Out with the Old

 December 31, 2020

People everywhere tonight are giddily bidding farewell to 2020 in full expectation that 2021 HAS to be better. I hope it will be, but trusting that a change in the numbers on a calendar will automatically bring better circumstances is a pretty thin thread upon which to tie our futures. I’ve said it before: 2021 is not our savior. Only Jesus.

This past year has taught me much about myself, some of which I highlighted in last Sunday’s sermon. I would like to think I am a man of faith, trusting implicitly in God. Sunday’s sermon was taken from the infancy narrative of Matthew 2, where the wise men came looking for the new king. I noted that there were three main players in the story: the magi, Herod, and the priests and scribes. Jesus came unexpectedly into their world, throwing their carefully crafted life plans out the window. The magi had planned, prepared, and persevered through a long desert trek to find the Baby, only to discover he wasn’t where they expected. They recognized Opportunity, and faced it.

Herod’s domain, his authority was suddenly challenged by the appearance of these men, but even more by the birth of this Child. He recognized Danger and fought it.

The priests and scribes knew the Scriptures and were able to quote them to the Magi, but were so wrapped up in their academic and religious world they recognized Nothing, and faked it.

My question to the congregation was simple: “Where are you in this story?” I would like to think I’m the Magi, overcoming all obstacles in my quest for Jesus, but this last year has revealed that more often than not, I’m like Herod, chafing and railing against what God is doing, because he challenges my authority and control in life. And if I’m not mimicking Herod, I’m like the priests and scribes, oblivious to what God is doing in spite of having the Scriptures at my disposal. 

Like many, I’ve grumbled and groused my way through 2020, refusing to surrender my throne, instead of adjusting my compass to unceasingly seek Christ. I don’t know what 2021 will bring, but I do know Who brings it, and am ending this year praying for more wisdom and grace to be more like the Magi and less like Herod, the priests, and the scribes. I want to seek...and find the Christ, because only the Magi went home “another way”—changed by having met and worshipped the Lord.

Dancing in the Rain

 December 30, 2020

“In my prosperity I said, “I shall never be moved.” By your favor. You have made my mountain strong. You hid your face and I was troubled.” —Psalm 30:6-7

When Linda and I were first married, we lived in a little community nestled in the hills of Allegany County, NYS. Our home was literally a stone’s throw from the Pennsylvania border. A couple dozen houses, a general store, single bay fire station, and the little church I served pretty well summed up the community. It was an idyllic place to begin married life, and naive as I was, I preached confidently about the peace of God that comes with knowing Christ as Savior and Lord. 

After five and a half years, we moved to Chicago, and my preaching was never the same. Living on the Northwest side, midway between Humboldt Park and Cicero (the one being notorious for race-related riots and other assorted violent crimes and the other’s notoriety stemming from being Al Capone’s base in the 1930’s), I would never again speak so easily about the peace of God that passes understanding. Notice I didn’t say I would never speak of it, only that I would never speak of it easily. Living where we did, I learned that much of what I had thought was the peace of God was merely the product of a peaceful countryside.

The 30th Psalm echoes this sentiment. How often when things are going well, have I felt “I shall not be moved?” I was confident, self-assured, until God hid his face. It’s not hard to stand firm and stolid when things are going well, but when God hides his face and life plunges into the abyss, it’s an entirely different story. And make no mistake—sooner or later, life will dump you unceremoniously into the abyss. 

For many, this past year has been like that. Last January, life was good; we thought to ourselves, “I shall never be moved.” Our faith was strong, our church was filled, we were on the move! Our mountain was strong, at least through February. But when the two weeks to flatten the curve turned into two, then three, and now ten months, with little end in sight, God hid his face...and we were troubled. Many of us still are. Turns out, our strong mountain is more like a molehill made of sand.

The Psalm continues with David crying out to God who “turned [his] mourning into dancing,” even when he continues to hide his face. We don’t have to wait till prosperity once more shines upon us. If we keep our focus upon the Lord, the winds of prosperity and adversity have no ability to move us one way or another. We can dance, even in the rain.

Temple

 December 29, 2020

I was never much of an athlete. Growing up, my friends played baseball; I played the bassoon. That should tell you something! But when I turned 50, the Lord spoke to me. I generally know it’s the Lord speaking when a thought comes into my head that is out of character for me—something I would never come up with on my own. This particular time, it went like this: “Jim, your body is my temple (1 Corinthians 6:19), and I don’t like the shape it’s in.” I checked out an infomercial on TV, and ordered a set of workout VHS tapes (yeah—50 was that long ago!). I lost about 15 pounds, felt better, and later upgraded to DVDs, Linda bought me a Chuck Norris Total Gym, and recently I found a guy on YouTube who went through entire workouts for free, specializing in men over 40. I easily qualified, began doing his workouts, and was pleased to discover that I could keep up with him.

This evening I had a conversation with my friend Chuck, in which we ranged from work to workouts, with most everything in between. I told him about as a thirteen-year-old reading St. Paul’s word to his protege in 1 Timothy4:8–“Bodily exercise profits little, but godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now i, and of that which is to come.”

I took that as a word from the Lord to shun physical exercise in favor of spiritual disciplines, which was part of the reason I was no athlete. When God spoke to me about the condition of his temple twenty years ago, I knew I had misread and misunderstood that verse, but didn’t know exactly how. Chuck gave me the answer this evening.

“If exercise is good for our physical bodies, imagine how good godliness is for our souls,” he commented. The lights suddenly came on. Chuck got it right! All those years I had, as my father used to say, “placed the emphAsis on the wrong syLLABle.” Paul wasn’t berating physical exercise; in fact, he occasionally used the sports of the day as examples of spiritual principles. Paul was instead telling us that as good as workouts are for the health our bodies, spiritual workouts are that much more important for the health of our souls.

I am still no athlete. Seventy-plus years have taken their toll on even the minimal athletic ability I once had. Running to catch a fly ball isn’t going to happen, and my whitewater kayaking days are probably over, but at least I now understand what St. Paul was getting at. I’ll workout tomorrow, and when I’m done, I’ll give my soul a workout, too. I want this temple to be a place God is proud to inhabit!

Choose Life!

