Crossroads

You can either curse the darkness or light a candle. I heard that somewhere once, and it stuck. When in full dark, with no moon or stars to bleed a little light into the murk, even a flickering, sputtering candle will push back the cloying darkness enough for it not to seem a tangible thing, pressing in all around you. We’d all rather have a spotlight or a flashlight with enough lumens to burn our shadow into a neighboring tree, but sometimes you have to use what’s at your disposal, and a half-used wax candle is all we’ve got.

The thing about darkness is that it hates any light whatsoever, including something as seemingly innocuous as a flickering candle. Light is light, and it seeks to extinguish it no matter how small and infrequent it might be. Once it can convince enough people to give up their candles voluntarily, it will inevitably try to take those remaining by force.

I grew up in a Communist country for the first nine years of my life. My parents and grandparents lived under the regime for much longer. I know what it becomes when it’s fully implemented in a nation where the people no longer have a voice, a choice, or a means of redress for the abuse they endure at the hands of those with a chip on their shoulder and an inferiority complex.

I’ve heard enough stories and spoken to enough people about what it was like to know the lengths to which those in power will go to retain the power they’ve amassed and how they view everyone except their inner circle as disposable fodder for the utopia they’ve envisioned that will never materialize because human nature is what it is, and hedonism is alive and well.

This is why I chuckle at those who’ve never lived it pining for the equity of Socialism or Communism. Although with their lips, they say the only thing they’ve ever wanted was equality, in their hearts, they echo George Orwell's sentiment, insisting that some animals are more equal than others. Serendipitously, they never see themselves as the inferior animals. It’s always you and I, the people who just want to be left alone to raise their children and serve their God, who derive joy from something other than power or possessions that are deemed less than.

Those who tried to exterminate Christians and Christianity did so not because they held some special hatred toward Jesus but because Jesus gave men hope, and they didn’t like the competition. The system wants exclusive rights to hope, and anything standing in the way of total dependence on the government must be excised and done away with.

Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it. That’s the price of ignorance, and eventually, everyone must pay it. By the time enough people realize what their nation has become, it’s too late to do anything about it except go along, hoping that you won’t be singled out by the machine and have your life turned inside out, villainized, and demonized for not going along with every twisted thing a finite minority now deems as the new normal.

Even though people were starving, being abused, sent to labor camps, imprisoned, tortured, and having everything the system deemed excessive seized on a whim, Nicolae Ceausescu still managed to get 99% of the votes when they were all counted, but even that wasn’t good enough. After every election, they would release the hounds to find that 1% who dared not comply and reeducate them in very violent ways. The 99% were used as the undeniable proof that the 1% were just rabble-rousers and needed to be dealt with lest the 1% turn into 2% come the next election cycle.

As I sat in my chair sipping my coffee this morning, I was left with three choices: say nothing and pretend as though we are not at a crossroads, be hyper-pious and acknowledge the situation for what it is but insist that all I’m willing to do is watch the darkness encroaching, or share my heart knowing that some will take it the wrong way and judge me for it.

The possibility that America can be saved is not on the table. It hasn’t been for quite some time. Judgment is coming, so the only variable left to consider is when. If I can have another four years of watching my daughters grow up in relative peace and continue to do the work to which God has called me, being left alone and not being forced to bend the knee or suffer the consequences of my refusal, then I will make an effort to light my candle, though some within the household of faith may deem it unseemly. Yes, it’s a gnarled, half-burned, wax-laden candle, but it’s still a candle and can produce a bit of light. I will not forfeit my right to push back against the darkness, even if, in the aggregate, it’s but a flicker.

Will it do anything to change the course of this nation? Likely not, but neither will cursing the darkness and being unwilling to do anything to halt its progression. I will not be a coward. I will not. I don’t think I could bear looking my daughters in the face if I were.

Sometimes in life, you have to take a stand, even against overwhelming odds. It’s not because you think you’ll win, but because it’s the right thing to do. Who knows? Perhaps someone will see your boldness, and another theirs, and eventually, enough people stand up and shake off the dust that they bring the fight to the enemy and give him a run for his money.

