Prove it...Or Not!

June 30, 2020

Matthew 4:3 The entire quote reads, “When the tempter came to him, he said, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become bread.”” Yesterday, I commented on how often I’ve tried eating stones instead of the Bread of Life. Whenever I do this, I not only fail to satisfy my hunger, I abrogate the role of the Son of God, acting as if I have the right to call the shots. It’s nothing less than the sin of Lucifer who dared to challenge the Almighty for control. 

Satan completely twisted what it meant to be the Son of God. The Son of God didn’t come into the world to do magic tricks; He didn’t come to satisfy his own desires. Had that been his goal, he would have remained in heaven. He came to seek and save the lost; to give his life a ransom for many. “IF you are the Son of God, prove it,” was the devil’s tactic. When I turn to the stones of this world to satisfy my inner hunger, I am setting myself up as God, trying to prove my power and authority. The god I become is at best a caricature of the One True God, ie. an idol. Feeding on stones is not only foolish; it is an arrogant supplanting of the One True God with an idol, misunderstanding what it means to be the Son of God, and setting myself up in opposition to the Father.

The Good News is, I don’t have to prove anything. I am not THE Son of God, but I am a son of God, not by virtue of anything I’ve done, but because Jesus Christ the Son of God refused to prove himself to Satan by turning stones into bread. Instead, he endured the hunger, refusing to satisfy himself, instead denying himself, taking up a cross, and dying on it for our salvation.

Stone Soup

June 29, 2020

Matthew and Luke both record the incident, although neither were there to observe it. Jesus was alone. In the desert. Hungry after forty days of fasting. This wasn’t something he necessarily planned, nor was it on his bucket list, but the Holy Spirit led him there, which should put us on notice that God’s leading isn’t always into pleasant pastures. Sometimes it’s into harsh, dry, desert places where we come face to face with the demonic. It is dangerous to assume that difficulties are always from the devil and pleasures from God. Sometimes it is the other way around.

“When the tempter came to him, he said, “Command these stones to become bread.”” (Matthew 4:3). We are so familiar with the story that we can miss its impact. The fact is, we try to turn stones into bread all the time. We attempt to feed on the stone of social media only to find out it is hard, and breaks the teeth of any who try to chew on it. We eat the stones of greed and materialism. They go down easily, but don’t digest well and prevent real sustenance from getting into the system. We swallow the tiny stones—the sand—of religion, only to choke on it, and if we’re lucky, to vomit it back up.

Only God’s Word sustain. Forgive me Lord, for sitting at the banquet of stones, then complaining of my hunger. Thank you for making available the real food that satisfies.

Inside Out

June 28, 2020

Today’s sermon caught my attention this morning. Pastor Joe was preaching from Acts 3:1-10, the story of the cripple healed by Peter at the temple gate. It wasn’t the healing per se that grabbed me, but the consequences of it. The man was sitting by the temple gate where he had been accustomed to begging for a living. As a cripple, he wasn’t allowed into the temple precincts, so he had to ply his trade on the outside. In spite of the Jewish code of charity that mandated the giving of alms to the poor, it’s quite likely that much of the time this man was ignored. After awhile, he just became part of the scenery, blended into the background.

The healing was astounding enough, as we can well imagine, but what I had never before noticed was that upon receiving his healing, he followed Peter and John into the temple. This man who was an outsider, became an insider through the power of Christ and the ministry of Peter.

Later this morning in Sunday School, the text was from Luke 15—the story of the Prodigal Son. It’s really misnamed; it should be the story of two brothers, for the upright elder brother who never strayed is the real focus of Jesus’ story. The younger left home, wandering in a foreign land, but the elder brother was also outside the household. The father who had been waiting at the gate and ran to his returning son also went outside to the elder brother who was pouting out in the field. The elder son didn’t come in to the father, but the father went out to the son. In both cases, the father went outside the house to meet his sons, both of whom were lost, although only the younger realized it.