 December 28, 2020

My evening musings began on this date eight years ago. I had allowed my contentment to slip between my fingers, receding before the onslaught of incessant election coverage until God brought me up short, asking, “Jim, where is your joy?” When I couldn’t answer, he gave me a way out of the darkness into which I had unwittingly descended. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had been consistently neglectful of a simple Christian command: “In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you” (1 Thessalonians 5:18). That disobedience was poisoning my heart, darkening my soul.

I began writing down the things for which I was thankful, totaling up over a thousand gifts of grace, both great and small before the year had come to an end. In the intervening years, my thoughts have ranged from gifts of gratitude to musings on the Apostles’ Creed, various Scriptural texts and personal experiences. 

Tonight, I am thankful for the gift of life itself. Life is such an amazing and precious mystery, even in the midst of difficulties and trials of which there has been no shortage this year. We’ve welcomed new life into this world, and bid tearful farewell to old life slipping quietly away. In the one, the joining together of man and woman produces something that wasn’t there before, mimicking the work of the Creator. In the other, that which was suddenly is no more, the body that lived and breathed stilled, exhaling in its last breath the spirit that returns to God. In between, we love and hate, build and destroy, give and receive, curse and praise. If we open to it, grace lights upon us, sometimes gently, other times in fierce assault upon a resistant heart and a dull mind. Always, life comes as a gift we can either open and give thanks, or leave wrapped and unused as we trudge through this world in hopeless despair. Moses had it right: “I set before you this day life and death...Choose life!”

Calling

 December 27, 2020

There is an unexplainable satisfaction in following your calling. For some, it may be nursing or teaching, for others, plumbing or farming. Whatever that calling may be, discovering and following it turns a job into an adventure that satisfies the soul. Without it, even the most interesting work becomes a drudgery. 

My calling for the past fifty years has been preaching. I cannot claim to be the best preacher ever; I’ve offered up some real duds over the years, but I also know when the preparation has paid off with a bullseye. I’m OK in general pastoral work, but was always a terrible administrator and barely passable as the leader of staff. The preaching is what captured my heart and soul, even though it was always the most stressful part of my job. I always asked if what I was preparing was what the congregation needed to hear at that moment in time, and always wondered at the end whether it really made any difference. The answer to that last question may only be fully known in eternity, by which time it will be too late to adjust, but even with all its uncertainty, I know preaching was what God put me on this earth to do. 

Which is why it was so good to have the opportunity to do it again this morning. It just felt right. I was as nervous as I used to be when I was doing it full time, and just as uncertain about it when it was all over...but I KNEW this was my calling. Yours is probably different, but whatever it is, pursue it with all the strength and energy you possess. Knowing your calling transforms ordinary work into divine cooperation with God, and THAT makes all the difference!

A Nourishing Meal

 December 26, 2020

Tomorrow, I preach at my home church, the first time I’ve done that in over six years. I preached in Dunkirk for three years after retirement, and filled in elsewhere on occasion, but I’m coming home. It’s an odd feeling; this is where I preached for more than thirty years, but tomorrow, I’m here as a guest preacher, not the pastor. In the six years since retirement, a lot has changed; many new faces, and of course, the challenges of COVID, which thankfully, I have not had to navigate. I’m grateful for the younger, more nimble minds and energetic bodies that have led the congregation through this past year.

For years when I listened to preachers talk about how excited they were on Saturday night, just thinking about preaching, I would scratch my head in amazement. Preaching often terrified me. The responsibility of searching the Scriptures and laying it before God’s people felt too much for these shoulders. The weight of bearing the Word of God lay heavy on my heart and mind. There was always the possibility that I would get it wrong and lead people astray—a serious matter for sure. Often, it seemed to do little good. After all, one doesn’t get up from a meal feeling suddenly strengthened and energized, but without regular meals, the body soon begins to languish, and neglect of the Word of God eventually starves the soul. 

Week after week, bit by bit, the Word of God does its work. I often had to remind myself of God’s promise in Isaiah that God’s word would “not return unto me vid, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing where to I sent it” (55:11). My job was to prepare the meal as well as I could, offer it with the best presentation of which I was capable. It was up to the hearers to pick up spiritual knife and fork and dig in. 

Tomorrow I will serve up another meal. It may not be gourmet, but I’ve been praying and preparing not only my words, but my heart, and will hopefully set before God’s people—my brothers and sisters in Christ—something nourishing and palatable that will help them grow strong in faith. I am grateful for the opportunity to do so once more, especially for those with whom I worship week after week.

Placeholder

 December 25, 2020

The list is tedious. 1 Chronicles is what the title implies—genealogies of family lineages that had significance to people in a way we often cannot understand. Your family history determined where you fit in society, where you belonged; those lists of names told you whether you were in or out, and ultimately led to the Savior whose birth we celebrate today.

Even if we are serious students of Scripture, most of us skim through these lists to get to the story, but as we know from reading Ezra, not being able to prove one’s provenance was a serious matter that determined whether or not you were really part of God’s people. The Bible is filled with stories of great, and greatly flawed people, but merely having one’s name in the record books was enough.

Take Isaac, for example. His father Abraham walked by faith and became the father of nations. He did many great things,made some terrible mistakes, but for someone who lived to be 120, there really isn’t much said of him. His grandson Jacob was a scoundrel, but God seems to love scalawags in a special way, giving us plenty of stories about Jacob. Sandwiched between Abraham and Jacob is Isaac, who seems to be little more than a placeholder in the saga. About the only thing he accomplished was becoming the father of Jacob and Esau. 

Isaac gives me hope. The longer I live, the slimmer the possibility that I will accomplish great things in this world. I’ve had my time in the sun, known victories and defeats; like Isaac, one thing I can point to having accomplished is my children. They are rising higher, going further and deeper than I have done. Today as we gathered in our living room opening gifts, I felt a deep satisfaction. There was laughter and love. I am content. We aren’t perfect...far from it. Too often we resemble the biblical families with all their warts and wobblings, but I am thankful to included in the great plan of God. We are part of a greater family, with a lineage stretching back through faithful and faulty people, and reaching forward through our children and grandchildren into a future held secure in the grip of grace. My name isn’t in 1 Chronicles, but through the love and providence of the God who sent his Son into the world to be born, live, and die for our sins, it is in the Lamb’s Book of Life, even if like Isaac, I am little more than a placeholder.

