I will bring these people to my holy mountain and give them joy in my house of prayer (Is. 56:7).
In the court of King Xerxes, entering the king’s presence without permission carried a penalty of death for the offender. This law was not lightly taken by the people of Persia. But, in order to save her people, Queen Esther collected her courage and approached the throne. The king accepted her without rebuke, granted her request, and a nation survived.
It’s a beautiful story of boldness spurred by devotion. And, though King Xerxes wasn’t too bad (as biblical rulers go), aren’t you glad our heavenly king rules his throne room differently?
Aren’t you glad God is more accessible than Xerxes? What if we could go to God in prayer only when he called us? What if we needed an official guard to announce our presence?
Suppose only certain people could pray. Suppose only specified topics could be discussed.
Doesn’t sound like the throne room of our heavenly King, does it? Instead of limited accessibility, our King is always available, eternally ready to hear his people, and continually waiting for us to approach.
In fact, no moment brings greater delight to the King than when his children enter his presence.
Chapter 1 – Glimpsing the Throne Room
You walk through the halls of a magnificent royal court. As you reach the entrance of the throne room, you peer through the doorway and see the king on his spectacular throne. Royal guards are posted along the wall and sentries stand at the door. But they do not stop you as you walk. They ask for no credentials or letters of introduction. You need not register with the king’s aide. There is no protocol that must be observed. For, as you enter the throne room, you say the word which brings the king rushing to you.
“Abba.”
He is your father.
Just as Jesus prayed “Our father who is in heaven. . .“ (Mt. 6:9) so do we address the heavenly king as father. When Jesus used the term abba, he changed forever the relationship between man and God. The concept of addressing God as “Abba, father” was revolutionary, because of the intimacy implied by the word itself. In the days of Christ, abba was a term of endearment used by children, much like “daddy” in our culture. Though God is described as a father in the Old Testament, the use of the more familiar term doesn’t appear until Jesus uses it himself. Scholar Joachim Jeremias explains the impact of its unusual change in usage:
“Abba” was an everyday word. No Jew would have dared to address God in this manner; yet Jesus did it always in all his prayers which are handed down to us, with one single exception: the cry from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” In the Lord’s prayer, Jesus authorizes his disciples to repeat the word ‘abba’ after him. He gives them a share in his sonship. He empowers them as his disciples to speak with their heavenly father in just such a familiar and trusting way.
Why do we have instant access to the throne of God? Because the throne is occupied by our father. The Father loves us so much that we are called children of God. And we really are his children (I John 3:1).
God is the ideal father. Though some may view fathers through the lens of pain or detachment, this earthly pain need not cloud our image of God as father. He represents the perfect picture of what a father should be: he offers his children protection, provision, concern. He is never too distant to receive you, never too busy to listen to you. You cannot approach him too often. He is but a thought away from you.
Imagine. A perfect, holy God who receives sinners into his presence. How, you ask, how can this be? How can we in our imperfection, dare approach a holy God? We have the right to enter his presence because we have been clothed in Christ. Apart from Christ, God is inaccessible. “I am the way, the truth, and the life. The only way to the father is through me” (John 14:6).
Christ covers us with his goodness. He wraps us in his sinlessness and dresses us in his holiness.
Recently, I had an experience that brought home this point. I was invited to attend the Masters golf tournament. Now, for you non-golfers out there, let me explain that the Masters is no ordinary tournament. No ticket is more difficult to obtain than a ticket to this premier event. No sports event is harder to enter than the Masters. And getting into the locker room requires the cunning of a Mission Impossible team. The term “off limits” was created by the folks at the Masters: no one goes in except players and caddies and VIPs.
I should know because I tried to get in. I wanted to walk the floors which had felt the footsteps of Bobby Jones, Jack Nicklaus, Arnold Palmer, and Ben Hogan. But I couldn’t. I didn’t have the credentials. I could only gaze from a distance.
But then I got my coveralls.
You see, on the day before the tournament, the pros play in a par-three round. The golfer gives his caddy the afternoon off and invites a friend to take his place. My friend, golf pro Scott Simpson, invited me to be his caddy. I’ve never been more honored to lug a bag in my life. I went to the caddy shack and picked up my official caddy hat and put on the required white coveralls. Then, after the round I carried the bag up to the locker room, right past the doorway where earlier I had been denied entrance.
I entered the locker room and walked around like I was born to be there. I looked in the mirrors where the pros look. I sat in front of the lockers where the great ones have sat. I roamed at leisure, for now I was wearing the clothes of a caddy. Like the non-pro wearing caddy clothes when we come to Christ, we change clothing. For through faith you are all sons of God in union with Christ Jesus. Baptized into union with him, you have all put on Christ as a garment (Gal. 3:27).
We are wrapped up in Christ, completely reclothed and covered. We can enter the presence of God without question. Remember the words of Isaiah:
The Lord makes me very happy. All that I am rejoices in my God. He has covered me with the clothes of salvation and wrapped me with a coat of goodness, like a bridegroom, dressed for his wedding, like a bride dressed in jewels (Is. 61:10-11).
Entering God’s presence. When the children of the king come into the throne room, a holy moment takes place. Entering his presence through prayer is not a rare event on a holy calendar. It’s not a singular ceremony reserved for some special group. Nor is it a spectacular episode for the history books. Instead, it is moment by moment access to a Holy God.