I write the following with a heavy heart: The day will come, and sooner than some may think, when those who stood on the sidelines and did nothing will wish they had, but it will be too late.

We will return to our journey through Job shortly. For now, remember that those who despise the God you serve have no love for you either. You cannot hate one’s Master but love His servants, no matter how much they try to convince you otherwise. 

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.         

Job XXXVII

 The more we draw near to God, the more we grow in Him, the more we see our own wretchedness and those areas in our lives that must be pruned and tended to. Since we’ve become fans of labeling everything, the term that has been coined for this continual maturing and growing in righteousness is progressive sanctification. Daily, we become more like Him; daily, our desires, aspirations, goals, and ambitions are transformed because the more of Him we know, the more humbled we are by His love and grace.

We are being transformed, and daily so, from glory to glory, and that which we took pleasure in yesterday becomes as a bitter taste in our mouth today because we realize it is hindering our walk with Him.

What should be more troubling than world events or politics to some today is the reality that they’ve been in a static spiritual state for years, if not decades. They have not grown, matured, or been transformed but are the same as they ever were, the only difference being a fish sticker on their car. It may not be spiritual death, but it’s close enough, and the more time passes that they remain in that inert state, the colder their hearts become toward the things of God.

The pinnacle of your spiritual maturity isn’t when you surrender your heart to Christ; that’s just the beginning of a lifelong journey, and with each passing day, your spiritual man must become more robust, your faith more steadfast, and your walk more surefooted. It took a lifetime of Job walking with God, knowing Him, and serving Him for him to be able to hold fast to his integrity when his trial buffeted him. Had he not prioritized his relationship with God over all else, we may have never been privy to the story of Job or his faithfulness in the bleakest of circumstances.

2 Corinthians 3:17-18, “Now the Lord is the Spirit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty. But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as by the Spirit of the Lord.”

Men abuse liberty just as they abuse grace, not understanding that the message Paul was trying to send to the Corinthians via his second letter wasn’t permission to do as they willed but rather a reminder that although they had liberty, lest they forget, the natural progression of an individual is to be transformed into the image of the Lord, from glory to glory.

When men refuse to put away childish things, any excuse will do. They’ll butcher scripture, take it out of context, twist it to say something it clearly doesn’t, all because their sin is more important to them than serving, worshipping, and knowing God. That’s the reality of it. They forfeit the knowledge of God for the momentary, fleeting pleasures of life but still have the temerity to insist that they are walking in His will because they have liberty.

If Job had been looking for an excuse to give up, one was within reach. He could have deemed his trials undeserved, too harsh for a loving God to allow, or not what he signed up for, but instead, he held fast to his integrity and worshipped God.

Even when his wife came up with the brilliant idea that he should curse God and die, he didn’t react in anger, browbeat her, or demand that she remove herself from his presence. Even at his lowest, as she poured salt into the open wounds, his character remained intact, and his response was in accordance with it.

Job 2:10, “But he said to her, “You speak as one of the foolish women speaks. Shall we indeed accept good from God, and shall we not accept adversity?” In all this Job did not sin with his lips.”

We know next to nothing about Job’s life up until the point the enemy asked to sift him. By then, he’d already amassed a great fortune, had ten children, and oversaw a large household. Given the time of Job, however, it would not be a stretch to conclude that he was a hard man, as all the men of that time needed to be in order to survive, yet when he addressed his wife, even though she’d been used by the enemy to try and get him to curse God, he spoke to her with a tenderness inherent in decades-long marriages the world over. It may be a small, often overlooked thing, but having been married for a quarter of a century, come next June, his tenderness toward his wife even as he sat in ashes, covered in painful boils, and scratching himself with a potsherd, speaks volumes to me.

He didn’t berate her, call her an idiot, scream at her, or strike her as was common in those days, but inferred he was surprised that she would speak as one of the foolish women speaks. Job thought much of his wife, the mother of his children, and he couldn’t reconcile her words with the woman with whom he’d shared his life.

