What Are You Wearing?

Pain. Fear. Frustration. Disappointment. Disillusionment. Insecurity. Uncertainty. These are all parts of a heavy burden that we wear like a coat every day. Picture this coat like a strait jacket. The primary characteristics of this coat are its weight and restrictiveness. The weight is oppressive and emotionally exhausting to carry every day. Everything in life takes so much more energy and effort because of the emotional weight resting on the shoulders of the wearer. Another trait of this strait jacket is its restrictive nature. A strait jacket straps a person’s arms across their abdomen and fastens them in place. This creates a posture that makes it difficult to go through life.

 First of all, it limits a person’s interaction with other people. We are called to reach out to those around us to lift up, encourage, and comfort them in the times of trouble. A person wearing the strait jacket of emotional burden can only embrace himself. Think about it. How are we to comfort those in our lives when we are buried under our own burdens. How can we toss out a life preserver when we ourselves are drowning? Furthermore, a person in a strait jacket, even when trying to comfort other people, can only lean against that person. That’s not exactly the kind of comfort a person in need is looking for.

It also restricts a person’s posture in how he relates to his Savior. When we go to the alter to pray, our posture is all wrong if we’re wearing out strait jacket. How can we seriously ask God for anything with our arms crossed? And how can we receive anything from God with that posture?  When I was a child, I was taught to pray with my eyes closed and my hands folded. This was because children are extremely distractible. Now when I pray, I picture myself standing or kneeling with my face turned towards heaven and with my arms outstretched and my hands open with my palms up. This posture is very important because it is the posture of both giving and receiving. When we take this posture before the alter, we are prepared to give freely of ourselves to God and we are ready to receive his blessings. One can neither give nor receive while wearing a heavy, burdensome, strait jacket.

So the question then becomes, how do we approach the alter with the proper posture? The first impulse is to take off the jacket and hang it up in the coat room on the way into the sanctuary. That seems reasonable because it’s not polite to wear a coat in someone’s house and now you’re free to assume the proper posture. So you stand before the alter prepared to give and receive. You say amen and pick up your strait jacket on the way out. You are still unable to minister to your fellow man because of the burden of your coat.

Let’s talk for a moment about the alter. In the old testament, the alter was used to offer burnt sacrifices to God in atonement for sin. Now days, we don’t offer burnt sacrifices because the price for our sin has already been paid. Jesus died on the cross as a sacrifice for our sin. There’s nothing that we can offer that can better atone for our sins then the sacrifice that Jesus has already made. So why do we still talk about the alter? I think the alter is still there for us to sacrifice the things that we think have no business being in God’s temple. The things like Pain, Fear, Frustration, Disappointment, Disillusionment, Insecurity and Uncertainty. All the things our strait jacket of burden is made of. We take that coat off because we don’t want to take it to God. We don’t feel like we have a right to bring it to God. We think that the strait jacket is our burden to bear. It’s not.

 I think that the alter is there for that strait jacket. God wants us to lay our burdens on his alter and leave them there for him to bear. Once we give him our burdensome coat, he wants to give us a new coat. This coat is made of his love and lined with his hope. It gives the wearer full range of motion, full use of his arms. Once we put on this coat, we can wrap our arms around people so that they can feel the warmth of God’s love. We can reach out and help them carry their burdens. We can be the light of the world, the salt of the earth that we have been called to be. When people look at us, they won’t see people bent under the burdens of life and wrapped up in their own problems. They will see someone clothed in the righteousness of God, wrapped in his loving arms, and snuggled in the hope of salvation.

Now, it’s easy to think that this is a one and done process. It’s easy to say, “Ok, I’ve laid the strait jacket on the alter and donned the warmth of God’s love. I’m good. I’ll have nothing but blue skies and sunshine for the rest of my life.” I want to make myself clear. The process I’ve just described is not salvation. The strait jacket of burden is a device that the devil uses to keep God’s people from being effective in this fallen world. That means that when you leave the alter, Satan is going to be waiting outside to talk you into a new strait jacket. “Hey, I see you lost your coat. No worries. I have a new one for you. Check it out. It’s cut from the same cloth as your old one. I know you must miss it. Here, just let me help you put it back on.”

