THE question

It's a simple, but most profound question. Jesus is marching along, doing all Jesus kinda things and Peter is walking with him.

At some point, Jesus asks a Jesus kinda question to Peter: "But what about you? Who do you say that I am."

This is THE question of all time. Who do you say that I am, Jesus asks each and every one of us.

Peter answers, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God."

What say you? When the night has come, and the land is calm, will you stand by him (pardon me, Ben E. King)? Will you answer the question the right way? Will you say that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the Living God? Because that's the only answer that has worth.

Don't worry about your good deeds. Don't worry about your hard work. Don't concern yourself with what you wear or don't wear. Nah, nah, nah. Just answer that question, and come on it. It's the stamp on your hand, too. If you believe, you can enter. No matter what you've done, what you've said, what you've believed prior to answering that question.

Who do you say that I am?

No mere mortals

       Years ago, and I mean years and years ago, I used to be sent to the Associated Press Sports Editor conventions each summer by whatever newspaper I was working for.


       Each summer I was humbled, or something close to humbled, by meeting or just seeing the big names from all the big newspapers around the country. No matter how often I went or how well received each and every sports section I represented was, I always felt as if I didn't belong there. I felt small, even though for about 20 years in a row,  I think it was, the newspaper I represented won an award for best design or best sports section. I never felt like I was good enough to be a part of such a gathering.


       Now, I know you're thinking that I wasn't good enough. But my point is this: I should have understood, particularly in the latter part of my journey as a journalist (see what I did there?), that whatever was going well was not because of me.


       Heck, I still get those feelings when we gather as a slew of clergy at the Louisiana Annual Conference. I just don't feel as if I'm good enough. I am the most mortal of mere mortals.

       Never good enough. Never bold enough. Never successful enough. Never creative enough. Never, well, never. I'll never be enough...

       Then I read: 

"Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, 'Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.'  So we say with confidence, “The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?” Hebrews 13:5-6


       "What can mere mortals do to me?" Simple question. Long, long answer. The better phrase might be, "What can mere mortals do in this lifetime when eternity is so much longer, so much better?"

       Let's do this experiment: No matter how you feel about whatever is going on in this country, in this state, in this city in which you live, no matter how deep, how dark things are, do you believe that God has you in the palm of his hand, that God knows your name, that God is awaiting your conversation with Him? Do you believe, do I believe, that there is absolutely nothing anyone can do to me that will keep me from professing Jesus as Lord? Do you believe that He will never leave you?


       See, we are no longer mere mortals, we believers in Jesus Christ. No longer are we bound by the rules that seem to govern life without Him. No longer are we able to make a good situation so darn messy.


       I am not enough. I'm not. No matter how successful I was, or how successful I am in a totally different realm, God has made sure what He offers is so much more. I am not enough, but He is.


       I will never be enough, but He already is more than enough. Great is His Faithfulness. Great is His Faithfulness.


       No mortal can do anything to me that He hasn't already fixed. I can do nothing that would cause me to fail, to fall, to lose, that He hasn't already made a success.

No mere mortals

       Years ago, and I mean years and years ago, I used to be sent to the Associated Press Sports Editor conventions each summer by whatever newspaper I was working for.


       Each summer I was humbled, or something close to humbled, by meeting or just seeing the big names from all the big newspapers around the country. No matter how often I went or how well received each and every sports section I represented was, I always felt as if I didn't belong there. I felt small, even though for about 20 years in a row,  I think it was, the newspaper I represented won an award for best design or best sports section. I never felt like I was good enough to be a part of such a gathering.


       Now, I know you're thinking that I wasn't good enough. But my point is this: I should have understood, particularly in the latter part of my journey as a journalist (see what I did there?), that whatever was going well was not because of me.


       Heck, I still get those feelings when we gather as a slew of clergy at the Louisiana Annual Conference. I just don't feel as if I'm good enough. I am the most mortal of mere mortals.

       Never good enough. Never bold enough. Never successful enough. Never creative enough. Never, well, never. I'll never be enough...

