Numbers

December 31, 2019

They are just numbers on a page: 12/31/19, but they represent all that has happened this past year, as well as wistful hopefulness for the next. What is it about this particular date that we want to remember and reflect...and look forward to a better year to come? Why not August 31 or the spring solstice? Whatever the reason for the date, we seem to be hardwired to do it; we NEED to reflect, and to dream. 

Linda and I were talking this afternoon about life. It seems to me I’m not accomplishing all I had imagined I would once retirement fully kicked in. Things I want to get done lie untouched. She reminded me I spent the day assembling furniture for the Options Care Center, but it still felt like I should have gotten more done. Even my writing isn’t what I want it to be. When I look back at things I wrote two or three years ago, I often say to myself, “that was pretty good; why am I writing such drivel today?”

The trap is subtle, but effective. When we look only at what we have or haven’t accomplished, we locate our source of joy and satisfaction, our well-being in ourselves, in our abilities and talents, which may or may not be sufficient to meet the challenges of the day. Simply put, my best efforts cannot adequately justify my existence, which is why St. Paul tells us we are justified only by faith in Christ. He alone is adequate for the challenges we face; he alone can atone for our failure to meet those challenges successfully.

Whether it’s ringing out the old or ringing in the new, when our adequacy is rooted in our ability, we are in trouble. My faith is in Jesus Christ, not James Bailey. He alone can adequately affirm the successes of the past year, forgive the failures, and provide the wisdom and strength for the new. I am thankful tonight that I’m still here (at 70, I have my “threescore and ten”), and that  all rests in the hands of a wise and loving God.

From the Well

December 30, 2019

One of the benefits of having been a preacher for nearly 50 years is a well of experience that is much deeper than when I first began. Back then, the well wasn’t much more than a muddy puddle. Today, when I’ve run dry, I have a backlog of writing to draw on, and in retirement, I need that. I’m not mixing it up with people to the same degree I once did. Sometimes it feels like I’m just marking time, not accomplishing much of any importance. When that happens, I know it’s time to go back to the well, so that’s what I’m doing tonight. I am very thankful that the well is deep and the bucket doesn’t leak. So...here is a blast from the past.

December 30, 2014

Driving home from town today, I poked the button for the radio and was greeted by a PBS discussion of a novel about the shallowness of the gaudy wealth of the kingdom of Dubai. I tuned in mid-conversation where they happened to be talking about the plague of prostitution and of social media in this Islamic city state. It was a strange juxtaposition of thought that immediately caught my attention. The author commented that life there was oddly disembodied, that the sense of personhood was disconnected from the physicality of the body, whether it be in the disengagement of two people in the prostituted sexual act or in the disembodiment of the online community, the phrase "online community" being somewhat of an oxymoron in itself. 

People were calling in, commenting on different parts of the conversation, but no one seemed to pick up on the theme of disembodied people, which I find to be both significant and saddening. Our culture is increasingly obsessed with sex, but not as it inhabits the marital bed. I cannot remember the last time a sexual scene, or the suggestion of one, included two happily married people. It is almost always people who are either living together without benefit of marriage, or two people who just happen to land in one or the other's bed for the evening. And of course, the obligatory presence of a homosexual couple, while not yet being portrayed so openly sexual, is fast becoming the new norm. And that's just broadcast and cable television.

People are obsessed with the the attachment of bodies, but strangely silent at the disengagement of the soul and spirit. It's apparent in the way sex is treated in the media, but it's also evident in the social media itself, which has in many cases become a cesspool of people's disappointments, resentments, vindictiveness, and retaliation. The slight or the offense given in private is now broadcast for everyone to see, but only from the perspective of the offended person who posts his or her grievance. It's all done from a distance, and from the relative safety and often anonymity of a social media persona that may have no real connection to the personality of the person behind it. Comments are disembodied, and more and more people are living these body-less lives through their cellphones, laptops, and tablets.

Secularists often scorn the Christian's supposedly puritanical protection of sex within the bonds of marriage. "You see the body as evil and dirty; that's why you are afraid to celebrate your sexuality," they say. To the contrary, we are the only ones taking the body seriously enough. We understand the connection between "sarx" and "psuche," body and soul. Only as the body is taken seriously as an integral part of who we are, and as we refuse to detach the body from the inner life of the human being, can we begin to understand what it truly means to be human. I am grateful tonight to have listened to a conversation that made me ponder anew the mystery of this life we live, as St. Paul said, "in the flesh...and in the spirit." And I am grateful for my Christian faith that is concerned with the redemption of the entire person, body, soul, and spirit. This redemption of the entire person is my only hope, and although I may be misunderstood to say so, I cling to it with holy desperation.

Hard Blessings

December 29, 2019

“From the Jews five times I received forty stripes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods; once I was stoned; three times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I have been in the deep; in journeys often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils of my own countrymen, in perils of the Gentiles, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren; in weariness and toil, in sleeplessness often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness— besides the other things, what comes upon me daily: my deep concern for all the churches.” —II Corinthians 11:24-28 NKJV

The weather so far this December has been unsettled. Cold and snow has given way to a cold rainy drizzle; tomorrow is supposed to hit 50F before plummeting below freezing on New Year’s Eve. I’ve often said I prefer a hard snow to a freezing rain; the rain somehow goes right through me, chilling me to the bone. Today’s weather made me think of St. Paul’s words about all he endured for the sake of the Gospel. The weather is what it is; we live with it, but don’t often place ourselves in its path for any purpose, let alone the Gospel. Tonight I sit in our back room before a cozy fire and a lazy dog. Whatever is happening outside, inside I’m quite comfortable. 