The transformative power of God extends to every area of our lives. It’s not just in the consistency of worship but in how we interact with those around us, whether disagreeable spouses, snarky progeny, obtuse bosses, or angry neighbors. It’s that transformation into the likeness of Christ that those who knew us while we were still of the world notice and react to first before we even get a chance to tell them about Jesus.

My grandfather’s brother was neither a kind nor gentle man while he was still of the world. He was gruff, barrel-chested, with a short fuse and calloused knuckles. Violence was his go-to, no matter the situation, and any perceived sleight was enough to set him off. That he was a heavy drinker, what some may deem a functioning alcoholic nowadays, didn’t help matters either. Then he encountered Jesus, surrendered his life to Him, and he was a man transformed, a new man, in every sense of the word. He stopped drinking, cursing, being short-tempered and easily offended, and the man who once stirred so much fear in the hearts of others as to make them cross the street if they saw him coming now smiled, and laughed, and asked others if they needed help for no other reason than to be helpful.

Every time I went back to Romania after the revolution, I’d make it a point to visit the village I grew up in, and it was inevitable that I would hear stories of the Duduman boys and their rebellious years, each story ending with the requisite, “You should have seen them when they were young. I can’t believe it’s the same person.”

It’s not that I didn’t believe the core of the stories; I just thought they were a bit exaggerated until one day, I was in a Zody’s department store parking lot with my grandfather. Zody’s was a discount version of K-Mart back in the day, which in its own right had been a discount version of Montgomery Ward. My grandmother had bought him a Botany 500 shirt from there, a brand which by that time had fallen out of favor, and they had them on clearance for a whopping three dollars. He liked the feel and fit of it, so we went back to get a few more.

As we were getting ready to leave, a man began to yell something about denting his Volkswagen Beetle, parked a few spots away from our car, even though we hadn’t gone near it. My grandfather asked what the man wanted, and I told him. My grandpa shook his head, and we turned to leave, but the man just kept yelling and started walking toward us.

I’d never seen the other side of my grandfather, the side I’d heard stories about. He’d been a believer for many years by the time I came along, and all I’d ever known was the gentle side of him, but as the man came closer, yelling and wagging his finger, I saw my grandfather’s jaw muscles working and a look flash in his eyes that I’d never seen before. He didn’t bunch his fists or peacock; he didn’t become outwardly aggressive, just a look passing over his face, and evidently, the man saw it too because he stopped midstride, raised his hands, and said, “You know what, sorry, perhaps I was mistaken,” then turned and walked to his car.

It was years later that I realized the old man was trying to wiggle off the cross, and though my grandfather had always been the gentlest man I’ve ever known, his capacity for violence was real and true, lending credence to all the stories I’d heard.

That’s what the Spirit of the Lord does: He inhabits, and He transforms, from glory to glory, continually molding us into His likeness.

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr. 

Job XXXVI

We often romanticize the Christian walk. Especially in our day and age, rather than portraying it as warfare, we tend to sing of holding hands with Jesus and walking side by side or staring dreamily into His eyes. Perhaps it’s because, for the few minutes, we’re crooning about sweet nothings, the sting of what it means to stand and having done all to stand isn’t quite so pronounced, but we dare not live in an environment of puffy clouds and flower-strewn meadows lest the enemy sneak up on us unaware and hamstring our resolve with one swipe of his claws.

Even those who teach it seem to have never done it because how they frame and present walking in the way seems so carefree and effortless that it evokes thoughts of summer frolics in the grass and windswept sands upon a beach.

Raise your hand right where you are, repeat these words, and you’re in the clear. A catchall cure-all for whatever ails you, and all you have to do is send in a tithe check!

But what about striving to enter through the narrow gate? What about many being called but few chosen? What about endurance and perseverance? We poll-tested those talking points, and they didn’t do so well with our audience. Prosperity, though, is off the charts and popular with every age demographic.