My point is, there’s always going to be material available for a new strait jacket. That just means you’re going to have to spend a lot of time before the alter. 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 says “Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is Gods will for you who belong to Christ.” (NLT)

 Every time you start to feel the weight of the strait jacket on your shoulders, Pray. Every time you feel the pushing of the Holy Spirit to reach out to someone you love, reach out and then pray. Every time you feel your joy slipping away, Pray. Exercise the muscles that allow you to show God to the world.  We are instructed to pray without ceasing so that we are constantly in a position to lay our burdens on the alter so that we can show the love a Christ to the world. That’s how you keep the strait jacket off and keep people asking, “What are you wearing?”

Self Imprisonment- It's as ridiculous as it sounds

Rodger sat in his cold concrete cell passing the time as he had for years. he paged through the book he had gotten from the book cart although he didn’t find it to be particularly interesting. He stared out the small window high on the west wall and watched the birds fly back and forth on their ever important errands. He scratched designs and shapes into the drab dreary paint on the rough cinder block walls alongside the markings of the previous occupants. It was a boring life that he lived all within the narrow confines of the small cold enclosure.

He deserved to be there, and he knew it. The land was governed by ten simple laws and he had broken most of them. He had come to accept his fate as the natural conclusion of the life he had chosen to live. His future would only exist within this prison. He would have no more opportunities to make his was in the world. He had only to live out his natural life in confinement and die. This was his lot in life and he had accepted it.

One day, as he sat paging through his assigned book, he heard a knock at his cell door followed closely be the clanging of the lock. The door slid open to the left and there in the opening stood the prison warden, Lucifer. The warden stood to one side, revealing a man in a black suit and a blue paisley tie.

“Hello there, Rodger,” the man in the paisley tie greeted him. “I am hear from the president’s office. he has offered you a pardon for all infractions, both past and future. All you have to do is accept it and you are free to go.”

Rodger sat on the edge of his steel framed cot with a look of sheer shock on his face. Surely there had been a mistake. He did not deserve a pardon. He was scum. He knew this because the warden had told him so every day since his incarceration. Surely, the man in the paisley tie was wrong.

“Look, Rodger,” the man continued. “I have a pretty good idea of what’s going through your head right now. You don’t think you deserve a pardon. You’re right. No one deserves a pardon. But that has no bearing on the president’s desire to offer you one. He’s offered pardons to thousands of prisoners. Millions even, and many of them don’t accept their pardons because they know they don’t deserve them. But don’t let their decisions color yours. There’s a life waiting for you outside this cell. All you have to do is sign the paperwork and walk out.”

Rodger got up from his cot and walked over to the cell door. He took the outstretched clipboard and signed his name at the bottom of the page. Th man in the tie gave a satisfied smile and tucked the clipboard under his left arm.

“Rodger,” he addressed the prisoner. “You are a free man. Now, go and live the life of freedom your president desires for you.”

The man walked down the prison corridor and waited in front of another cell. The warden stepped to the side to allow Rodger to exit his cell. Rodger turned towards the exit but stopped as the warden looked into his eyes. Rodger felt uncomfortable. The joy and elation he had felt at his release faded in the face of the warden’s cold judgmental gaze.

“Well, Scum,” the warden began. “I guess it’s your lucky day. You’re a free man, as they say. You and I both know that you don’t deserve freedom. No one on this block does. You’re free to walk out of here because the president says you are but, don’t forget where you belong. I’m going to leave this cell door open. When you are out there living your life, you’re going to remember that you are living a life you don’t deserve. When that happens, I want you back in this cell because this is where you belong.”

Rodger stared into the warden’s eyes for a few seconds as he tried to shake what he had just heard. Finally, he slipped past the warden and left the building. He was a free man. His life had a purpose now. He didn’t have to live in bondage anymore. He walked to the parking lot and found a car waiting for him.

The car took him to a halfway house for recently pardoned prisoners. Rodger was surprised at how many people were there. They all had stories very similar to his own. The people who ran the halfway house helped him secure a job and an apartment. They helped him learn how to interact with people again. They were exactly what Rodger needed to forget the warden’s cold indifference. These people cared. They loved Rodger and wanted to help him succeed.

