Leap Year Corrections

February 29, 2020

It’s Leap Year, a quadrennial reminder that even the best of our reckoning falls short of reality. We try to be as precise as possible, but whether it’s engineering, politics, natural or social sciences, we never quite get it right. I suppose mathematics is as close to perfection as we can get; two plus two always equals four, although I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that in Common Core it can equal five and still be considered correct. 

The Christian term that describes this imperfection of life is Original Sin. Contrary to some people’s understanding, Original Sin doesn’t mean everything is as bad as it could be. Instead, it simply states that everything in life falls short. Even the best of our efforts doesn’t quite measure up. Romans 3:23 tells us that “all...fall short of the glory of God.” Our human dilemma is that we are held to that standard of perfection to which we cannot attain. Thus the need for the redemption we find in Christ.

Today I was reminded of our imperfection in a most dramatic way. My son was driving into town when he pulled into a gas station. He had felt a wobble in the suspension, got out, checked everything over, couldn’t find anything wrong. Getting back into his vehicle, he started forward. The car lurched to a stop. He backed up a bit without any problem, but when he started forward, again the car came to a sudden stop. Someone pumping their gas tapped on his window. “You have a problem with your driver’s side rear wheel,” the man said. Matt got out and looked. The trailing arm had snapped, leaving the wheel dangling at an odd angle. 

He has only had the car for a few weeks. It passed inspection in Pennsylvania where he bought it, and again in New York when he registered it here. Two inspections by licensed mechanics had failed to notice what could have caused a serious accident. He had been driving at highway speeds just prior to pulling into the gas station, but it didn’t fail till he was stopped. The best intentions and efforts came up short, but grace kept it from being a potentially fatal flaw. 

I am grateful that it broke where it did. Why Matt was spared when others are not, I cannot explain. We live in a fallen world infected by Original Sin. We are in constant need of grace, physically, socially, emotionally, politically, and spiritually. Today, we were recipients of it, and are thankful.

Stuck, Unstuck

February 28, 2020

Sometimes when I read the Bible, my familiarity with the stories inhibits my learning something new. If the reading for the day consists of whole chapters or more, the individual stories get lost and I have to work to slow down and notice what’s there. It’s not uncommon for even that to be insufficient for me to get much out of it. 

At times like that, I remember what my seminary professor of preaching told us one day. “The sermon is a meal. You don’t eat the whole cow at one sitting. Don’t worry if you don’t cover it all on a given Sunday. There’s always next week.” I can’t remember the prof’s name, but his was one of only two seminary classes that was worth the tuition. 

So when I get stuck in one reading, I turn to something else, usually in the Psalms. My go-to pattern is to read according to the day of the month in a thirty day pattern. So for today, it was Psalm 28, 58, 88, 118, and 148. By reading the Psalms in this way, I’ve read through the entire Psalter in a month’s time. Almost without exception, something grabs me when I read the Psalms. 

Today it was the 88th Psalm where he cries out “day and night” to “the God of my salvation” (v.1). The writer is hurting. His “soul is full of troubles.” It’s a no good, terrible, very bad day for him. The worst of it is he sees his troubles as being inflicted by God himself. “You have laid me in the lowest pit...Your wrath lies heavy upon me...You have afflicted me...You have made me an abomination...” (vv.6-8). What recourse is there when it’s God himself who is the source of our troubles?

Christians often ascribe every discomfort and problem to “attacks from the Enemy,” ie. demonic activity. The reasoning behind this thinking is that God desires only good for us; we experience God’s favor through blessings. This understanding however, ignores one of the fundamental themes of Biblical Christianity—that following Christ involves a cross. We grow spiritually not only through Bible study, prayer, and worship, but also through trials and troubles. I don’t like those times when my soul is dry and my prayers seem dusty and parched, but I’ve learned that there are lessons God wants me to learn that cannot be discerned in pleasant pastures beside still waters. He has often driven me into the wilderness for my own good.

Though he doesn’t understand the ways of God, the psalmist understands that God is behind his troubles. Instead of shaking his fist to the heavens, he cries out day and night to “the God of my salvation” (v.1). He hasn’t received an answer, but he knows that even in his distress, his salvation is in God alone, and he keeps crying out, refusing to be denied. Like the widow in Jesus’ story, crying out to the unjust judge, Jesus’ promise is sure: “Shall not God avenge his own elect who cry day and night unto him, though he bear long with them? I tell you that he will avenge them speedily” (Luke 18:7-8). 

Today when the Gospel reading failed to stir me, the psalm did its work, and the Word of God did not return empty, but accomplished the purpose for which it was sent (Isaiah 55:1), and I am thankful.

In

February 27, 2020

I love it when God answers prayers in unmistakeable ways! Of course, it helps if we pray specifically for what appears to be impossible. Asking God to “bless so-and-so” makes it hard to know when or if God answers it. Too often, our prayers are so general that it’s about impossible to discern an answer. 

Trying to figure out where I fit in the Cuba mission has been a bit of a challenge, but much of the confusion has suddenly cleared up. The other day the other pastor with whom I have been planning the seminarios called to tell me he has had to change his plans due to circumstances beyond his control. He will continue to work in Cuba, but in a different capacity. Later the same day, the pastor with whom we were working texted us to let us know that he wasn’t able to continue the seminario work. I had been wondering how we were going to manage an enterprise spread over four or more locations. In a single day the issue was decided for me. With the changes in leadership both Cuban and American, the focus has narrowed to a single location, working with pastors we have known for years. 