       Then I read: 

"Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, 'Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.'  So we say with confidence, “The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?” Hebrews 13:5-6


       "What can mere mortals do to me?" Simple question. Long, long answer. The better phrase might be, "What can mere mortals do in this lifetime when eternity is so much longer, so much better?"

       Let's do this experiment: No matter how you feel about whatever is going on in this country, in this state, in this city in which you live, no matter how deep, how dark things are, do you believe that God has you in the palm of his hand, that God knows your name, that God is awaiting your conversation with Him? Do you believe, do I believe, that there is absolutely nothing anyone can do to me that will keep me from professing Jesus as Lord? Do you believe that He will never leave you?


       See, we are no longer mere mortals, we believers in Jesus Christ. No longer are we bound by the rules that seem to govern life without Him. No longer are we able to make a good situation so darn messy.


       I am not enough. I'm not. No matter how successful I was, or how successful I am in a totally different realm, God has made sure what He offers is so much more. I am not enough, but He is.


       I will never be enough, but He already is more than enough. Great is His Faithfulness. Great is His Faithfulness.


       No mortal can do anything to me that He hasn't already fixed. I can do nothing that would cause me to fail, to fall, to lose, that He hasn't already made a success.

More than we can handle

        I’ve heard it more often than not lately: “God won’t give you more than you can handle.”

         Though there’s a comfort in that sentence, without question, it is worth nothing, however, that it was never written into the Bible. No where is that sentence found.

         The closest I’ve ever come is Mother Teresa saying, something close to that and adding, “But He and I seldom agree on what that is.”

         These past couple weeks have sort of been that way.  I’ve felt like I desire the world to just hit the mute button.

         But then I heard this, and it spoke into my heart.

         The question was, “Does God call you to just a little more than you can accomplish on your own? Does He ever call you to what you can do by yourself?”

         The answer is, of course, yes and yes.

         When some difficulty arises in the life a believer (or anyone else), this supposed verse gets tossed out there like a Scripture bomb. Sure, it sounds compelling, and it does remind us of God’s care and concern for each of us. After all, He knows exactly the number of follicles growing out of your cranium:

         “Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” (Luke 12:7)

         But it’s because God loves us and knows us that He must give us more than we can handle. After all, we humans have a tendency to think that we can do everything on our own. Our pride has a way of dragging us down:

         “Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.” (Proverbs 16:18)

         To keep us grounded in the reality of our need for a Savior, God graciously allows us to see just how much we can’t handle. He put the prophet Elijah’s back against the wall and made him depend upon birds, He gave Moses 600,000 impossible-to-please travelers, He tasked the 11 apostles with spreading the gospel all over the world, and He’ll give you way more than you can handle, too.

         Now, the Bible does say that God won’t allow you to be tempted beyond your limits:

         “No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.” (1 Corinthians 10:13)

         And that is certainly great news. We all need the assurance. But temptation is not usually what people mean when they say this supposed verse.

         Think of it this way: If God only gave us what we could handle, never stretching us, never helping us grow, then we would do it, whatever it is, on our own. All glory be to Billy, or something like that. We wouldn’t need God, or Jesus, or the helpful hand and loving push of the Holy Spirit. And we most certainly do.

         Remember, Jesus went through this in the Garden on the night before he died.

         He cried out in the garden, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death” (Matthew 26:38). Jesus told His father, “This is too much for me!”

         We see this kind of thing in the Psalms, too. The Psalmists ball their fists in rage, and shout at God, “Why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22) In their sadness they say, “darkness is my closest friend” (Psalm 88).

         What these verses teach us is that it’s OK to feel like we can’t handle it, like we are going to give up. We can cry out, “My soul is overwhelmed to the point of death.”

          It’s OK because we can turn to He who guides us, directs us, loves us, stretches us. And when we do this, we find God—the one who, in the person of Jesus, suffers with us. Get that? With us. He doesn’t take it away. Nah, nah, He walks through it with us. The weight then is lessened because He is with us, pushing that dang rock up the hill.

         A rock, a burden, a challenge that is just a little bit more than I can handle.