Dalliance in the Word

July 31, 2018

He repeats himself. That’s important. When Linda wants to make sure I am hearing her correctly, she either repeats herself or makes me recite exactly what she has said. She knows me. God does, too, which I suspect is why when he says in Isaiah 65:12, “When I called, you did not answer; when I spoke, you did not hear,” he repeats himself in the fourth verse of the very next chapter. In the 55th chapter, he asserted that his hand is not shortened so it cannot save, nor his ear heavy so it cannot hear, but that it is our sins that have separated us from him. 

Preaching is in many respects easier with the passing of the years. Experience has its advantages, after all. Christian living however, never gets easier, never gets to the point where we can sit back and coast. Like kings of old, always someone is lurking in the shadows probing for a weakness to exploit (things haven’t changed much in the halls of power), hoping to topple the one on the throne. With age often comes perceived weakness, so the battle continues, and holding onto power requires constant vigilance. I cannot afford to relax and coast, giving the Enemy of my soul a weakness to exploit and toppling me from my own self-control. This Enemy doesn’t always mount a full frontal assault, but often prefers to sneak in via small almost imperceptible chinks in my defense. My (our) greatest danger is not rejecting salvation, but neglecting it (Hebrews 2:3) by taking the easy road, or frittering time and energy away in pointless distractions. 

It is easy to substitute serious time with the Lord in his Word for mere dalliances with it, while imagining that I am being faithful. Today, this selfsame Word challenges me, convicts me, and with the help of the Holy Spirit, will correct and change me. 

Too Much Treasure

July 30, 2018

The Scripture reading for today was Isaiah 59-63, a hefty bit of reading by any standard, and particularly so simply because it’s Isaiah. These chapters are so filled with choice Scriptural gems that one doesn’t even have to dig. Skip along the surface and picking up whatever gem happens to be at your feet, and you’ll soon have your bucket filled with riches untold. It’s actually a bit overwhelming, and actually quite welcome after some of the texts which seem pretty bland by comparison. I’m thankful tonight for these chapters, but need to take some time to unpack them verse by verse in order to mine the depths. Until then, I am thankful to simply gaze in wonder at the glorious treasure spread out before me.

A Slow Sunday

July 29, 2018

Quiet Sunday afternoons are a rarity around our house. A normal Sunday at the Bailey’s involves somewhere between 18 and 25 people around our dinner table(s), conversations that may last until 4:00, and often something going on in the evening; hardly a “day of rest.” In a conversation with our son Matt the other day, we talked about our family times together. He wondered whether as our kids, they were expecting too much of us with dinner every Sunday, having their kids overnight twice a month, going to endless soccer games, swim meets, and concerts. “There are times when it gets a bit overwhelming,” I admitted, “but we get to choose. A lot of grandparents don’t have that privilege.” Our days are full, our Sundays even more so, but that’s a good thing.

Today was different. Worship was on the beach in Cassadaga followed by a picnic. By the time I arrived from leading worship in Dunkirk and making a quick hospital visit, people were leaving and everything was being packed up. We were home by 2:30. Both sons were on their way to Kingdom Bound with their families, and our daughter and her family had gone home. We walked into a quiet house. It felt strange for a Sunday. 

We made coffee and sat on the patio talking before the rain drove us inside for an episode of Father Brown on tv, followed by impromptu naps. Linda loaded the dishwasher while I made cranberry scones. Granddaughter Abi texted, asking if she could come over for dinner after her lifeguarding shift was done, and could she bring Ashley with her? Of course she could. “When will you be here?” Linda texted back before walking into the living room. When her phone buzzed, I picked it up and read the text. 

“5 minutes.” From then till now (10:00 pm), it has been nonstop, with Abi and Ashley, followed by a visit from our friends Harry and Beth. But like I said, it’s been a slow Sunday. I’m a private guy, introvertive and quiet, but I’ve learned to grab my quiet times when I can, and to go with the flow when I cannot. I am blessed by the many people in our lives; people who build us up and encourage us in the give and take of ordinary conversations backed by years of love and mutual respect. It’s been a good slow day!

