The phrase "I am" has powerful connotations

 

“I think, therefore I am.” – Rene Descartes.

“I am, I said.” – Neil Diamond.

“I am what I am, and that’s all that I am” – Popeye.

The phrase “I am” has some powerful connotations. We use it all the time – “I am going to the store” or “I am washing dishes” or “I am thinking.” It’s a definitive statement of present tense, of what “I am” doing right now, this moment.

It’s also the name God gave to Himself.

This was back in the book of Exodus, when Moses was coming up with all these excuses as to why he could not go back to Egypt – where, he believed, he might rightfully be wanted for murder – to free God’s people.

Moses says to God, “Suppose I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ Then what shall I tell them?”

It wasn’t just Pharoah that Moses was concerned about; he couldn’t help but wonder if the people he was being sent to rescue wouldn’t believe God sent him; why would they? Would you?

God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘I AM has sent me to you.’” (This is all in Exodus 3).

“I am” is a phrase to say “this is what I am doing at this moment.” It is a statement of present tense.

As a name of God, it is the ultimate statement of present tense; of self-sufficiency, self-existence, and immediate presence. What I believe God is saying is He is the eternal present tense. No matter when or where, God is saying “I Am here.” In a very real sense, God is always “living in the moment.”

That’s not bad advice for us, to live in the moment, to be present in the here and now. But it can be difficult for us to do. We get so bogged down in the past, or paralyzed by how we envision the future. Often, we seem to live more in the past or the future than in the present, in the “now.”

Not that there isn’t value in remembering. I have some great memories that cause me to smile, or feel loved, or help me navigate what is happening now.

Not that there isn’t value to looking to the future. Where would we be without some kind of plan, whether it’s as simple as “What am I going to do today?” or as complex as “Where do I want to be in 10 years?”

But there is something to be said for being able to live in the present tense, to not letting myself be discouraged by things that have happened that I can’t change, or fearful of the things that might happen.

I wonder if it would not be better for us to remember that God is in this moment. He doesn’t have a past, or a future. For God, who is outside of time, everything is right now. It’s a difficult concept to fully grasp, because we are time-bound creatures. But somehow God is beyond time, outside of time. Everything is “right now” for God. He is “I AM.”

And how much less stressful would my life be if I could live that way, to not be limited by what I can’t change and not be worried about what has not happened yet? Yesterday’s mistake does not need to keep me from today’s success; yesterday’s success may not help me overcome today’s problem.

“I AM” is a powerful concept. We don’t have to be afraid because fear relates to what happened in the past or what may happen in the future. “I AM” says all I can do about anything is right now, in this present moment.

Somewhere I read that life is like air. We breathe it in and out every moment. Generally speaking, it’s no good if we take in a lungful of air and don’t exhale it to take in another. To stay alive, I must keep breathing, in and out. I can’t worry that the previous breath may be my last and try to hold on to it and never let it go, because eventually that will kill me. I can’t be afraid that there will not be another breath for me to take. All I can do is breathe.

So, as much as I am able, I want to live, in a sense, like God: in the present. It’s kind of like the old “WWJD” – What Would Jesus Do; that question we are supposed to ask ourselves in every decision we make.

Obedience is actually only possible in the present tense. I think it’s impossible to obey God in any other moment than the present. We can’t do anything about not obeying Him in the past; the future has not happened, so we can only obey God right now, in the present tense. In the “I am.”

Maybe that’s why the Bible always emphasizes the “now” of obedience. “Today if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts” (Hebrews 3:7–8). “Choose you this day whom you will serve” (Joshua 24:15).

I need to recognize that God is here with me, in the present. He says His name is “I AM;” that “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you” (in Deuteronomy 31:6 and again in Hebrews 13:5); that “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8).

I need to live knowing that right now is the most important moment, because God is right now in this moment. Rather than asking “What should be happening?” I need to ask, “What is happening? God, what are You doing right now? Show me so that I can see it and be in the moment with You.”

I like the way John Newton used his “I ams:”

“I am not what I ought to be, I am not what I want to be, I am not what I hope to be in another world; but still I am not what I once used to be, and by the grace of God I am what I am.”

Right now. Because I can’t live in any other moment.

Loving yourself

 

If you don’t see yourself as lovable, it becomes incredibly difficult to love your neighbor.

Years ago, in my previous life as a sportswriter, I was listening to a university president talk about a coach that he’d decided not to fire despite the coach being caught in an extra-marital affair with a subordinate employee in the athletic office.

This was years ago, before the “Me Too” movement and the cancel culture. These days there wouldn’t be much hesitation in firing that coach, and justifiably so.

But back in those days, sometimes being successful – winning games – covered a multitude of sins.

The president’s resume listed him as being a Presbyterian minister. At one point, in a scrum with reporters, he said his reason for retaining this coach was, “I believe men are basically good.”

I said, “As a Presbyterian, I would think you’re a Calvinist. What about the total depravity of man?”

He ignored my question, perhaps rightfully so. This wasn’t the place for a theological discussion. But a couple of the reporters who were there with me later told me they thought it was a great comeback.

