So, Your Promised Land Isn't What You Expected It To Be...?

"I want to be a grown up now," exclaims my eight-year-old son.

My knife doesn't even pause at this statement as I serve up three slabs of strawberry cake, drop clinking forks on the table, count cups a second time to make sure I didn't forget a child, and glance at the clock that warns of bedtime's rapid approach.

"No you don't....by the time you realize being an adult isn't all you thought it'd be, it's too late.  You're already there with all the responsibilities adults have."

Desiring adulthood is the curse of being young.  How many times did I think the same thing growing up?

No matter how good I had it, I was always looking forward to when I would be an adult...to when I could make my own choices, all the while never realizing what that freedom would cost.

Even now as an adult, I find myself focusing in on the promises of God, and when He grants me blessings innumerable or when He fulfills the desires of my heart--still, I'm looking for the next great thing.  And still, what I thought I wanted is not what I ever expected it to be.

In all honesty, even when I am plopped down in the dead center of God's will, that place is not at all what I imagined in my own mind.  What's more...it's a whole lot more work than I expected.

My spiritual "Promised Land"--the place where God has placed me to "bear much fruit" is the exact opposite of my fleshly vision of ease, comfort, and pleasure (Jn. 15:8). 

In the Old Testament, I imagine the Israelites felt much the same way about their physical Promised Land.

In his final words, Moses tells the children of Israel what they can expect once they pass the Jordan and take up residence in the land promised Abraham and their forefathers:

"Therefore, you shall keep the commandments of the Lord your God, to walk in His ways and to fear Him. For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and springs, flowing forth in valleys and hills; a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive oil and honey; a land where you will eat food without scarcity, in which you will not lack anything; a land whose stones are iron, and out of whose hills you can dig copper. When you have eaten and are satisfied, you shall bless the Lord your God for the good land which He has given you. Beware that you do not forget the Lord your God by not keeping His commandments and His ordinances and His statutes which I am commanding you today" (Deut. 8:6-11).

It is of utmost importance that Moses begins and ends this description of their Promised Land with a reference to obeying God.  In other words, if we desire our Promised Land to be everything it is supposed to be, our lives, our days, our minutes must start and end with "keeping His commandments and His ordinances and His statutes" (v. 11).

For argument's sake, let's say we are achieving that requirement and are walking daily with a heart devoted to keeping God's commands as Jesus summarized them in the New Testament--loving the Lord our God with our whole heart, soul, and mind and loving our neighbor as ourselves (Lk. 10:27).

Walking in that obedience, then, what does our Promised Land look like?  

Moses describes the physical land of promise as a land of complete and total fruitfulness, "a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive oil and honey" and all of these in such abundance that we will "not lack anything" (v. 7,8).  

As one author says, the use of seven different types of produce in this verse serves to symbolize the land's perfection--it is completely productive, completely fruitful.*

And yet, the next verses don't speak of a laid-back life among this glorious abundance.  Instead, it speaks of "a land whose stones are iron, and out of whose hills you can dig copper" (v. 9).  

The second image is clear--some of that "produce" is not on the surface ready for consumption but must be mined out of the ground.

The first image, though, may not immediately make sense to a non-farmer.  With my dad's family coming from Michigan, I know how detrimental stones are for farmers plowing the fields--hit a stone large enough, and you'll be buying a new plow tomorrow.  What's more, no matter how many times you remove those stones from your field, the earth's constant movement shoves more to the surface.  To work the land, the farmer must continuously clean his field of these stones, stacking huge piles of boulders at the edge of his field. 

Both images above depict hard, dirty work to constantly prepare the land to reach its fruitful potential and to mine out that potential.

Consider how this may speak to us today concerning our spiritual Promised Land in Jesus. Abundant life in Him is our Promised Land where we are commanded to bear much fruit.

With the Holy Spirit residing within, we are capable of being completely productive....completely fruitful.  But, just because we have the capacity for fruitfulness doesn't mean it's going to be easy.

We must work diligently with the Spirit's guidance wherever the Lord has placed us.  We must constantly mine the fruits of God's Word with much time and dedication. Yes, we must roll up our sleeves and get our hands dirty as we labor for the kingdom.

