Kathy Beagles's Posts (5)

Sort by

Fish Tanks and Fire

Not long ago I opened an e-mail from a young person preparing for baptism. She asked the following question: "How do you explain a God of love destroying the world by fire? Doesn't that seem harsh to you?"

Sitting wordless at my computer, I began to think. Those were good questions, but in my youth I had never thought to ask them. Yet, as an adult, I sensed that at some level they might not be answered convincingly for me either.

I tried to screen out my preconceived reaction and gut response to these questions and look at them from an adolescent point of view. I could see how the words "fire," "destruction," and "harsh" could possibly grate against the spiritual sensibilities of a young person whom we as a church had intentionally sought to ground firmly in an understanding of God's grace. Did she comprehend God's big-picture plan?

I was sure that God wanted her to have an answer that would bring peace to her heart without me rewriting the entire history of the plan of salvation, or her getting overwhelmed and clicking the "shut down" button. But did I, in my own spiritual arsenal, have an answer that would be personally genuine, as well as true?

I sat back, prayed for insight from the Holy Spirit, and began clicking the keys on my keyboard:

"Satan's main job on earth is to get us to think that God is harsh, judgmental, and unloving--everything that He isn't. Satan wants us to think these things about God so we won't trust Him to save us from the yuckiness of sin.

"Here is one way to think about why a God of love would cleanse the world by fire.

"Imagine that you spent lots of time and money creating the most awesome fish aquarium you could. You got everything set up just right--plants, statues, decorations, rock formations, etc., then bought some exotic fish to put in it. You enjoyed watching them swim around their beautiful tank, and you didn't feel so alone when you were in your room doing your homework.

"But, let's also imagine that you have a really pesky younger cousin who is out to ruin your life. Every time he comes over to your house he puts nasty stuff in your fish tank when you aren't looking. It starts to cloud up the water, stick to all the pretty things, and make the fish sick.

"So you get one of those little net things and try to catch all the fish so you can get them out of that awful environment and save them until you can make a new, clean home for them. You are able to get some of the fish--the ones that will let you pick them up in your little net and save them. But a few just avoid your net and won't let you catch them. They hide behind the yuck-coated scenery.

"Finally, you have to call your rescue mission to a halt so that you can dump out all the slimy decorations and foul-smelling water (and the few fish who won't let you catch them), scrub the tank with special cleaners, and start all over to create a beautiful home for the fish you rescued.

"Imagine if some of the fish kept swimming around out of the reach of your net, saying, 'I hear that mean old girl who set up this tank and put us here is going to clean it out with bleach and destroy us all. How can someone who pretends to love us do something like that? Isn't that kind of harsh?'

"What would you tell that fish if you could get through to it?"

The computer keys stopped clacking, and I sat back to ponder. I had just preached a sermon to myself. Sure, I had never thought to ask those questions when I was an adolescent. But now I asked myself how much of my adult like has been spent swimming around the idea of a God of judgment who is watching to see how and when I will mess up again? And how often have I forgotten about the sad tears of a loving Creator who doesn't want to miss any little fish when He dumps out the tank filled with sin?

Read more…

Frogs named Will and Grace

I used to envy the thief on the cross. He accepted Jesus and was immediately told he would be in the kingdom of God. He didn't have to figure out this Christian walk, this path of discipleship.

Growing up I didn't understand the concepts of righteousness by faith or the power of grace. Having been a "good little kid," I also found my moment of conversion a bit hard to pinpoint. But with a good bit of guilt, repentance, prayer, devotional reading, and more guilt, I plodded on--a battle and a march and a use of "will" (as I understood it).

Another concept I only vaguely comprehended was that there are ditches on either side of the path of discipleship. I could slide into the ditch on one side by giving up the walk because of guilt or apathy. But the more hidden gully on the other side was reached by way of the slippery slope of pride and self-righteousness. The optical illusion on that side was that I could be in the gully and still appear to be on the road.

That leads me to my first green plastic frog: Will.

I named a plastic frog Will because of a book that intrigued me called Eat That Frog: 21 Ways to Stop Procrastinating (Brian Tracy). I thought that maybe it would provide the answer to the dilemma posed by Paul in Romans 7:21. In my discipleship walk, when I wanted to do good, old habits seemed to be right there keeping me from doing it.

The book made the point that if people knew when they woke up in the morning that they needed to eat an ugly frog that day, if they just ate it first thing, they could enjoy the rest of the day. Will power! Just do it!

And I could sanctify this concept with one of my favorite verses: "I can do all things through Christ" (Phil 4:13, KJV).

So I bought a small, green, plastic frog and named it Will to remind me.

But even with the reminder, life was still a good bit of guilt, repentance, prayer, devotional reading, and guilt as I plodded on--a battle and a march and a use of "will" (as I understood it...).

Then God faced me squarely with the concept of grace.

At first He hardly got my attention. I already knew about grace. It was what brought Jesus to the cross to pay for my past sins, and what would cover even future ones that I repented of and confessed. But I often went for spells of being too embarrassed to look Him in the face and admit that I had "done it again."