Often when we say “yes” to God, it feels like he leads us into a fog. We cannot see our way through, and begin to wonder if it was really God we were hearing from. It’s part of his plan. He wants us to live by faith, and the only way that can happen is when our own wisdom comes up short. If we have things all sorted out, we don’t need to trust God, but when at his leading we get in over our head, that’s exactly where we need to be. As someone wiser than me once said, “Once you’re in over your head, it doesn’t matter how deep it gets.” Let that sink in. Then jump in. You may not know how to swim, but you’ll learn. And you’ll grow. And be amazed at what God does when you least expect it.

Lent

February 26, 2020

Having been raised independent fundamentalist Baptist, Ash Wednesday was frowned upon as being “too Catholic” for a born-again Christian. Were it not for seeing the occasional student with a black smudge on their forehead, we barely even knew it existed. I did sometimes wonder how one could wash their face in the morning and miss a big spot on their forehead. Even once I learned what was going on, we were taught that such things were evidence of making a show of piety, something expressly forbidden by Jesus in Matthew 6. 

It wasn’t until years later that I began to understand the value of the spiritual discipline of Lent. Of course, it’s always possible to engage in such things mindlessly, but that was probably more likely in years past than today. Back then, such observances were much more likely to be a matter of rote habit; in today’s milieu, it is more likely to be countercultural. One must be willing to stand out as a bit of an oddball to walk around with the sign of the cross on their forehead.

I’ve come to appreciate the Christian season of Lent—40 days of sacrifice to prepare for Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Each year, I’ve spent time considering what I might give up for these 40 days. I’ve given up coffee, but it really wasn’t much of a sacrifice. More of an inconvenience, as Linda and I love our times of coffee and conversation in the evenings. She says it isn’t the same when I mix up a cup of Postum or tea. And since I don’t really miss it, giving up coffee doesn’t really do much to help me focus on growing in my faith. 

Last year, what really made a difference was my fasting from social media. It was tough at first. I didn’t realize how automatically or regularly I checked news articles through the day. When I quit, it felt like I was in a news blackout, uninformed about what was happening in the world. I learned however, that even after 40 days abstinence, I really hadn’t missed much. But I got back in the habit, and now it’s time to rein it in. I’m actually looking forward to these next 40 days. I plan to use the time I have been spending online to read and pray more. A spiritual discipline isn’t engaged just to be able to say “I’ve done it,” but to get closer to God. That’s my hope and my expectation. I’ll be giving up online time, but it won’t be a sacrifice; it will be a blessing for which I will give thanks.

Lambs Among Wolves

February 25, 2020

“The Lord appointed seventy others also, and sent them two by two before His face into every city and place where He Himself was about to go. Then He said to them, “The harvest truly is great, but the laborers are few; therefore pray the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into His harvest. Go your way; behold, I send you out as lambs among wolves.” “Heal the sick there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’

Then the seventy returned with joy, saying, “Lord, even the demons are subject to us in Your name.”” —Luke 101-3, 9, 17 NKJV

A few years ago, a popular “gotcha” line for some Christians was, “I read the end of the book and we win.” I can understand the sentiment. For years now, we have been witnessing the wholesale abandonment of Christian values in the public marketplace; catchphrases like this can bring a sense of reassurance to those feeling the tremors of the world they knew crumbling beneath their feet. The problem with this kind of talk is how it diminishes the message of the Bible and the faith needed if we are to live into it.

I wonder what was going on in the minds of the disciples when Jesus told them he was sending them out as sheep to the wolves. Not exactly inspiring for a pep talk! Here’s what we often miss—when Jesus sent them out with these words, they had no idea how it would all turn out. “Lambs among wolves” doesn’t do much to steady the soul, to steel the spine. Peter the bragger might have taken it as a challenge, but I’m guessing some of the others were less than enamored with the task he set before them. They knew what wolves did to lambs.

But they went. Perhaps hesitatingly, maybe stepping gingerly, but they went, apparently not expecting much of a positive response. After all, they were amazed that “even the demons are subject to us in your name!” This, they never anticipated. 

The lesson is clear. Jesus never promised an easy road. Quite to the contrary, he gave us plenty of warning that it would be tough, we would face opposition, danger, and even death. The issue is never dependent on the certainty of the outcome, but on the commitment to just do it. When we step out in faithful obedience to the call of Christ, we cannot even imagine the adventure he has in store. Who ever heard of demons being subject to uneducated peasants? But these men who went out not knowing what to expect other than it could get ugly, came back with stories they would tell their grandchildren someday. 

Don’t shortchange their amazement with your knowledge of how it all turned out in the end, because if you do, you’ll miss the amazement God has in store for you when you step out bleating like a lamb into your pack of wolves. I’m glad to know how it ended for them. It encourages me today when God calls me to step into what looks to me like certain disaster. Even if I don’t encounter any demons, I can expect to return with joy.

Over My Head

February 24, 2020

The problem with living by faith is that it means being in over your head most of the time, sometimes even when we don’t realize we’re in so deep. God beckons and we jump in, only to find out later that it’s deeper than we thought. I thought I had retirement pretty well planned out; I would do the Cuba mission trips a bit more frequently than before, but nothing I couldn’t handle. So I thought. 