Stop, Look, Listen

 December 24, 2020

Nothing is the same. It’s like everything familiar is being torn away. Traditional Christmas gatherings are on hold, and for many area families, the future looks bleak and foreboding as our governor chose this time of the year to decree the closing of the Gowanda Correctional Facility, the main source of employment in the village. Talk about Bah! Humbug! Even our Christmas Eve service is different from before; abbreviated—only a half hour, only a couple Christmas carols. Many churches’ services are live-streamed only. 

It’s tempting to wallow in misery, but perhaps these cataclysmic changes are offering a unique opportunity to recalibrate our spiritual GPS. While on the one hand, the Bible keeps our feet grounded in tradition (we are told on many occasions to hold to the faith “once for all delivered”), on the other hand, the Bible also assures us that God is always doing something new, and it’s hard to get much newer than a newborn Baby who is given to be our Savior. 

As I write, the packages under our tree stretch from one end of the stairwell to the other; we are gorged with gifts. Tomorrow there will be a frenzy of activity, wrapping paper flying everywhere. And suddenly, it will be over—just as it was last year and the year before that. This year, without the usual flurry of Christmas concerts and programs, our evenings have been quiet. We’ve had to slow down. We Americans are all about speed. We want to go faster, to accomplish more. Fast cars, fast food, fast religion. I’ve noticed however, that when we slow down, we notice things we missed when we were going along full bore. A walk alongside the road is immensely different than driving down that same road.

I like to keep busy, so slowing down isn’t always easy for me, but this year, I don’t want to miss the opportunity that’s been dropped in my lap. I’ve wasted enough time railing and straining against things I can’t control. When I was a kid, we were taught that when approaching a railroad crossing, to stop, look, and listen. Not bad advice for tonight. The evening will be different; I don’t want to miss the new thing Jesus Christ wants to do in me.

Christ Alone

 December 23, 2020

2 Kings tells the stories of the various kings of Israel and Judah in the roughly 400 years between the unified kingdom under David and Solomon and the Babylonian Exile in the sixth century BC. The northern kingdom of Israel had not a single king the chronologies considered good—faithful to the LORD. The southern kingdom had a mixture of good and bad. Ahaz ruled over the southern kingdom of Judah, but was one of the bad guys; if he had been a cowboy, he was the one with the black hat.

The interesting thing about Ahaz was that he is recorded as worshipping Yahweh, the LORD, yet was still considered a bad and unfaithful king. 2 Kings 16 tells his story: his sin wasn’t that he abandoned or opposed the LORD; it was that he was covering all his bases by worshipping  other gods as well, effectively reducing the Almighty to merely one in a pantheon of gods. He wasn’t, as they say, taking any chances, but playing it safe is rarely a godly quality, and it wasn’t here. 

I wonder how many times I’ve added other loyalties to my loyalty to Jesus Christ? The Christmas season offers a way of testing this. Recently, I read the post of a Christian who admitted she didn’t feel very “Christmasy” this year. I understand the sentiment, but it makes me wonder, has Jesus become just another quaint tradition? If he is, as we like to say, “the Reason for the Season,” why would it matter if we can’t observe Christmas as we have traditionally done? He hasn’t changed, hasn’t abandoned us perhaps much of our “Christmasy” feeling has little to do with Jesus Christ himself. If circumstances can spoil Christmas, perhaps I’ve already lost what it’s all about. 

For me, it’s a time to do some heartfelt soul-searching. As always, I am grateful for the Scriptures which challenge me. The Bible is often not very comforting, if by the word we mean soothing. It is however comforting in the genuine sense of the word—“with strength”—stiffening the spine and toughening the soul to be able to receive the Christ Child not as a cuddly baby, but as the Lord of my life. This Christmas gives me the opportunity as never before to worship Christ alone, with no other gods before me.

4 Horsemen

 December 22, 2020

From my mother’s bookshelves, I pulled a volume entitled, “The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse,” a scholarly study of, as the subtitle indicates, “Religion, War, Famine, and Death in Reformation Europe.” So far, I’m only into the introduction, but it seems particularly timely in the way the sixteenth and early seventeenth century mirrors what we are experiencing today. The authors state,

“There was a crisis in religion: Eastern Christianity...had come under the control of the Turkish Muslims, while Western Christianity...broke up after 1517 with Luther’s 95 theses being pinned to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg, and the religious upheavals which followed. There was a crisis in the social structure: feudal society was in the process of breaking up, with peasants in rebellion...There was crisis in the political realm: as the medieval feudal states became obsolete, so war became endemic across Europe as new dynastic and territorial states were brought into existence. There was Chris in the economy: a money economy came to replace the feudal economy of services and exchange of goods, and inflation...brought untold hardship and starvation to many. There was a crisis in demography for the first time since before the Black Death of 1348...the European population began to expand inexorably, and people began moving in great numbers from the countryside to the towns and cities. Finally, there was a crisis in world-view, moving from the known to the unknown.”

Crises in religion, social structure, politics, economy, demographics, and world-view. Does any of this sound familiar? All this was interpreted then in religious and biblical terms, especially through the apocalyptic literature of the Revelation of St. John. The interesting thing to me is that we are experiencing the very same upheavals in our time, but without any overarching narrative to give it meaning. Yesterday, I referenced a New York Times article that attempted rather feebly to find hope in the societal darkness symbolized by the winter solstice. Talk to a dozen different people, and we’ll find at least a dozen different explanations of what’s happening and why. The difference today is that there is no universally accepted meta-narrative that helps us put everything in perspective. Even if they chose to fight and kill one another, Sixteenth century people could at least talk to, and understand each other. Listening to our current politicians and policy makers is like overhearing an intermingling babble of Swedes, Russians, Chinese, and Congolese trying to have a conversation, no one being bilingual.

I am not particularly prophetic, and thus have no inside knowledge of God’s plan in these days, but I know this much: mankind has been down this road before. Feudal Europe was one such time; so was the collapse of Rome in the fifth century. People then (and now) looked for scapegoats, and muddled through solutions that were often worse than the problem they sought to solve. I for one, derive comfort in knowing that what is, has already been, and that there is as Scripture says, “nothing new under the sun.” Even more, I take comfort in the knowledge that the Four Horsemen St. John described while exiled on Patmos were not the end of the story. Jesus Christ also rode onto the scene, ushering in the eternal Kingdom of God. This is not the time to get discouraged and give up. This is the time to look up, for our redemption draws nigh.