The good news is that through His Word and the Holy Spirit, God has given us everything we need to accomplish His will wherever He has placed us.  It's just up to us to do the work necessary so we can bear the fruit He intended when He first saved us.







*The Law of Love: Lessons from the Pages of Deuteronomy.  p. 21

Why the Elf of the Shelf Isn't a Good Quick Fix

Growing up, we had a pair of olive green clad elves that sat on the ledge of our staircase.  On the other treads sat a hodgepodge of fond memories mother disinterred from her blue metal steamer trunk each December--the 3D gingerbread house candle from Avon, the singing red plastic bell, and the twirling, musical white-robed angel with her fifties' hairdo and halo of tiny plastic candles. 

To my brother and me, the elves were pretty cool, if for no other reason than that in a sea of our mother's "don't touch" precious memories, we were allowed free reign to gently hold these cloth objects with their molded plastic faces.  Few trips up and down the stairs didn't find me untucking their folded knees from their encircled arms and letting their twiggy legs dangle long.

Never did I ever consider that these stuffed objects might be real elves sent by Santa Claus to be sure I was behaving. 

This past year, my son came home from kindergarten with news that an elf had arrived in his room.  He had fun telling me if and when the elf magically moved around the room each day.  And much like my childhood, the elf was just a fun stuffed decoration.

But as the season progressed, I started hearing some parents using the elf as a discipline tool.  As the weeks passed, my Facebook home page literally exploded with pictures of the elf along with comments like, "You'd better be careful, Mikey.  That elf might is watching you" or "Susan was on a tear tonight.  Time for the elf to make an appearance!"

While some parents only used the cute guy as fun, for all too many, the elf became the embodiment of parental discipline, Santa's watchdog, a confidential informant so the big guy in red would know if you'd been bad or good.


Right before Christmas, a lady sweetly asked my son if he had an "Elf on the Shelf" watching to see if he was being bad lately.

Wyatt stood silent, not understanding or knowing how to respond.  Before I could bite my tongue, I blurted out,  "No.  Our house has a Father God who writes down our every action in heaven." 

This is the heart of the problem with the elf fad--teaching children behave in order to please a stuffed creature so they'll be worthy of Christmas gifts.

And now that Christmas is over? What happens now? Who should children strive to please until next December?

In Galatians, Paul speaks of grace and the law, explaining how God's grace that covers sin is not a writ of permissiveness so we can do whatever our flesh desires.  Instead, God's grace at salvation gives us the ability to fulfill the law, something we could never do within ourselves.

He then says,  "But before faith came, we were kept in custody under the law, being shut up to the faith which was later to be revealed. Therefore the Law has become our tutor to lead us to Christ, so that we may be justified by faith" (Gal. 3:23-24).

You know the law of Moses he speaks of--do not murder, do not steal, do not lie, do not covet, do not commit adultery, keep the Sabbath holy, honor your father and mother, don't worship other gods....... Then, there is Jesus' clarification of those laws in Matthew 5 where He teaches that anger in one's heart is the equivalent of murder, where lust in one's heart is the equivalent of adultery.  This is the fullest extent of obeying the law given in the Old Testament.

According to this above passage, before we became followers of Christ, the law of Moses "tutored" us, teaching us to choose right actions and, ultimately, leading us to salvation when we learned we could never keep the law on our own and needed the blood of Calvary to redeem us from our sin.

The point is that this is how we must raise our children--under the law.  Not under fear of an elf but under fear of displeasing a holy God.  We must choose to raise our children under the law until they come to faith in Him, allowing the law to be their "tutor" to lead them to faith in Christ.

Our children must be taught that daily (not just in December), God knows their comings and goings, everything done in secret, every thought they has ever entered their minds.

In our household, I constantly remind my children that God not only knows and sees all, but that He writes all their actions--good and bad--down in His book: "and another book was opened, which is the book of life; and the dead were judged from the things which were written in the books, according to their deeds" (Rev. 20:12).

In other words, discipline isn't about an elf.  It isn't about what mommy and daddy want.  

Choosing right actions is about what God wants and expects from them.

In our household, husband and I strive (and fail miserably and strive again) to discipline our children based around the Ten Commandments.  At this age, they're usually guilty of not honoring their parents, lying, coveting as is expressed through ingratitude, murder through anger, etc.   I also routinely walk around the house yelling out the fruit of the spirit at my children when I see them doing something wrong.  "Kindness!!!" or "Gentleness!!!" (Gal. 5).  The result is that just last week, my oldest looked at me before I could say a word and said, "I know, I know.  Patience."