My plans took an unexpected turn when my friend Joel died. He had been working for years towards providing church based seminary level pastoral training for Cuban pastors who couldn’t afford to go to seminary. I had worked with him on numerous occasions and thought I had a handle on what he was attempting, but I had underestimated the level of training he had in mind. Last week I met with two other pastors who have been working on this project. They have their doctorate degrees, have taught homiletics, hermeneutics, systematic theology, and church history at the seminary level. I’ve pastored a relatively small, rural congregation for thirty years. I saw the syllabus they were proposing and realized how much I am out of my league. 

When in such situations, it’s easy to begin doubting one’s own abilities and calling, to question one’s place in God’s grand scheme of things, to imagine that everyone else is better than yourself. Comparing ourselves with others seldom yields anything constructive. In our “Ready, Set, Dream” group tonight, we talked about this very subject, and in the course of our conversation, listening, and prayers, I began to think about Jesus’ baptism. It was at the very beginning of his ministry; he hadn’t yet accomplished a single thing, but the Father’s word was “This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased. Listen to him.” (Luke 3:22). To put it in modern vernacular, the Father said, [You haven’t yet done anything yet, but] I love you and am proud of you. Hey everyone, pay attention to what he says!”

The Gospel says that by faith, we are in Christ, so what the Father says of him is also true of us. We aren’t accepted because of what we have accomplished, nor are we excluded because of how we’ve failed. It’s all by faith. The Father loves us, is proud of us, and wants to show us off. I still don’t know exactly how who I am and what I have to offer will fit into this educational plan for Cuba; and I don’t know how to accomplish what I believe God is calling me to do regarding a women’s shelter here at home, but I do know that when I trust him, no matter how deep things get, I can walk on water, so tonight even though I’m clueless about God’s methods, I am thankful for his provision. It’s going to be all right.

Birthday Songs

February 23, 2020

We had to warn them. We just had to. All twenty-two of us were sitting in the restaurant celebrating Linda, Jeanine, and Bob’s birthdays, and it was time to sing. In most families, that wouldn’t be something requiring a warning, but we’re talking the Baileys here. So Jeanine slipped over to their table and gave notice.

We had reserved the room, but the Stockton Hotel doesn’t have lots of extra places to seat people other than in the bar, and the party that sat at the next table wouldn’t have fit at the small tables there, so here they were, off to the side while we were finishing dinner. It was time to sing. 

I don’t remember exactly how it began, except that our eldest granddaughter Alex had something to do with it, just as she did with so many things in our life. She is the reason her uncle Matt married Jeanine and is living just down the road from her home. Matt had planned on moving to Cincinnati to be with the girl he was dating at the time. After one weekend out there, he was back in Rochester. “What happened?” we asked, wondering why this budding romance had so quickly fizzled. 

“I decided I didn’t want my niece to grow up not knowing me. I wanted to be in her life,” was his reply. So Matt stayed in Rochester, met Jeanine, and the rest is as they say, history.

Alex is also the originator of Linda and my family names. When she was learning to talk, she couldn’t pronounce grandma or grandpa. What came out was Meema and Beepa. It stuck, and now half the kids at church know us by that nomenclature.

Then there is the Happy Birthday song. Everyone knows it, but very few know it as the Baileys sing it. We called Alex on Skype, and she did the honors. Suddenly the air was rent with the most awful off-key bellowing you have ever likely heard! If you can imagine the sound coming from a bull whose testicles are being squeezed in a vice, combined with a murder of crows cawing, then add the screeching of a cat fight, and you’ve approximated the Bailey Happy Birthday song. The guests at the next table were quite impressed, especially when informed that a fair percentage of those singing were part of the Park church worship team. When Linda and crew were finished opening their gifts, I looked over at the table. It was empty.

The waitress was impressed by all the laughter, especially when I told her this was a typical Sunday gathering at our house. Twenty or more for Sunday dinner is the norm, not the exception. This evening, Linda whispered to me how wonderful a day it had been. Yes, it was, and we are blessed, “pressed down, shaken together, and running over” (Luke 6:38).

Winter Ride

February 22, 2020

Western New York winters aren’t often cooperative for the outdoor activities I like. I don’t ski, have never owned a snowmobile, can barely ice skate. Most of the time the skies are heavy, the sun hidden behind thick winter clouds. Today was different; the skies were blue and the sun shone off the snow in the fields, so dazzlingly bright I had to squint to see. I couldn’t detect even the slightest breeze. It was perfect!

Scattered next to our wood shed, were the odd chunks that were too big for our stove so I took them to my wood shop, aka motorcycle garage, and trimmed them to size before filling the wood bin. As I did so, I heard my name being called. Turning around, I saw no one. I filled the bin and carried another oversized chunk to the shop. Again I heard my name and began to wonder if I were experiencing a Samuel moment (1 Samuel 3), but turns out, it was only my Ural speaking to me. “Ride me,” she whispered. So I did.

Topping off the tank, I stopped by son Matt’s to see if he was up to a short spin. “You’re kidding me,” was about all he could say. “Are you crazy?” I think he knew the answer to that question. The road was dry, the sun shining, no wind, and the thermometer was tickling the upper twenties. It was glorious! 