Weedwhackers

July 28, 2018

They’re the same notes, played on the same instrument, but with a different sound. I changed the strings on my bass today; instead of the steel wound strings that have been on it for the past thirty years, I decided to try some weedwhackers. That’s right—they take their name from the string trimmer because that’s what they look like, especially if you buy the colored ones. I got plain ones because they look more like traditional gut strings at a fraction of the price. Rockabilly players use them for their slap bass technique, which I’d like to learn. Steel wound strings are too high tensioned for slapping. Weedwhackers are low tension, making them easier to pluck and snap against the fingerboard. How they’ll work with a bow is yet to be seen (or more appropriately, heard). 

They do sound different than the steel strings! I’m not sure if I’m going to like them, but if not, I’m only out twenty bucks, unlike a set of gut strings or even good steel wound, which can easily top $400 a set. But they do sound different. In life, we all get the same notes to play. Our Instruments are different, but even those of us who share the same instrument of values and faith sound different in the Master’s hands. He creates many different kinds of strings. Some of us are high strung; others not. Some are mellow while others are sharp and bright sounding. But the notes are the same. God’s compositions are filled with grace, holiness, forgiveness, courage, gentleness, truth, and other such notes. We play them on the instruments of our lives, with different strings, reeds, mouthpieces, sounding different, but working together to create the symphonic music of the Gospel. Tonight, the strings will stretch, needing to be tuned again in the morning. The strings of my heart will need to be tuned, also, and for that, I will worship and give thanks.

A Slow Day

July 27, 2018

It’s been quiet down on the farm today. After our writer’s group at the library, a choice lay before me: paint the house or mow the lawn. Since the lawn was getting deep and rain is forecast for the next couple days, the paint job will have to wait for another day. Mowing is pretty ordinary stuff; back and forth over the same ground, again and again, making progress a row at a time. It’s not glamorous, and at the end of the day, though I can survey the finished product with satisfaction, I know that next week, it’s going to need it all over again. It’s a lot Ike preaching—back and forth over the same ground, tiny steps of progress till it all needs to be done again the following week. Contrary to what people see on TV, preaching is rarely glamorous, with only occasional breakthroughs. Isaiah stated it well: “precept upon precept, line upon line; here a little, there a little” (28:10 & 13).

Thankfulness isn’t measured only in great strides, miracles, and extraordinary events. If we had to wait for them, even the most grace-filled and spiritually perceptive would find themselves in gratitude deserts. A slower day spent in pretty mindless activity isn’t a bad thing. There are plenty of people who live in chaos, terror, or pain, wishing for the blessing of a nondescript day. I had one, with the added blessing of my wife coming home from a six-hour trip without incident. She slumbers beside me as I write; my bed and my heart are full.

Choose Your Blessing

July 26, 2018

Six hours in a car is not my first choice as to how to spend a day, but when it’s with people I love and I don’t have to do the driving, it’s not too bad. And if I listen, I even learn a thing or two. Neither of us are consummate conversationalists, so I wondered whether we would spend the entire trip in silence, but that didn’t happen. For the first fifty miles or so, the conversation revolved around a continual barrage of questions from ten year old Nathan in the back seat, to which his father responded with surprising patience. Finally, we settled in for the ride, talking about cars, guns (especially focusing on the best way for me to dispatch the chipmunks and squirrels that are wreaking havoc with our yard and gardens), the musical we had just seen, our church’s sacrificial giving campaign for the planned building project, and finally, life itself.

At one point, I commented on how grateful Linda and I are that our kids live so close that we get to be an almost daily part of our grandkids’ lives. It’s challenging sometimes, with them in three different school districts, and involved in different sports and activities. Our daughter Jessie is constantly telling us, “You don’t have to come to every game the kids have.” Today, Matt was worried that perhaps as our kids, they expected too much of us, or took too much advantage of us—Friday nights twice a month, Sunday dinners, the kids’ weekly activities. Of course, we don’t have to do all this. But we do it, nonetheless...most of the time. There are times we can’t make all their activities, and times we don’t get to do things that we might otherwise do, but no one forces us to do anything; we make the choices. We have plenty of friends who don’t get the privilege of building directly into their grandkids’ lives. We are abundantly blessed in that area. 