Paul recounts times of persecution and torture, in danger from people, and struggling for life in circumstances that would prompt most of us to retreat to safer and more comfortable surroundings. Towards the end of his list he speaks of cold and nakedness, and I can picture him shivering in the rain, praying for morning and a break in the clouds. When I was much younger, my sons and I would canoe in Algonquin Park in Canada...in October. I remember well shivering through the lengthening nights, wondering if morning were ever going to come so I could get up, build a fire and try to warm my hands and feet and everything in between.

This morning, our pastor invited us to give voice to the blessings we’ve received in 2019. Health, friendships, family were all mentioned. I didn’t chime in, but I am thankful for the hard blessings of the cold that helps me appreciate the warmth, of the disappointments that highlight by contrast the fulfillments, the feeling of God’s absence that helps me enjoy all the more those times when I feel his presence, the struggle to understand Scripture that fades in the light that explodes in my head when I finally see and understand. 

Without the cold, we cannot appreciate the comfort, without the persecution, we cannot fully know the peace, without the conviction of sin, we cannot fully know the joy of salvation. Not only for the good times, but for the hard and bad, I give thanks tonight.

To and On

December 28, 2019

“Therefore by the deeds of the law no flesh will be justified in His sight, for by the law is the knowledge of sin. But now the righteousness of God apart from the law is revealed, being witnessed by the Law and the Prophets, even the righteousness of God, through faith in Jesus Christ, to all and on all who believe. For there is no difference;” —Romans 3:20-22 NKJV

For anyone burdened by guilt at not quite ever measuring up, these words of St. Paul are like a fresh breeze in the desert. Our working more or trying harder to do the right thing may be admirable, but the Enemy of our souls is always at hand to sow seeds of doubt. “How much is enough? You’re working hard today, but remember how badly you screwed up last week?” No amount of good deeds can undo even the tiniest of bad ones. They remain like an ink dot on an otherwise pristine white page. The overwhelming whiteness is unnoticed as the attention is drawn to that single spot of ink. Paul asserts however, that there is more to the story.

The righteousness that is unavailable through our efforts to do good is given to us in Christ. Here, Paul says, “to all and ON all” who believe. It is not only a gift to us, but it rests on us. Elsewhere, Paul reminds us to “put on” righteousness. And John tells us that the white robes the saints wear as they worship around the throne of God are the righteousness of the saints. When God looks at the believer, he doesn’t see the sin-stained rags we once wore; he sees the holiness of his Son. So why then do we keep looking at ourselves as we were before Christ? Is that not self-defeating? When I put on work clothes, I don’t care if they get dirty, but when I put on a suit and tie, I live up to the clothes and take care not to get them soiled. Maybe if we saw ourselves clothed in the righteousness of Christ, we would be more careful how we act in this world, and be more confident of the world to come.

Everett

December 27, 2019

“There are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit. There are differences of ministries, but the same Lord. And there are diversities of activities, but it is the same God who works all in all. But the manifestation of the Spirit is given to each one for the profit of all: for to one is given the word of wisdom through the Spirit, to another the word of knowledge through the same Spirit, to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healings by the same Spirit, to another the working of miracles, to another prophecy, to another discerning of spirits, to another different kinds of tongues, to another the interpretation of tongues. But one and the same Spirit works all these things, distributing to each one individually as He wills.”

I Corinthians 12:4-11 NKJV

It was nearly 40 years ago when I was first introduced to Pentecostal/Charismatic theology of the Holy Spirit. It may be hard to believe, but growing up as an independent Baptist in the ‘60s, I had never learned of the Azusa Street revival, of Aimee Temple McPherson, Smith Wigglesworth, Kathryn Kuhlman or any of the other  Pentecostal preachers from the early 20th century. When I was assigned to a church that had nearly split in two by a pastor who had experienced a “second blessing,” I had to learn quickly. I devoured everything I could get my hands on that dealt with such matters, and it turned out, there was quite a bit of available material. 

As with any theological inquiry, it was not a straightforward path. Even amongst the Charismatics and Pentecostals, there was quite a bit of diversity regarding the necessity of speaking in tongues as evidence of being “baptized in the Spirit.” Some encouraged me to simply empty my mind and let the syllables flow, while others told me I needed to practice repeating gibberish, and still others asserted that I didn’t need to do it at all. It was, to put it mildly, a bit confusing. I finally dug more deeply into the Scriptures, and amazingly, the whole matter cleared up. 

Paul’s first letter to the Corinthian church was written to correct some false teaching and bad practices that had crept into the congregation. By the time he gets to the twelfth chapter, he had dealt with factions, sexual immorality, and desecration of the Lord’s Table, or Eucharist. Now he turns to spiritual gifts, and states quite explicitly that we all have different gifts, and by implication, insisting that a particular one is necessary for everyone is simply false teaching. Did you catch his repetition of “to another?” This was quite a relief to me, as was when the leader of the charismatic element in the church said to me one night, “Jim, you don’t have to speak in tongues. Your gift is preaching. Go with it.” That confirmation from a dyed-in-the-wool charismatic of what I read in Scripture set my mind at ease.