Months went by, and Rodger succeeded. Eventually, years went by and Rodger found himself relying less and less on the proprietors of the halfway house. Ultimately, self-sufficiency was their goal so they were happy to see him doing so well. Rodger met a woman and fell in love. He and his wife had a child. Rodger’s career continued to advance.

 Rodger looked up from his desk on day and took in the family picture he kept at the office. He realized that he was living the life he had always wanted. And he remembered what the warden had said. You’re going to remember that you are living a life you don’t deserve. You’ll remember that you belong in here. Rodger shook the warden’s words from his head. Nobody deserved the life they lived, but everyone lived the life that the president wanted for them. That’s what Rodger had been told at the halfway house. The president wanted freedom for his citizens. That’s why he offered the pardons to everyone.

Rodger sat back  and thought over the last ten years since his release. He had done well, but not as well as he thought that he would. When he left the prison, he had told himself that he would never break the law again, but he had. He had been guilty of countless infractions since his release. The reality of his guilt weighed on him. He reached for the phone on his desk and called his wife. He told her that he wouldn’t be home that night or the night after. In fact, he wouldn’t be home until after work on the following Monday. He didn’t explain why, because he didn’t think she’d understand.

After work, he got into his car and drove to the prison. He walked into the booking center and addressed the person behind the counter.

“You don’t have to introduce yourself, Scum,” and gravelly voice cut him off. “I remember who you are. Your cell is waiting.”

Rodger recognized the warden’s accusing tone. The face of the counter clerk wasn’t that of the warden, but the voice was unmistakable. Rodger took the tan jumpsuit and stepped into a privacy booth to change. He put his three-piece suit into a paper bag along with his silver watch, briefcase, and wallet. He left his personal property with the clerk and walked through the open door to the prison block corridor. He found his cell in no time. It was just as he had left it. He walked through the open cell door and collapsed on the thin mattress of the cold steel bed. He buried his face in the musty pillow and cried himself to sleep.

He woke up to the sound of a stainless steel tray sliding across the hard concrete floor.

“Breakfast is served, Scum,” the warden’s voice sounded from the hallway. “Eat up. Guilt is no good on an empty stomach.”

Rodger looked up and was surprised to see that the warden was nowhere to be seen. The person who had addressed him was the woman pushing the food service cart. However, the voice was unmistakably the warden’s.

Rodger reached for the heavy tray and surveyed the meal before him. There was a mound of mush alongside a pile of scrambled eggs that weren’t quite the right color. Rodger picked up the plastic sport and plunged it into the mush and took a bite. He had almost gagged. The mush was thick, flavorless and was room temperature. He stabbed a chunk of the eggs and had a similar experience. He had forgotten how miserable the food of prison was. He took a deep breath and powered through. He deserved to be there, and he was going to take all the punishment that was in store for him, including the food.

Rodger spent the whole weekend in his cell remembering how much he didn’t deserve the freedom he had experienced of the last ten years. On Monday morning, he hit the showers and retrieved his personal affects from the counter clerk. He slid his suit jacket over his shoulders and turned towards the exit.

“See you next weekend, Scum,” the warden’s voice echoed from behind the counter.

Rodger paused for a moment before pushing through the heavy steel doors. He breathed a heavy sigh of resignation as he realized that the warden was right. He would be back behind bars for the next weekend.

Rodger was back behind bars the following weekend. In fact, he checked himself into the prison every weekend for the next six months. Even then, he didn’t feel it was enough. He still lived a life he didn’t deserve from Monday morning until Friday night. He knew he deserved to stay in prison all week, but he had responsibilities to his family. His time behind bars mystified his wife. She had also been pardoned and knew they were both living a life they didn’t deserve. However, she was content to live in the freedom provided by her pardon. Finally, one Friday afternoon, she dropped her son off at her mother’s house and went to her husband’s office.

Rodger walked out of his office building and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of his wife.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her.

“I’m here to make sure that you come home,” his wife replied. “I’m sick and tired of you spending every weekend in jail when your pardon covered everything.”

“Don’t you understand?” Rodger pressed. “I deserve to be behind bars. I have continued to fail since I was released. I still belong behind bars.”