The Bible tells us that God has blessed us in heavenly places in Jesus Christ (Ephesians 1:3). God has already done his part, but there are plenty of people who never experience those blessings because they don’t choose them. I told Matt today that my natural inclination is to hole up by myself and withdraw into my own little world. It’s taken a lifetime, but Linda has taught me the folly of that way of living. I’m not as good at it as she is, but I’m getting better. Last night, I was invited to play cards with her, Abi, and Nicole. I had some work I wanted to get done, so I declined, but after about half an hour, I went down to the pool where they were playing and the younger kids were swimming. The game was of course, already underway, so I didn’t participate, except in the conversation (as much as my traitor ears would allow inside the echo chamber of the pool room). The blessing was waiting for me to claim it.

Today, I was able to claim another one, talking with Matt and Nathan on the way home. And in a few minutes, I’ll turn in my ticket for another, as I go to Jessie’s kids’ soccer game. It’s a matter of choices, whether it’s receiving the blessing of being in our grandkids’ lives, or receiving the gifts Christ has for us. Wise choices sometimes go against the grain, but they are wise nonetheless. I am thankful tonight to have a choice.

Slogging through Prayer

July 25, 2018

“Couldn’t you wait with me for one hour?” After watching Sight and Sound’s theatrical production of “Jesus,” this question haunts me tonight. Their portrayal of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane pleading with his Father to allow “this cup to pass from me,” accompanied by the devilish taunts of the Evil One trying to wear him down and avoid the cross culminated in his anguished howl, “NO!!!”

When St. Paul catalogues the armor God gives us in our fight against evil, he doesn’t follow it up with a pep talk and a command to “Charge!” Instead, he says we need to be ”praying always.” In our politicized world, we sometimes imagine that the battlefield is in the educational, political, or media world. If we just get enough votes for our side; if we could only get rid of Common Core; if we could get rid of all the fake news out there, we could turn this world around. We go around pointing fingers, fixing blame, but never fixing the problems. 

Paul took his cue from Jesus himself, who fought his hardest battle, not on the cross, but in the garden. Think about that. We steel ourselves for the crosses in our lives, but fail to recognize the dangers that lurk in pleasant gardens. Our first parents reasoned with the Serpent; Jesus wrestled with him. The contest was bitter and bloody, but Jesus won.

Too often, our version of prayer takes after that old Gospel song where “he walks with me and he talks with me” as we stroll blithely along a flower-strewn path of shallow platitudes. The garden Jesus would have us enter is a crater-strewn no-man’s-land of brutal and deadly hand-to-hand, kill-or-be-killed combat. 

I must confess my prayers have too often been more of the Pollyanna type, which I suspect is why the results are so often pathetic. We cannot know the joy of triumph if we’ve never enjoined the fight. So with Jesus’ disciples, I beg, “Lord, teach me to pray!”

Gentleness

July 24, 2018

I the LORD have called you in righteousness, and will hold your hand, and will keep you, and give you for a covenant of the people, for a light of the Gentiles;

To open the blind eyes, to bring out the prisoners from the prison, and them that sit in darkness out of the prison house. —Isaiah 42:6-7

Some forty years ago, I took these verses as a personal call from God. It didn’t dawn on me at the time that this was primarily a Messianic prophecy that spoke of Jesus Christ; I just knew God was speaking to me. In a way, personally appropriating a Messianic prophecy is not entirely inappropriate. After all, if a Christian is in Christ, God’s call on Jesus’ life is also his call on ours. Of course, any fulfillment of it in me is only partial and riddled with mistakes and failures, but the call is still there, not just to do something for God, but to be something for God. The “doing” of verse 7 is preceded by the “being” of verse 6. 

When it comes to living out this calling, I can’t say I’ve done a stellar job at either the being or doing, but just yesterday morning, I was sitting at my desk listening to a woman whose judgment I respect tell me of an incident she had witnessed involving a mutual friend whose words and demeanor towards some women was in her opinion cutting and demeaning. Then she surprised me, saying, “You would never do that. You are gentle with hurting people.” I thanked her, and have been thinking about this ever since. This afternoon, reading Isaiah 42, just three verses before the ones that God spoke into my heart so long ago, I found these words: 

“A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench: he shall bring forth judgment to truth.” 

It’s quite possible that what this person sees as gentleness is just a cowardly or weak spirit; I’d like to think otherwise, but it might just be. Nonetheless, I’m grateful for her words, and for the Scriptural confirmation in this text that has shaped so much of my life  for the past 40 years.