Recently, I was asked to teach on the gift of prophecy to a group of Pentecostal pastors. How weird is that? I responded by telling the one who invited me that I would be happy to do so, but my teaching might not be quite what he would be expecting. But I plan to do it. If my spiritual gift is as those I trust have confirmed, it should be a profitable time, even if it doesn’t meet their expectations, or perhaps especially if it doesn’t. Either way, I am thankful tonight for Everett Scofield and his wise words to me nearly a lifetime ago, and that I don’t have to fit into anyone’s mold for authentic Christian living except that of Christ himself.

Walking

December 26, 2019

For the merest of moments, Christmas gave us a reprieve from the unending political drama that’s been playing out in Washington for the past three years. I’m not naïve enough to imagine that the warring sides have come to any semblance of peace, but with multiple worship services, gatherings, and family celebrations, I’ve been too preoccupied to pay attention to any of it. It’s been rather nice, actually. Listening to the commentators (there aren’t any actual reporters anymore—they’re all commentators), no matter which side you take, the world is coming to an end if the other side wins.

It won’t, of course. It might get plenty worse, but it’s not the end. Not yet. Jesus told us there would be wars and rumors of wars, that nation would rise against nation. The Bible tells us that people will have itching ears to hear only that which they want to hear. They will call good evil and evil good. People will betray one another. Poverty, violence, injustice will abound. Nothing new here. It’s not much different than when Jesus was born. But that night, a Light came into the world, and St. John says, “the darkness cannot overcome it.” We thread our way through that darkness by the glow of that Light, one step at a time. It’s not a searchlight that floods the way with a blinding brightness. The Light doesn’t illuminate the last steps we take; instead, he told us that even he didn’t know the day nor hour of his appearing. Instead, we walk...sometimes haltingly, sometimes confidently. 

Occasionally, we run the race, and at other times, it’s all we can do merely to stand. But mostly, we walk, step by step, one foot after the other. And while walking, we pay little attention to all the voices clamoring in our ears from the sidelines, promising success, happiness, wealth, fame, or safety if we just follow their siren call. But the Spirit whispers in our hearts, “if anyone will come after Me, let him take up his cross and follow Me,” and we shoulder that cross once more, shifting its weight and haltingly lift a foot and start out, guided by the light of his Word and the Light of the Holy Spirit. If we stumble, he is there to catch us and set us on our way. 

Through pleasant valleys, rock-strewn paths in the desert, up narrow mountain trails, and thickets that threaten to hide the way. We walk, and I am thankful tonight for tomorrow’s strength, grace, and wisdom. Tonight we rest. Tomorrow, we walk!

Merry Christmas!

December 25, 2019

“Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart.” —Luke 2:19 NKJV

Most nativity sets show the Baby Jesus lying in a manger surrounded by the adoring figures of his mother, Joseph, a shepherd or two, three wise men, and assorted animals—all overseen by a watchful and protective angel. Of course, it wasn’t quite like that. Those critics bothered by the historical inaccuracies of the scenes are quick to point out that the wise men likely didn’t show up for another year or two, and that nowhere in the Biblical story does it tell us there were three of them. Some will even complain about the star. Astronomical research has led to all sorts of speculations about the star; it likely wasn’t particularly bright; it was probably a certain conjunction of planets that those ancient astrologers would have noticed and taken as a sign. On and on it goes, 

Then there’s that persistent angel hovering over the scene. According to the story, from the time just prior to Mary’s conception until some time after his birth when Joseph was warned in a dream to flee into Egypt, there were no angelic visitations for the Holy Family. Angels appeared to the shepherds in the fields the night of Jesus’ birth, but there’s no indication Mary and Joseph took notice of it. They had more pressing matters to attend to. As far as we know, inside that stable (if indeed they managed to find refuge in a stable; all it says is that Jesus was laid in a manger, mentioning not a single word regarding shelter for the family), it was dark and smelly and crowded. There were no beams of soft light shining upon the Baby. 

Joseph and Mary were a young couple all alone in a strange village, trying their best to care for this baby in the midst of discouraging circumstances. God had spoken decisively to them both, but that was nine months ago; since then, just silence. Is that how God works, giving a message so clear it cannot be mistaken, then leaving us to wonder and weep when everything falls apart?

The shepherds, having the message of the heavenly host still ringing in their ears, stopped by before going on their way bearing the news of the Savior just born. Not Mary. Tonight she wasn’t a messenger; she was a mother, and she simply pondered. 

I wonder what she thought. Was she wishing she had a better place to lay her newborn? Was she remembering the Annunciation nearly a year before, trying to figure out how this night could possibly fit into such a visitation? Was she worried for the future, or just filled with the wonder of this new life she held to her breast? We may never know, but if the story says anything to me, it tells me that while there are times to joyously proclaim the Good News with the shepherds, there are other times, just as important, when it is right to just sit and ponder with Mary what God might be up to in the crazy, convoluted mess of the life we’ve been given.

Merry Christmas!