These are stories of insiders and outsiders. We tend to think of ourselves as insiders, and in many ways, we are. But how we view the outsider makes a big difference. Peter and John saw the outsider and brought healing and hope. The father who by rights should have expected his sons to come inside to him, instead went outside himself in hopes of bringing his sons inside where they belonged. And the one son who knew he was an outsider repented and became an insider, while the other who imagined himself to be an insider, remained an outsider.

So where am I in these stories? Sometimes I’m the outsider, too often I’m the one imagining myself to be an insider, but finding out I’m not. Only very occasionally am I the Peter and the father, going outside to bring the outsider in. This “inside-outsider” has much grace to learn. May I learn it soon, and well.

Confidence

June 27, 2020

“Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You. 

In God (I will praise His word), 

In God I have put my trust; 

I will not fear. 

What can flesh do to me?

In God (I will praise His word), 

In the LORD (I will praise His word), 

In God I have put my trust; I will not be afraid. 

What can man do to me?”

—Psalm 56:3-4, 10-11 NKJV

The context of this psalm is important. The heading reads, “To the chief Musician. Set to “The silent Dove in Distant Lands.” A Michigan of David when the Philistines captured him in Gath.”

This is no armchair theologian, an ivory tower songwriter casually singing about his joy in the Lord. He is held captive by ruthless people who haven’t forgotten what he did to their champion Goliath years before; when he sings about trusting in God and not fearing what men can do to him, he has every reason to be terrified. He was in grave danger, and speaks openly of his concern.

“My enemies would hound me all day, 

For there are many who fight against me, O Most High.

All day they twist my words; 

All their thoughts are against me for evil. 

They gather together, 

They hide, they mark my steps, 

When they lie in wait for my life.”

—Psalm 56:2, 5-6 

David had every reason to be afraid, yet navigated his way through a dangerous situation by actively and deliberately putting his trust in God. He kept his eyes on the One who had his eye on David, calming his fears in the assurance that God would not abandon him. Listen to how he finishes:

“You have delivered my soul from death. 

Have You not kept my feet from falling, 

That I may walk before God In the light of the living?”

As of the time of his writing, he was still a prisoner of war, yet spoke of his deliverance as already having taken place. He saw by faith things not yet a reality in experience. Three times in this psalm, he explains how this faith worked: “I will praise his Word.” He wasn’t living by his present experience as we so often do. We want to “feel” the presence of the Holy Spirit, and often go to great lengths to manufacture some sort of holy tingle up our spines. David wasn’t in a place where that was very likely, but he had something we often lack: trust in the Word, the promises, of God.

Yesterday’s reading illuminates this trust in God’s Word. Psalm 145:5 says, “I will meditate on your wondrous works.” Psalm 119 is a running litany of meditation upon the Word of God. When in distress, David turned (perhaps with great effort) his attention to the Word of God instead of his surroundings. We would be wise to do the same if we wish to win the battle of fear. So much of what we thought of as settled has been swept away. The future is uncertain. Only God’s Word remains, as no less than Jesus himself said, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words shall never pass away.” As if to emphasize the certainty of this, all three gospels record Jesus’ affirmation: Matthew 24:35, Mark 13:31, Luke 21:33. God’s Word will stand forever!

Getting it Together

June 26, 2020

Psalm 86:11—“Unite my heart to fear your Name.” There are often disconnected parts of me. Like Paul in Romans 7:15-23, part of me revels in God’s will while other parts rebel against it. I take comfort in Paul and David—men who knew the same struggles I face. 

It is by grace alone we were saved, and by grace alone we continue to be saved. I have not the power or wisdom to unite my fractured heart. I don’t even fully know it. In Psalm 139:23-24, David asks God to search his heart, while Jeremiah 17:9 reminds us that “The heart is deceitful above all things; who can know it?” Only God, through his Word, searches out those deep places within me that resist him, bringing all those fractious and dissonant elements to the single purpose of worshipping and glorifying Christ. 