Agitation

July 23, 2018

The realm of the spirit can be a strange place. The Bible tells us that we are pilgrims in a foreign land; having done a bit of traveling in other lands, I can attest to feeling out of place and not belonging. In Cuba, it’s mild; I certainly don’t understand most of the language, but I can stumble my way through with my sub-elementary Spanish. The cultural milieu however, is something one almost has to be born into. 

Mongolia was a step further afield for me, while Nepal, India, China, and Korea were completely other-worldly with written and spoken languages totally indecipherable to this English-only American. I like the pilgrimage, am eager to learn, but at my age, those places will always be other-worldly to me.

John Bunyan wrote about this from an English prison cell sometime before 1678, in his allegory entitled appropriately enough, “Pilgrim’s Progress,” which has been said to be second in popularity only to the Bible in the English speaking world. In it, the hero Christian journeys through this world on his way to the world to come, meeting obstacles and trials along the way. Bunyan recognized along with the Biblical writers, that this world in which we live is not our real home; that we are passing through on the way to our eternal dwelling. 

And yet in this world, hints of that other world intrude, often with strange results. St Paul tells us that we wage war, not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, the rulers of this world’s darkness, entities that cannot be touched or seen, but which are as real as the people who surround us every day. 

This afternoon, I’ve been feeling agitated. I haven’t been able to figure out why. There is little in my life that warrants such agitation. Linda and I are happy together, we are secure in our home, our children love Christ, we enjoy good health. But I can literally feel the agitation within me; it’s a physical jitteriness that won’t go away. Perhaps it’s merely a physiological thing; too much coffee or too little sleep, but I don’t think all that I’m feeling can be chalked up to this natural world. Problem is, it’s hard to concentrate enough to pray, and I’m having a hard time shutting my mind down enough even to be quiet in the Presence of God, so he can speak to me. That’s why I say this realm of the spirit is such a foreign place. I’m navigating through it, and every so often, I come across a troll or dragon I’ve never seen before, and have to fight my way through with the weapons I’ve been given, even if I’m not sure exactly how to wield them at any given moment. 

What I do have is the promise of Scripture assuring me that the weapons of my warfare, though they be not fleshly (of this world), are still mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds, taking every thought captive to Christ. (2 Cor. 10:4-5). I am working hard to capture every thought, even those hiding in the recesses of my heart where I can’t see and identify them. Like herding cats, they keep trying to get away, and I have to keep reeling them back in. 

Paul goes on to say, “Do you look on things after the outward appearance? If anyone trust to himself that he is Christ’s, let him think of himself this—that as he is Christ’s, so we are Christ’s.” (V. 7). Paul is defending his ministry, but in doing so, is also reminding me that as I walk this sometimes confusing inner world, I am always Christ’s. That is good enough for me, and cause for my thanksgiving tonight.

Bullies

July 22, 2018

Bullying is a hot topic these days. Educators do the research, put together programs, and devise all sorts of ways to handle bullies. Used to be, these matters were handled by the kids themselves after school, as the bully and the bullied squared off. Today, adults do their best to mediate, with mixed results from sensitivity training and “see it, say it” kinds of programs. 

But how do we handle the real bullies of life—the man who decides he no longer wishes to be married, the child struggling with cancer, the factory worker who learns his job is moving to Mexico? What enables some to weather life’s storms while others sink beneath its waves?

Isaiah 36 and 37 tell of the Assyrian bully Sennacherib, who invaded little Israel in his quest for world domination. He had already overrun most of the land, and was knocking at the gates of Jerusalem, issuing an ultimatum for surrender. By all measures, it was a hopeless situation, but when King Hezekiah sent word to the prophet Isaiah, the latter told him not to worry; Jerusalem would not fall, and Sennacherib would retreat without firing a shot. Isaiah could see that Sennacherib was overextended, and that the least little problem elsewhere would turn his attention from Jerusalem and cause him to withdraw back home where he would be assassinated.

How much of this was direct revelation from God, and how much was Isaiah’s ability to read the signs of the times better than others we may never know, but that very night, a plague hit the Assyrian army, killing 185,000 of them on the spot, Sennacherib withdrew, and was soon murdered by two of his own sons.

Sometimes we find ourselves in hopeless situations. Life has bullied us, driving us to despair. This isn’t just an ancient history lesson; it is in the Bible to encourage us to turn to God rather than to despair when faced with impossibilities. I am thankful tonight for this story, and for the hope it gives me for those impossible situations where no matter how I scheme and maneuver, I cannot figure a way out. The Assyrian bullies of today’s life are no match for the Lord, who in response to the prayers of his faithful ones, will send even life’s cruelest bully scurrying back home in defeat.