Bethlehem

December 24, 2019

Tonight we will sing, “Peace on earth, goodwill towards men,” but if there is one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that peace isn’t a gift that can simply be bestowed on people like someone might give a fruitcake. Peace has to be claimed, owned, received, and chosen. Before he was crucified, Jesus told his disciples, “My peace I leave with you.” But our experience even as Christians is often one of wanting and searching in vain for peace. 

Christmas Eve is when we perhaps think about this peace more than at any other time of year. We read the Christmas story and imagine starry nights with shepherds in the field, of Mary and Joseph tucked into a warm and cozy stable, with baby Jesus lying in a manger. That night however, didn’t exactly go as Joseph and Mary might have envisioned it. It was tough enough traveling by foot for days from Nazareth to Bethlehem, and when they finally arrived with sore feet and aching back, as Mary felt those first pangs of birth, Joseph was frantically trying to find a place for them to stay. The streets were crowded, they were jostled and bumped, perhaps angry words were shouted to them. Nothing was going right. 

On Christmas Eve, I have often felt harried, frantic, on edge...anything but peaceful. Services need final touches, music rehearsals, all the gifts have to be dragged up from the basement and placed under the tree, the table set and...and...and... Nerves are frazzled as we put on our smiles and head to church. 

Jesus didn’t come into a Norman Rockwell world. He came into our world, a world that seems quite resistant to peace. “He came unto his own, but his own received him not,” John tells us. It’s not that we don’t want him in our lives; we do—desperately. But when he comes into our crowded Bethlehem of life, it is crowded and busy, and he settles for a stable in a dark corner. 

The shepherds were away from all that, out in the fields, keeping watch over their sheep. They had to be watchful and alert, but most of the time, it was pretty quiet and perhaps even boring as they waited through the night. They had one advantage over us, however. They weren’t so busy as to miss the birth...and the promised peace. And once they heard of it, they came. They simply came. I’ve heard of the birth so very many times, but I wonder how many times I’ve actually come to see. And worship. That coming, that worship can’t be hurried. It eludes those who are crowding their way through life. And it will elude me, if I fail to come. So I deliberately turn my mind from the busyness, from the irritations, from the stuff that has to get done, even from the people who surround me this busy night. Like a shepherd, I will stop what I’m doing and go see for myself this which the Lord has brought to pass.

God Speaking

December 23, 2019

Having recently been asked to do some teaching on the gifts of the Holy Spirit, I’ve been re-examining Scripture on the matter, and I’ve decided that teaching on the gifts without a prior focus on the Giver would be a mistake. So, I’m digging into the broader subject, and came across something here in the Revelation that surprised me. In these first chapters of the book, Jesus Christ himself is speaking to the seven churches representative of us all. He identifies himself as the One who ideally fits the varied circumstances in which they find themselves, speaking a word of encouragement, instruction, and warning to the church leaders. But at the end of each little speech we find these words: “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.”

Did you catch it? Jesus preaches, but it is the Holy Spirit who speaks. This is the other side of the coin of Jesus’ words in John 15:26 where Jesus says, ““But when the Helper comes, whom I shall send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father, He will testify of Me.” —John 15:26 NKJV

We often desire validation or assurance in the form of a feeling that God is smiling upon us, and are just as often disappointed when that doesn’t happen. The presence and power of the Holy Spirit isn’t measured by miracles, feelings, signs and wonders. All of these can be manipulated and manufactured. The real question is, “Is this what Jesus said?” 

This morning I was listening to T.D. Jakes preaching on the Nativity story. The angel appears to Mary telling her she will be blessed above all women. “But don’t you know,” Jakes said, “that every blessing comes with a burden?” He continued, “Imagine if you will,” he said, “that you are Joseph.” Mary tells him she is pregnant, and he knows it’s not his baby. God tells him in a dream that this is of him, and that it will be OK. And now, they are headed to Bethlehem. She’s nine months pregnant; she’s uncomfortable, it’s ninety miles, and once they get there thinking the journey is done, there’s no place to stay. And all the while, God is silent. Through the pregnancy, with all the wagging tongues, through the long journey, to the confines of a stable, God speaks not a word. 

And yet, even in the silence, the promise of God holds true. The blessing would come, but so would the burden and buffetings. This was not the cozy, nostalgic scene we imagine. Jesus Christ came into a world that rejected him from the outset. The plan of God is not subject to our emotions. And the Holy Spirit speaks the Word of Jesus Christ to anyone willing to listen. It isn’t a comfortable word; it isn’t an easy word. It’s a word of challenge, of courage, of command! HEAR what the Spirit is saying; it is Jesus Christ himself who calls us to stand strong in the face of opposition, of temptation, of fear, with the Good News that he is Lord of heaven and earth.

For Us All

December 22, 2019

When studying the Bible, I find it helpful to look for patterns. Repetition of words, phrases, or ideas can be the key to unlocking the meaning of a text and discovering what God may be saying to me at any given time. In his initial vision of “the Son of Man” (1:13), John hears him giving a message to the seven churches that were likely part of a preaching circuit in what is now Turkey. Each church receives a different message, but there are some commonalities worth noting.

