the healthy don't need a doctor.

Helping people live life with Jesus everyday,

Romans 11:33 Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out!

Normally, the outdoorsy image of choice for spiritual growth is mountain climbing. You can picture it - new Christian at the bottom of the mountain, mature Christian near the top. But perhaps we should be looking at it as spelunking.

Spelunking is cave exploration, and it's another way to think about spiritual growth. Instead of thinking of growth in Christ as a climb up a mountain, let's think of it as a trip into a cave. When a mountain climbing expedition gets higher and higher (and as Christians, we might be tempted to think, better and better, however we define better0, a caving exploration goes deeper and deeper, exploring the undiscovered depths. Spiritual growth is not about climbing a mountain, getting better, and therefore needing Christ less and less. Spiritual growth is about discovering more and bigger caverns of need into which more and more of Christ's grace can flow. We think spiritual growth is about height, when spiritual growth is about width. We think it's about the heights we've attained when, in truth, it's about the depth of our need.

True growth as a Christian involves recognizing that there is always another cavern to explore. There's always another crevasse of self-centeredness or stalactite of jealousy. The light of Jesus shines into deeper and darker corners and proclaims, "Yes, I can redeem this, too." True growth as a Christian means realizing that all the climbing we need to do is down into the depths.

We hear, "For God so loved the world that He gave his one and only son that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life," and we think, "Got it! Simple! What's next?" The Bible answers, "Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation" (1 Peter 2:2). It is this milk, the simplicity of the gospel message, that grows us into a deeper awareness of our desperation and therefore a deeper awareness of our deliverance.

-Helping people live life with Jesus everyday,