A Dollop of Butter

O my people, listen to my instructions. Open your ears to what I am saying, for I will speak to you in a parable. I will teach you hidden lessons ... (Psalm 78:1-2, NLT).

In the month of January, we took a hiatus from regular services in our little church, Lifegate, spending each Saturday night in a time of prayer interlaced with worship. There had been a consensus among the leadership that we needed to set this time aside to inquire of God what He wants to do in and through this body. We came looking to Him for direction.

We didn’t hear much, perhaps not as we expected and hoped, although the meetings were full of a precious kind of peace and a sense of God’s pleasure in this consecrated effort.

The congregation was encouraged to contact the elders about any dreams, visions, or impressions that we received as individuals during that time, and by the end of the month there was a collection of various “words.” A mid-week meeting was called to collaborate and pray over these thoughts. Some interesting things came to light, but there was one thing that left me blank, as I believe it did everyone else, including the fellow who had received the impression. After feeling burdened for some of the disenfranchised youth we’ve had wander in off the streets, Nick, an elder, had had a mental image of a large dollop of butter on a spreading knife.

I thought about this for several days, thinking how random and unfathomable it was. Then God quoted a scripture to me in my mind, “Ye have not because ye ask not” (James 4:2). In this context: “You don’t have understanding because you haven’t asked for it.”

So I asked God what Nick’s weird vision meant, and it was amazing how the thoughts immediately began to pour into my brain. I thought of how bread, no matter how healthy and hearty the loaf, is dry and unpalatable without butter.

Then I thought of a particular fellow, who, when I bring homemade bread to a potluck, slathers on butter a full quarter inch thick. If questioned, he’ll say that it’s important in the digestion of the bread. Now I suddenly wondered whether this were true: Does butter really help with digestion? Later when I went online, this is what I found at http://www.tendergrassfedmeat.com/:

Traditionally, bread was always eaten with plenty of butter. The two foods complemented each other. The butter facilitated metabolism, digestion, and the ability of the body to absorb nutrients. This butter was always made from the whole, unprocessed milk of grass-fed cows, and was loaded with all kinds of vitamins, and minerals. The bread, made from sprouted grains, and often fermented by traditional sourdough methods, contained important nutrients, and provided a perfect vehicle for the butter. Just about every traditional European cuisine began each meal with this kind of bread and butter, which was considered absolutely essential for good health and digestion.

Of course, in our present day, this metaphor falls short. With the prevalence of the fat phobia and gluten intolerance, bread and butter are bad words to a lot of people. Just like the promised “land of milk and honey” is difficult to appreciate when we live in a land of hypoglycemia and lactose intolerance! “But from the beginning it was not so.”

So what is the spiritual application for bread and butter? It came quickly to mind that Jesus called Himself the bread of life. Actually, I had just been reading that very passage in John 6, verses 32 to 58, and Jesus uses the word bread, in reference to Who He is, no less than eleven times here. Evidently He really wants to put this across!

Here are some of the things He says. Try to read carefully, through the familiarity, and really hear what He’s saying:

“The true bread of God is the one who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.

“I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry again.

“Anyone who eats the bread from heaven, however, will never die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Anyone who eats this bread will live forever.”

The Old Testament (Deuteronomy 8:3) says, and Jesus echoes, “Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.” Another thought: the first chapter of John tells us clearly that the pre-incarnate Jesus was the word (of God). In Mary’s womb, “the word became flesh,” and then He lived among us, “full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). So Jesus was (is) both the bread that comes down from heaven and the word that comes out of God’s mouth. We definitely want to be feeding on Him!

How do we “feed” on Him? By coming to Him, listening, believing His Word, and learning to walk by His Spirit. There is Life to be had here, for ourselves, and then to be shared with others.

So where does the butter come in, and what does it have to do with God’s mandate for us believers, not only in our little church, but all over the world?

The thought of eating bread by itself is not particularly appetizing. On the other hand, if the bread is wholesome, fresh, and nutritious, and spread generously with butter, there’s hardly a snack more satisfying.