First, it is the “angels” of the churches who are addressed. Since the word “angel” in the Greek is simply “a messenger,” it is likely he is speaking to the leaders of those churches, ie. the pastors who are responsible for what is being taught and practiced in those various churches. It is not an incidental burden pastors bear. James tells us that we should not be too eager to be teachers because those in leadership will receive a “stricter judgment” (James 3:1). God holds those he places in leadership to a higher standard of accountability, a sobering thought which dogged my steps for years. 

Secondly, a particular characteristic of the Son of Man as described in chapter one is singled out for each church, according to the specific situation that church faced. His was no cookie-cutter message. Jesus meets every need individually. When we need comfort, he is our comfort; when we need direction, he is our guide; when we need correction, he is our judge. He doesn’t give me what you need, nor you what I need. By the same token, he leaves no one out. His eye is upon each one; nothing escapes his notice, his attention, or his care.

Thirdly, he calls on everyone to pay attention. “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.” Though addressed to specific churches, the seven messages are for us all. At one time or another, we have all left our first love (Ephesus), at one time or another, we have all been afraid (Smyrna) or tolerated false teaching and immorality, or grown lukewarm (Pergamos, Thyatira, and Laodicea). There are commendations and warnings enough for us all.

Lastly, there is the repeated charge to be an overcomer. It’s not those who start the race that count; it’s those who finish. Sadly, there are plenty who begin walking with Christ, who decide at some point that it’s not worth it. Perhaps they were hurt by someone in the church, or God didn’t answer their prayers the way they had wanted, they fell prey to some deceptive false teaching. For whatever reason, they started, but didn’t finish. Jesus Christ’s word to us all is, “don’t quit!” When it gets hard, don’t quit; when others turn against you, don’t quit; when tempted to simply coast, don’t quit!

As one who is closer to the finish than the starting line, I can attest to the temptation to pull up before the finish line, to slow the pace, or to let stinking thinking get the better of me. Jesus’ words are just as critical today as when he first spoke them: “Watch and pray, that you enter not into temptation. Pick up your cross and follow me. Be an overcomer!” With your help and by your grace Jesus, I will do just that.

Faithful Witness

December 21, 2019

My United Methodist denomination that has been in turmoil for the entirety of my forty plus years of ministry is finally reaching the breaking point. Dissension over matters of human sexuality has been growing since the denomination was forged in the union of the former Evangelical United Brethren and Methodist Episcopal churches in 1968. The old EUB Erie Conference of which I had recently become a member joined the merger in 1972, and shortly thereafter, the rumblings started.

It began with feminism and the ordination of women, which though taken for granted today, was controversial back then. Over time, we followed the culture wars as they pushed for acceptance of homosexuality, and now the full LGBTQA+ agenda. The Western church has largely bowed to the prevailing culture, while the African and Philippine contingent remains traditional. Since the Western church (USA and Europe) is in precipitous decline and the African and Philippine branch is growing, the gradual acceptance of the culture’s agenda was brought to a screeching halt in the last two General Conferences where the official stance of the denomination is forged.

The liberal Western church has resorted to ecclesial disobedience and defiance of our church law, the Book of Discipline, which has led us to the brink of dissolution as a denomination. I’ve watched this play out for the entirety of my pastoral ministry, and it would be discouraging but for one factor—the words of St. John in the opening scene of the Revelation. In it, John hears a voice behind him, and turns to face the speaker. 

“Then I turned to see the voice that spoke with me. And having turned I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the midst of the seven lampstands One like the Son of Man, clothed with a garment down to the feet and girded about the chest with a golden band...The mystery of the seven stars which you saw in My right hand, and the seven golden lampstands: The seven stars are the angels of the seven churches, and the seven lampstands which you saw are the seven churches.” —Revelation 1:12-13, 20 NKJV

In the verses between 13 and 20, he names the churches among which Jesus walks; the very same churches to which the revelation is to be given. They are like churches everywhere; a combination of faithful witness, cultural accommodation, hearty endurance, and slothful carelessness. In short, they are us. And where I would be tempted to write some of these churches off as not worth the effort, or too far gone to save, Jesus walks among them, holding their leaders in his hand and refusing to abandon any of them, no matter how apostate or depraved they had become.

I’m grateful tonight that I’m not the one who gets to make the decisions about who is worthy and who is not. That’s Jesus’ job, and he continues to walk among us, no matter how far we drift from the Gospel. Denominations will rise and fall, but the Church of Jesus Christ will remain, and he will remain faithful to us even when we are faithless towards him. That is grace, and it is our only hope. Thankfully, it is enough.

Who He is and What He Did

December 20, 2019

The last book of the Bible gives us a laser-like focus on Jesus Christ. It’s not about terrible thing that are going to happen; it’s not about the antichrist or the devil, nor is it a roadmap for the last days. It is a revelation from and about Jesus Christ. If we forget that, we miss the most important thing about the book. The Bible begins in Genesis with God the Father speaking and the Spirit hovering over the waters, and it ends with Jesus Christ welcoming his people home. It is thoroughly Christological, which means he is the center of it all. 

Revelation begins by telling us who Jesus Christ is. He is, was, and is to come. He is the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, ruler over the kings of the earth (1:4-5). Later, he is described as the “Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End...the Almighty” (1:8). The word for “witness” is the word from which we get “martyr.” There were two types of Christians in New Testament times. Witnesses were those who gave their lives for the faith. Confessors suffered, were tortured, but survived. Here, Jesus is the faithful witness. He suffered and died without denying the faith. 