Claiming Faith

July 21, 2018

The time comes when the childhood faith that’s been handed down to you through parents and Sunday School has to step aside for the emerging adult faith that we need to carry us through life. It happens at different times and in different ways, but happen it must, if faith is not to be abandoned as a relic of days existing only in memory. I’ve had the distinct pleasure of watching this happen in my own children, and now seeing it unfold in theirs. This morning I sat with grandson Ian in our entryway, talking about nothing in particular, when I asked him how his summer camp experience affected him. I’m not good at remembering specific dialogue, but the gist of it was that the chapel speaker challenged the kids to follow Christ in a way that grabbed Ian’s attention. 

When I asked if he would ever want to be a camp counselor, he didn’t hesitate. He’s already been thinking about it. I recalled to him how at his age I was a counselor in training, and spent summers at various camps working with kids. That eventually led to Houghton College, to a student pastorate and seminary, and a lifetime of pastoring. I don’t know where Ian’s faith and commitment will lead him, but I know who’s doing the leading, and it is exciting to be watching and praying.

A New Song

July 20, 2018

Back in the early nineties hen we first embraced “contemporary” worship, it was pretty basic stuff. The Jesus People of the sixties had produced simple songs that gave testimony to the miracle of salvation they had found in Christ, but they also revived a form of music that had all but died out in Evangelical worship—Scripture choruses. The Psalter has been a staple of Christian worship from the very beginning, but I don’t remember ever singing Scripture when I was young.

One of the early Scripture songs we sang was taken not from the Psalms, but from Isaiah. I ran across it today, but since I’ve been reading through the Bible in the Message version, I didn’t recognize it at first. I don’t know why anyone thought to put this particular verse to music; at first glance, it doesn’t appear to have any great or unusual message, but tonight I’m glad to be humming it in my mind. 

The song goes:

Therefore the Redeemed of the Lord shall return

And come with singing unto Zion,

And everlasting joy shall be upon their heads (repeat)

They shall obtain gladness and joy

And sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

Therefore the Redeemed of the Lord shall return

And come with singing unto Zion,

And everlasting joy shall be upon their heads.

The Scripture is Isaiah 35:10–

And the ransomed of the LORD shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and singing shall flee away.

Every so often, we need reminding of God’s promises. Life was going badly for Israel in Isaiah’s day. Assyria, the bullying superpower of the day, was flexing its muscles, and little Israel was the 98 lb. weakling getting sand kicked in her face. It didn’t appear that things were ever going to work out for them, but God promises here that the day will come when he not only works things out, but does it with flair. I am thankful for this song that is now running through my head, reminding me that no matter what this world brings us, God is bringing salvation Joy. That is something to sing about!

God Speaks

July 19, 2018

“God speaks to us through his Word, and we speak to God through prayer.” This dictum was drilled into me from the time I first became a Christian. I never questioned it until early adulthood when I was first exposed to Charismatic/Pentecostal Christianity and the idea that God speaks directly into people’s spirits today. The prophetic gift, dreams and visions are staples in many Christian circles; I can’t claim the former, and visions are not my forte. I have on two occasions however, had dreams in which I knew immediately God was speaking to me. 

I’ve listened enough to people who claim prophetic gifts to know that much of what passes for the prophetic is more closely related to the individual’s desire to feel important, and is so vague that confirmation or debunking is almost impossible. The Biblical standard is clear: 100% accuracy (Deuteronomy 18). If it’s truly a word from the Lord from whom nothing is hidden, accuracy and truth are to be expected.

I’ve also listened to people whose prophetic word hit the bullseye. Sometimes. Therein lies the rub. I wish I could say that God speaks to my heart in times of prayer, but that rarely happens. Occasionally though when I am studying Scripture, things will just seem to click. I may go through days of dry nothingness, when suddenly a passage will all make sense, or I will see connections I hadn’t noticed before. When that happens, I know God is behind it, and has spoken authoritatively through his Word. It is a wonderful thing, a deep and calm excitement that settles in. It happened just yesterday as I was preparing Sunday’s sermon, for which I am thankful tonight.

