Gospel of Matthew

Drop Your Nets

January 30, 2020 By Michelle 7 Comments

Last weekend I read the story in Matthew 4 of Jesus’ call to Peter, Andrew, James and John to follow him and become his disciples. “Come,” Jesus said to the fishermen. “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.”

Matthew tells us that all four men immediately dropped their nets, left their boats and followed Jesus, and I wondered, in that moment, what Jesus might be asking me to leave behind in order to follow him. My initial response was, “Nothing.” After all, I reasoned, last year was the year of leaving things behind. I quit book publishing, I quit writing my monthly column for the local newspaper, I quit speaking. I let so much go; surely there couldn’t be more to release, right?

In addition to the Year of Quitting Everything, 2019 was also a season of deep soul-searching. I read several spiritual and secular “self-help” books, re-entered counseling and filled journal after journal with questions and reflections. I was on a quest, a pilgrimage of sorts, to uncover my true, God-created self, and I was determined to leave no stone unturned. It was an exhilarating, gratifying, transformational season.

Research is my sweet spot, my comfortable place. Nothing makes me happier than gathering facts, evidence, knowledge and answers – especially, it turns out, when my research topic is my own self. I dove into my year of self-discovery with gusto. But here’s what I am realizing about my desire for knowledge, information, clarity and answers: it is, ironically, yet one more way I keep myself at arm’s length from my own self, from others and from God.

There is nothing inherently damaging about [most] self-help books (spiritual or secular). There’s nothing wrong with looking to the guru of the day for guidance and insights. Many offer a tremendous depth of wisdom and compassion, and I learned a lot from what I read this past year. The problem arises, however, when this quest for knowledge and insight becomes both another distraction – a way to avoid – and a means to control.

As long as I assume I can find the answer – the way – “out there,” I don’t have to sit with what’s right here in the deepest part of myself.

When I heard Jesus tell me to drop my nets, I realized he was asking me to drop what had become a safety net. “Come, follow me,” he said. He was asking me to leave my desire for clarity and direction behind in order to walk alongside him in trust, regardless of whether or not I know where we are going.

Jesus didn’t give the disciples any direction when he called them. He didn’t point out which way they were headed; he didn’t offer any clear insights or answers or even hint about where they were going. He said nothing other than, “Come, follow me,” along with the cryptic, “and I will make you fish for people.” Jesus’ presence was answer enough, and he asked his disciples to trust him with that single piece of evidence.

Nets can offer us safety, but safety is not always the better way. What looks like safety can end up entangling us. What looks like security can keep us from the true freedom into which God invites us.

It is good and right to be attentive to God’s movement in our lives, but it is also good and right to trust that he will make the way known without our grasping or pushing, without our seeking or striving – without, in fact, a lot of effort on our part at all. This is not complacency or apathy, but rather, a receiving, a yielding – a surrendering in confident trust that God is putting everything right with us and for us.

As I am learning, there’s always more to leave behind; there’s always something else to drop. Each time we release, we come closer alongside God.

When You Forget You Don’t Have to be Perfect

November 10, 2015 By Michelle 14 Comments

ImperfectLeaf

When I first returned to God and faith after a long time-out, I expected everything about me to be radically transformed as a result of my conversion. Once I claimed my faith, I assumed I would become A Topnotch Christian.

I was quickly disabused of that notion.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that although I’d proclaimed my faith in God, I was still the same flawed, fallible person I’d always been: prone to judge, glass half-empty, quick-tempered, impatient (I could go on).

For a while my solution to this dilemma was simply to work harder. I strove to pray more often; to worship more authentically; to love even the most irritating people; to be positive and grateful; to follow all the rules.

You can probably guess how that worked out.

“Teacher, what good deed must I do to have eternal life?” (Matthew 19:16, my italics) the rich man asked Jesus. I believe the rich man’s intentions were mostly good when he asked Jesus this question. I believe he truly wanted to prove his faith and thought he needed to do something to make that happen.