But what of the gospel and rightly dividing the Word? Well, you see, in order to spread the gospel, we must have money, and in order to get money, we must preach another gospel until we get enough money to go forth and preach the real gospel. You wouldn’t understand. By the way, you’re late on your tithe check. That’s two strikes. If we get to three, we’ll disfellowship with you and call you Ichabod.

Yes, I exaggerate to make a point, but just barely. The reason true faith is no longer discussed in many churches and the Christian walk is not presented in its true light is because, gullible as some of the sheep may be, the inconsistency between the message and the lifestyle of the messenger will be too obvious.

There he goes with his poverty mindset again. If that’s what you got from it, you missed the point entirely. I begrudge no man who works hard and is rightly compensated for his labors, but even the rich must contend with the reality that the spiritual man, the spiritual walk, and the eternity that beckons with every breath must be prioritized over this present life and material possessions. Job is the constant reminder that wealth is not a replacement for God. Not even close. If we can’t muster more energy seeking God than we do seeking earthly comforts, our priorities are skewed and improperly ranked.

We don’t live to work; we work to live, to earn our daily bread, but the overarching purpose of our endeavors must be serving God and serving people. You can easily spot the self-serving among the household of faith because they always seem to be the tip of the funnel of what has become a spiritualized form of a pyramid scheme. 

Because the hearts of those tasked with offering spiritual succor are tethered to the things of this earth, and seeking the things above comes second to their seeking the things of this earth, they are reticent in presenting the true gospel. If they were to speak the truth and tell people that the Christian walk is warfare and battle, wounds and bruises, but that through it all, God will be there to carry you through, you’d likely get a few raised eyebrows wondering how Bishop, Pastor, or Apostle are doing warfare from behind the wheel of a Bentley or a McLaren.

Some of the brasher ones might come up with the narrative that they need a fast car to run the devil over in the spirit, but rather than have to explain why every minute of their day seems to be focused on the here, the now, and their physical comfort, they’ll beat the prosperity drum until there’s nothing left to beat.

Job was rich one day, then destitute the next. He had seven sons and three daughters whom he loved enough to bring burnt offerings on behalf of one day, then buried what remained of them the next after being crushed by the house they were in. He was healthy one day and covered in painful boils from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head. Through it all, Job held fast to his integrity.

If you don’t particularly like roller coasters but you got on one because you didn’t want your ten-year-old daughter to think you a coward, then you have an idea of what holding fast means. It’s not a passive action; it is an active one. You cling to that bar in front of you for all you’re worth because if you were meant to corkscrew and loop-di-loop, God would have given you wings and the ability to fly.

The enemy’s attacks will always be aimed at separating you from your integrity. There will always be the temptation to make a compromise, small and subtle at first, but if you relent and make it, the temptation for ever greater compromises will be short in coming. Hold fast to faith, hold fast to hope, hold fast to your integrity and the Word of God, even if everything around you is trying to pull you away.

It’s a lot like being on the aforementioned roller coaster but without a safety harness. The centrifugal force of it is constantly pulling at you, and all you have is that shiny metal bar across your lap that you’re holding onto for dear life, for to let go would spell ruin. You know it’s a passing thing. You know the ride will end in thirty or forty seconds, but until it does, until it comes to a screeching stop, you hang on.

One of the most destructive lies being repeated from pulpits throughout the denominational panoply is that the Christian walk is an easy, carefree prospect, requiring little or nothing of us as individuals. The Word itself proves these men liars, whether the Old or New Testaments, because to the last, every man of substance that was singled out each had some form of hardship to contend with, some sort of trial to overcome, and some challenge through which they had to persevere and hold fast to the integrity they possessed. Giving up is easy, but it’s not right. Giving up is only an option for those who as yet fail to understand that this is a life-or-death struggle with nothing in between. Either we live for Him, in Him, and through Him, and die to the word, or we live for the world and are dead toward God. No man can serve two masters. Choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve.

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.  

Job XXXV

 There are only so many keys on a piano and only so many ways to make a quiche. Although you can add ingredients to the recipe, the base ingredients remain predictably similar. Although grand compositions can be played on a piano, the base notes never change. It’s the way in which they are arranged and the skill with which they are played that grips one’s attention and that makes a concert either memorable or something soon forgotten.