Without this unifying grace of the Holy Spirit, there can be no progress, no singleness of purpose, no direction; only wandering hopelessness. “Unite my heart to fear your Name;” that’s my prayer. “Gather up all those wayward, wandering parts of me into a single-minded devotion to You and Your purposes.” I am thankful that this is the kind of prayer my Heavenly Father loves to answer!

Thoughts

June 25, 2020

I love driving time! I need to stay alert enough to know what’s going on around me, but not so focused that I cannot think and pray. If I just sit and pray, my mind wanders, and if it wanders, pretty soon, I’m dozing off. But when I’m driving, if my mind wanders, I just bring it back to where I want it to be. 

So today, I’m driving to Rochester to visit my mother, and I’ve opened my YouTube app to listen to Rick Warren’s preaching. He’s not flamboyant, so I don’t need to see him, and he’s so orderly and structured that I can easily follow him while driving. Even better, my phone links up to my hearing aids by Bluetooth, so I get a clear feed. In the sermon i listened to this morning, pastor Rick had a lot of good things to say, but the sentence that really stuck with me was this: “You don’t have to believe everything you think.” He went on to say our thoughts lie to us. Our feelings lie to us. At any given moment, we may think, “I can’t forgive that person,” or “I can’t resist that temptation,” or “I’m no good,” or “No one likes me,” or “Things will never get better.” The list can go on and on, but the truth remains: We don’t have to believe everything we think. In fact, it’s best if we don’t. 

What we need to believe is the Truth of God’s Word. God never lies to us. I may not always like what he says, but it is always the truth, and is always for our good. The truth is, God loves us, Jesus died for us, our sins are forgiven, we are a new Creation in Jesus Christ, with a new heart, a new destination, a new purpose, a new family, The Old has passed away, the former things are no more, my sins are as far from me as the East is from the West. I am forgiven, equipped, surrounded by the heavenly armies, victorious in Christ, with access to the heart and mind of the Father at any time, in any place.

The old self-defeating, self-condemning, self-serving, resentful, unforgiving, prideful thoughts may at times rear their ugly heads, but I don’t have to believe everything I think. For all this and more, I am thankful tonight.

3 Days Ahead

June 24, 2020

For fifty years, Linda and I have been reading from a devotional called “Daily Light.” We’ve read it together, read it when we’re apart to help us stay connected, and admittedly, we’ve occasionally drifted from it to other reading plans. I like it because it is Scripture; just Scripture. Today’s reading caught my attention for its symbolism and practicality. It began with these words from Numbers 10:33–“The ark of the covenant of the LORD went before them three days’ journey, to seek out a resting place for them.” The symbolism is hard to miss; Jesus was three days and nights in the tomb, going ahead of us as the firstborn from the dead, to give us a place of rest.

I let myself get troubled by life’s journey when I get ahead of the ‘ark of the covenant,’ ie, the Presence of the Lord. He has gone before me to provide a resting place, but my heart finds no rest till it follows him. How often do we listen to the news, allowing it to disrupt our rest in Christ. We think by arguing with people on social media that somehow we’ll have the final word that convinces them of our position, only to have things escalate into an all-out verbal conflagration, when we could have turned to God’s Word to find rest and nourishment in the victory won at the Cross and confirmed in the resurrection.

Jesus Christ went before us. That is enough, if we will but follow him. The wilderness can be, as its name implies, a wild place filled with all sorts of dangers, but if we follow our Covenant God, even the wilderness holds no fear for us.

Today’s reading included the words of the 23rd Psalm, where “he makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters,” concluding with the words of Peter who exhorts us to “cast all your cares upon him, for he cares for you” (1Peter 5:7). Jesus said that in this world we will have tribulation. We Americans have had very little of this promise of Jesus; we prefer the soothing words of the Prosperity Gospel preachers who assure us of success if we jump through the right hoops. But Jesus’ word about tribulation bears its own reward: “Be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). His victory has already been won; he has gone those three days before us, and nothing we experience takes him by surprise. We can rest peacefully tonight, and give thanks.

