No other gods

It sounds so simple. "You shall have no other gods besides me." The first commandment is not only saying that God is to be preeminent, but we are expected to have no gods beside Him, or next to Him. We know instinctively that "other gods" is not limited to characters like Zeus or Molech, but includes anything and everything that boasts of providing security and confidence. This is why Jesus warned us of a broad idolatry that includes the mundane details of everyday goods. "You cannot serve God and mammon" (Matthew 6:24b). Mammon is an Aramaic word meaning treasure, property, or my favorite, one's pile. Your pile of stuff that secures your well-being and provides comfort. Your insurance policy, running water, dependable vehicle, ski trips, stock-pile of firewood, garden plot, education, bank account, high-school sports, military strength... Your stuff, our stuff, those things that, because of their inherent goodness, subtly vie for equality with God on the throne of your heart. You can't serve both God and stuff. You can't place confidence in both God and stuff. You can't trust your security, future or current, to both God and stuff.

We know this is true, which raises the question: In our advanced society with so much to offer, how do you know with certainty if you are serving God or stuff?

Shattering measuring cups in Jesus' name

Ah, parenthood... it's amazing the things you make us say: "Would you PLEASE stop trying to help in the kitchen and just go play video games with your brothers?" Don't judge me. If you're a parent you've said similar things. But God never says these things to us. He could send legions of angels to proclaim His message flawlessly. He could spring water from dry wells in Africa. He could cure children dying from diarrhea in Haiti. He could rescue 12 year old girls from the sex trade in Ethiopia. But He sends us. Like my two-year-old, we toddle around this big, round kitchen we call Earth and drop glass measuring cups, shattering a would be rescue, or would be salvation, or would be cure, into a million pieces of what could have been. But, somehow it still works. Somehow mercy is shown through the actions of embittered aid workers. Nutrition is provided through scant resources. The Gospel is received from the mouths of hypocrites. Somehow through our weakness He is made strong after all. God invites us holistically with our imperfections, novice experiences, questionable motives, and clumsy actions. But that "somehow" is no mystery at all. He takes our hands into His, like a loving parent compensates for the crude motor skills of a toddler. He tells us what to do, guides our hands as we do it, and with the patience of the ages He lets us grow up in Him. So go ahead and toddle into the kitchen. There is work to do, and He'll use your clumsiness to do it just as He has done through His children from the original breath of life. Ya, you'll drop something and watch it shatter, but He'll clean it up and hand you another one.