And, though lofty in privilege, it’s common in availability. It is the lifelong chance of a lifetime.
Chapter 2 – Meeting the King
But without faith it is impossible to please him: he that comes must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him (Heb. 11:6).
Suppose you are vacationing in a remote area, far removed from population. Your child becomes ill, urgently needing care. You and your spouse load the child in the car and race to the nearest village. There you are told of three medical caregivers, all three living next to each other. You drive to the street, locate the first physician and knock on the door.
No one answers. You knock again and no one answers. Only after knocking a third time, do you notice a sign over the doorway which reads, “No one lives here.” So, you run back to your car and inform your mate, “The place is empty.”
“Go next door,” you are instructed and so you do.
This time there is an answer to your knock. An old man with a kind face listens to your problem and answers, “I wish I could help you. There was a day when I could. But I can’t now. I need care myself. In fact, if you have time, I need someone to come and prepare my meal. Also, if you could spare a few dollars, I’m a bit short on cash. . .“
Realizing your child won’t be helped here, you apologize mid-sentence to the gentleman and leave, shouting to the car as you run, “Someone is here, but he can’t help.”
Your child is worsening by the minute and you have only one more option. You run to the third house. This time an able-looking professional opens the door. “How may I help?” he asks. You explain thatyour child is ill and needs immediate care. “Quickly, bring the child to me,” he urges.
“Are you able to help?”
“I am.”
“Are you willing to help?”
“I am.”
He is there and he is willing to help. That’s all you know. That’s all you need to know. You don’t need to know his birthplace, his Social Security number or his life story — all you need is his existence and availability, his presence and his willingness. He is there and he is good. Those two facts are enough to take you to his presence.
Those same two facts are enough to take you to the presence of God. The man who approaches God must have faith m two things, first, that God exists and secondly that God rewards those who search for him. (Heb. 11:6 Phillips). What is required? A conviction that God is and conviction that God is good. Those who would come to God must believe that God is real and God is responsive. These convictions form the foundation of prayer. These convictions are found in one word in the first sentence of our Lord’s prayer.
What is the word? I’ll give you a hint. You just read it. Where is it? You just read it.Is it in this sentence? It is. It’s in the answer I just gave. Come on, Max, is this a joke?Would I kid you? (By the way the word was in your question.) See it?
Is. Our father who is in heaven.
God is. Not God was. Nor God will be. Not God could be or should be, but God is. He is. The God of the present tense.
That’s all you need to know to come to God. More is helpful but not necessary. More can come later, but none can come earlier. Begin with the reality and the responsiveness of God. Remember the condition described in Hebrews? If you believe there is a living God, (he is) and you believe there is a loving God, (he rewards those who seek him,) then you have faith. And you are welcome in his presence.
The foundation of his kingdom is not built on you, but on him. The key question is not “Who am I?” but rather “Who is God?”
I write these words on an airplane. A late airplane. An airplane different from the one I was originally assigned. My first flight was cancelled for mechanical difficulty. I and a few dozen not-so-happy campers were down-loaded onto another plane. As we checked into the new flight, I heard many of my passengers ask, is this plane ok? Any mechanical flaws with this 747? We were full of questions about the plane’s ability to fly, but the attendant had no questions about our ability to do the same.
Not once were we asked, “How about you? Can you fly? Can you flap your arms and get airborne?” Bizarre questions. My ability to fly is not important. My strength is immaterial. I’m counting on the plane to get me home, hence I inquire as to its strength.
Need I make the connection? Your achievements, however noble, are not important. Your credentials, as remarkable as they may be, are of no concern. God is the force behind this journey. His strength is the key factor. Focus not on your strength, but his. Occupy yourself with the nature of God, not the size of your bicep.
That’s what Moses did. Or at least that’s what God told Moses to do. Remember the conversation at the burning bush? The tone was set in the first sentence. Take off your sandals because you are standing on holy ground (Ex. 3:5). Immediately the roles are defined. God is holy. Approaching him on even a quarter-inch of leather is too pompous. With those eleven words Moses is enrolled in a class on God. No time is spent convincing Moses what Moses can do. Much time is spent explaining to Moses what God can do.
We tend to do the opposite. Our approach would be to explain to Moses how he is ideally suited to return to Egypt. (Who better understands the culture than a former prince?) Then we’d remind Moses how perfect he is for wilderness travel. (Who knows the desert better than a shepherd?) We’d spend much time reviewing with Moses his resume and strengths. (Come on Moses, you can do it. Give it a try.)
God doesn’t. The strength of Moses is never considered. No pep talk is given, no pats on the backs are offered. Not one word is given to recruit Moses. But many words are given that reveal God. The strength of Moses is not the issue. The strength of God is.
Let’s re-read that last phrase replacing the name of Moses with your name. The strength of_________ is not the issue. The strength of God is. You aren’t the force behind the plane nor the mortar within the foundation: God is. I know that you understand that statement, but do you accept it in your heart? Would you like to? Let me put down my inspirational pen and pick up my instructional pen. Allow me to get very practical with you and show you how you can have a deeper trust in God’s character.
One of the most encouraging ways to study God is to study his names. The study of the names of God is no brief reading. After all there are dozens of them in scripture. But if you want a place to begin, start with some of the compound names of God in the Old Testament. Each of them reveals a different aspect of God’s character.
No comments:
Post a Comment