Exasperated by the rich man’s badgering, Jesus set him straight. “If you want to be perfect,” he said, “sell all your possessions, give the money to the poor, and then come back and follow me.” (19:21)

Of course this wasn’t what the rich man wanted to hear, and so he slunk away, unwilling to release his tight-fisted grip on his worldly possessions.

holey leaf

Corn

Noah walking

On one level, this story is clearly about the fact that the rich man valued his money over a true relationship with God. Yet I also think Jesus has a deeper message for us in this story, specifically in these six words: “If you want to be perfect…” (19:21)

Jesus knew he was asking the impossible of the rich man, not only because the man was unwilling to part with his possessions, but also because achieving perfection via our own merit is simply impossible.

The truth is, no matter how diligently we follow the rules, no matter how ambitiously we strive to live like Jesus, we will always fail. No matter how hard we work to earn our eternal salvation, we will always fall short.

Perfection is impossible.

half yellow leaf

corn husks

oak leaf

autumn path

It sounds pretty hopeless, doesn’t it? That was certainly the disciples’ reaction when they heard the conversation between Jesus and the rich man. “Who in the world can be saved then?” (19:25) they asked Jesus.

Jesus’ answer to his dismayed disciples is the deeper lesson in this story: “Humanly speaking, it is impossible. But with God everything is possible.” (19:26, italics mine)

The answer, in a word, to the question of how in the world we can be saved, is grace.

This story about Jesus and the rich man is, at its core, a lesson about grace.

Humanly speaking, it’s impossible for us to enter the Kingdom of Heaven on our own merit. But with God, the possibilities are endless. God’s grace makes us pure and unblemished in his eyes.

Grace is the exception to the rule. Grace is the exception to the impossible.

Like a Jar of Expensive Perfume

January 26, 2015 By Michelle Leave a Comment

viola

Recently my nine-year-old son Rowan, a beginner violist, attempted to tune his instrument before performing a Christmas “concert” for his grandparents. After an hour of fruitless fiddling and many frustrated tears, Rowan finally allowed my dad to call a local music shop for help. They found someone willing to squeeze them in that afternoon.

Two hours later Rowan burst through the front door with a tuned viola. “The guy even did it for free!” he exclaimed, as he rosined the bow and prepared to play.

Later I learned that the music store employee had refused to accept payment for the tuning, but my dad had handed him a ten-dollar bill anyway, “just to say thanks.” The employee had gone out of his way, my dad pointed out, and had been generous with his time just two days before Christmas, on undoubtedly one of his busiest days of the year.

…I’m writing about the gift of money over at The High Calling as part of their week’s series on Paying Well. Will you join me over there for the rest of this story?

Hear It on Sunday: Use It on Monday: Praying for a Joseph-Sized Faith

December 9, 2013 By Michelle 26 Comments

Joseph was one crazy-courageous guy, that’s all I have to say. Think about his situation for a minute. Happily engaged to be married to his young sweetheart Mary, he learns that she’s pregnant, ostensibly with another man’s child. Rather than make a big fuss and create a scandal, Joseph decides to quietly break it off with Mary — until, that is, an angel of the Lord appears to him in a dream.

“Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife,” the angel tells Joseph. “For the child within her was conceived by the Holy Spirit. She will have a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” (Matthew 1:20-21)

Surprise number one: Joseph actually believes what the angel in his dream is telling him is true.

Surprise number two: Joseph listens to the angel and obeys.

Surprise number three: Joseph doesn’t waver, even though he was undoubtedly ridiculed and disdained for his decision.

I regret a lot of decisions I’ve made in my life, but one in particular stands out. I regret the day I heard from God and failed to listen and obey.