Light in the Darkness

December 21, 2020

An article in today’s New York Times about finding meaning in the Winter Solstice caught my attention this morning. Opining about the depression and discouragement that has come with COVID-19, the writer spoke of various religious traditions surrounding the solstice that purport to deal with hope that comes with lengthening days. Ranging from Zoroastrianism to Native American and Hindu traditions, the author reminds us that “for millenniums, during these months of darkness, humans have turned to rituals and stories to remind one another of hope and deeper truths.” 

Overall, the article seemed to be a grasping at straws, a whistling in the dark, hoping to find some kind of meaning in the cycle of the seasons that would give strength and encouragement in this time of worsening fear. I thought to myself, “How sad that for so many people, this pandemic has completely defined and confined their lives. People act as if this were the worst thing in human history that has ever happened. It is not. As bad as it may be, COVID barely scratches the surface of human tragedy and disaster. It is a dark time, but it’s not the end of the world. 

Just the other day, I was thinking about light. The Christian Gospel which was almost completely ignored by the writer in the NYT article is all about light. “God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light” (Genesis 1:3). “The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness was not able to overcome it” (John 1:5). “I am the Light of the world. He who follows me shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life” (John 8:12). Light is our stock in trade.

One of my favorite Scripture verses is from Psalm 119:130–“The entrance of your words gives light.”

The Christmas story is shrouded in darkness. Jesus is born in the night. The shepherds are keeping watch over their flocks by night. The angel speaks to Joseph in a dream at night. The wise men follow a star—at night, of course. It was into a world of darkness that Jesus came. It is not accidental that the narratives of Jesus’ birth are nighttime stories. Jesus comes into the darkness of human life, shedding his light on our condition.

Most of us have felt that darkness closing in this past year. Too many have succumbed to it; not just the disease, but also the despair, turning to alcohol, drugs, violence. We are looking for the light at the end of the tunnel that never seems to come. The NYT is stumbling in the dark, missing the mark. They are looking for meaning in all the wrong places. The Light has already come, and shines in the darkness, but we too often close our eyes to it and wonder why we aren’t seeing anything good. 

The Light still shines. We’ve spent too much time peering into the darkness; it’s time to open our eyes to the Light of Christ so we don’t have to keep stumbling through life feeling lost and hopeless. The Light still shines, so let us give thanks and live in joy.

 

Blessed

 December 20, 2020

During worship this morning, as the band finished leading us in song, our son stood at the mic, arms outstretched, silent. His lips were moving and he was weeping as he prayed for the congregation. Our granddaughter Eliza had just finished leading us in “O Holy Night,” and he just stood there, silently praying. Finally, he spoke, leading us in prayer. I could easily be accused of favoritism, and would not deny it, but being presented before the Lord in such a way became for me a holy moment.

The service continued with a wonderful time of baptism for a new believer, and powerful preaching from our pastor, but what moved me most were those moments where we stood in silence as we were lifted in prayer. Being blessed in prayer is always an experience of grace; coming from one’s son is grace upon grace, for which I am thankful tonight.

Light

 December 19, 2020

“The entrance of thy words gives light.” —Psalm 119:130

The Christmas story is shrouded in darkness. Jesus is born in the night. The shepherds are keeping watch over their flocks by night. The angel speaks to Joseph in a dream at night. The wise men follow a star—at night, of course. It was into a world of darkness that Jesus came. John says “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” It is not accidental that the narratives of Jesus’ birth are nighttime stories. Jesus comes into the darkness of human life, shedding his light on our condition.

Most of us have felt that darkness closing in this past year. Too many have succumbed to it; not just the disease, but also the despair, turning to alcohol, drugs, violence. We are looking for the light at the end of the tunnel that never seems to come. Perhaps we are looking in the wrong places. The Light has already come, and shines in the darkness, but we too often close our eyes to it and wonder why we aren’t seeing anything good. 

The Light still shines. We’ve spent too much time peering into the darkness; it’s time to open our eyes to the Light of Christ so we don’t have to keep stumbling through life feeling lost and hopeless. The Light still shines, so let us give thanks and live in joy.

Power Prayers

 December 17, 2020

I’ve always found it a bit daunting that St. Paul urged us to “pray without ceasing.” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). Taken at face value, it seems an impossible command; how can one pray continually when it is necessary to sleep, study, work, and eat? Is it possible to pray in one’s sleep, or when working out a mathematical problem? Some have attempted to solve the problem by suggesting that what is really meant is “keep in an attitude of prayer,” whatever that is. I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but I did take a step in the right direction today.

I subscribe to a Facebook feed called “Trust the Fathers,” in which the sponsor posts short sayings by various Orthodox priests. This morning, it was a word from St. Joseph the Hesychast. I have no idea who he is, but what he said is worth repeating:

“Don't be afraid of [the demons]. You don't see how many of them fall and turn their backs with every prayer you say. You only see how much you are wounded. But they are also thrashed; they also suffer. Every time we are patient, they flee with leaps and bounds, and every time we say the prayer (the Jesus prayer), they are seriously injured. So at the time of battle, when you are firing shots and bullets, don't expect them to throw marshmallows and chocolates.”

My struggle to pray often feels fruitless and failing. If I pray in the early morning, I fall asleep. If I pray at night, I fall asleep. In between, my mind wanders; I rarely seem to get through my prayer list, and when I do, it feels more like a laundry list of things I want God to do for me than actually connecting with the Almighty God. St. Joseph’s observation that “you only see how much you are wounded” pretty well sums up my prayer life. 

He didn’t stop there. He reminds us that “[the demons] are also thrashed; they also suffer.” St. Joseph made a connection I too often miss: my prayers are not merely my musings, my spiritual wish list; they are spiritual battles against unseen beings whose main tactic is lies. They parade around convincing us that our prayers are feeble and foolish, that they have no effect...and in our weakness, we believe those lies. In fact, the demonic powers are taking a horrible beating when we pray. Their resistance is mere posturing. They parade with forced smiles and gesture with bruised and bloodied limbs.

