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- Written by: Don Goulding
This is what the Sovereign LORD says: I am about to desecrate my sanctuary—the stronghold in which you take pride, the delight of your eyes, the object of your affection. (Ezekiel 24:21) (NIV)
When I was seven, Dad modified a used bicycle for me. He added a horizontal bar to make it into a boy’s bike and installed training wheels.
I jumped in excitement. It didn’t take long to outgrow the training wheels, and they were removed. Next came the dismount. I developed a system of circling our cul-de-sac and yelling, “Mom,” until she ran out and grabbed the bike so I didn’t fall over.
Now my heavenly Father is teaching me to pedal a faith that doesn’t need earthly affections. One by one he knocks away the training wheels until I am cruising on faith alone.
God told the Israelites he was about to desecrate the temple, the object of their affection. A temple was a sacred place ordained by God himself, but he was to be the target of their affections, not his temple. There are many wholesome gifts from God—family, ministries, traditions—but when my affections rest on them, instead of on the Lord, they are training wheels to remove.
Father asked me if he was enough for me. When I said yes, he asked me to quit my career so it wouldn’t come between us. Then he asked me to sell a beautiful house, then to leave a pastorate I enjoyed. He desecrated my temples. Today he asks me to hold ministry plans loosely so they don’t become the targets of my primary affection.
Affections are like pigeons seeking a place to land. Remove the tree and they’ll settle on the bench, remove the bench and they’ll circle around to the statue. My affections are always looking for something to land on, and I have to make sure they rest only on Jesus.
Prayer: Savior, remove my affections for everything except you.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
But since you excel in everything—in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in complete earnestness and in the love we have kindled in you—see that you also excel in this grace of giving. (2 Corinthians 8:7) (NIV)
“You not come today. We are watched. Sorry, sorry.”
The phone clicked, went silent, and our speaking engagement with an underground church was canceled. Unsanctioned meetings were illegal in China. The government had already imprisoned one member of this Christian cell group and they were looking for others. The Chinese believers I met took risks to come together, and they wept for the joy of fellowship. Would I be as devoted in their situation?
The threat of imprisonment in China separates the faithful from the faithless. The test of loyalty in my culture is very different. It’s often a test of material generosity.
In the passage above, Paul lists indicators of grace at work—faith (yes I have pretty good faith), speech (my language is mostly okay), knowledge (I read the Bible), complete earnestness (well, I try), and love (I’m better now than before). Then he lays out the ultimate litmus test—do I give money?
Money is essential in our world, so it’s a great test of my loyalty to Christ. And the answer is in black and white. All the rest is soft words. Numbers don’t lie. Either I’ve committed a percentage of my income and I give it, or I don’t. With a few simple calculations I can find out if my heart loves Jesus like my mouth says I do.
Heaven watches me with a pen poised over the Book of Recorded Deeds. Reading from the book, God will say to my Chinese friends, “Well done, good and faithful servants.”
Will I, too, hear those words?
Prayer: Holy One, show me how to give money.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
Come, let us sing for joy to the LORD; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation. Let us come before him with thanksgiving and extol him with music and song. (Psalms 95:1, 2) (NIV)
We jammed into a circus tent with a hundred African Christians. They were gathered for a week of camping, worship, and instruction in Doma, Zimbabwe.
A soloist’s voice spread a mournful plea through the tent. Hearts opened to catch her tempo and ride its momentum toward God. Soon, five or six voices sustained the final note of each phrase. The parts of their harmony ranged from soprano-yellow down to baritone-purple. As more worshipers rose from the dirt floor, new voices cried out the intercessory theme.
Two or three verses into the song, some metered out the base rhythm with handclaps. Others took up counterparts to the percussion of hands. Deft palms grew into an orchestra of clapping that punctuated the flying vocal notes.
The next layer was whistles and shouts. Women spiked the praise with shrill yells as they patted their mouths like an American Indian war call. The whole congregation stomped and boogied until a holy dust cloud rose as an earthier version of the glory of God that pushed the Israelites out of Solomon’s temple.
God’s gift of music has been abducted by the evil one. In days past, African tribal music accompanied the hedonistic worship of ancestral spirits. My Christian friends reclaimed their music for God’s glory. They snatched the sacred prize from Satan’s camp, purified it with the blood of Christ, and reveled before their King with the gift held above their heads.