When a Plan Comes Together

February 21, 2020

Back in the 80’s there was a TV show called “The A Team,” a Mission Impossible themed series  about four military veterans who had been wrongly court-martialed, but broke out and became vigilantes in their quest to clear their names. Though there was a lot of gunfire and explosions, no one ever got seriously hurt as they improvised their way through the episodes. The leader of the group was Hannibal, played by George Peppard, whose signature line after everything worked out was, “I love it when a plan comes together.”

That’s the way I feel about a lot of things. This afternoon at jazz band rehearsal, I had to lay down a steady syncopated bossa nova beat that had a few variations in it. Latin rhythms are not my forte, so I was quite pleased when I was able to sound it out in my head then play it almost flawlessly the first time I tried it. It had a couple tricky (for me) fingerings, but I played it well enough that the conductor praised the steady foundation I gave to the band.

After supper, the grandkids watched a show on tv while I put the finishing touches on Sunday’s sermon. It’s flow had eluded me all week as I worked hard to draw out the theme that the text suggested to me. Yesterday it came to me, and today I organized my notes and plunged ahead. Typing it out only took about twenty minutes, but those twenty minutes were the culmination of hours of pondering and prayer. 

So tonight I say with Hannibal of A Team fame, “I love it when a plan comes together!”

Jewels

February 19, 2020

One would think that only preaching twice every six weeks would make sermon preparation a piece of cake; after all, with that much time to prepare, the preacher should be able to knock it out of the park with barely enough swing for a bunt. Sadly, such is not the case. Sermon preparation is a funny business. The Bible is chock full of gems, but just like diamonds, rubies, and sapphires, they don’t lie on the surface, and even when dug out of the ground, they must be cut and polished till they shine.

This week’s reading is the story of the Transfiguration of Jesus, a major event in the gospel narratives. Plenty of sermons have been preached on these texts, but they are someone else’s, not mine. Preachers are not denizens of jewelry stores, displaying the wares someone else took pains to mine, polish, and set. We don’t sell the beautiful product of the gospel; we work to reveal the beauty already present in it. We set it before people, inviting them to look, to handle, and to take it home with them.

So again I sit, digging for the jewel, then painstakingly I begin to polish till every facet sparkles in the light of Christ. I’ll choose what I consider to be just the right setting, and Sunday I’ll hold it high for people to see. Hopefully, someone will notice and reach out for the life it brings. Even if they don’t, I’ll give thanks because I’ve seen with my own eyes the glory of the gem.

Behind Jesus

February 18, 2020

All three synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) record the story of Jesus asking his disciples what they are hearing people say about him before asking their own opinion. All three have Peter making that great declaration that Jesus is “the Christ [the Son] of God,” after which Jesus reveals what that means. Contrary to popular understanding, Jesus didn’t come to usher in a powerful political rule. Instead, he speaks of his coming suffering and death by crucifixion. Interestingly, only Matthew and Mark record Peter’s protest to his revelation. Matthew tells us Peter’s words: “Far be it from you, Lord! This shall not happen to you!” Mark says merely that Peter objected to this revelation. Both gospels give us Jesus’ response to Peter’s objection: “Get behind me, Satan!” Luke however, is silent about Peter’s objection and Jesus’ response.

Luke has these very same words, but instead of finding them in the story of Peter’s confession and subsequent reluctance to embrace the Cross, they are found in Luke’s Temptation narrative. The devil takes Jesus up on a high mountain, shows him the kingdoms of the world, and tells him “all this can be yours if you bow down and worship me.” 

“Get behind me, Satan!” is Jesus’ thunderous response—Luke alone has these very same words with which he rebukes Peter in the other two synoptic gospels. Two different scenarios, but identical responses. Why? 

In the Temptation account, the devil is trying to get Jesus to bypass the Cross. In the Confession narrative, Peter suggests the very same path. Jesus’ visceral response is worth noting. Most of the time, he is patient with his disciples, even when he bemoans their slowness to believe. He often got worked up when dealing with the religious leaders, but with his disciples, he is other than here, almost lethargic in his reactions. The Cross however, is at the heart of his mission. Avoiding it was the one thing he could not do; it would completely torpedo the purpose of the Incarnation. “Satan” literally means “adversary.” Anyone who tries to avoid the cross abdicates any semblance of faithfulness or even neutrality to Christ. Such a person becomes and enemy of the Gospel. Jesus came to die for the sins of mankind. No Cross, no salvation; we remain in the death-grip of our sin and guilt.

Immediately following his rebuke of Peter, Jesus reveals the implications of all this: if we are to follow him, we too, must pick up a cross. Contrary to much popular contemporary preaching, following Christ is not a divine GPS to prosperity. If to secure our salvation Jesus couldn’t avoid a cross, neither can we avoid a cross to experience salvation. The Cross is central to the mission and message of the Gospel, for Jesus, and for us. This truth is not easy to hear, but it is worthy of our praise and thanksgiving. The old hymn by Isaac Watts puts it well: 

Am I a soldier of the Cross

A follower of the Lamb

And shall I fear to own his cause

Or blush to speak his name?

Must I be carried to the skies

On flowery beds of ease

While others fought to win the prize

And sailed through bloody seas?

Wilderness

February 17, 2020

It’s my favorite Scripture text, although I must admit that I don’t always like the implications it carries. It’s from Luke’s gospel, chapter three, verses 1 and 2.