Empty Calories

June 23, 2020

Quite often when I’m thinking about my evening’s musings, I come up blank. There’s plenty for which to be thankful, but like most people, there are times I feel flatlined. Nothing terrible has happened, but nothing spectacular, either. It’s just an ordinary day. Or is it? Maybe I’m just not looking in the right places. Lord knows, joy isn’t going to be found on any of the news channels, Facebook posts, or email notices. The big issues of the day are seldom the source of contentment. Those who spend a lot of time there don’t often smile. 

My gratitude calendar for today suggested three gifts found around a table. That narrows the focus considerably. I realize that for many people, the dinnertable is sadly, a contentious place when it should be a place where both body and soul are nourished. For Linda and me, the table is where we bare our souls. It is where we strive to build each other up. If we notice the conversation drifting towards the minefield of current events, one or the other of us will stop and say, “Let’s not go there,” not because we disagree, but because the subject is so disagreeable. Why should we ruin a good meal with bad conversation? 

On those Friday evenings when the grandkids spend the night (we’re back at it after a 3 month hiatus! Hooray!), we finish the meal with “High-Low.” What was the high of the day, and what was the low? Highs are mandatory, lows are optional. We go around the table, listening to each other give voice to that which has blessed them that day, sharing the good news and encouraging one another. 

We have never lacked for enough food. Our dinners usually conclude with leftovers. Sad to say, there are millions who have never known a leftover. We are exceptionally blessed. Every time we sit down at the table, we bow our heads and give thanks, recognizing that everything we enjoy is a gift from God, and every meal is sacramental if we allow it to be. Christ is present with us at every meal, reminding us that we don’t live by bread alone.

Which brings me full circle. I don’t usually feel immediately energized when I sit down for a meal. My stomach feels good, but that’s about it. But if I skip too many meals, I’ll notice the effect of a lengthy fast. I’ll lose weight (that’s good), but I’ll also lose strength. One meal a week would be a slow death sentence, and yet that’s what so many Christians attempt to live on spiritually. Sunday morning is it, and they don’t even feed themselves! This morning, I read my Bible and prayed. Neither discipline lit any fires in me. I felt like I was going through the motions. It wasn’t very satisfying, but I know that this was just one meal, and added to yesterday’s and tomorrow’s, it feeds my soul, for which I am thankful tonight.

Nate

June 22, 2020

Today is Nate’s birthday. That long-ago day was exciting not only for his birth, but for the way he made his entry into the world. Hurricane Agnes was making its way up the coast, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. We however, were in the hill country outside of Wellsville, NY. What could happen there? We were to find out.

My brother and sister in law were visiting with their new firstborn. We went to bed the night before listening to a gentle rain. Sometime in the middle of the night, it ceased being gentle. I woke early to the sound of water lapping at our door. When I looked out, the little creek that ran beside our driveway, normally about eight feet down, had risen over its banks and was knee-deep in our front yard. We knew we had to leave, but one of our former youth group boys was parked behind our cars in the driveway, fast asleep in the back seat. 

Pounding on the window finally woke him from his stupor. We got out and drove to his parent’s house where we spent the night. Reports kept coming in; roads were closing. It was now or never to get to the hospital. Wellsville was out of the question; one entire wing of their hospital had collapsed into the Genesee river, so we set off for Olean in my boss’s Olds 88 Wildcat convertible. He had managed to wind his way into our little hamlet through rock-strewn back roads and insisted we take his bigger and heavier car.

We made it as far as Portville, where rising water had flooded the road. I left Linda in the care of some firemen while I looked for a place to park the car. When I got back to the no-crossing place, they had already evacuated her in an Army duck. I managed to find someone with a Jeep who was willing to brave the waters to get me across to the other side.