“Why do you think you belong behind bars?” she challenged him. “You were pardoned! You are free! Who told you that you’re not?”

“Nobody,” Rodger shrugged. “I know I’m free. But the warden says that I belong behind bars and you now what? He’s right! I don’t deserve freedom!”

At this statement, Rodger’s wife grabbed him by the lapels of his suit jacket and pulled his face close to hers. She looked deep into his eyes and spoke slowly as if to ensure that Rodger heard everything she had to say.

“I know you don’t deserve freedom,” she began through clenched teeth. “No one deserves freedom. But that doesn’t mean that you belong in prison. We were pardoned. Everyone who lives a free life was pardoned. We belong in freedom because the president said we do. The warden doesn’t make the rules. He told me the same thing he told you. He’s wrong. A free man does not belong in prison. Come home with me and live in freedom.”

Rodger stood there, looking into the eyes of the woman he loved. He heard what she said but he wasn’t sure she had it right. Maybe she had obeyed the law since her pardon. In her case, it made sense for her to live in freedom, but not his. No, he deserved to live in prison. He tried to pull away from her, but her grasp tightened.

“Do you think your freedom was free?” she asked him as her tone tightened. “Do you know what the president had to do to get us our pardons? He gave up his son! His only son was executed in exchange for our freedom and you have the gall to tell him that his pardon isn’t good enough?”

“Wait,” Rodger stuttered. “You mean to tell me that my pardon was paid for?”

“Yes! And every minute you spend behind bars is a slap in the face to the man who paid for it,” his wife exclaimed. “Now come home. You don’t belong in prison. Your freedom was bought and paid for and the warden no longer has power over you. The only power he has is the power you give him. The cell door is always open because he no longer has the power to lock it! It doesn’t matter what he says. That cell doesn’t belong to you anymore.”

Rodger stood for a moment before nodding his head.

“You’re right, dear. Let’s go home.”

I hope you enjoyed my little story. Here’s the message I was trying to convey. We are free from the shackles of sin thanks to the sacrifice of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. However, we often live our lives convincing ourselves that we live a life of freedom that’s not ours because we are in possession of a pardon we don’t deserve. These two concepts are not mutually inclusive. We don’t deserve the salvation we’ve been given but we are called to live in freedom from the shackles of our past lives. We as Christians need to stop walking back into the cells we were freed from just because the warden is telling us that we belong there. Jesus Christ told us we don’t.

“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery” -Galatians 5:1

“Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God.” -1 Peter 2:16

The Retirement of 2017

2017 walked into the large gray structure before him. He was retired. His time was up.  2018 was taking over. People were saying terrible things about him. They were acting like everything that happened while he was in charge was his fault. Everyone was looking forward to the next year like things could only get better. Needless to say, 2017 did not feel good about this. He heaved a sigh of disappointment and made his way to the front desk.

"Hello," welcomed the cheery receptionist with an all-to-prominent smile. "Welcome to the Annual Retirement Center. How can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah," 2017 sighed. "I'm 2017. I guess I need to check in or something."

"Oh! It's great to have you!" The receptionist replied with excessive enthusiasm. "We've been expecting you. Took a while to decide to come in, huh? That's pretty normal. Retirement can be a real ordeal for some years."

"Just some years?" 2017 self-consciously inquired.

"Well," the receptionist responded with her voice thick with understanding. "Some years are just ready to retire. For instance, 1941 and 2001 couldn't wait to get checked in. They had such exhausting careers. The 1920's, however, were angry to be retiring. They just wanted to keep in roaring. The Great Depression put things into perspective for them real quick."

"I see," 2017 replied as he signed the paperwork on the desk before him. "Thanks."

The receptionist nodded as the newly retired year made his way towards a vacant rocking chair in the center of the room. He sank into the chair and closed his eyes. He had a hard career in a lot of ways, but he thought he had done well. There were a lot of people who had a great year but their accolades had been drowned out by all the complaints of the unsatisfied customers. A lot of people were born in his year, but all people were talking about were the lives that had expired. 

"It's not like I choose who's up for expiration," 2017 muttered under his breath. "I get my orders from the Minister of Lifetime Durations just like every other year. I just have to do what I'm told."