“Now in the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judea, Herod being tetrarch of Galilee, his brother Philip tetrarch of Iturea and the region of Trachonitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene, while Annas and Caiaphas were high priests, the word of God came to John the son of Zacharias in the wilderness.” —Luke 3:1-2 NKJV

It’s a classic instance of God turning things upside down. Instead of the houses of political or religious power, God chooses the unlikely people and places to reveal his purposes. In the first two chapters of Luke, it’s to a virgin peasant girl, to shepherds on the hills outside a small village in a remote Roman province, and now we have this litany of the rich and famous who are once more overlooked as the Word of God comes to John in the wilderness.

We are more enamored with power and prestige than we often realize. Jesus taught us to eschew titles and honors, yet in my denomination, when someone has earned a doctor of ministry degree, it is unthinkable for him or her to be introduced merely as “reverend” or “pastor.” Oh, no—it has to be “the Reverend Doctor....” 

I once wondered before the Lord what I might have accomplished had I been sent to someplace other than a little backwater village. God quickly put me in my place, telling me that he did the best he could with what he had to work with. The part of this text that appeals to me is what also gets under my skin. I like that God pays so little attention to the things we deem so significant. Big buildings, big budgets, big programs are ok, but are not necessarily indicative of God’s blessing. When by comparison you’re in a small setting, there is great comfort in this. 

On the other hand, most of us don’t relish the thought of spending much time in a wilderness. We scorn the simplicity, the sparseness, the barrenness of such places, particularly when it’s a barrenness of soul or of results. We want our faithfulness to count for something, to be recognized and honored. When given the opportunity, we get out of the desert as quickly as we can, even when that is where we hear from God.

I’ve spent my share of time in the desert, but I can’t claim to have suffered as have so many of God’s saints. Perhaps if I didn’t resist it so much, I would hear more clearly from God. One thing for sure: longing for better watered gardens probably won’t serve me any better than they did Lot. Desert trees may not grow as tall as those in a rain forest, but they have a resiliency that can weather droughts, sandstorms, and the blazing heat of the sun. Their roots go down deep, or they die. I’ve learned to keep sending the roots deeper. The wilderness may be hot and dry, but it’s not a bad place to be if you want to hear from God.

Investment Returns

February 16, 2020

Friday it was a serendipitous time with eldest granddaughter Alex; today was a planned afternoon and evening with next in line Abi at Fredonia State’s Bassfest. I asked the same question of each of them: “Does it seem odd to have your grandparents so involved in your lives?” We have been blessed to have our three children and their nine grandchildren living within walking distance of our home. They grew up with cousins who were more like siblings, a big extended family. It’s not all peaches and cream; we have our differences, on occasion, we get under each other’s skin; but we work together, listening, laughing, loving, and yes...forgiving.

Both granddaughters gave the same answer to my question: “It may seem odd to others, but for me, it’s normal.” I remember my grandparents as being old, but Linda and I are in good enough health that we don’t seem that way to Alex and Abi. The same may not be true for our youngest, who is only eight. 

Saturday I was given the opportunity to connect with Alex, talking about life, her dreams and plans for her future, and about the relationship that has sustained Linda and me for nearly fifty years. Today I had the same gift from Abi. We talked music, but also of life and of our faith in Christ. The Scriptures tell us if we cast our bread upon the water, it will come back to us, “pressed down, shaken together, and running over.” If I was able to bless my granddaughters in any way these past two days, it came back to me, overflowing many times over, giving me great cause to give thanks tonight.

Daddy’s Boy

February 15, 2020

Was he spoiled as a child, only to fall in with a bad lot as he grew? Had he been a prodigal from the start, with a father longing and waiting for him to come home? With only bits of the story, we’ll never know, but we do know his name—Barabbas, “bar—son, abba—father,” i.e. “father’s son,” or “daddy’s boy.” However he started out, by the time he appears on the scene he is an insurrectionist, a guerrilla fighter captured and on trial for murder, wayward and lost, but still a father’s son.

Did you catch the subtle contrast? It’s intentional. The very first words of his gospel have Mark proclaiming “Jesus, Son of God.” As the end approaches, this son is praying in a garden, “Abba, Father,” yielding himself to the power of Rome, while this other son is snarling in defiance of that same power. Barabbas, released by Pilate, while the Son of the Father is condemned to die. Don’t miss the irony. But even more importantly, don’t miss the rest of the story. Barabbas is me, son of my father Adam, an insurrectionist rebelling against my spiritual Father, wandering in murderous rage against an authority I refuse to acknowledge, while the Second Adam (as St. Paul calls him) rebels against that authority on his knees.

Mark’s gospel is a tale of two sons, one of whom is me, the other Jesus Christ. The first son angrily rebelled and was imprisoned, waiting the death sentence when the Second Son stepped forth, bound an bloodied, to die in his place, setting him free. It is a story that never grows old, that echoes through history as THE Story. The prodigal’s father waited at the gate for his son to come home, and he did...in Jesus Christ. In him, I wear the robe; my finger bears the ring of ownership, and the fatted calf has been killed. Daddy’s boy has returned. Let the party begin!

Be Mine

February 14, 2020

It might have been a Facebook post; it might have been a comedian's comment; whichever it was, it went like this: "Have you ever noticed the Valentine's cards for young men in love? "You make my heart sing;" or, "I have the hots for you;" and stuff like that. When you get to the married men's section, they read, "I know I don't tell you as often as I should..." Comedy sadly mirroring real life. 