A Settled Mind

July 19, 2018

“Poor fellow! Had his mind not been continually occupied with political ruminations, the strings might not have snapped.” So said William Wilberforce of a colleague who had a nervous breakdown. Wilberforce knew the pressures of political life; for forty years he maneuvered and battled to bring an end to the British slave trade. But Wilberforce was a Christian, and knew the importance of a Sabbath for keeping his perspective.

I thought of him today on the way home from two days spent with my mother, giving my brother and sister in law a bit of a break so they could spend time with some close friends from out of state. Mom can’t do much at 95, but she does listen to the news each night, which has a way of worming its way into my mind. I learned a few years ago that for my own peace of mind I needed to step away from all the political shenanigans that seem to occupy so much of public life. However, as I scroll through Facebook for the latest doings of my children and grandchildren, I’m inundated with either cutesy animal nonsense, “if you love Jesus, you’ll pass this along” drivel, or political vitriol. I usually refrain from commenting on the latter because I actually value friendships of people with whom I disagree politically, but they do have a way of working on my mind.

There is but one remedy for me: Scripture. This morning, my brother’s friend quoted at length from different Scriptural texts, asking me if I knew where they were from. I did, but sadly, I couldn’t quote them the way he did. But this afternoon as I was working on my sermon, the text was working on me, and on the way home, every time my mind wandered to thoughts political, I had to reel it back in and anchor it in the Word of God. There is little peace in politics, but as the Scripture says, “Great peace have they who love thy law, and nothing shall offend them” (Psalm 119:165), and, “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee” (Isaiah 26:3). It was a mental and spiritual battle this afternoon, but I won, and forced my mind to dwell on the truth of God’s Word. Tonight, I am thankful for the peace that is mine as I lay down to sleep. 

No More Pablum

July 17, 2018

There was a time when I got caught up in the fad. Like many other preachers of my generation, we found ourselves struggling to grow a church in the midst of a culture that gave lip service to Christianity but had little interest in real discipleship. That culture slowly shifted from general acceptance to apathy to hostility to the Gospel.We were trained to do ministry in a world that was passing away, and we didn’t know how to fix it. 

At the same time traditional Christianity seemed to b dying out, we discovered the occasional church that was not only surviving; it was thriving. They were inevitably led by upper middle class savvy preachers who followed business models to grow mega-churches into which flocked thousands of church-goers. Some traditionalists scoffed, claiming that they were selling out, weren’t preaching the full Gospel. After all, how could their message be true if so many people were coming to them? They rationalized their own failing ministries with, “at least we are being faithful.”

These churches did much good and served the larger body of Christ well, but after (successfully) following this teaching for a number of years, everything collapsed. Turns out, I didn’t know how to grow a church, after all. 

One thing I learned over the years is that building a church around supposed “felt needs,” (one of the foundational premises of the business model of ministry) fostered a narcissistic Christianity, where getting one’s needs met became the driving force behind preaching and ministry. If one’s needs weren’t being met, it was justification enough for leaving a congregation for greener pastures. The end result of all this tends to be lots of need-based churches that are little more than spiritual nurseries where the pastor runs around patting the spiritual babies on the back and sticking a spiritual bottle in their mouths every time one of them whimpers. It’s not a pretty picture.

Sometimes the old timers actually did know a thing or two. Christians grow when they are fed a steady diet of Scripture and when there is accountability for living it out in deeds of service, worship, and witness. A steady diet of need-based preaching rarely goes deep enough to provide the solid foundation for when life goes horribly wrong, which it tends to do on a regular basis. It doesn’t give people the tools necessary to confront  our decadent culture with the truth of the Gospel, and to stand when that culture turns on us. 

I would love to only have to preach the Bible stories. I love doing that, but am increasingly convinced of the necessity of digging deep into the Word of God for the sake of the people God has entrusted into my care. I don’t always like preaching straight through a book of the Bible. Some of the texts are complicated; most are challenging, and occasionally I even run into something that is personally convicting. But I believe it must be done, so last week I began a series on St. Paul’s letter to the Ephesians with a brief overview of the structure of the book. This week we dig in. I’m thankful to have the time to do it, even though through it God keeps pointing his finger at me. I’ve often said that most preachers preach to save their own souls. I know that to be true of me; there’s a lot of saving work yet to be done. So folks, bring your Bibles; you won’t be able to follow along without them. We are about to embark on an adventure! We need it, whether we feel it or not.

