The definition of addiction is “to occupy (oneself) with or involve (oneself) in something habitually or compulsively.” This speaks of an unnatural (for the Christian, at least) obsession with anything other than God: sports, work, shopping and/or acquiring “stuff,” even family or children. We are to “love the Lord, your God, with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might” (Deuteronomy 6:5), which is, according to Jesus, the first and greatest commandment (Matthew 22:37-38).. We can conclude, then, that an addiction to anything other than God Himself is wrong. God is the only thing we can (and should) occupy ourselves with habitually. To do so with anything else draws us away from Him and displeases Him. He alone is worthy of our complete attention, love, and service. To offer these things to anything or anyone else is idolatry.
“Our theology of technology tells us that while our new devices do not have any innate morality—they are neither good nor evil—they inhabit a sinful world and will draw our hearts away from God more easily than toward him. We know that though our devices are not sinful, we may well use them in sinful ways. In all the ways we communicate today, we may use our technologies to destroy relationship instead of foster it, to tear down instead of build up. If we are to use them well, we must use them deliberately, thoughtfully, and in a distinctly Christian way.” — Challies, Tim in The Next Story “While technology can be an idol in and of itself, far more commonly it serves as an enabler of other idols. In this sense, technology has a secondary function, enhancing the power of an existing idol by strengthening its grip on our heart. Technology becomes a tool of our existing idols.” — Challies, Tim in The Next Story “We may be serving the idol of significance, finding a sense of value in the number of people who notice us and interact with us. People with an idol of significance will measure their success or popularity by the number of friends they have on Facebook or the number of followers on Twitter. They make popularity something that can be measured and analyzed and feel that their own significance increases as more people pay attention to them and interact with them online.” — Challies, Tim in The Next Story “Studies now show that many young people are actually losing their ability to relate to one another in an offline context. As they’ve given themselves over to the idol of digital communication, they’ve paid a price. Now, real-world communication feels threatening, less natural, less normal than typing a text message. It is not unusual to observe two girls sitting in the same room, mere feet from one another, texting back and forth. In some contexts, digital communication has become the more “natural” form of communication. It feels easier, safer, and more efficient than talking face-to-face. In a strange way, we now find that more” — Challies, Tim in The Next Story Lets redeem technology for the glory of God... It happens in an instant. One minute you are walking and whistling, the next you are wide-eyed and falling. Satan yanks back the manhole cover, and an innocent afternoon stroll becomes a horror story. Helplessly you tumble, aware of the fall but unable to gain control. You crash at the bottom and stare blankly into the darkness. You inhale the evil stench and sit in Satan’s sewage until he spits you out and you land, dumbfounded and shell-shocked, on the sidewalk.
Such is the pattern of sudden sin. Can you relate to it? Very few sins are premeditated and planned. Very few of us would qualify for Satan’s strategy team. We spend our time avoiding sin, not planning it. But don’t think for one minute that, just because you don’t want to fall, you won’t. Satan has a special trick for you, and he only pulls it out when you aren’t looking. This yellow-bellied father of lies doesn’t dare meet you face- to-face. No sir. Don’t expect this demon of demons to challenge you to a duel. Not this snake. He hasn’t the integrity to tell you to turn around and put up your dukes. He fights dirty. He is the master of the trapdoor and the author of weak moments. He waits until your back is turned. He waits until your defense is down. He waits until the bell has rung and you are walking back to your corner. Then he aims his dart at your weakest point and . . . Bull’s-eye! You lose your temper. You lust. You fall. You take a drag. You buy a drink. You kiss the woman. You follow the crowd. You rationalize. You say yes. You sign your name. You forget who you are. You walk into her room. You look in the window. You break your promise. You buy the magazine. You lie. You covet. You stomp your feet and demand your way. You deny your Master. It’s David disrobing Bathsheba. It’s Adam accepting the fruit from Eve. It’s Abraham lying about Sarah. It’s Peter denying that he ever knew Jesus. It’s Noah, drunk and naked in his tent. It’s Lot, in bed with his own daughters. It’s your worst nightmare. It’s sudden. It’s sin. Satan numbs our awareness and short-circuits our self- control. We know what we are doing and yet can’t believe that we are doing