Buying cards for Linda is usually somewhat stressful. I like the funny ones, but the funniest ones usually aren't the kind we can leave sitting out on the kitchen table. Besides, although they're fun, they don't convey what I really want to say at Valentine's Day. Unfortunately, neither do the romantic ones. I don't know who they get to write some of the drivel that gets printed in these cards. The card companies must hire as their quality control, people with pre-pubescent emotional development. If it can be recited in a sing-songy way and rhymes at the end of each line, it's good to go. It takes some real searching to find anything with the maturity level of even an adolescent. For an old-timer like me, the search can reach expeditional proportions. On those rare occasions where I happen to find more than one that fits the bill, I stock up. Better to have an extra in the dresser drawer than to have to stoop to some of the schtick on the shelves.

That being said, I always prefer short and simple. It's a bonus if it doesn't rhyme. Forty nine years of marriage is enough to know that love isn't always syrupy sweet. It only occasionally rhymes. But those years have tested the mettle of our patience, stretched the resiliency of our commitment, exposed the flaws of our character, and revealed the mysterious glory of love. I am blessed beyond measure that forty nine years ago, Linda thought I had beautiful eyes. Hers were certainly clouded, and I was able to pull the wool over them long enough for her to say, "I do." Best bit of hocus pocus I've ever done, and the magic still mystifies and charms me today.

Who Am I?

February 13, 2020

The fifteenth chapter of Mark is filled with tragedy, but even more, with tragic people. It begins with the chief priests, the scribes, and the religious council, all determined to rid themselves of Jesus, once for all. Enter Pilate, the ethically bankrupt weasel of a governor, questioning Jesus with pompous air before caving to the crowd, weakly hoping to appease them. “Daddy’s Boy” Barabbas (that’s what his name means), a ruthless guerrilla bandit who shockingly gains freedom at Jesus’ expense. I wonder if he ever mused over the gift of life he was handed that day. The crowds clamored for Jesus’ blood, the Praetorium soldiers mocked and abused him, while Simon they conscripted to carry the cross. Acts 13:1 tells of Simeon “the Black” who was from Cyrene, probably the same man, who years later was one of the leaders of the Antioch church. Did carrying Jesus’ cross lead to his conversion?

Soldiers drove nails into his hands and feet, then gambled for his clothes while passers-by taunted. An anonymous person held up a sour wine-soaked sponge for Jesus to suck on to ease his agony while others objected to even that small act of mercy. A centurion watched and understood, and while his disciples were hiding, the women watched, horrified at what they saw. Mary Magdalene, Mary, and Salome are named; high honor in that long ago day. Lastly, Joseph of Arimathea worked up nerve enough to finally come out in the open to ask for the body of Jesus, so he could place it in his own tomb.

So many people, some brutally hostile, some cowardly, some just “doing their job,” some risking their own safety to do what little they could, and still others just watching. I suspect Mark is inviting us to place ourselves in the story. If so, who would I be? Preening Pilate, the ruthless Barabbas, one of the religious leaders, a soldier, Simon, one of the women, Joseph? Jesus hung on that cross for every one of them, for every one like them, including you and me. I’d like to think I could be one of the heroes, but fear too often I am the villain, one of many whose stories played out that day. Wherever I am at any given time, Jesus hung on that cross for people like me, for which I give thanks tonight.

Mark 14

February 12, 2020

Mark 14 was the Gospel reading for today. I reflect upon it here.

On distant hill the rooster crows,

Rending silence of the night.

Warmed hands weakly shaking,

Eyes wide with hellish fright 

Meet the Master’s; He knows, he knows.

Words with confidence earlier spoken

Now with shame ring empty, hollow;

bragging tongue no longer making

Bold promises to follow.

They fall silent, vainly broken.

Darkness yields to rising sun,

But tear-dimmed eyes cannot yet see

Hope on distant hill is breaking

High on a Cross on Calvary.

Death gives way, new life begun.

Hard Truth

February 11, 2020

“Gentle Jesus, meek and mild” is one of many caricatures of Jesus bandied about in both religious and secular circles, less so in the latter because they increasingly aren’t even aware or don’t even care about this first-century rabbi. It could just as easily be said that he is “Raging Jesus, mad and wild” if one would only reference his cleansing of the temple or his description of the end of times in Mark’s gospel, chapter 13. I suspect the former stereotype is more popular because we prefer a Jesus we can manipulate to one who wrests control of the status quo with righteous fury. 

This morning’s reading from Mark’s gospel intrigues me, especially in light of the misinformation so commonly spread by those who would use him for their own purposes. The scene is set when his disciples comment on the magnificent architecture of the great Temple. I admit to being impressed by great architecture myself. The towering arches of Westminster Abbey or Salisbury Cathedrals, the majesty of our own Capitol buildings or the Lincoln Memorial, the onion domes of the Orthodox, and the symmetrical beauty of the Taj Mahal inspire me. Jesus was unimpressed. “Not one stone will be left upon another,” was his only comment.