When I got to the hospital, she was already being prepped for delivery. She begged them to wait, but they put her completely under, we suspect because the obstetrician was out evacuating his home and wasn’t even there for the delivery. I spent three nights sleeping on a two person love seat at night, and bagging sand for flood control by day. When the waters finally subsided, Linda and Nathan went to her parents while I went home to disinfect our well. The flood of ‘72 remains the most costly and devastating natural disaster to hit the Southern Tier in our lifetime. 

Nathan entered this world with a flourish, and has been keeping us on our toes ever since. Tonight, I am grateful not just for his dramatic entry, but for his faithful life. Yesterday I was able to again play bass for the worship team for the first time in months. I stood in the background while he led in singing and prayers, and was amazed once more at the depth of his passion for Christ, and his wisdom in leadership. Happy birthday, Nate! We continue to be proud of you and blessed by you as we watch you loving Christ, your wife, and your daughters, with wisdom and strength.

I finish tonight with the wisdom of one of the greatest of the Church fathers:

When you sit down to eat, pray. When you eat bread, do so thanking Him for being so generous to you. If you drink wine, be mindful of Him who has given it to you for your pleasure and as a relief in sickness. When you dress, thank Him for His kindness in providing you with clothes. When you look at the sky and the beauty of the stars, throw yourself at God’s feet and adore Him who in His wisdom has arranged things in this way. Similarly, when the sun goes down and when it rises, when you are asleep or awake, give thanks to God, who created and arranged all things for your benefit, to have you know, love and praise their Creator.

Dad

June 21, 2020

“Today must be hard for you.” His statement was sincere and compassionate. I was surprised he remembered; after all, we only see each other occasionally.

“Actually, no, it isn’t,” I replied. Dad was surrounded by his family in his favorite place by the lake. He had just finished his favorite picnic meal—Zweigle’s white hots, and taken a nap. He was ready; he knew the Lord, and went quickly from a massive cerebral hemorrhage. At his memorial service, both of my sons, three of my brother’s sons, and my sister’s son in law testified of his faith and influence in their lives. Nathan spoke to the statement that was made today. “On Father’s Day, he went from the presence of his family into the presence of his Heavenly Father. What’s not to love about that?”

It’s been eight years, and the longer he’s been gone, the more I think of him. He wasn’t perfect, by any means, but he was a man of integrity, steady faithfulness, and loyalty. Allow me to tell one story that encapsulates his heart and mind.

Ours was a busy family, but not with the things that occupy so many families I know. My dad was not much of a sports enthusiast, so my brother and I never played varsity anything. I was involved in the music program of my high school, but that was about it. Dad loved to fish, so in the summertime, Thursday nights dad would get my brother and me out of bed, load us in the car, drive to the golf course, and collect nightcrawlers for Saturday morning’s fishing expedition. Both of these happened like clockwork, as did spending Friday evenings at my mother’s parents, and Saturday evening at my dad’s folks. I can still picture my grandfather sitting on the porch listening to the ball game on the radio while leaning through the door to watch Lawrence Welk on television. 

Other than these things, we were involved in the church. Sunday mornings, Sunday evening services, Monday night men’s work night, Wednesday night prayer meetings, and the occasional missionary conference that filled entire weekday evenings. In short, other than Friday and Saturdays, we weren’t home much as a family. Until “the night.”

Dad came home one evening, sat us all down and announced that he had resigned from all the church offices he held except for the trustees. “It’s taking too much time from my family,” he declared. And just like that, I understood priorities. 

Dad wasn’t outspoken about anything. He didn’t speak much about his faith unless asked about it (which happened more frequently than I knew at the time). But I learned that night about what is really important in life, and tonight, I honor the man who left this world on Father’s Day, but is with me still in my heart.

Silence is...