For many people outside of God’s fold, and even those who are inside but jaded, the truths of God are dry and unpalatable. Difficult to chew. Can’t break them down; can’t digest them; can’t assimilate them. The thought of reading the Bible is about as unappetizing as a mouthful of dry bread.

Even mature believers need help from one another—at different times, in different areas of our lives—to receive and digest God’s truth.

In God’s giving us a picture of Lifegate (and the Church at large) as a dollop of butter ready to be spread, I believe He is saying that our function is to wisely and creatively present the wisdom of God in any and every situation in a way that makes it appetizing and digestible. A hearty meal, full of spiritual nurture.

What then shall we say, brothers and sisters? When you come together, each of you has a hymn, or a word of instruction, a revelation, a tongue or an interpretation. Everything must be done so that the church may be built up (1 Corinthians 14:26).

Doing What the Father Is Doing

The Son can do nothing by himself. He does only what he sees the Father doing. Whatever the Father does, the Son also does (John 5:19, NLT, Jesus speaking).

As children of God and imitators of Him (Ephesians 5:1, RSV); as younger siblings of Jesus (Hebrews 2:11; Romans 8:29), we, too, set our sights on doing only what we see the Father doing. Out and about in the everyday things of life, if we keep our spiritual eyes open, we will see what God is “doing” and therefore know what He wants us to do. Sometimes I think of it this way: I say to myself, Can I see God doing this? No, I can’t see Him responding that way. Or—Can I see God wanting me to do this right now? Yes. Okay, then I’d better do it.

In another way, it’s like looking ahead toward something I think God may be asking of me at the moment, say like offering to pray for this person right now that has come across my path. It’s almost like I can see faint footsteps ahead of me, God’s footprints into that situation, and I see that He wants me to go that way, fitting my feet into the impressions He has already made. “For we are God’s [own] handiwork (His workmanship), recreated in Christ Jesus, [born anew] that we may do those good works which God predestined (planned beforehand) for us, (taking paths which He prepared ahead of time) that we should walk in them . . .” (Ephesians 2:10, AMP).

Here is an example:

One day I was shopping in a large department store. It suddenly came to mind that about a year ago at this time, in this same aisle, I had run into a Native girl who had been in the class on purity that I’d taught the previous spring down on the reserve. Her name is not pronounced quite the way it’s spelled, and as I scrambled mentally to greet her by name, I hadn’t got it quite right. Still, she’d seemed pleased that I remembered her, and that was an encouragement, because she had been one tough case in class. So rebellious, absolutely impossible to deal with—impossible, that is, until I’d got a team of intercessors praying specifically against rebellion. So here I was in the same store, a year after last seeing her, thinking of her. Now, how do you pronounce her name? the Lord seemed to ask. So I thought it through, reminding myself.

The next day I was in a clothing store. By the time I came to the till with my purchase, I was aware that the salesgirl was all alone in the store. I also had a hunch that she had a bad case of menstrual cramps. I turned away from the till for a moment and found myself looking into the face of the aforementioned Native girl. “Hi, Dianna,” I said, being careful to pronounce it “Deanna.” She looked as pleased as punch to be remembered, and we chatted for a few minutes, albeit a little awkwardly. Then she excused herself. I was warmed and amazed by the realization that God had set me up for this a day earlier so that I would get her name right. And this experience rekindled a desire to be sensitive to my heavenly Father's voice.

I turned back to the clerk. No, she definitely was not feeling well.

You could offer to pray for her.

Oh, Lord! That would be weird.

“It looks like you’re run off your feet here,” I said.

“Yeah, I’m the only one here today. I got some food—” she waved at a McDonald’s bag, “but it’s completely cold now.”

“And you don’t look like you’re feeling too well either.”

She shook her head mournfully.

You could offer to pray for her.

Oh, Lord!

“Got a belly-ache?”

She nodded.

“Would you like me to say a little prayer for you? Or if you’re not comfortable with that, I could just pray for you after I leave.”

“No, that would be really nice.”

She bowed her head and folded her hands.

After asking her first name, I lifted her troubles up to the Lord, boldly asking Him to touch her with His healing virtue. “And, Lord,” I added, “please reveal Your love to her.”