Those words led to a discussion with his disciples about the End Times. He spoke of “wars and rumors of wars,” of natural disasters, famine, and drought, of persecutions, betrayals, and martyrdom for the faith. He told of a time to come that would be so dreadful that were it not shortened, no one could live through it, and of false teachers able to perform signs and wonders with the intent of deceiving people into following them. Then comes the end, but without warning it will come like a tsunami, overwhelming those unprepared for it.

This is not the gospel proclaimed by popular preachers today. There are few who stand at the edge of the precipice crying out the warning that the bridge is out and danger lies ahead. We speak often of the wonderful plan God has for us, of the benefits of following Christ, the fulfillment that comes. Others speak politically, hoping as many did in the first century that the Messiah would vanquish the political powers, rescuing the oppressed, and reversing the roles so the downtrodden could finally do the downtreading. 

Jesus’ command isn’t what we like to hear. “Speak the Truth. Endure to the end. Watch and pray.” Deliverance will come, but it may not be from the fire, but through the fire. 

I don’t always like what Jesus says, but I am thankful he loves and trusts us enough to tell us the truth. He doesn’t treat us like children who have to be shielded from harm, but says plainly what we may not want to hear. That is the sign of genuine love; it prepares us for life as it is, rather than life as we wish it would be. 

Funerals

February 10, 2020

Funeral preparation is never fun. It’s not like weddings and baptisms where I have plenty of time to ponder your remarks. Two or three days at the most are all I have, and when people are going through such emotional and spiritual trauma, I want to be at the top of my game. Even those who never darken the door of a church are looking for some hope at a time when it seems to be in short supply. I know it cannot be conjured up at the last moment, but people are looking to me to give them something that isn’t mine to give. They’re often like green troops going into battle never having even gone through boot camp. Any way you look at it, funerals are stressful. 

Preparing for a funeral of someone you’ve never met is a particularly challenging endeavor, but is made easier when I learn that this person was a follower of Christ. That’s what I’ve been doing this evening. Tomorrow morning, I officiate, and I am grateful tonight that with all the things I don’t know about this woman, what I do know is that she is a follower of Jesus Christ. Notice I used the present tense. There is no “was” for the believer. This woman is more alive today than she ever was while on earth, and it is this hope I have the privilege of proclaiming tomorrow. It’s never easy, but it also never gets old, for which I am grateful tonight.

I am what I was not

February 9, 2020

“For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.” —II Corinthians 5:21 NKJV

The Bible contains no shortage of what some would consider outlandish claims, but of them all, this is perhaps the most amazing. Jesus became sin for us! I can’t claim to understand what that means, other than it is deeper than his just taking upon himself our sin. I have much to ponder here, but it’s the latter half of this verse that commands my attention tonight. Paul doesn’t say that Jesus gave us righteousness, but actually makes us righteous. He doesn’t merely give us what we don’t have; he makes us what we are not.

Something we possess can be taken away; what we are cannot. It may not always appear that we are the righteousness of God; the doctrine of Original Sin tells us that even our best actions are tainted by our innate sinfulness. What this verse addresses is not our standing before men, but our standing before God. I have no righteousness of my own; it is all Christ’s, but because I am “in him” (a phrase Paul loves, indicating our spiritual position before God), when God looks at me, he sees his Son. The very righteousness of Christ has not only been imparted, it is (again in Paul’s words) imputed. My spiritual bank account was empty; Jesus deposited his righteousness in it, filling it up. Even better, he infused his life and righteousness into me. 

A good friend, commenting on his carpentry skills, once told me, “Putty and paint make us what we ain’t.” Jesus Christ did that one better when he claimed me for his own, and I am deeply indebted and eternally grateful.

My Stupid List

February 8, 2020

When my wife has severe pain or nausea, she has a tendency to pass out. It thankfully doesn’t happen often, but it did occur last October when she was at a benefit dinner with some friends, one of whom is a nurse practitioner who insisted she go to the hospital. Fast forward three months, multiple doctor’s visits, an EEG and MRI of her head, and we know nothing more than we did last fall. So when fasting for a procedure last week caused her to pass out in the bathroom in the middle of the night, I wasn’t too worried. After a couple minutes of calling her name, she began to come around, and after another twenty minutes, she was able to stand and be helped back into bed. The procedure went well, no problems.

Her close encounter with the linoleum has proven to be a different story. According to the chiropractor, the fall knocked all sorts of things out of place in her back and neck, and she is quite sore. And sporting a pair of black eyes. 

Last night at our dinner group, she had nothing but praise for me, telling our friends how kind and patient I have been while caring for her through her ordeal. Praise I hardly deserve, as she would be happy to point out today. This morning, we drove to Grove City to visit our granddaughter there, and on the way she again brought up the subject saying that if there were one word to describe me, it would be “kind.” She then asked what one word I would use to describe her. Sadly, things went downhill from there when I said, “Raccoon.” For anyone interested, adding the word “cute” doesn’t improve the situation any. My being the driver at that point probably was fortuitous, in that she couldn’t do me any harm without endangering herself also.

I am thankful tonight that what could have been a serious incident has turned out to be just an inconvenience, and that I have a wife who understands my inappropriate humor and loves me anyway. I cannot imagine being married to anyone else; they’d still be looking for my body.