My “spiritual” activities of the day consisted of prayer with the men of Park church at 6:00 am. I went home and got to work installing the rest of the drywall in the new laundry room, then cleaned up the mess. It was an all-day project, and I was pretty tired and sore by the end of it. But periodically through the day, I remembered St. Joseph’s words and uttered a few of my own. I couldn’t see it with these earthy eyes, but in my spirit, I watched demons writhing and squirming as I whacked a few of them in prayer. Instead of the marshmallows and chocolates that so often have been the sum and substance of my prayers, I was firing a spiritual AR-15, making those devils scatter and dance.

December 16, 2020

"[Jesus] ascended into heaven where he sits at the right hand of God, the Father Almighty." So continues the Apostles' Creed after stating the core of our faith in the resurrection. After the ringing declaration of the resurrection, and given the nearly complete omission of Jesus' ministry other than his birth and death, why would the ascension merit mention? 

I remember being taught that when Jesus ascended, he presented the blood of his sacrifice to the Father, thus completing the atoning work of the cross. Hebrews 9:12-26 was the proof text for this teaching, and not being much of a working theologian, I cannot find much fault with this understanding. I do think however, that it goes a bit further than this. That Jesus is seated at the right hand of the Father is clearly affirmed in Scripture (Ephesians 1:20). This is not just a quaint expression. There are two things happening simultaneously here. First is the matter of being seated. Things were different in Jesus' time. Today, teachers stand in front of the classroom. The fact that they are standing and the pupils are seated indicates who is in charge. I can still hear the voices of teachers past barking at students who had the temerity to get up from their desks without asking permission. "Sit DOWN!" was not a command to be taken lightly back in the day when a visit to the principal's office could culminate in corporal punishment in the form of a four-foot long, two-handed paddle with holes drilled into the flat surface. A good solid whack from that beast could set the most stoic rebel on the verge of tears. 

Back in Jesus' day, teachers sat while the students stood. In Matthew 5, the Sermon on the Mount begins with Jesus sitting down to teach. He was taking a position of authority. Vestiges of this custom persist today when in court. As the judge enters, the bailiff calls out, "the honorable _______, please rise!" The "please" is somewhat misleading. It's not a request; it's a command. Only when the judge is seated at the bar in the position of authority are those present allowed to be seated again. 

That Jesus is seated means he is in a place of authority. It also means that the work of salvation is complete. He came, Isaiah prophesied, as a "Suffering Servant," and Jesus himself said he came to serve. Servants only sat once the work was done. Jesus is seated; salvation is therefore complete. But that isn't all. He is seated at the right hand of the Father, which is the place of highest honor and authority. There is no higher place than this; when Jesus said that "all authority is given to me in heaven and earth," he meant exactly what he said. But it gets even better. Ephesians 2:6 makes an astounding declaration when it tells us that our salvation includes being "seated together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus." The authority and honor that is rightly his alone, he shares with us. I cannot think of anything more humbling nor more amazing than this. That when we were dead in sins, he made us alive together with Christ would be astounding enough. That we should share in his glory, honor, and authority is almost beyond comprehension. The magnitude of our salvation is at the heart of this simple statement of the Creed, and I cannot think of words adequate to express my gratitude for it.

 

Hope

December 15, 2020

Reciting the Apostles' Creed every Sunday may seem like a rote and mindless recitation to some, but every time I repeat it I am inevitably brought back to the central and foundational truths of my life. Like a divine GPS rooted in the Holy Scriptures, it is a guide that unerringly points me towards home. I've written before about this ancient statement of faith, and it's time to return to it and attempt to plumb some of its depths.

The central (and lengthiest) part of the Creed is about Jesus Christ, because he is the focal point of the Gospel and of all God does in this world. Strangely, the Creed says much about his birth and death, but almost nothing about his life and ministry, which should tell us something about our faith's priorities. People who admire Jesus only as a good teacher or moral example completely miss the whole point of the Gospel. We may admire him for his teaching, respect him for his miracles, but we worship him because he was born a tiny baby to become the man who would die for the sins of the world. 

"On the third day, he rose again from the dead..." So goes the Creed. And here we must stop for a moment. St. Paul says of the resurrection that "if Jesus be not raised, our faith is empty and we are still in our sins." (1 Corinthians 15:17). Without the resurrection, Jesus was just another ordinary Jew who got caught in the crosshairs of Roman oppression, a martyr perhaps, but not a Savior. It is the resurrection that makes Good Friday good, turning what looked like utter defeat into total victory. 

"But," you say, "I don't feel any different." That line of thinking occasionally bothers me, too. I am not a particularly emotional man. I watch people who get all worked up over their relationship with Jesus. Some of them get excited, jumping and dancing all around. Others tear up, nearly overcome by the love of God. I raise my hands in worship, but not necessarily because I FEEL the presence of the Holy Spirit, but because it is one way of offering myself fully to God. I often wish I could feel his presence more deeply and more often, but either something inside me is broken, or it's just not the way I'm wired. 

But the Creed doesn't say, "I feel...that on the third day he rose again from the dead." It says, "I believe" it. There are a lot of things I feel in life, but I've learned that often those feelings are deceiving. I've remember feeling that things were going just fine at Park church...just before the whole enterprise nearly imploded through the actions of some people I considered good friends. My feelings weren't very trustworthy then, and aren't much more reliable now.

But my beliefs are another thing altogether. I believe in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. There is plenty of Biblical evidence for it, and plenty of logic behind it. But I cannot prove it, any more than I can prove that Aristotle or Plato actually lived. It is our faith in the resurrection of Christ that gives us hope that we too, will someday rise again to a life more full and free than anything we have ever known here on earth. Jesus himself promised it: "Because I live, you shall live also." (John 14:19). I believe in Jesus' resurrection, and am grateful tonight for the promise inherent with that belief, that there is more, much more than we have yet seen.

 

Suffering

 December 14, 2020

I inadvertently skipped an important phrase in the Creed: [Jesus] "suffered under Pontius Pilate." I was zeroed in on the historicity of Jesus' life and death and left out this crucial part. Someone once remarked that evil is only a philosophical problem for Christians and Jews who believe in an all-powerful and loving God. An atheist or evolutionist may not like evil and suffering, but it's not an intellectual or philosophical issue because it just is. If you don't believe in God, there is nothing to explain or understand. On the other hand, if there is no Source of goodness, no Supreme Being before whom we are accountable, who's to say we can't murder, steal, lie and cheat? Society may function better if we don't, but these vices can't be said to be morally wrong if there is no objective standard. And without God, all standards become relative. 