It was then that I came across a line of "Christian" trinkets. Everything from bookmarks to lapel pins were being offered with pictures of frogs and the letter F.R.O.G. printed across them. The letters stood for "fully rely on God," and they attached themselves in my mind with John 15:5--without Him I could do nothing.

Pieces of the puzzle began to slowly come together. I needed to be reminded of both things at the same time. I could do anything with Him, and I could do nothing without Him. And thus began my study of the power of grace. Grace was not just what brought Jesus to the cross to forgive me. Grace was also what freed me from the power of sin and filled me with everything I needed to live a productive, non-procrastinating, being-transformed life of discipleship.

I found another small, green, plastic frog; this time I named it Grace.

Will and Grace. The boundaries between which I follow Jesus on the path of discipleship; the fences on both sides of the road to protect me from falling into the gullies; the nothing I bring to the process of salvation, no matter how many frogs I eat, and the everything that God is committed to doing in me that will fit me for the life in the hereafter as His child forever.

The power of grace: Now that I get it, I don't envy the thief on the cross anymore.
Read more…

Oxygen Masks

Once, when I was flying from one small country to another, I had an experience with an airliner’s oxygen mask. Something in the plane was amiss, my head started to feel as if it would explode, and an oxygen mask was lowered from somewhere above me. I put it on and was able to breathe until we were back on the ground, even though my head was still under extreme pressure. But, in spite of the pressure and anxiety, it was comforting to know that I had a clear line to life-giving oxygen. Soon I was back on the ground where the oxygen level was natural—divinely balanced.


The memory of this experience was triggered when I read in a favorite devotional writer, “We are in great need of the pure, life-giving atmosphere that nurtures and invigorates the spiritual life.” If we are in need of such an atmosphere, then on this sinful earth this atmosphere must not be the thing
that we breathe naturally. The natural atmosphere of this world must be an impure, death-producing one.


For a moment, let your imagination fly up and see what this world might look like from God’s perspective. I think He sees it covered with a gritty, black, coal-dust atmosphere of smog (the atmosphere of sin). Unlike us, His dear children, who see just another sunny day, with maybe a few shadows.


But we know that the end result of the great controversy between God and Satan is that God will end this state of emergency, this death-producing atmosphere that kills His children, with one mighty
hurricane-force wind. Everyone who is not blown away will again be able to breathe naturally the pure, life-giving atmosphere of heaven.


So, what will keep us from being blown away?


Down come the oxygen masks—the means whereby we access the pure, life-giving atmosphere of heaven.


Even before the impure, death-producing atmosphere surrounded the world, God created oxygen masks and secured them safely in the compartment above us. They have been released and are now dangling there for our use. We accept the saving grace of these masks when we reach out and slip them over our noses and mouths and breathe again “the pure, life-giving atmosphere that nurtures and invigorates the spiritual life.”


In the real world of aircraft, I imagine you could reach up, pinch the plastic tubing, and cut off or slow the flow of oxygen. But once you started to pass out, your grip would relax and the flow of oxygen would begin again.


With the spiritual oxygen masks it seems that we often pinch the tubing, and instead of our grip relaxing as we pass out to spiritual things, our grip tightens all the more. And some of us are so accustomed to the coal-dust atmosphere that we think we can stand to breathe only a tiny trickle of the pure, life-giving air at a time. Perhaps we take only one deep breath every week (and hyperventilate at church), or at most, a tiny trickle every morning and evening.


How sad God must be to watch us suffocate ourselves.


In 1878 Edwin Hatch captured the importance of this life-giving atmosphere when he wrote:

“Breathe on me, Breath of God,
Until my hear is pure,
Until with Thee I will one will,
To do and to endure.

“Breathe on me, Breath of God,
Till I am wholly Thine,
Until this earthly part of me
Glows with Thy fire divine.”


More recently singer/songwriter Michael W. Smith summed up this concept with the words:

“This is the air I breathe/Your holy presence living in me. . . . /And I, I’m desperate for You/And I’m lost without You.”


And, in “Mary’s Song,” Christian artists sing the prayer: “Breath of Heaven/Hold me together/Be forever near me . . ./For You are holy/Breath of heaven.”


So, I ask myself, What is my song going to be?


How freely do I let flow the pure life-giving atmosphere that nurtures and invigorates my spiritual life? After all, the flight attendants always close their safety demonstrations with these words:
“Please secure your own oxygen mask before trying to assist others.”

Read more…

Don't Even THINK About It

I once heard a powerful sermon on doing the impossible. The preacher posed the question “Does God require too much?” Of course, he gave us the solution to the seeming impossibility of meeting the expectations (doing greater works than Christ, being perfect, making disciples, etc.). They were:


1. Be in the circle of God’s will.


2. Wait for God’s timing.


3. Taks some risks. (You can’t walk on water unless you get out of the boat.)


4. Focus on Jesus.


5. Harness prayer power.


It was, as I said, a powerful message. And there was absolutely nothing about it with which I did not agree. And yet, over the following weeks I found myself composing a sequel message for my own soul.


The title of my message to myself was: Don’t Even Think About Doing the Impossible!


