Wisdom from Solomon:The Man who tried EVERYTHING

I'm learning quite a bit from Solomon, the man who tried everything. King Solomon wrote the book of Ecclesiastes in his final years, as he was reflecting on his life. His words are sharp, focused, and experienced. He speaks from what he knows first hand.

Solomon was wildly successful. He was a brilliant thinker. And yet, he realized that all his quests for wisdom, money, and power led him to vanity. "For in much wisdom is much vexation, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow" (1:18). He saw everything under the sun, and deemed all of man's work and effort meaningless vanity. He noticed we (humans) spend our entire live striving after the wind, and forget to enjoy life. This must be why my good friend says:

Do less. Be more.
-Dave Rahn

But Solomon also warns of too much pleasure. He made great houses, planted vineyards for himself, made gardens of fruit trees, parks to play in, dug a few pools (sounds like MTV cribs), bought male and female slaves - who multiplied and brought him more baby slaves, had the biggest zoo in the world, and filled the vaults full of silver and gold and some crowns, goblets, and jewels (sounds like National Treasure). He made sure there were plenty of women hanging around for his spontaneous and frequent delight. He said "whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I kept my heart from no pleasure" (2:10).

And yet, even with all that ... he looks back on his life and says this:

Then I considered all my hands had done and the toil I had expended doing it, and behold, all was vanity (meaningless) and a striving after the wind, and there was nothing to be gained under the sun. (2:11)

Meaningless, he says. Meaningless. He did all that and still came up short, empty, and hollow.

Do less. Be more.

Being vs. Doing

Over a year ago, I wrote on the topic of "Being" vs. "Doing".

I think it's time to revisit this. The following are some excerpts from my recent talk to Normandale Reformed Church.

Do we really “Get it” that God isn’t interested in how much we “DO” for him, but rather, just want us to “BE” with him?

This was a huge revelation for me this week.
That God isn’t interested in how much I DO FOR HIM, but His head turns when I express that I simply want to BE WITH HIM.

In English, we call this abiding (connect, be close, to be attached). Abiding might be a little like constant text messaging – even though a person is not here, you are remaining connected to them while living life.

Jesus tells a story of two men in Matthew 7. One builds a house on the sand, the other on the rock. The winds and rains destroy the house built on the sand, but the one on the rock stands firm.

I’ve read this a kazillion times, but something new was revealed to me this week – THEY BOTH BUILT HOUSES! They both had something to show for their work. They both labored furiously, and from the outside-looking-in, you might not have known the difference. In fact, you might have walked in the house built on the sand on the day it was built and said to yourself “Man! I wish I could build something like this! This person has it all together! They are a master builder!”

I can’t believe I’ve missed this all long. They both were furiously laboring, tirelessly building, and both had a house to show for their work.

But the problem was in the foundation.

And I’m not much different. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and my mind immediately begins calculating the list of things that I need or should do that day. Those are good days – usually the list gets put together a few weeks in advance. And sure, I find “space” for God – sometimes – where I’ll just sit and be with him.

But Jesus says makes it very clear that our lift ticket into eternity is a personal relationship with him. A deep abiding relationship, that is willing to be quiet, and listen to his still, small voice. Look with me – just a few verses before, in Matthew 7:21:

Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. On that day many will say to me, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?' And then will I declare to them, 'I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.

Sometime when you have a chance, read John 15:1-17. Jesus invited us to abide in Him. The word abide appears 11 times!

The bottom line:
More than how much we “do for” Jesus, Jesus wants us to simply “be with” him.

What a privilege

Somewhere along the way, I forgot the privilege. I got tired. I was burnt out, worn, and exhausted. I let the holy-passion that once burned inside of me become a routine. Not only a routine, but a burdensome, religious chore. It sounds like this:

Pick the songs. Arrange them in a fresh “flowing” order, all-the-while being mindful of the song’s key and lyrical theme. Pray (because I’m supposed to, you know). Research appropriate scripture. Type the lyrics. Rehearse every chord. Print 8 copies for the band. Printer out of ink. Drive to store. Buy ink. Look at watch. Complain about having to do all this. Return home. Clear the printer’s queue. Re-print. Paperclip. Stack.

Re-type the lyrics into Powerpoint (yuch), MediaShout, or Keynote. Computer crashes. Re-re-type the lyrics. Grab guitar and rehearse with slides. Make sure they’re in the right order …

Sound equipment: Looks like I need a _____. (guitar string, pick, AA battery, mic cable, insert missing-piece-of-equipment here). Call a friend. Drive to friend’s house. Borrow the equipment.

Rehearsal. Email the band. Find a time that works. Discover that “no time” works, of course. Do the best we can with who can come. But now, where? Where will we rehearse? Call a church. Acquire a key. Figure out the church’s sound system. Screeching feedback. Loud noises. I don’t know what we’re yelling about.

Somewhere along the way, I forgot the privilege. I let the holy-passion that once burned inside of me become a routine. Tonight, the holy passion returned. Thank you, Jesus.

This is not a routine. This is not a burdensome chore. This is an ongoing conversation. It is a continuous dialog between my spirit, your spirit, and the Maker of the entire universe. In this very moment, we have the privilege of communicating, adoring, worshipping, proclaiming the glory, falling down in complete awe before, and singing at the top of our lungs to the One who made us.
For “all the earth bows down to you: they sing praise to you, they sing praise to your name.” (ps 66:4)

This is for glory. What a privilege, Jesus. Father, forgive me for making this about me.

Silence and Solitute

Today was a big day at the apartment on Elmwood. For the first time in 5 years, I have my own bedroom. I got home from work at about 5:30, and the guys and I immediately began moving our junk around. It's 12:41, and we're still not done, but calling it quits for the night.

I'm really pumped about having my own room. I'm thrilled to have a place to retreat to, where I can close the door and relax - nap - eat - sleep - read - whatever. This "retreat space" has been missing for 5 years, and the need is becoming obvious.

We read in Luke's gospel that "Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed. At times He withdrew with His disciples and other times He withdrew alone.” I have vivid imagery in my mind of Jesus speaking to thousands, all the while nudging Peter to "go get the boat" so they could retreat for rest and restoration.

Psalm 46:10 instructs us to
"Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth."

Today I am thankful ... for this new space ... to be still in, and call home.

You can learn (a lot) from my mistakes ...

A couple days ago I fed this homeless man named Eugene. He was sitting behind Avanti's starving, and I brought him a gondola. As soon as he received it, he began to devour it. Once finished, he did not acknowledge me. No eye contact. Not even a "thank you".

My roommates were around when I got home, so naturally I began to discuss this tragedy with them. "Can you believe the guy didn't say thanks? I bought him food and he couldn't even offer a simple 'Thank You'?"

My mistake. I forgot that my worship doesn't begin with me. It begins and ends with Jesus -- who said this:

Beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them ... when you give to the needy, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do ... that they may be praised by others.

But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

Jesus in Matthew 6 (ESV)

Learn from my mistake. Give freely today to the needy. But don't tell anyone. And don't require thanks. Just give.