But for Christians, evil is a real philosophical problem. It is classically stated thusly: "If God is all-powerful, he could prevent suffering; if he is loving, he would prevent suffering. Suffering exists, therefore God either is not all-powerful, or not loving." It is a conundrum against which faith has shattered for more than one person. I've even read sermons from preachers who grappled with this problem and concluded that God must not be all-powerful. Apparently they couldn't allow themselves to suppose that God is not loving.

The problem is, we can philosophize all we want, but it is this world, this reality with which we must finally come to terms. Evil is abundantly present in this world, and yet in the face of it, as Christians we hold in tension the omnipotence and the love of God. I wish I understood why there has to be as much suffering as there is in this world, but I don't. What I do believe is that God uses even evil to forge in his people faith, perseverance, courage, and compassion, none of which would be possible apart from suffering. 

This short phrase in the Creed takes it a step further. Christ joins us in suffering. For reasons unknown to me, God has usually chosen not to deliver his people out of suffering, but to perfect them through it, but he hasn't done so as a distant deity who issues edicts that impact others but have no effect on himself. No; in Jesus Christ, God entered this world of suffering, and joined us in our sorrows. Countless times I've had the sacred honor of walking with people through some of their darkest hours. Rarely have I been able to do anything that actually alleviates their suffering, but I've had people tell me that just being there beside them in their grief was what enabled them to make it through the storm. I can testify to the same power of Presence as people have stood by me in hard times. I prayed for the storm to pass, and it eventually did, but not as quickly as I would have liked, and not without it taking its toll on me and those I love. But I also had the blessing of people who walked with me, and they are to this day my deepest friends.

Jesus Christ suffered under Pontius Pilate. God doesn't abandon us, doesn't chide us in our struggles. Instead, as Scripture says, "We do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God's throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." (Hebrews 4:15-16). Jesus suffered, so he knows and understands our suffering, our weakness in the midst of it, and instead of condemning us, bids us confidently draw near because God is gracious and merciful. Just knowing this causes me to bow in awe and thanksgiving before our all-powerful and all-loving God.

Entering Hell

 December 13, 2020

It’s been awhile since I’ve offered my reflections on the Creed, so maybe it’s time to get back to it.  

After mentioning a few historical facts of Jesus' life (his virgin birth, crucifixion, death, burial), the Creed suddenly takes on a different tone, moving to aspects of our faith that strictly speaking, are not historical in the normal sense of the word. After all, for most of us, except for whatever legacy we leave behind us, when we are buried, our human history comes to an end. Not so with Jesus; his story begins before Creation and continues through eternity. His human history has a beginning in the Virgin Birth, but it doesn't end with his death. The Creed continues with a somewhat controversial phrase: "He descended into hell." Controversial in that not every tradition recites this statement. 

It's inclusion in the Creed has its origins in a couple of somewhat cryptic Scriptures: 1 Peter 3:13-21 and Ephesians 4:9. In the first, it says Jesus after his death "preached to the spirits in prison...who were disobedient in the days of Noah...," and the in the second, "He who ascended into heaven first descended into the depths of the earth." It is easy to misunderstand this. The term "hell" here isn't the place of damnation and torment which usually comes to mind. It simply means 'the place of the dead.' The significance of this short statement is in affirming the totality of Jesus' human experience; he not only died and was buried, but entered the place of the dead. But it is what Jesus did while there that is the focus of faith: "He preached to the spirits imprisoned there."

The catechism of the Catholic Church puts it this way: "The frequent New Testament affirmations that Jesus was "raised from the dead" presuppose that the crucified one sojourned in the realm of the dead prior to his resurrection. This was the first meaning given in the apostolic preaching to Christ's descent into hell: that Jesus, like all men, experienced death and in his soul joined the others in the realm of the dead. But he descended there as Savior, proclaiming the Good News to the spirits imprisoned there." Those believers who died prior to the Resurrection had no first hand knowledge of Jesus or of the fullness of the salvation he procured through his death and resurrection. After all, according to Scripture, Jesus is the firstborn from among the dead, and it was his descent and proclamation of salvation to those there that enabled him to lead them to eternal life as we understand it. 

This short sentence is the Creed's way of assuring us of the fullness of our salvation. As the old Gospel song puts it, "The love of God is greater far than pen or tongue can ever tell; It goes beyond the highest star, and reaches to the lowest hell." I am grateful tonight that there is no place in all creation left untouched by Christ's redemption. And if it reaches to the lowest hell, it surely reaches me and certainly includes you.

Hope

 December 12, 2020

Even in our COVID-conscious world where people are afraid to mingle, small town traditions are thankfully hard to break. Last month at our village board meeting, we discussed whether or not to have our annual Christmas in the park, with Santa, hot chocolate and cider, gifts and cookies for the kids. A number of area municipalities scratched this year’s observance, but we decided that if Santa was willing to come, we would do our best to hold steady. I’m glad we did.

Park church had a live Nativity, we set up for Santa, and he arrived right on time. Parents and their kids lined up, sporting a variety of masks, and we held forth with hot chocolate, hot cider, coffee, and cookies. People hung around in small groups, chatting as they watched the Nativity or waited properly spaced for Santa. The only thing missing this year was Park church’s hot dog and chili dinner at the firehall, but pastor Joe already has ideas about how to bring it back better than ever next year. 

In a year where everything we know has been turned on its head, it’s good to see some things remain. Fortunately, this is true in even more significant ways. This morning I was reading in Psalm 42: “My tears have been my food day and night while they continually say to me, “Where is your God?” When I remember these things, I pour out my soul within me, for I used to go with the multitude; I went with them to the house of God with a voice of joy and praise.” 