This post isn't an elf bashing.  One day, I'm sure my mother will pass down to me one of her antique elves to sit on my shelf.   But when she does, it will be simply a sweet memory, not a tool for discipline.

Instead, this is about parenting the next generation. 

We parents must choose to instill in our children a healthy fear and respect for God alone.  Respect for a holy God and fear of disappointing a heavenly Father should direct our parenting.  It should propel our children through every season of the year, not just at Christmas time. 

What to Do With a Useless Vine

Autumn's first chill brought out the fall gardener in me.  Black-topped rows already tilled and planted with kale, mustard greens, and broccoli, I turned my attention to the flower beds and the defiant clematis vine that had strayed from the wooden post it had determined not to climb, likely because that is the one thing I wanted it to do.

Armed with long-handled loppers, I marched into the backyard with full-scale massacre in mind.

Throughout a sweltering summer full of bountiful rain, the tendrils had sneaked away from the post and crept across the tops of the bed's other foliage until they formed a verdant tangled heap atop the iris, chrysanthemums, and heirloom rose.

I let it grow, determining to cut it down and throw it into the fire after the intertwined carpet of tiny white flowers had shriveled into seed.  Blossoms spent, the vine would die back anyway at first frost.  It was useless.

Many Christians are familiar with the New Testament passage wherein Jesus presents the analogy of Himself as the vine and His followers are the branches.  Christ warns "'Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me. I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing. If anyone does not abide in Me, he is thrown away as a branch and dries up; and they gather them, and cast them into the fire and they are burned'",  (Jn. 15:4-6).

Old Testament Scripture uses the same analogy of the vine but here, the vine refers to God's chosen people, the nation of Israel.

The prophet Isaiah plainly states, "the vineyard of the LORD of hosts is the house of Israel And the men of Judah His delightful plant" (Is. 5:7).  Then, he describes how God did everything to help His vineyard grow and produce fruit: 

         He dug it all around, removed its stones,
         And planted it with the choicest vine.
         And He built a tower in the middle of it
         And also hewed out a wine vat in it;
         Then He expected it to produce good grapes,
         But it produced only worthless ones.  (v. 2)

Even with all this special treatment, though, the vine did not produce good fruit.  The prophet Jeremiah confirms this, saying, "I had planted you like a choice vine of sound and reliable stock.  How then did you turn against me into a corrupt, wild vine?" (Jer. 2:21).

The nation of Israel thought itself better than the other nations because it was God's chosen nation.  In the Israelites' mind, God would bless them above all others no matter whether they followed God's law or played the harlot with idols.  Yet, through the prophet Ezekiel,  the Lord takes them to task over this faulty belief, asking what is a vine good for if it doesn't bear fruit?

The Lord says, "how is the wood of the vine better than any wood of a branch which is among the trees of the forest? Can wood be taken from it to make anything, or can men take a peg from it on which to hang any vessel? If it has been put into the fire for fuel, and the fire has consumed both of its ends and its middle part has been charred, is it then useful for anything?" (Ez. 15:2-4).


God makes it clear that other trees can be used for construction to make something else.  But a vine that is fruitless?  It is worthless, useless.

A vine is created for one, simple, single-minded purpose--to bear fruit.  It cannot deviate from its purpose and decide to have itself carved into a chair or a table.  Instead, if it refuses to do what God created it to do, it is worth nothing and will glow for a mere moment in the fire before being consumed in ash (v. 7).

Both Old and New Testament references to the vine may be different, but they impart the same lesson--God made His children, Christ's followers, to have a single-minded purpose--to abide in Christ so that we glorify God while pointing the world to Him.

John McArthur says, "In every age, the people of God have their value in their fruitfulness" (p. 907).

We must believe that.  The world may say that the heyday of Christianity is over, that we have lost our influence in the areas of morality, government, and the family...that it's too late to turn back the tide of rampant sin and evil.

But God says differently.

He says to you, to me, that we are still useful if we continue bearing good fruit to glorify God for all to see.

It's the one thing we were created to do.