Some have questioned the “firstborn” part. After all, didn’t Jesus raise people from the dead? Lazarus comes to mind. But Lazarus died again. Jesus is the only one so far to rise from death never to die again. He is the first, and as firstborn, has the right of inheritance. And what is his inheritance? To rule over the kings of the earth. This fifth verse echoes the second Psalm which declares, “The LORD has said to me, ‘you are my Son, Today I have begotten you. Ask of me and I will give you the nations for your inheritance, and the ends of the earth for your possession” (vv.7-8). This is a prophecy and promise we would do well to remember when the political world is in turmoil. 

After describing three characteristics of Jesus Christ, John gives us three things he did for us: He loved us, washed us from our sins, and made us a kingdom of priests to God the Father. That’s pretty impressive! We are loved, we’ve been cleansed from our sins, and have been made priests, i.e. intermediaries between God and man. He hints here at the significance of prayer in our lives. After all, how can we possibly intervene for others before God except by prayer? If ever we imagine our lives to be insignificant, this should erase any such thoughts. And if ever we feel the weight of guilt for what we’ve done or left undone, the fact that we’ve been washed (some manuscripts read “loosed,” there being in the Greek only one letter difference between the words ‘washed’ and ‘loosed.’) should allay any fears we have because it’s the blood of Christ that stands between us and our sins, however this word is translated. There are few things God describes as precious. The blood of his Son Jesus Christ stands at the top of that list. If the blood cannot cleanse and set us free, nothing can. 

Tonight, I am grateful for this curious book of Revelation. It points me through Christ to the certainty of salvation and deliverance for all God’s people, including me. Thanks, indeed!

Revelation

December 19, 2019

The Apocalypse, otherwise known as the Revelation of St. John, is one of the most parodied and least-understood books of the Bible, beginning with its English title. It isn’t the Revelation of John, but of Jesus Christ, as the first sentence indicates: “The revelation of Jesus Christ.” The ‘of’ signifies that it is both from and about Jesus Christ, and is the only writing in the Bible that attaches a blessing to the reading, hearing, and keeping of its words (v. 3). 

People often shie away from reading this letter with its fantastic imagery and symbolism. “I can’t understand it,” they say, forgetting that the blessing attached to it says nothing about understanding it. 

The story begins by setting everything in context. It was written to Christians who were experiencing persecution. When John speaks of dragons and Jezebel, of anti-Christ and the False Prophet, his readers would nod their heads and murmur, “Yes, we’ve seen them. We bear the scars to prove it.” Revelation speaks of last days, but it was written primarily to those first Christians in those last days, not to those of us who have come on the scene lately. And though the trials depicted in these pages are real and severe, they aren’t described to scare us, but to encourage us. 

In the middle of the Civil War, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote a poem that we sing at Christmastime—“I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.” The carnage of that war had impacted him directly, and as he wrote, 

“And in despair I bowed my head;

"There is no peace on earth," I said; 

"For hate is strong,

And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

His next verse echoes the Revelation:

“Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; 

The Wrong shall fail,

The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men." 

John pulls back the curtain of human history to reveal Jesus Christ behind the scenes, the victorious Lamb that was slain, seated at the right hand of the Father and coming in great glory for his own. As if to emphasize the certainty of his authority, in the opening verses, he is described as the One “who is, who was, and”—not as we might expect—“Who will be,” but “Who is to come.” The implication is clear. The glorious Son of God was before time and is now, but to say “he will be” is to imply that he changes, that he can become something other than who he is and was. Jesus Christ can never be described as One who “will be.” He was, and is, and is to come.” 

In a world gone mad, this is our hope. We don’t pin our hopes on who is in office, on how the Supreme Court decides this or that issue, on whether we win or lose the culture war. Our hope is in Jesus Christ, “the same yesterday, today, and forever” (Hebrews 13:8)—and who is coming again. I am thankful for this strange, hope-filled book of Revelation, for it reveals Jesus Christ as he is today—exalted and glorified and coming again Lord of heaven and earth!

Interruptions

December 18, 2019

Most of the time, we despise interruptions. We have our plans; we’re on a schedule, and can’t be bothered with anything that gets in the way. I don’t know if Christians and other religious people have more trouble with interruptions than others, but when we’re on a mission from God, they aren’t just interruptions, they are deviations from God’s divine plan.

Except for when they are God’s plan. Moses was tending sheep in the desert when God himself interrupted him in a burning bush. “You’re going back to Egypt,” God told him, contrary to whatever plans he might have had for the rest of the day. Jonah had other destinations in mind when he got an express ride in a fish bound for Nineveh. Saul was busy arresting Christians when a blinding light changed his plans. Augustine was fooling around with his mistress when his mother’s prayers caught up with him and turned him into a doctor of the church.

Then there was the priest and Levite who refused to be interrupted to help a man lying wounded by the side of the road. After all, they had important work to attend to...work for God himself. It was the despised Samaritan who stopped to help. 