Although the enemy is quick to add a wrinkle or two when it comes to his attacks on the household of faith, three primary and indispensable ingredients are always included in the mix because they are the most effective by far. There’s the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life. These are the three mainstays the enemy uses as his vehicles of attack, and knowing this, we must do our utmost to guard against them.

While the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes weren’t on the table as far as Job was concerned because he’d already proven he was an upright and blameless man, the pride of life was what the enemy focused on, thinking this would be his way in.

Satan wrongly assumed that since Job was the greatest of all the people of the East, his identity and purpose were wrapped up in his possessions and that he leaned on them rather than God for his peace and joy. If the enemy believes that you draw your strength from anything other than God, he will attack that thing. He will do so repeatedly, mercilessly, and inventively, believing that if the position or possession is brought to ruin, then your faith in God and His goodness will be shaken and shattered.

We’ve all known people who were so wrapped up in a title they held or a possession they’d acquired that when the thing they focused on, sacrificed for, and obsessed over for so long began to crumble under the weight of its own design, they grow bitter toward God, rejecting the way, and hardening their hearts. If your hope is rooted in the fleeting and insubstantial, you have no abiding hope. If what animates you and gives you purpose are the things of this earth, once they are shaken, shattered, and are no more, all you’ll have left is that hollow, empty feeling that becomes a constant companion.

When God is your everything when He alone satisfies the longing of your soul, then come what may, as long as you have Him, cling to Him, and follow Him, you will not be shaken or broken upon the rocks of life.

Tragedy befalls all men. The one choice we have is how we react to it. When I was younger, I sang in a choir and played guitar in church. It was back before the days of the interwebs, where all the information you ever wanted to know about any given subject was just a few clicks away, but I made it a point to research how certain hymns we sang in church had come about and originated.

While Hillsong is the flavor du jour for most today, I still gravitate toward the old hymns that have a message which resonates and that isn’t so vague as to be interchangeable with a love ballad lip-synced by an over-the-hill crooner. I figured there had to be something more than writing out a few verses to songs that, over the years, had been translated into hundreds of languages, Romanian included.

The first song I researched was Amazing Grace, which, it turns out, was written by a formerly foul-mouthed slaver named John Newton, who, once converted, became an abolitionist and preacher.

The second song I spent endless hours discovering the history of was “It is Well With My Soul,” which was penned by a man with a story very similar to Job’s. It was written by a man named Horatio Spafford, a devout Christian who also happened to be a lawyer and businessman. He’d lost most of his real estate holdings in the great Chicago fire, then his four daughters in a shipwreck, and from the depths of his soul, he penned the lyrics to a song that would stand the test of time and be a comfort to many who found themselves traversing the valleys of life.

It is a grace beyond words to have the wherewithal to cling to Jesus in the midst of trial, knowing that while the storms of life will pass, Jesus will remain ever steadfast, faithful, and true.

Just as Paul would verbalize thousands of years later, Job had his priorities well established, and God came first, always, without fail, no matter the circumstance or situation. We have countless testimonies spanning millennia wherein men and women persevered and overcame not because there was something inherently special in their family tree or their upbringing but because they made the conscious decision to steadfastly cling to God no matter what they faced.

Looking at their life stories in the aggregate, one readily concludes that martyrdom might not be so bad after all. I know where I’m going when this journey is done. It is well with my soul, no matter what may come. Do not let fear of tomorrow keep you from worshipping God today or the concerns of this life keep you from cementing your relationship with Him.

There is a permanence in God that stretches beyond this present life into eternity. We squander so much time focusing on the temporal while giving the eternal so little attention when eternity is all that matters.

Where is your treasure? Who is your treasure? The answer to these all-important questions will determine whether your testimony will be one of a conqueror or a cautionary tale of one who has been conquered.

Philippians 3:8, “Yet indeed I also count all things loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as rubbish, that I may gain Christ.”

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.