Then I gathered my things and fled toward the door.

“Thank you so much!” she called after me.

Her gratitude and God’s pleasure warmed me like sunshine and completely overshadowed the awkwardness I’d felt. Now I felt strengthened, nourished, sustained.

“My food,” said Jesus, “is to do the will of him who sent me . . .” (John 4:34, NIV).

The Glory of the Lord

Since writing the previous article, I have continued to muse on this subject, the fearsome power of God. In particular I have relived over and over that moment when I unwittingly took firm hold of the electric fence. In the presence of such power, one cannot remain unmoved. I moved all right: I flew through the air propelled by a tremendous muscular spasm and then fell unceremoniously in a semi-conscious heap. I didn’t even know it was happening until it was over: it happened that fast.

In likening the power of that electric fence to the awesome holiness of God, I found myself thinking about an occasion more than thirty years ago, where I experienced, along with three other friends, for a couple of split seconds, a blast of glory that fell as though God had pulled back the veil between the temporal and the eternal, just a little, for just a moment.

The remembrance brings to mind an occasion in scripture, when Judas the betrayer arrived in the garden of Gethsemane with a contingent of Roman soldiers and temple guards.

“Jesus fully realized all that was going to happen to him, so he stepped forward to meet them. ‘Who are you looking for?’ he asked.

“‘Jesus the Nazarene,’ they replied.” (John 18:4-5, NLT)

Here most versions say that Jesus responded with, “I am he.” But the “he” does not appear in the original transcripts: you can ascertain that by simply looking in the King James Version and noting that “he” is in italics, as are all words and phrases that were added in order to make better sense in the English language.

What Jesus actually said was, “I AM.”

Going back another fifteen hundred years, when God told Moses to go set His people free from the Egyptian Pharaoh, Moses said, “‘If I go to the people of Israel and tell them, “The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,” they will ask me, “What is his name?” Then what should I tell them?’ God replied to Moses, ‘Say this to the people of Israel: ... I AM has sent me to you.’” (Exodus 3:13-15, NLT).

And then God added, “This is my eternal name, my name to remember for all generations.”

So when Jesus said, “I AM,” he was giving the eternal name of God. And as He did, I believe He let slip a little blast of glory, because look what happened to the bunch that had come out to capture Him: “As Jesus said “I AM he,” they all drew back and fell to the ground!” (v.6)

There are a number of other times where scripture relates an occasion when the glory fell, for instance, 2 Chronicles 5:14 and Exodus 40:35; and in most cases it says either that the people involved could not stand up because of the glory or they could not enter into the area where the glory was manifesting. Our temporal bodies just are not built to withstand the unshielded glory of God.

This brings me to my own experience. It was back when I was living in Victoria. A Christian for about three years at that point, I was part of a vibrant church and an enthusiastic young adults group. Once night after Sunday evening service, four of us went for coffee and fellowship: a young man of about 22, a woman of 30 along with her 13-year-old daughter, and I, 27. We spent a couple of hours in a restaurant having an intense conversation about the things of God. Eventually we piled back into the vehicle in which we’d travelled together and returned to the church parking lot to get the other two cars. Before getting out, though, one of the group suggested we have a bit of prayer before parting. We bowed our heads and closed our eyes. Before anyone of us could say a word, wham! we all found ourselves on the ground outside the car. What had happened was that the Lord had sovereignly chosen to let loose a little blast of glory in the car, and it had the effect of an explosion. Sort of like the electric fence. We four, simultaneously, without conscious forethought, had grabbed for our respective door handles and rolled out on the ground.

I can’t explain it any better than that, and I can’t remember much of what followed. I guess we stood up and brushed ourselves off and talked about what had happened. I do remember looking around at the city lights and talking about how unfamiliar and two-dimensional everything looked. It was as though we’d glimpsed into another realm and now the one we were used to seemed somehow less-than. I do vividly recall that we once again tried to close the evening in prayer, standing in the parking lot, joining hands. I led off, referring to something Jesus said about us believers in John 17:14: “Lord, we are truly not of this world.” And wham! the glory fell again, and so did we.