The despondency we feel over restrictions and quarantines is. not new to human experience. The writer remembers joyful worship that is no more, and weeps, heartbroken. Then he shifts gears by asking himself, “Why are you cast down, O my soul? Why are you disquieted within me?” It’s almost as if he wakes up and realizes that when life has taken an unexpected turn, dwelling on the past only leads to discouragement and depression, so he shakes himself and changes his focus from the past to the future: “Hope in Go, for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.” He reminds himself that God has not forgotten, so he chooses to praise. Circumstances haven’t changed, but his perspective has. He still cannot gather with others in the house of God, but his own connection with the Lord sustains him.

It’s not an easy stance to take. As an introvert, I never realized how much I depended on others. I can’t imagine how hard things have been for the extroverts. God is pressing me to lean directly on him alone, even when I cannot see the outcome. I have a choice to either mope and gripe or to obey God’s simple command: “Hope in God,” and trust that in doing so, I will again praise him joyfully. 

Mercy

 December 11, 2020

“So the king of Israel went with the king of Judah and the king of Edom, and they marched on that roundabout route seven days; and there was no water for the army, nor for the animals that followed them. And the king of Israel said, “Alas! For the LORD has called these three kings together to deliver them into the hand of Moab.” But Jehoshaphat said, “ Is there no prophet of the LORD here, that we may inquire of the LORD by him?”            —II Kings 3:9-11 

The backstory here starts with Jehoram, Israel’s wicked king, asking Jehoshaphat to join him and the king of Edom in a raid upon Moab, which had thrown off the vassal status they had endured for years. Jehoshaphat was all in. Without consulting advisors or God, he said, “I will go up; I am as you are, my people as your people, my horses as your horses.” —II Kings 3:7 

They ended up wandering in the desert for a week, till they were dehydrated and on the verge of collapse, easy pickings for Moab’s armies. Only when they had reached crisis stage did Jehoshaphat think to ask God about the matter. God graciously intervened for his sake, but it could have ended in disaster. 

There have been way too many times I charged ahead with a plan that seemed good to me, neglecting to pray or even think sensibly about my course of action. I’ve spent money on things that didn’t satisfy, agreed to do things people asked of me that robbed me of my independence and joy, charged headlong into sin because I hadn’t toughened my soul with spiritual disciplines. God has been gracious and like Jehoshaphat, he has delivered me in spite of myself, for which I am deeply grateful. I shudder to think of some of the consequences I might have had to endure had God not brought me up short and diverted the disaster I deserved. The Psalmist said it best: ““Oh, give thanks to the LORD, for He is good! For His mercy endures forever.” —Psalms 107:1 NKJV

Unexpected Blessings

 December 10, 2020

It’s been a long day, but one that was a special gift from God. Last Saturday, my two sons had planned on driving to Selinsgrove, PA to buy a truck Nate had found online, but decided to wait so they wouldn’t miss the Bailey Christmas shopping day. We spent a wonderful day buying and wrapping gifts for two families in need, a blessing for them and us. A few days later, Nate asked what I had planned for Thursday. Matt had to work, so I got tapped for the trip.

Both Nate and I have a strong introvertive streak in us, so I wouldn’t have been surprised to have had a rather quiet ride down, but instead, we talked...about life, church, his business, our dreams...it was four hours nonstop conversation that filled and fed my soul. 

Being a bit more cautious about online auto sales than he, I wondered how this would turn out if the dealer happened to be somewhat of a shyster. Nate wasn’t so concerned. He said that on the phone, this guy reminded him of his father in law. Nate asked if he could take some pictures of the undercarriage. “Nope.” No explanation. It took two more calls before the guy said he didn’t do all that technology stuff. That was his son’s department. Nate had done his homework, so he was pretty sure he was getting a good deal.

After four and a half hours, we pulled into this small independent used car dealership. The truck sat out front, looking good, but when we walked through the door into the office, we were confronted by the aroma of stale cigarettes and a rather grimy, cluttered pair of desks manned by a scruffy grey beard and his equally scruffy son, both with big smiles on their faces. It was like stepping back fifty years and walking into Al Cline’s Kendall station in Shinglehouse, PA. 

We talked for a few minutes, Nate shelled out his money, and he and the father left to do the paperwork at the local PA equivalent of the DMV. While they were gone, the son and I talked, and at one point as we were jawing about the impact of COVID lockdowns he casually slipped into the conversation how people without God were so often afraid. Hmm...

Nate and the father returned and we talked some more, with the father casually saying similar things. Pretty soon the father is saying how people without Jesus don’t know where they’re going. “They could walk out the door, get hit by a truck, and not know where they’re going to end up.” When Nate asked if he could pray for them before we left, the father said, “Wait just a minute,” then then mentioned how his wife is part of a prayer ministry and calling her on the phone and asking her to come over to the shop. She walked in, we held hands and prayed together, and they promised to contact their prayer network of 1500 churches to lift up a specific prayer concern Nate had mentioned. 

As we walked out the door, Nate said, “I KNEW this was the right place!” Yes, it was. Driving home, we both were thanking God for some new friends and an unexpected blessing in a very unusual day.

Fixing What I Can

 December 9, 2020

There is a trap of the Enemy into which we are all too prone to fall. It is so insidious and subtle that most of the time we don’t even realize we’ve been caught until we are so ensnared that like a fly caught in a spider’s web, we cannot break free. It begins innocently enough; we look around us and see depravity, evil, and corruption, and are properly offended by it. Whether it be crooked politicians, greedy corporations, or individuals in headlong pursuit of illicit pleasure or gain, we look and are heartbroken by it all. In our prayers, we plead for justice, for the wicked to be judged and the innocent to be vindicated. So far, so good.

The problem arises when we fail to move beyond this sense of righteous indignation. Yesterday I was reading Psalm 7; it captured my mood perfectly.

“Arise, O LORD, in Your anger; 

Lift Yourself up because of the rage of my enemies; 

Rise up for me to the judgment You have commanded!

God is a just judge, 

And God is angry with the wicked every day. 

If he does not turn back, He will sharpen His sword; 

He bends His bow and makes it ready. 

He also prepares for Himself instruments of death; 

He makes His arrows into fiery shafts. 

Behold, the wicked brings forth iniquity;

Yes, he conceives trouble and brings forth falsehood.

“He made a pit and dug it out, 

And has fallen into the ditch which he made.”

His trouble shall return upon his own head, 

And his violent dealing shall come down on his own crown.”