The “total depravity of man” is a solid theological concept, but I wonder if it’s not often misunderstood.

The idea, I think, is an acknowledgement that the Bible teaches that as a result of the fall of man (Genesis 3:6, the whole eating of the fruit thing) every part of man has been corrupted by sin, often referred to as our “sin nature.” This corrupts every area of our being, rendering living a sinless life impossible. Isaiah 64:6 says, in part, “…all our righteous acts are like filthy rags” before a holy God.

Many years ago, there was a particular NFL quarterback who fell victim to multiple gambling issues, which plagued him for years. Eventually he wound up doing jail time. At some point, he was told he was medically diagnosed as having a gambling addiction, that it was a sickness. I remember an interview he did where, nearly in tears, he said something like, “Thank God! I’m sick. I have an addiction. All these years I thought I was just a screw-up!”

The bad news is, he is a screw-up. We all are. We all have an addiction – to ourselves. And it can be overcome, by God’s Grace. But we can’t blame it on being “sick;” it’s our sin nature.

Mother Teresa was a respected Catholic nun who dedicated most of her life to working with the “undesirables” of India, the poorest of the poor. She didn’t do that because they were the worst of the worst, lost more than anyone else. Mother Teresa once said she went to the poor because that was her calling, but that she saw the same loneliness, the same poverty, the same desperation in the rich. “The world is suffering much,’’ she said, “because of this terrible disease- not of leprosy, not of tuberculosis, not even of hunger – but of that feeling of wanting to be wanted, to be loved, to be somebody to somebody.”

Or, as Jesus said, “You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.” (Revelation 3:17)

I fully agree with fallen man having a sin nature. But I wonder if we forget we were not created to be evil, sinful people. Humans were created to be good. That was God’s original intent for our lives.

We need to remember that God created mankind in His Own Image. Adam and Eve were more like God than anything else He created. I believe that in the original plan, humans would live forever, just as God exists forever. He had a purpose for humans, and all the people that came after the originals were created for a purpose, too.

That’s important, because Jesus said the second greatest commandment is, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Well, if you don’t see yourself as lovable – if you don’t see yourself the way God created you to be - it becomes incredibly difficult to love your neighbor.

I wonder if we only love others to the extent that we love ourselves. I read one commentator who said Jesus’ second greatest command might be better understood by adding “You will” to it: “You will love your neighbor as yourself.” The feelings you have toward yourself will inevitably be projected upon others.

Now, be careful here. You do not love yourself by telling yourself how great you are, by considering yourself better than other people. That is not what humans were created to do any more than they were created to sin. Pride is a sin.

Humans were created to be in a relationship with God, but ultimately God wants us to be like Jesus. And Paul tells us in Philippians that we should have the same mindset as Jesus “who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing, by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death— even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:5-8).

If that’s my example, how can I think highly of myself? It’s easy, as a man in particular, to think being a man gives me certain rights. The society we live in says it’s all about `me,’ look at `me,’ don’t disrespect `me.’ Instead, Jesus, though he was equal with God (think of what that means, to be equal with God!), did not see that equality as something to be grasped (held on to for dear life), but willingly gave it up to become a man (actually, a helpless baby) and took on the form of a servant (the most powerful force in the universe took the abuse of the beings he created in order to save them).

So how do we know if we love ourselves? We’ll live lives that are characterized by being happy and thankful, by seeking to serve other people; lives that are not consumed with “self,” seeking what we believe will make us happy.

We live lives of joy, of gratitude, rather than being stressed or insecure or angry or in denial. We learn that we are loved by God, created for His good pleasure. We are to be what most people are not: happy, and full of life. Jesus made it possible for us to have a “full measure of (His) joy” (John 17:13). We embrace that.

If we’re not filled with joy, then chances are we’re sapping it from those around us.

The tough part of the Christian life is we’re two people. The Apostle Paul speaks of the “old self” in Romans (6:6) and of the “new creation” in 2 Corinthians (5:17). In a sense, we are no longer “homo sapiens” but have become “homo fideus” – Latin for “men of good faith.”

Through Christ we are redeemed, washed, born again, made pure and holy. This is who we are. Through faith we are made holy. We choose to deliberately focus on the new creature rather than the old. And we choose to see the good in people, the image of God, because we have come to understand it in ourselves.

If I can learn to see myself as God sees me, with lovingkindness, then I will see everyone else the same way.

Be happy

 

I was driving down a road near my house, a road I’ve driven down a thousand times, in my 13-year-old car, listening to some acoustic jazz from the 1990s, when I suddenly realized I was happy.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think of myself as being typically unhappy. Truthfully, I don’t believe I think of my emotional state much at all.

In that moment, nothing had really changed about my life. I’m like most people, I guess. I have a mortgage, a loan I’m paying on, a car payment (not on my 13-year-old car, however), dealing with long-term health issues in my family that require regular medical bills – pretty ordinary stuff. I haven’t recently received any financial windfall, my monthly bills are the usual ones, nobody had recently told me I was good-looking or smart or talented.

I was just driving down the road, when it hit me: I’m happy.