The “Also” Gift

July 16, 2018

Sometimes a little means a lot. In 1 Corinthians 10:13, God gives us his wonderful promise that whatever temptation or trial may come our way, it also comes with a way to escape. Don’t take it from me; here are Paul’s own words: “No temptation has come upon you except what is common to humanity. But God is faithful; he will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation he will also provide a way out so that you may be able to bear it.” 

That last phrase is suggestive: “he will also provide...” Also. We love that God has provided a way to escape temptation. But that escape is “also” provided. What is the other thing God has provided to which the way of escape is “also” provided? This word “also” gets my gears turning, taking me back to Jonah. Anyone who as a child has spent any time at all in Sunday School knows the story of Jonah getting swallowed by a big fish. If we read the story carefully, we’ll discover that the fish is but one of four things God provided for Jonah: the storm, the fish, the vine, and the worm that ate the vine. Every one of them was a special gift from God. Some of God’s most significant gifts are difficult to swallow (Yeah, I meant to say that).

If the way of escape is provided by God, according to 1 Corinthians 10:3, the temptation or trial is the original provision to which the escape is the “also.” We don’t like to hear this. Years ago, I bought a commercial role of Christmas wrapping paper. It was three feet wide, and sketched about thirty pounds; it was a LOT of paper! It had scenes of various Currier & Ives prints, and was quite pretty. At first. About five gifs into the role, something had apparently gone wrong with the printing process, and the rest of that entire role was all in yellow. We wrapped Christmas gifts in that ugly yellow paper for about ten years. I’m not making this up! A lot of good presents got wrapped in that ugly paper. Over the years, I’ve discovered that God’s best gifts are often gift-wrapped in some pretty ugly paper. 

The way of escape is a pretty nice gift, but it comes wrapped in the ugly paper of trials. We never know what deliverance is like if we’ve never been in bondage. We can’t know joy unless we’ve experienced sorrow. And apart from trials, we would never know the power of God that develops our strength and endurance. Jonah wouldn’t have learned to pray had he not been swallowed by the fish. I don’t like the trials, but I am thankful for them, for only through them can I discover for myself that God is faithful and will always provide a way of escape.

The First Step

July 15, 2018

A milestone has come and gone, although the effects linger. The Dunkirk United Methodist church celebrated 100 years of ministry based in their Medina sandstone building. We succeeded in bringing five congregations together, and reached out to our neighborhood in ways we had not done before. We contacted over 500 families, prepared as best we could, not knowing if we would be over- or under-whelmed with people. As it was, we were somewhere in the middle.

Over 2,000 years ago, there were 120 people who had been gathering together praying, but not really knowing how God would answer their prayers, and perhaps not even knowing what they were praying for. Peter preached, and suddenly those 120 people became 3,120 people, most of whom were brand new Christians. It could have become a logistical nightmare trying to figure out how 120 people could assimilate 3,000 and train them to become fully functioning members of the fledgling church. They did it, but not by turning over the teaching ministry to the leaders.

The original twelve disciples trained the 120, who then took responsibility for the 3,000. Each of the 120 had around 25 new believers to teach and mentor in their newfound faith. The Scripture says that they met together for meals, gathering daily for prayer and encouragement. 

Years before, Jesus had told his disciples that the fields were “white, ready for harvest.” The problem wasn’t that there weren’t any people ready to come to Christ; the problem was that there weren’t enough workers to go and bring them in. He commanded his disciples to “pray to the Lord of the harvest, that he would send forth laborers into his harvest.” The problem with this kind of praying is that God usually throws it right back at us: “Lord, send forth laborers,” we pray.

“Very well. I’m glad you asked. I’m sending you,” is the Lord’s usual response. Here’s what I know: God is in the life-giving business. He has no desire nor intention of bringing newborn Christians into this world only to have them die of neglect at the hands of the Church. We will get an influx of people when God can trust us with them. 

We made a great start yesterday, and today I’m thanking God for all he did and is doing. I’m also praying. And scheming. Because I want the Church to be ready, equipped to nurture the baby Christians God wants to give us. When we are ready, we will find God ready and waiting to unleash blessing so great that we’ll have a hard time keeping up with it. I am praying for that day, and thanking God that we have taken these first steps on a journey that will transform us, and then transform our community.