Two years ago this February, a week before my father-in-law died, Brad asked me to drive up to Minnesota with him to visit his dad. My mom was in town, ready and willing to hold down the fort, but I said no. I said no despite the fact that I knew I should go. I said no despite the fact that I clearly felt the Holy Spirit prompting me to say yes.

That weekend I let my husband drive seven hours alone to Minnesota, say goodbye to his father for the last time, and drive seven hours alone back to Nebraska. I passed on the opportunity both to be with Brad in his grief and to tell my father-in-law in person that I loved him. It is a decision I deeply regret.

I made plenty of excuses for myself. I needed to stay home with the kids because they were stressed and sad about their grandfather dying. I needed to help my mom. I needed to stay on top of the household responsibilities. But the truth is, I was afraid. I’d witnessed my mother-in-law in her last stages of cancer barely more than a year before, and it had frightened me. Death, I knew from that experience, wasn’t all peace and prayers and quiet comfort like it is on TV. Death was ugly, and it scared me and I didn’t want to see it face-to-face again.

So I said no. I felt the Holy Spirit nudge me – no, kick me, hard, right in the backside – and I said no. I didn’t face the frightening, overwhelming circumstances like Joseph did, in trust and faith. Instead, I turned my back and walked the other way.

I know Brad didn’t hold my decision against me then, and he doesn’t now. I know Jon understood why I wasn’t there, and I know he didn’t judge me for it. And I know, too, that God’s all-encompassing grace covers every last one of my bad decisions, my regrets and even my faithless nos. But still, when I read this story, I wish I’d had Joseph’s bold courage that weekend in February. I wish I’d had his faith.

Questions for Reflection:
Do you feel like you have a Joseph-sized faith? And if not, what do you think is holding you back? Fear? Distrust? Uncertainty? Something else?

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Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: Get Your Heart and Mind Put Right

November 3, 2013 By Michelle 28 Comments

Last week was a difficult one for me spiritually. At a conference I came face-to-face with my greatest temptation – to be known, valued and deemed important by the people I admire – and I succumbed to that temptation. Again. It was painful and disheartening, and I left the conference not only questioning whether I was capable of living out my calling as a Christian writer, but also unable to hear God. I felt like a dried-out husk, empty, brittle and alone.

That’s why I was particularly surprised when I awoke the next morning and suddenly began to see God everywhere. In the rising sun illuminating the elm leaves in my backyard a brilliant gold. In a boy wrapped in a fleece blanket and cocooned against my side on the couch. In a man and his dog jogging jauntily past me on the path.

At first I thought it was simply that the noise of the conference – the people and the speakers and the worship music – had dissipated, allowing a more contemplative gratitude to slide into place. And that was part of it for sure. But later, after I read our lesson for today, I realized it was something more.

I like to read The Message version of the Bible, particularly for a passage I’ve heard over and over again, like the Beatitudes. When I read today’s lesson – “God blesses those whose hearts are pure, for they will see God” – in my usual translation (New Living), I didn’t come away with much. I struggled to dig beneath the language that was as familiar and comfortable as my favorite sweater.

But then I opened The Message and read this:

“You’re blessed when you get your inside world – your mind and heart – put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.” (Matthew 5:8)

The Message infused the familiar verse with a new, fresh and more personal meaning. Suddenly I understood what a “pure heart” meant – not simply unblemished and unflawed, but transformed, realigned and made right again.

In the airport between connections and on the flight home from the conference, I’d had a heart-to-heart with God. In that process, he began to untangle the threads of sin that had wrapped themselves so tightly around my heart. God did some hard work in my heart and mind during those hours in transit, work which ultimately helped clear the path back to him.

I didn’t realize it at the time – that’s often the way it is when God is working hard in me – but by the next morning, my heart and mind, my inside world, were put right: realigned with and focused on God. And with my inside world put right, I was finally able to see God in the outside world again.

Questions for Reflection:
Can you think of a time when you had to get your heart and mind put right in order to really see God? What impediments in your life right now might be blocking your ability to see him?