Have you ever had those moments? You’re listening to a song or reading a book or watching a movie or looking at a sunset or playing with the kids (or grandkids) or eating a really good meal and suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, you’re just hit with this sense of happiness? Or maybe what C.S. Lewis would call being “surprised by joy?”

In his book, Surprised by Joy, Lewis talks about his life’s “stabs of joy,” those fleeting moments that hint at something greater, that strikes unexpectedly, of something good that can’t be fully explained in words. These are moments you can’t create for yourself; even if you listen to that same piece of music again, or watch that same movie or visit the same garden or have a conversation with the same person, you’re not going to get that same inexplicable reaction, that surprise at suddenly feeling something moving that catches you completely unaware.

Now, for those of you who have read Lewis, you know in some writings he seems to differentiate between “joy” and “happiness,’’ treating “happy” as if it’s lesser than “joy.” And in the context in which he’s writing, I agree. But he also, in A Severe Mercy, says, “It is a Christian duty, as you know, for everyone to be as happy as he can.”

In my reading of the Bible (take that for what it’s worth), I find Scripture uses words like joy, happiness, contentment, delight, and satisfaction as, essentially, synonyms for the same type experience. For my purpose, I’m using “happy” in much the same way Lewis, I believe, uses “joy.”

There is a cartoon I have seen several times, of two robed men – one the master, the other the student – sitting cross-legged on some mountain. The master or guru or teacher has this blissful smile on his face while the protégé says, “The hokey-pokey? That’s what it’s all about?”

Yes. You put your whole self in, and sometimes you shake it all about. That’s life, isn’t it?

As a Christian, I’m called to be happy – or joyful. 1 Peter 1:8 says we are to be “filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy.”

Unfortunately, I don’t seem to have that feeling every day. Paul writes to the Galatians and asks, ‘’What has happened to the satisfaction you felt…?” or in another translation, “Where, then, is your blessing …?” It is as if he is saying, “What happened to your joy?” If the Gospel – the Good News – doesn’t make a person happy, then what will? In Philippians 2:2 he says, “Make my joy complete …”

Joy is listed as a Fruit of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23). Too often I find myself forgetting everything past “love.” We all love “love,” don’t we? But it seems to me that love is not a stand-alone; that love should be – maybe has to be - accompanied by joy, peace, forbearance (patience), kindness, goodness … The word “fruit” is singular, as if all these traits are part of the same, singular thing.

I wonder if we can fully, truly experience any of those characteristics the way God intended us to if we don’t experience them all. Can you have joy without love? Love without joy?

The Apostle John is rightfully credited for writing so much about love. Yet in the very beginning of the letter we call 1 John, it’s not love he is longing for, but writes, “We write this to make our joy complete.” And he ends 2 John with “I hope to visit you and talk with you face to face, so that our joy may be complete.”

We Christians sometimes seem to have a hard time with happiness. I think of the verse in a hymn we sang growing up which says, “Worldly pleasures all forsaken; Take me, Jesus, take me now.” (I Surrender All).

We can make happiness trivial, like we do so many things. But when Thomas Jefferson wrote in the Declaration of Independence “that all men are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights” that include “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,’’ I don’t think he was talking about buying a new set of golf clubs or getting a really good burger at a local pub. To Jefferson, this “pursuit of happiness” was something more profound than something transient or just based on experiences.

The key is where we derive our happiness. If it is, indeed, in things, we soon learn that things break or wear out and we require new things. If it’s in seeking experiences, we soon learn we need another experience, a better one, one that is more intense. As Pope Francis said, “Seeking happiness in material things is a sure way of being unhappy.”

That is where I like what Lewis wrote, describing joy (my “happy’’) as “those fleeting moments that hint at something greater, that strikes unexpectedly, of something good that can’t be fully explained in words. These are moments you can’t create for yourself …”

John Piper once said, “Happiness is not an object to be desired. It is the experience of the object. … Idolatry is not in wanting happiness, supremely. Idolatry is finding supreme happiness in anything other than God.”

That, I think, brings me back to my realization of being “happy.” I was not happy because I was driving a road, because I have driven that road thousands of times without that feeling; or from driving a car I have driven many miles in, or listening to a piece of music I have played endlessly.

I don’t know why it suddenly hit me that I was happy. I don’t know where the thought came from, or why that particular moment. I just know it hit me, and I was … well, happy.

And maybe the best explanation is back to Lewis, who wrote, “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probably explanation is that we were made for another world.”

Or, to fit my moment, if I find myself with a sudden feeling that nothing I was doing could create or recreate of itself, then maybe I was getting a glimpse of another world, of what God has promised for us, down the road.

I’m thankful when I get moments – glimpses – of that happiness where I am.

I don’t know where I found this quote, but I like it:

“Chasing happiness is like chasing the rainbow. The rainbow always fades before you find it because it’s only a by-product of the sun. If you want to find a rainbow, perhaps you should be chasing the sun instead.

“But if we chase the sun, we’ll find rainbows. It’s the same with happiness. If we chase happiness, we won’t find it. But if we chase the Son, he’ll fulfill us, and we just might find happiness along the way.”