it. In the fog of weakness, we want to stop but haven’t the will to do so. We want to turn around but our feet won’t move. We want to run, and pitifully, we want to stay. It’s the teenager in the backseat. It’s the alcoholic buying “just one.” It’s the boss touching his secretary’s hand. The husband walking into the porn shop. The mother losing her temper. The father beating his child. The gambler losing his money. The Christian losing control. And it’s Satan gaining a foothold. Confusion. Guilt. Rationalization. Despair. It all hits. It hits hard. We numbly pick ourselves up and stagger back into our world. “O God, what have I done?” “Should I tell someone?” “I’ll never do it again.” “My God, can you forgive me?” No one who is reading these words is free from the treachery of sudden sin. No one is immune to this trick of perdition. This demon of hell can scale the highest monastery wall, penetrate the deepest faith, and desecrate the purest home. Some of you know exactly what I mean. You could write these words better than I, couldn’t you? Some of you, like me, have tumbled so often that the stench of Satan’s breath is far from a novelty. You’ve asked for God’s forgiveness so often that you worry that the well of mercy might run dry. Want to sharpen your defenses a bit? Do you need help in reinforcing your weaponry? Have you tumbled down the manhole one too many times? Then consider these ideas: First, recognize Satan. Our war is not with flesh and blood but with Satan himself. Do like Jesus did when Satan met him in the wilderness. Call him by name. Rip off his mask. Denounce his disguise. He appears in the most innocent of clothing: a night out with the boys, a good book, a popular movie, a pretty neighbor. But don’t let him fool you! When the urge to sin rears its ugly head, look him squarely in the eye and call his bluff. “Get behind me, Satan!” “Not this time, you dog of hell! I’ve walked your stinking corridors before. Go back to the pit where you belong!” Whatever you do, don’t flirt with this fallen angel. He’ll thresh you like wheat. Second, accept God’s forgiveness. Romans chapter 7 is the Emancipation Proclamation for those of us who have a tendency to tumble. Look at verse 15: “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.” Sound familiar? Read on. Verses 18 and 19: “For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do— this I keep on doing.” Man, that fellow has been reading my diary! “What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?” (verse 24). Please, Paul, don’t stop there! Is there no oasis in this barrenness of guilt? There is. Thank God and drink deeply as you read verse 25 and verse 1 of chapter 8: “Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord! . . . Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” Amen. There it is. You read it right. Underline it if you wish. For those in Christ there is no condemnation. Absolutely none. Claim the promise. Memorize the words. Accept the cleansing. Throw out the guilt. Praise the Lord. And . . . watch out for open manholes. Max Lucado - On the Anvil With a strong forearm, the apron-clad blacksmith puts his tongs into the fire, grasps the heated metal, and places it on the anvil. His keen eye examines the glowing piece. He sees what the tool is now and envisions what he wants it to be—sharper, flatter, wider, longer. With a clear picture in his mind, he begins to pound. His left hand still clutching the hot mass with the tongs, his right hand slams the two-pound sledge upon the moldable metal.
On the solid anvil, the smoldering iron is remolded. The smith knows the type of instrument he wants. He knows the size. He knows the shape. He knows the strength. Whang! Whang! The hammer slams. The shop rings with noise, the air fills with smoke, and the softened metal responds. But the response doesn’t come easily. It doesn’t come without discomfort. To melt down the old and recast it as new is a disrupting process. Yet the metal remains on the anvil, allowing the toolmaker to remove the scars, repair the cracks, refill the voids, and purge the impurities. And with time, a change occurs: What was dull becomes sharpened, what was crooked becomes straight, what was weak becomes strong, and what was useless becomes valuable. Then the blacksmith stops. He ceases his pounding and sets down his hammer. With a strong left arm, he lifts the tongs until the freshly molded metal is at eye level. In the still silence, he examines the smoking tool. The incandescent implement is rotated and examined for any mars or cracks. There are none. Now the smith enters the final stage of his task. He plunges the smoldering instrument into a nearby bucket of water. With a hiss and a rush of steam, the metal immediately begins to harden. The heat surrenders to the onslaught of cool water, and the pliable, soft mineral becomes an unbending, useful tool. “For a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire— may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed” (1 Peter 1:6-7). Describe your own experiences with grief or difficult times. What have you learned through these experiences? Has