—Psalm 7:6, 11-16 NKJV

I read texts like this, and inside I give a fist pump and shout, “YES, Lord! Give it to them!” In so doing, I end up playing God, usurping the prerogatives he reserves unto himself. What’s worse, there is very little I can do about the evil around me. I can’t fix all that’s wrong in this world, but focusing on its problems blinds me to what God wants to do in me.

This morning in our prayer group, we read Psalm 51 to focus our thoughts. David had been exposed as a rapist and murderer; Psalm 51 is is prayer of repentance. Do you see the contrast? I can focus on what I cannot change, or on what I can, but I cannot do both. If I concern myself only with the sins of the world, I’ll neglect those of my own heart—the only place where I have direct control. Lord knows, there is plenty of work to be done there. Unlike so many people today, when David’s sin became known, he didn’t try to wiggle out of it; he didn’t blame someone else or give excuses. He owned up and simply prayed for God to be merciful to him. As I read through the psalm, I noticed all the things he asked God to do for him. Hear his prayer:

Have mercy on me.

Blot out my transgressions.

Wash me thoroughly.

Cleanse me.

Purge me.

Wash me.

Make me hear joy and gladness.

Blot out my iniquities.

Create in me a clean heart.

Renew a steadfast spirit in me.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation.

Uphold me.

Deliver me from guilt.

Open my lips.

Do good.

Build the walls of Jerusalem.

David didn’t play the equalization game; balancing a sin with a good deed. He didn’t compare himself with worse sinners. He confessed his sin and cast himself upon the mercy of God, asking the Lord to do what only he can do.

David got it right, and I would do well to pay attention. If I ask for God to do the same things for me that David asked him to do in his heart, I will have accomplished far more than if I focus on those problems, the sins of others that I cannot fix. So tonight, David’s prayer is mine, too. If God answers, the world will be a better place because my world will be a better place.

Believing, not Seeing

 December 8, 2020

“And Mary said: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior.

For He has regarded the lowly state of His maidservant; 

For behold, henceforth all generations will call me blessed. 

For He who is mighty has done great things for me, 

And holy is His name. 

And His mercy is on those who fear Him From generation to generation. 

He has shown strength with His arm; 

He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. 

He has put down the mighty from their thrones, 

And exalted the lowly. 

He has filled the hungry with good things, 

And the rich He has sent away empty. 

He has helped His servant Israel, In remembrance of His mercy, 

As He spoke to our fathers, To Abraham and to his seed forever.””

Luke 1:46-55 NKJV

Worship and praise should never be predicated upon our experiences. Too often, when things are going well for us, praise and thanksgiving flow freely from our lips, but when life turns against us, we turn to grumbling. In this scripture, Mary isn’t depending only upon what the angel had announced. If we pay close attention to the verb tenses, we find that Mary looked to the past—the favor God had shown her in choosing her to give birth to the Messiah, but she also looked to the future. She speaks of it as though it had already happened. “He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud; he has put down the mighty; he has exalted the lowly...etc. There is nothing to indicate any of that had actually happened. Even today, we look in vain for evidence that these things have already occurred. Mary however, looked to what she knew God had already accomplished as the foundation for her confidence that what he promised for the future was as good as done.

I read a quote recently: “Talent hits a target no one else can hit. Genius hits a target no one else can see.” Replace ‘genius’ with ‘faith,’ and it becomes even more true. In Mary’s heart, the promise was as good as the accomplishment. 

Because she had experienced great things from God that caused her to trust in even greater things, her “spirit has rejoiced in God [her] Savior.” Her spirit’s rejoicing had already begun, and was continuing to that moment. And because her spirit was rejoicing, her soul could magnify the Lord. The faith within her enabled her soul (the totality of who she was) to magnify God, i.e. to enlarge his reputation before the world. 

It is always thus. We experience the work of God that enables us to trust so completely in his promises that they are as good as done, which results in living in such a way that God is more readily seen by those around us. This scripture challenges me to take the work of God that I have seen and use it as a springboard to believe more completely that what he has promised is as good as accomplished even if I cannot see it with my eyes. In times like today’s, that’s not easy, but it is the challenge of Mary’s Magnificat to all of us.

Service

 December 7, 2020

Like exercising, sobriety, or eating healthy, gratitude is a lifestyle, but like exercising, sobriety, and eating healthy, gratitude takes discipline. It’s easy to fall off the wagon. Just as a sedentary lifestyle’s siren allure calls to us, or that one drink when we’re stressed, or that one piece of chocolate cake, the problems and cares of this world can catch our attention and capture our hearts if we aren’t diligent in pursuing gratitude. I began the day working out, eating breakfast, then reading my Bible. The first two activities had noticeable effect. I was winded and sore from working out, and full from breakfast. My Bible reading however, didn’t seem to do much, and that never bodes well for the day. 

Things went well enough. I installed insulation in our laundry room, and picked up some coroplast to insulate my beehives, watched a show with Linda, had dinner, and went to rehearsal for worship team, then men’s Bible study. It was a decent enough day, but I felt no particular sense of gratitude, grace, or peace. My morning time in the Scriptures didn’t really help. I was reading about the Transfiguration, and the thing that stood out to me was that only Peter, James, and John experienced it. None of the other disciples. It seems that some lofty spiritual experiences aren’t meant for all. Talk about deflating one’s hopes! 

It all came together at men’s Bible study. It is another discipline that I don’t always feel like doing, but am glad I did. Just being with these guys is a boost. I am pretty much of an introvert, and could easily hide away in my own little world. These men keep me engaged, and pastor Joe’s integrity and intensity is inspiring. We were challenged tonight to state where we are serving. After having been a pastor for forty years, serving in retirement seems a bit anemic. It doesn’t often feel like I’m doing much, so the question is doubly important. Like those disciplines of exercise, sobriety, or healthy diet, it’s easy to take it easy in retirement, but the result of doing so is a sick soul. The venue changes, but the heart had better not. I had to take a hard look at my level of service for Christ, and know I need to up my game.

So tonight, I am thankful for these men, for pastor Joe, and as I remember this date, for the sacrifice of those sailors who received the first shock at Pearl Harbor in 1941. We face different, but as great challenges today. The world needs more men who are willing to serve at any cost. I am grateful to be surrounded by some of the best. They challenge me to be a better man, and for that, I am thankful tonight.