It wasn’t that I didn’t firmly believe that, as Paul preached, I can do all things through Christ’s strength---even the humanly impossible (Philippians 4:13). My message sequel to myself was about Thinking about doing the impossible. It was not about whether or not the impossible could be accomplished in and through me.


In my experience, when human beings think too much about doing the impossible, they have a tendency to become either petrified or proud. In the same sermon mentioned earlier, it was pointed out that there are 366 “Fear not’s” in the Bible---one for every day of the year, plus one. Pride---“getting a glide in your stride”---was also warned against.


The only way I can approach doing the impossible without becoming either petrified or proud, is not to think about how to do it, but rather to pray for the courage to let the impossible be done in and through me. When I think about (or focus on) how I can accomplish the impossible, even in Christ, I have a tendency to feel in some control of the process (which feeds pride). Especially when I have a list of steps to take to accomplish the impossible. Or, I just run the other way---petrified by the impossible.


On the other hand, if I think about (or focus on) clearing myself out of the limelight while having the courage to let God take control and do whatever He needs to in me to accomplish the impossible, I find peace instead of being either petrified or proud.


English grammar helps me understand this concept.


When I am the subject of the sentence, it reads like this: “Kathy does the impossible through Christ. Kathy does greater works than Christ in the power of the spirit.” (See proud Kathy. See Kathy get a “glide in her stride”).


But when I am just the object of the preposition it reads like this: “God does the impossible through Kathy. God does great works through Kathy. God is perfecting Kathy. God is being honored by Kathy.”


Somehow thinking as if I am the one doing the actions tempts me to pride if I have the personality that appears to be able to do them. Even thinking about being the subject of the sentence petrifies me if I don’t innately have that inner fortitude, and I avoid the concept of the impossible altogether.


Think of God as a Father who has three children who have been playing in the mud. He calls his children (humanity) in to ready them (the impossible) for a visit from the relatives (all other created beings in the universe). One child is petrified at the thought of the father’s sending him to the tub and scrubbing away the dirt, so he hides under the bed. Another child is so independent and capable that he insists on drawing his own bath and washing and dressing himself. The third child is courageous enough to let the father lead him to the tub, scrub him clean, and even button his shirt. He obediently complies, making no thought about how he looks.


When the universe relatives come to greet the three children lined up on the front porch, just imagine in your mind’s eye what they see. Petrified is still a mess, Proud has mud behind his ears, around his neck, and his shirt is buttoned wrong. But Peaceful stands their happily without even thinking about how the impossible was accomplished in and through him.




Read more…

Magnetic Grace and Iron Bars

The Message paraphrase of John 12:32 says this: "And I, as I am lifted up from the earth, will attract everyone to me and gather them around me." The next verse tells us what "lifted up" means—"He put it this way to show how he was going to be put to death" (v. 33). But what exactly does the term "attract" or "draw" imply? Is there anything inherently attractive about seeing someone dying by torture?


"Don't be simple," you say. "The attraction is in what Christ was doing for us on the cross."


And you are right. The attraction is grace—the power and force of His grace. Grace attracts (or draws) like a magnet. But magnetism also does something to the thing it draws. Let's consider grace in the context of magnetism and draw some simple analogies.


The obvious analogy is that magnets draw iron objects to themselves just as Christ said His grace would draw everyone. So, let's think of ourselves as iron bars. Just as humans are not born full of grace, iron bars are not born magnetic. They are made from liquid iron which solidifies. And they are in a condition which is referred to in science books as having their "domains randomly oriented." The places inside them that could be magnetic are going every which way; nothing is lined up right.


However, if a "randomly oriented" iron bar is put in a strong magnetic field, the domains all line up with the field, and the bar itself is said to be a "permanent magnet." So, once we have accepted Jesus' drawing grace, why aren't we all powerful little magnets drawing our children, our neighbors, anyone around us to the big magnetic field of Christ's grace?


The answer is in the fact that the "permanent magnet" state can be destroyed by heat or shock. And we can compare that to our everyday lives on this earth. There are forces that buffet and burn our best intentions. Even after our little iron bars have been drawn into the magnetic field, and magnetized, it doesn't mean that they are permanently permanent magnets. There must be a decided effort to keep returning them to the strong magnetic field of grace so they can remain magnetized.


If you want to see these principles in action for yourself, find a big magnet. Then find a few paper clips to represent our little iron-bar selves. Notice that one paper clip does not draw another when the first isn't near the "magnetic field." However, once a paper clip has been drawn to the big magnet, it becomes a magnet too. It can draw a second paper clip (or two or three) to join it at the big magnet.


So, how do I apply these principles to my daily life?


I must be very intentional about getting re-magnetized whenever I feel the heat and shock of life buffeting me. Which is to say—daily. I will want to ask myself these questions. When I face those I am discipling, am I still magnetized by grace? When I come home at the end of the day, have rush hour traffic and office politics shocked all magnetic grace from me, leaving none for my loved ones? Am I magnetized enough to be a force in keeping new members in the church? Are the young people I know drawn to Christ through me?


In short, "Just how magnetically attractive am I letting Him make and keep me?"


Read more…