suffering affected your faith? In what ways? Anvil Time On God’s anvil. Perhaps you’ve been there. Melted down. Formless. Undone. Placed on the anvil for . . . reshaping? (A few rough edges too many.) Discipline? (A good father disciplines.) Testing? (But why so hard?) I know. I’ve been on it. It’s rough. It’s a spiritual slump, a famine. The fire goes out. Although the fire may flame for a moment, it soon disappears. We drift downward. Downward into the foggy valley of question, the misty lowland of discouragement. Motivation wanes. Desire is distant. Responsibilities are depressing. Passion? It slips out the door. Enthusiasm? Are you kidding? Anvil time. It can be caused by a death, a breakup, going broke, going prayerless. The light switch is flipped off and the room darkens. “All the thoughtful words of help and hope have all been nicely said. But I’m still hurting, wondering." On the anvil. Brought face-to-face with God out of the utter realization that we have nowhere else to go. Jesus in the garden. Peter with a tear-streaked face. David after Bathsheba. Elijah and the “still, small voice.” Paul, blind in Damascus. Pound, pound, pound. I hope you’re not on the anvil. (Unless you need to be, and if so, I hope you are.) Anvil time is not to be avoided; it’s to be experienced. Although the tunnel is dark, it does go through the mountain. Anvil time reminds us of who we are and who God is. We shouldn’t try to escape it. To escape it could be to escape God. God sees our life from beginning to end. He may lead us through a storm at age thirty so we can endure a hurricane at age sixty. An instrument is useful only if it’s in the right shape. A dull ax or a bent screwdriver needs attention, and so do we. A good blacksmith keeps his tools in shape. So does God. Should God place you on his anvil, be thankful. It means he thinks you’re still worth reshaping. Is it anvil time for you? What does that look like? What is your hope for the reshaping that is taking place? Has God left an imprint on your life? What does that mean to you? Max Lucado - On God's Anvil One of the amazing aspects of the first Christmas was that Mary would travel by donkey from Nazareth to Bethlehem in her ninth month of pregnancy. I've traveled the road from Nazareth to Bethlehem by car, not by donkey and foot as Joseph and Mary did. It's a tortuous journey through hills and mountains, and it's about 90 long miles. There's no way you're going to get a loving husband to go with his very pregnant wife on a trip like that on the eve of their baby's birth, right? Wrong.
For almost 500 years, the prophecies of God had said that Messiah would be born in Bethlehem. Little problem: Joseph and Mary are living 90 miles away in Nazareth. There's apparently no way you'll ever get Mary to Bethlehem when the Messiah in her womb is full term. But the plan of God says Bethlehem. What God does is absolutely amazing, and a very special encouragement for you this Christmas. Our word for today from the Word of God comes from these familiar verses, Luke 2:1-4. "In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world ... and everyone went to his town to register. So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem, the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David." Now the man seemingly making all this happen is the Roman Emperor, Caesar Augustus. History tells us that he murdered members of his family, he actually was a mass murderer, and he instituted emperor worship. He was, in many ways, a monster. And here is little Joseph caught up in the great whirlpool of history. But it is Caesar Augustus who turns out to be the bit player in this divine drama, the footnote to history. He thinks he's flexing his muscle with this universal census, but this most powerful man on earth is only an unsuspecting instrument in the hands of a sovereign God. God will get His destiny couple to His destiny place, even if He has to move an entire empire to do it! The Christmas story is God's powerful statement that God's plans are unstoppable! Including His plans for you. Plans that He says in Jeremiah 29:11 are "plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Now it may be that right now there appears to be no way things can turn out right. The money isn't there, your health isn't there, the relationship looks impossible, the job frustrations are mounting, the mountain isn't moving, and the answer isn't coming. It looks as if there's no way for things to work out, not enough time for an answer to come. But you belong to the God who, with the stroke of an evil man's pen, moved an empire to place His kids, Joseph and Mary, right where they were supposed to be. Yes, there was a difficult process, but God delivered them exactly where they were supposed to be. And God will get His plans for you accomplished if He has to move an empire to do it, or use even a godless instrument to do it. Jesus was born in Bethlehem. Just getting Him there was a miracle! So relax in the strong arms of the God of Bethlehem. He will move whatever He has to move to finish what He has started in your life! by Ron Hutchcraft |