100 Years!

July 14, 2018

A lot can happen in a hundred years. On July 14, 1918, our country was enmeshed in a “war to end all wars.” Of course, if people had taken seriously Jesus’ words that “there will be wars and rumors of wars, but the end is not yet,” they wouldn’t have been surprised when things didn’t turn out quite that way. One thing that did turn out, was the new Methodist church building that was dedicated that day, one hundred years ago today.

Back then, the building of massive churches with expensive stained glass windows was funded by the factory owners who more or less expected that their employees would attend services at their respective places of worship.Those buildings served their communities well, but communities change, and often churches find it hard to adjust. But Christians are a peculiar lot; we’re hard to kill. One hundred years later, there aren’t as many of us as there were a hundred years ago, but today we showed that we are still alive and kicking. 

Four other congregations helped us celebrate this milestone with a community party in the park across the street from this old building. Free food, live music in Spanish and English, activities and games for the kids, a prayer tent, and door prizes made for a great day. Tomorrow we’ll rejoice together and praise God for 100 years, but even more for the opportunity we had to bless our community today. We were able to do it with brothers and sisters from other churches, demonstrating that we are one in Christ, and receiving with open arms and hearts the blessing promised in Psalm 133:1 & 3—

“Behold, how good and how pleasant it is

For brethren to dwell together in unity!

For there the LORD commanded the blessing--

Life forevermore.” 

We experienced life today. It was good, and I thank God for it.

Contentment

July 13, 2018

As near as I can tell, there is nothing left to do. It’s been a busy, hectic week, trying to think of all the details, collecting all the necessary supplies, and loading the trailer and truck for the party in the park celebrating the 100th anniversary of our church building. Tomorrow will tell. There was a time when I would be freaking out at this point. In Philippians 4:18, Paul says, “I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content.” I think it’s important that he says contentment was something he learned; it didn’t come naturally. I’ve learned that there are some things I can control, but far much more than I cannot. I cannot determine how many or who comes out tomorrow. I have no way of knowing whether we’ll have unmanageable crowds, or if almost no one will show up. I cannot control the weather. All I can control is my preparation. I’ve done all I can, and am thankful that the rest of this is in God’s hands, not mine. Tomorrow will be a great day!

Christian Unity

July 12, 2018

“Behold, how good and how pleasant it is

For brethren to dwell together in unity!

For there the LORD commanded the blessing--

Life forevermore.” 

—Psalm 133:1 & 3

In a country that once prized political bipartisan cooperation but now seems polarized to the point of categorically refusing to work with anyone who fails to join lockstep with the party line, it is a delight to work with people who express their faith in Christ differently, but are eager nonetheless to join hands for the cause of Christ. There are still those elements of sectarian Christianity that seem to believe that heaven will be sparsely populated with only their own kind, but I’ve had the privilege of seeing a more expansive faith that reaches out simply because they can.

Saturday, our Dunkirk United Methodist congregation celebrates the 100th anniversary of the dedication of the building that sits on the corner of 6th and Washington. We decided to have a big birthday party in the park, inviting our neighbors for food, music, and activities for the children. The Dunkirk UM church building is a massive structure, but the congregation over the years has dwindled to a handful of mostly older faithful saints. So when we began planning for this event, I began asking others to pray for us. They have been doing so, but they’ve also been putting feet to their prayers.

Conduit, a non-denominational congregation from Jamestown, is bringing a team of six or eight people to staff the bounce house, sno-cone truck, their popcorn and cotton candy machines. One of the worship teams from Sinclairville Park church will be singing and using sound equipment loaned by the church. Park is also providing a commercial sized grill for the hot dogs, and has already contributed both financially and materially with supplies. Dunkirk’s Pillar of Fire church is staffing a prayer tent and has offered to help in any way needed, while the Spanish congregation that meets in our building will provide Spanish food and have their worship leaders singing.

John Wesley once preached a sermon from 2 Kings 10:13–“Is your heart right, as my heart is toward your heart? If it is, give me your hand." We are seeing this playing out as testimony to the unifying work of the Holy Spirit in our midst, and it is beautiful to behold. Any blessing that accrues from this effort will be in a large part due to these faithful brothers and sisters who themselves have absolutely nothing to gain by helping us, except for the smile and blessing of our Lord, and our deep gratitude.