Are You a Good Steward?

The other day I was struck by what now seems a profound thought (though only time will tell I suppose). My room had fallen into a slight case of disarray, some clothes on the floor, my desk was... less than tidy, and it was generally looking like a mini version of a bachelor pad. My dad came in one day and said something along the lines of "for just being two guys in this room (I bunk with my awesome younger, albeit taller, brother), you sure can make a mess!"

At the time I took this as a sideways chid for letting our room get so messy (which was true), but I was also a rebuke for not being faithful in what I had been given. I was reminded of the parable that was taught in Luke, which (using some quick searching) I found in Luke 16, wherein this well-known passage resides:

“One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much, [. . .] And if you have not been faithful in that which is another's, who will give you that which is your own?"
Luke 16:10, 12

 I wasn't being faithful in what the Lord had given me through my dad. On this earth I have about 150 square feet that I'm in charge of, and I wasn't treating it with respect. To a degree, I had been viewing it as 'my room' and since I apparently didn't mind 'my room' getting a little messy, it was ok. But it isn't 'my room' it's my Father's room (both earthy and heavenly). I am simply it's steward, and a poor one at that.

When the time comes for me to move out (probably when I get married), Do I want my father to say "finally, now we'll be able to keep that room of yours clean!" Or do I want to hear him joyfully echo the master in another one of Jesus' parables:

‘Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much
Matt 25:21

 Everything we own on this earth isn't truly ours. As the Psalmist has said:

The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof,
the world and those who dwell therein.
Ps 24:1

 It's all His property, we are merely His stewards. Let us all use the blessings that He has given us for His glory.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get off my paltry soap box and get back to vacuuming.

Unrelated, and Yet, Related

I was journaling about a conversation that I had with a dear friend of mine today, and as I typed out something that she said it suddenly hit me like it was new to me.

"Our father"

My friend and I aren't related in any way, and yet, we are. She's my sister, I'm her brother. We have the same Father in heaven, He's adopted both of us into His family for all eternity. We christians have such a deep, familial connection with each other here on earth that I think is very rarely ever really realized. At least, I know I have seldom ever really thought of it, much less comprehended the significance of it. Just the thought of it is bewildering to me. God isn't only a Father to the fatherless, he has also given the fatherless a family to surround them, guide them, correct them, and encourage them.

So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, ~Ephesians 2:19

A Son of God, How Can it Be?

I just finished the chapter titled Sons of God, in J.I. Packers phenomenal book Knowing God, and it has opened my eyes to the reality of what it means to be a Christian more than any other singular book (the bible aside) that I have ever read. We've all heard the word 'adoption' before, and we've all read about how God is our heavenly Father, but these terms have always seemed (though I didn't realize it before) etherial to me.

But now, though I still feel that my eyes are almost completely shut, I feel as though I have caught a glimpse into just what it means to be a son of God. To be adopted into His family. To be reconciled to the Maker of all things by His own Son, and to now be counted a brother with Christ, heir to the inheritance of God. Just thinking about it make my head swirl, and my heart throb.

A Son of God. 

How is that even possible? We read about princes, and princesses, and knights, and royalty, and they all seem like such marvelous things... for other people. We even hear about people being adopted into royalty (more in the past then in the present though). Usually the adopted son or daughter is someone who is old enough to have proven that they are worthy of royalty. They have the character, discipline, intelligence, and insight to hold the position of familial relationship with those in power.

But our God, our King, the Creator of the universe, has adopted us into His family to be His sons and daughters, not because we were particularly mature, intelligent, or kind (quite the contrary) but simply because He loved us because of who He is. He didn't adopt us because we are lovable, He adopted us because He is loving. We have been made, by His free grace, sons and daughters of the one who is called the Most High, the King of Kings, and the Lord of Lords. But there's yet another title by which He has said we may address Him, one of kindness, tenderness, love, affection, guidance, and closeness And one by which I feel I am just now beginning to truly comprehend it's depth:

I call Him Father.

I Don't Want to Hear It...

...but that's no excuse for having a 3-year-old-just-lost-his-favorite-toy attitude.

None of us like being corrected, or at least I know that I don't. Sometimes correction means that something I've been doing is way out of line and I really to check my heart. But other times it's simply a kind word from a dear friend telling me I need a little course correction. I know that I need others to help me stay on the straight and narrow, even though it's uncomfortable sometimes to face the fact that I've been wrong (though it really shouldn't be surprising, as it happens all the time), be it a huge log in my eye that a Brother is gently pointing out, or merely a speck
.
For those of you who know me, you know that I tend to over think issues, I can spend days wondering about something someone said, trying to figure out if they were simply being nice, or if they really didn't like my hair. And while it hurts to be told that I'm wrong, in hind sight I am always thankful that they were willing to take my hand and gave me the guidance that I need. But there's one thing that hurts even more than being told "you're wrong": not being told "you're wrong."

When I'm doing something that hurts others, or even simply makes them uncomfortable, like belching at the dinner table for example (though that's not a dining sin that I'm in the habit of committing, just FYI), I'd want to know. But there have been times in my life when there has been something that I was doing that did make others uncomfortable, and it was a while before anyone would tell me.

This happend to me again recently, and needless to say I was a little upset when I finally did find out. I distinctly remember thinking "why didn't they tell me!?!" and I was just starting to get upset when the Lord brought something to mind that my mom told me a year or so ago. In fact, it was shortly after writing this blog post: Would Someone Please Just Tell Me!?!. I even considered titling this entry "Please Just Tell Me!" but I realized that this title would completely miss the point that I apparently still needed to learn.

What my mom had pointed out to me so long ago, and indeed has had occasion to point out several times since (ok, a lot of times, my noggin's pretty think), was that I often don't accept correction with a Christlike attitude. For instance she said that I often argue when others correct me, and I remember getting ready to say "well that's not always true!", and that's when it hit me.  I don't have "ah ha!" moments very often, but I had one then. I had just proven to myself that mom was right (as she usually is).

It's not about others not telling me, it's about me not listening with grace and humility.

I wasn't accepting her correction with enough humility to see that she was right, or enough grace to accept her reproof with thankfulness. The fault lies completely with me. I can't complain that others didn't tell me the hard things, because I hadn't made it safe for them to do so. They weren't making life difficult for me, I was the one making life difficult for them. If I was known to accept correction and reproof with grace and humility, others probably wouldn't hesitate to help me see my flaws.

I think that two of the verses in particular that I quoted in "Would Someone Please Just Tell Me" apply to this situation quite divinely:

Proverbs 15:31: The ear that heareth the reproof of life abideth among the wise. 

Proverbs 15:32: He that refuseth instruction despiseth his own soul: but he that heareth reproof getteth understanding. 

Getting mad at others when they are trying to guide me is like getting mad at the messenger, it doesn't make the message untrue, but it can drive away even my closest friends. By the grace of God, I need to man up and accept responsibility for my actions, and especially when others come to point me towards Christ. After all, those are the best kinds of friends to have.

By God's grace, and with a little more humility than before,
Paul

P.S. This was post 100!