We had plans this week, stuff to do, work to accomplish, important stuff. A couple funerals later, a request for transportation for a grandchild, helping organize bags of food and clothing to be given away in Dunkirk, plus a blizzard that reorganized the day, and all our plans blew away like snow in the wind. It’s tempting to let interruptions irritate us; after all, they don’t fit neatly into the life we’ve arranged. Seeing them instead as bearers of grace changes everything. God isn’t always interested in our plans; he has his own, and those interruptions are God’s way of getting us to look at life and people differently. They also help us see ourselves differently. When we get upset over interruptions, we’re really saying we know best, that our plans are most important, after all, everything exists for my benefit, doesn’t it? Interruptions reveal my selfishness and self-centeredness. They are a mirror to my soul, and I don’t always like what I see.

Somehow by God’s mercy, I was able to look at the day’s interruptions differently, to see them as a gift from God. A different perspective changed everything, for which I am thankful tonight.

Overdoing It

December 17, 2019

Advent at the Bailey’s can be a bit hectic. It’s not so much the shopping; for both of us, that’s been mostly done for months. It’s the special programs, concerts, and gatherings, added to which is the decorating (fortunately, we have willing grandchildren eager to help), volunteering for special service projects, and wrapping gifts. As Christ-followers, we get caught up in all of it. We sing “Silent Night” when it is anything but. We don’t replace one activity with another; we add one to another. It’s easy to get lost in the season, even as Christians, perhaps especially as Christians. Even when we are giving, the focus seems to be on doing...more, and more, and more.

But the whole meaning of Advent is wrapped up not in what WE do, but what GOD did and does. The Gospel asserts that “what the law could not do in that it was weak through the flesh, God did by sending His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh.” (Romans 8:3). When we get too busy doing, it becomes too easy to neglect and fail to receive the Gift of God in Jesus Christ. Oh yes, we give lip service to him, eagerly and energetically working to do the things we believe he wants us to do, when what he wants most is that we worship him, and acknowledge him as the Centerpiece of all God is and does. 

Paul says it clearly in his letter to the Colossian Christians:

“He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by Him all things were created that are in heaven and that are on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or powers. All things were created through Him and for Him. And He is before all things, and in Him all things consist. And He is the head of the body, the church, who is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in all things He may have the preeminence. For it pleased the Father that in Him all the fullness should dwell, and by Him to reconcile all things to Himself, by Him, whether things on earth or things in heaven, having made peace through the blood of His cross.” —Colossians 1:15-20 NKJV

Everything God does, he does through Jesus Christ, to the end that someday, “every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” (Philippians 210-11). 

Tonight, I am grateful for evenings like tonight when I stop the doing long enough to appreciate and give thanks for what has already been done for me in the gift of Jesus Christ.

Power Struggle

December 16, 2019

What does it take to be saved? The Philippian jailer asked that question of Paul and Silas, receiving from Paul an answer that has rung down through the centuries: “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved; you and your household.” (Acts 16:31).The problem with this answer is that it can be easily watered down to where “believe” signifies nothing more than mental assent. Many there are who believe, but who are not saved. 

Later in the book of Acts, Paul is on trial for his life, testifying before king Agrippa, when he says, he was commissioned by Jesus Christ “to open their eyes, in order to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and an inheritance among those who are sanctified by faith in Me.’”  —Acts 26:18 NKJV

This is a much more complete description of what it means to believe in Christ and be saved. He asserts that the people to whom he was to preach the Gospel had their eyes closed, were living in darkness under the power of Satan, and in need of forgiveness. All this is changed when someone is sanctified (literally, “made holy”) by faith in Christ. What this means is, faith in Christ involves opening the eyes to see what one was unable or unwilling to see before, turning from a path of darkness to living in the light that streams in through open eyes, being set free from demonic control in order to be forgiven. 

In all my years as a Christian, I was taught that I needed to pray a prayer, receive Jesus into my heart in order to be saved. I was not taught that I was under the power of Satan and needed deliverance, even though deliverance was clearly a Biblical theme. I needed deliverance from my sins, but knew nothing of being delivered from the power of Satan. Perhaps it wasn’t quite as necessary back then, as our Christianized culture ameliorated the more brazen manifestations of Satan’s power. But today, these words ring ever more true and important. We cannot receive forgiveness while still under Satan’s power. And although his power was broken on the Cross, that power in us is only broken when we open our eyes to see it for what it is and deliberately turn from it. Too many Christians live as paupers when the full, rich forgiveness of Christ is available to us. 

What we often fail to understand is that the devil doesn’t often appear as manifest evil. Instead of a red suit, pitchfork, and horns, Satan appears in a three-piece suit, manicured, and impeccably well-spoken. We can easily see him in a Hitler or Stalin or Mao, but not in our own political party or even ourselves. If there is one thing I am in continual need of, it’s eyes open to the darkness in my own soul, and the way Satan seeks power over me. This only happens as I repent, or turn form my own ways to those of Christ, that he may in his mercy and grace, begin and continue the process of making me holy as I trust in him.

Magnificat for All

December 15, 2019

The Lectionary reading for today told part of the backstory of Mary’s Magnificat, found in Luke 1. The tale began with an angelic visit to Zechariah, the aged priest married to Elizabeth, who for the many years of their marriage remained barren—in those days, considered a sign of God’s displeasure. The angel promised them a son, and six months into her pregnancy, we pick up the story with another angelic visit, this time to the Virgin Mary. 