The fact of the matter is that for every bad thing that happened under his watch, there were two or three good things that happened. People just don't always see the good. 

"Hey there," 2017's train of thought was interrupted. "You're new here. You must be 2017."

"Yup, that's me," 2017 replied as he turned towards the stranger. "The worst year in history."

The whole room erupted in laughter, much to 2017's surprise.

"I'm 2016," the year held out his hand in friendship. "I'm the previous owner of that title. This right here is 2015. He claimed that title before me. The fact of the matter is, there are precious few residents of this establishment that haven't been labeled as the worst year ever. All the way back to 2000 B.C., when Adam and Eve decided to eat the forbidden fruit, people have been looking forward to the next year after 'the worst year in history.' It's human nature."

"He's not kidding," a particularly weathered year chimed in. "One minute, people were hailing me as the year that brought the most significant technilogical advancements in history. The next, they were condemning me for being the year that saw the most collateral loss of life in a war."

"I'm sorry, but I don't recognize you," 2017 addressed the old year. "What's your name?"

"1945," the year responded. "The thing is, both statements are true, to a certain extent."

"You're the year that saw the creation and use of the atomic bomb?" 2017 questioned. "How do you live with that? People have been questioning those decisions for decades."

1945 shrugged as 2016 chimed in. 

"It's not his fault," he explained. "We are all just time that has run out. Everyone here is 365 or 366 days that existed purely for the use of humanity. None of us got to choose how we were used. That's up to the people. We were just a resource that humanity tapped for good and evil. 1859 saw the commercialization of oil in the United States. People hailed him as a hero among years. Now their blaming him for global warming. 1993 saw the creation of the European Union. People thought he was great. Now they're not so sure. There are a lot of years that were hailed as great who now exist in the disdain of humanity."

"Why is that?" 2017 questioned as he shook his head.

"People are fickle," 1989 replied. "People are always looking ahead to the next big thing. I oversaw the invention of the flip phone."

"The what?" 2017 asked, dumfounded.

"Exactly," 1989 laughed. "One upgrade after another and suddenly the flip phone is a relic of history. Human beings have developed into an upgrade species. The worst part is that they  see all upgrades as good. With the rise of the smart phone, true human interaction has declined to record lows. But people don't see the dangers because they've 'upgraded.' 2018 is just the next upgrade, therefore, in the minds of the people, he must be better than you."

"Will he be better than me?" 2017 self consciously asked of the years around him.

"Well, look around you," 2007 replied from his place at the pool table. "You're surrounded by thousands of years who were supposed to be better than the last. Precious few of us are, at no fault of our own. As '16 said, we're just a commodity at the disposal of humanity. It's up to them."

"I'll tell you one thing," 1517 interjected. "They're never going to make anything of 2018 without God. The problem with humanity is that they keep trying to make each year better than the last without help from the source of all good. The world has had some great years, but these years were not great purely on the merit of those living at the time. The only one who can make the years great is the one living outside of time. The greatest years here are the ones that saw the most dedicated service to the Lord of the universe."

"People don't believe in God anymore," 2017 argued. "The days of Martin Luther are long gone."

"I'm going to have to disagree with you on that one," came an interjection from the far corner.

"Who are you to disagree with me?" 2017 inquired with impatience thick in his voice. "I literally just retired. I should know what people believe in."

"I'm 54 AD," the year replied patiently. "I have the unfortunate distinction of watching Nero come to power in Rome. I was forced to watch as he destroyed my legacy by brutally killing everyone who claimed to follow God. I spent many a sleepless night assuming that this brand new religion was quickly entering into extinction. But Christianity is the largest religion in the world. Do you know why that is? It's because people still believe in God."

"So," 2017 sighed, having been soundly put in his place by the years around him. "What's the play? What's retirement like for us?"

"Here's the play, '17," 2016 replied with an encouraging smile. "We root for the home team. We're history. We're here for people to look back on. 2018 doesn't have a chance of being the best year ever unless we are available for humanity to learn from. As the saying goes, those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it. And let me tell you, there are a lot of us who have an uncanny resemblance to each other. Maybe, just maybe, enough people will look back and enough people will trust God to make 2018 one of the greats by the time he joins us in retirement."