Unity

February 7, 2020

“Verily I say unto you, Whatsoever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever ye shall loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven. Again I say unto you, That if two of you shall agree on earth as touching any thing that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven. For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” —Matthew 18:18-20 KJV

“Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! It is like the precious ointment upon the head, that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron's beard: that went down to the skirts of his garments; As the dew of Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon the mountains of Zion: for there the Lord commanded the blessing, even life for evermore.” —Psalm 133:1-3 KJV

We Americans have a fascination with the myth of the rugged individualist; that sole person who against all odds achieves by himself what others have been unable to accomplish. We have an Abraham Lincoln whose single-minded determination to preserve the Union propelled him to become the Great Emancipator. John F. Kennedy’s vision for our country inspired us to send men to the moon years after his assassination. Ronald Reagan’s belief in our country reversed the myopic and defeatist malaise that had infected the previous administration, ultimately sealing the doom of the Soviet Empire. Today we have the Donald, who love him or hate him, has by the force of his will transformed the entire political landscape. There is enough reality in the power of a lone single-minded individual to accomplish miracles. What we tend to forget is the ability of these intensely focused individuals to surround themselves with a team that enables them to do what they do. Without a unified team around them, these people would merely be a flash in the pan, shooting stars that flame and burn out. Unity is at the heart of all accomplishment.

Recently I became involved in counseling a couple having difficulties with their eldest son. Early on it became apparent that although they both love him deeply and want what is best for him, they are not in agreement as to how to reach their goals. I fear that their deepest heartfelt prayers will remain unanswered until they resolve the disunity between themselves. Jesus’ words are significant. “Where two or three agree...it shall be done for them.” Disunity hinders our prayers. 

The psalm takes it a step further. “How good and pleasant it is...to dwell together in unity...for there the Lord commanded the blessing, even life forevermore.” This is no casual surrender, no abdication of one partner. Dwelling in unity is deeper than that. Such unity is hard won. But it is highly honored by God; through it he doesn’t add a blessing. He commands it. Sadly, even in Christian homes, the unity is often a mere surface coating, a veneer of accommodation that fails to meet the muster of God’s Word. It is possible only through deep prayer and commitment, through sacrifice and hard trial. But it yields the most delicious fruit, feeding the souls of all those residing in this circle of blessing. 

Floor Fasting

February 6, 2020

Tonight’s gratitude journal is straightforward and simple. Linda had a procedure today that required fasting for 12 hours prior. Fasting and Linda shouldn’t be mentioned in the same sentence. When she gets up in the morning, her feet have hardly touched the floor when she’s ready for breakfast. It doesn’t have to be a lot—an English muffin with peanut butter, coffee, and juice is all she needs, but she does need it. And if she doesn’t drink plenty of water through the day, she gets leg cramps that have literally put her right to the floor. 

So let’s see—12 hours without food or water. In the middle of the night she gets up to use the bathroom. A minute or two later I hear a thump in the night. I call up the stairs. No answer. Knock on the bathroom door. No answer. Open the door to see her lying face down on the floor, out cold. It took a couple minutes to revive her and another twenty to get her where she was able to stand and back into bed.

The procedure went well; no issues, and by the time it was over, they had gotten enough fluids into her that she was navigating pretty well. No nausea, which for her is a small miracle. She doesn’t do anesthesia well, but had no problems today. So tonight I am thankful to have her tired, but well except for looking like she was on the losing side of a boxing match from her visit with the linoleum. We are at the age that we think about what the future holds for us. We don’t particularly care about what is in store as long as we can face it together.

Contentment

February 5, 2020

“LORD, my heart is not haughty, Nor my eyes lofty. Neither do I concern myself with great matters, Nor with things too profound for me. Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul, Like a weaned child with his mother; Like a weaned child is my soul within me.” —Psalms 131:1-2

Every so often in the seven years I’ve been focusing on gratitude, it feels like somehow I’m shirking my duty. People all over the country have been obsessing for the past three years over our president. The Democrats can’t stand him, and take every opportunity to castigate and vilify him, while his supporters vow to stand by him no matter what. Our elected representatives have chosen to abdicate the business of representation in favor of internecine fighting that is so partisan that it almost amounts to open warfare. The media fuel the frenzy and we are now in the beginning stages of an election cycle that has all the earmarks of further polarizing the country, if that is even possible. 

Through all this, I find myself steadily withdrawing from the fray, narrowing my focus to the things I can at least somewhat control. As the psalmist says, “Neither do I concern myself with great matters.” Therein lies the nexus of my occasional twinges of guilt. Shouldn’t I be concerned with such weighty matters? Is it an abdication of my civic duty to let others slug it out? 

Whenever I begin to wander down that rabbit trail, I return to this psalm. I learned long ago that posting things on Facebook is merely preaching to the choir. People who agree with you will hit “like,” while those who disagree want to pick an argument with you. No one’s mind gets changed because everyone there is actually Faceless. We aren’t interacting with real flesh and blood people, with the result that we abandon civility. After all, we don’t have to face that person we’re trash-talking at work the next day.

So I write about the blessings I’ve noticed, the human kindness I see, the beauty all around me, and sometimes about my struggles with faith—not great and lofty matters, but they are what matters to me. George Washington Carver once prayed that God would reveal to him secrets of the universe. “God said to me, ‘Why not try the peanut? It’s more your size,’” he recalled. He went on to discover scores of uses for the lowly peanut. I can’t even claim that, but I can claim a calm soul and a peaceful heart, the product of directing my attention away from the worries and cares of this life and towards the heart and mind of Christ.