Biblical angels were not the cuddly Raphaelic cherubs or the beautiful feminine creatures we so often envision them to be, in flowing, glowing robes, long golden hair, and feathery wings. Later in the story, we will read of angels who came upon a group of shepherds. At first there was but one, but it says “suddenly” the sky was filled with “heavenly host.” If the “suddenly” weren’t enough to scare them, the “host” would have, for the term means “armies.” These were the divine armies of God, heavenly soldiers outfitted with weapons the likes of which these men had never seen. One moment, the sky was dark, the night quiet; the next, light exploded across the sky accompanied by such a din of angelic shouting that their ears were ringing! No wonder they were terrified!

Such was the angelic visitation to Mary. The text says, “she was deeply troubled,” as well she might be. It was not the angel’s appearance however, but his message that was troubling. At this point, the angel had said nothing about her becoming a miraculous mother; all he said was, “Rejoice, highly favored one. The Lord is with you; blessed are you among women!” The latter phrase is missing in some of the ancient manuscripts, but even without it, the message would have been confusing and therefore, troubling to the young Mary. Why would she be highly favored? What’s behind this affirmation that the Lord is with her? Whenever the ancient prophets had spoken of being chosen by God, it turned out to be a mixed blessing. To be chosen is wonderful until it means singled out for suffering and trouble, which is usually what happened.

She soon found out. A poor, young, unmarried pregnant woman was not a status any teenager would aspire to, especially back in those days when out of wedlock pregnancies were a badge of shame. Though the angel said this child would be great, the Son of the Highest, would inherit the throne of the great king David, reigning forever, the path towards that end promised to be a hard one.

In the days between that announcement and her visit to cousin Elizabeth, something changed within her to the point where she could say, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior...” (vv.46-47). What caused the change from fear to faith? Simply this: the promise had already begun to be fulfilled. The angel had told her that the Holy Spirit would come upon her (v.35). Conception would be the result. By the time Mary arrived at her cousin’s home, that conception had occurred, which means the Holy Spirit had already come upon her.

We children of the Enlightenment are not usually comfortable speaking of spirits, holy or otherwise. What do we mean when we speak of the Holy Spirit? It’s not hard to conceptualize God the Father or Jesus the Son, but the Holy Spirit is a bit more challenging. A pastor friend speaks of the Holy Spirit as the “aliveness of God.” While that description doesn’t fully describe the doctrine of the Holy Spirit, it’s a good start. The very life of God had somehow entered Mary, and where God is present, fear (except for holy fear—another topic altogether) vanishes. Mary would know trouble, but would also know triumph. 

The Magnificat is meant for us. God wants us to know what Mary knew—that troubling news needn’t remain troubling. When the Holy Spirit—the life of God himself—comes upon us, we have an entirely new option. Instead of fear, we can choose to believe the promise, and when we do, God begins its work in us, and we can rejoice.

Guys

December14,2019

Gratitude doesn’t always need a deep or convoluted reason. It’s late after a “guy’s night out,” Park church’s annual men’s Christmas shopping excursion, so I’m more ready for sleep than script. It was my first experience with the event; in the past it has conflicted with family Christmas in Rochester, but the date changed this year, so the newbie became the latest victim of a practical joke tradition at the restaurant. Apparently, for the past seventy years I had somehow missed my December birthday which tonight entitled me to a ride on the Roadhouse saddle while being cheered on by everyone in the restaurant. It was fun, but I couldn’t understand how everyone could celebrate my birthday and still make me pay for my dinner. 

I learned something tonight: the shopping part is just an excuse for the guys to go out for steak (like we need an excuse). The weather at the start of the expedition was such that I wondered if we would actually go, but when steak is at stake, who cares about the weather? I am grateful for this bunch of guys (nearly thirty of us) who work together, eat together, and tomorrow will worship together. 

Waiting

December 13, 2019

Waiting. Depending on what we’re expecting, waiting can be exciting, dreary, or dreadful. Around our house, waiting for Christmas is filled with excitement. Linda has often said the anticipation is better than the day itself, and in some ways, I have to agree. We gather for Christmas, partake of a bountiful table, open gifts, and clean up the mess. Suddenly it’s over, and all the anticipation is gone. Finis. Kaput. Christmas as we have come to know it cannot deliver on its promises. The smiles in all the television advertisements are fake, paid for by the vendors. I wonder if the money they make brings any more happiness to the business owners than those empty promises. The new stuff is nice, but doesn’t fill the heart.

Advent is supposed to be a time of preparation; of waiting, to be sure, but also of getting our hearts ready, not for Christmas, but for the new Advent of Jesus Christ. We’ve truncated the Gospel till the season speaks only of what is past instead of looking towards the future. Sadly, the past has no ability to bring anything new. Only what lies ahead has the potential to be creative and life-giving. The past can help by showing us how to prepare, how to look to the future, but it is the future, filled with God, that changes us. So we look ahead, and like Linda decorating, wrapping gifts, singing along to the Christmas music, we get ready for what lies ahead.

When that Day finally arrives, the waiting won’t deflate like Christmas Day does. The Coming will be infinitely greater than the anticipation because unlike Christmas, it has no end, but moves from glory to ever-increasing glory.