June 20, 2020

“Silence is violence!” So say the activists swarming like bees around the latest perceived injustice. Don’t believe it! Just because someone says it doesn’t make it so. In my preaching, I  used to tell people to be wary about anyone who tried to tell them who they are. Only God has the right to do that. The crowd around us is not the best source of information about much of anything, especially when it comes to knowing one’s own identity. People will tell you you’re too thin, too fat, not manly enough, too much of a tomboy, stuck up, shy...the list goes on and on. We are being told these days that lacking overt words and actions, we may nevertheless be unconsciously racist. People other than ourselves are defining what it means, and are passing judgment upon anyone who doesn’t sufficiently meet their definitions. It matters not that evidence is lacking. It matters not that no one has ever proven the existence of the unconscious mind, let alone that merely belonging to a particular demographic tells others everything they need to know about you.

It is not my responsibility to take up anyone else’s cause, no matter how noble it may be. It is my responsibility to answer God’s call on my life, just as it is for you to answer God’s call on yours. God has called me to some pretty clear cut responsibilities, none of which involve criticizing or correcting others. If I fail to fulfill my calling, there will be a hole in the fabric of God’s plan, and I will be ineffective by reason of distraction. Others are called to be social justice warriors. I am not. I am called to gratitude, to prayer, to family. I will not apologize for any of this, any more than I would expect someone else to apologize for living into their calling. My only apology would be to God for failing to fully live out his calling in my life.

Had Jesus not given himself solely to the Father’s purposes, we would not be saved today. We would still be in our sins. He was often tempted to take a different path, but he remained true to his own mission. So must I. I’ve too often allowed other people’s passions to lure me away from my calling, which always leads to confusion and unhappiness. I am thankful tonight that I can pursue God’s calling on my life without guilt or fear, but with great joy and freedom. Silence is not violence. Silence is silence, and sometimes, it is still golden.

Blessings

June 19, 2020

When I started writing my daily musings, it was all about gratitude—the often small things for which I was thankful that day. Over time, it morphed into theological, personal, and Scriptural reflections, but I’ve always tried to write from a foundation of gratitude. Today, it was easy. The ride to and from my dentist appointment this morning was a continually changing flow of shape, color, temperature, sound, and scent, all teasing the senses for miles on end. 

Arriving home, I quickly changed and went to son Matthew’s house, where we did a little more work on his kitchen ceiling. His brother Nate, who loves carpentry as much as Matt hates it, had given his brother a drywall tip that saved us at least an hour of nasty, dusty work. Later in the afternoon, Matt came over to help me adjust the brakes on my Ural in preparation for tomorrow’s ride. Getting the rear wheel off and on is always a struggle of competing clearances. Having another set of hands made the job go much faster and easier.

This evening, the grandkids are here again, and hearing the things that made their day special was as always, a treat. And later, I was able to teach grandson Nathan to use the loader on the tractor to scoop up a large rock, move it, and lay it down where I wanted it. Watching him maneuver the loader gave me great joy. 

With all the unrest, anger, and sorrow in the world, It’s good to step back and count the blessings. My cup is full tonight, and I drink deeply.

Sounds of Peace

June 18, 2020

The patio on a summer evening is a symphony of sound. To my right, the creek laughs across the shale and over the waterfall, while overhead the birds call to one another. Behind me, Linda and our eldest granddaughter chatter through the family barbecue sauce recipe. I’m not sure if the peepers are tuning it up or if it’s just the ringing in my ears, but there’s no mistaking the sound of the cars, trucks, tractors, and motorcycles that announce their presence long before I see them on the road.

I’m glad to hear what I hear. For most of the day, it was heavy machinery, power saws, and nail guns as I joined a few other men from the church building an entryway to the new addition. When it started to rain, I took my hearing aids out and stashed them safely away. I toasted one once when a big raindrop hit squarely on it. The sizzle and pop told me all I needed to know. $2000 later, I vowed I’d never let that happen again. The problem is, without them, I couldn’t hear a thing anyone said, which can be a problem when the head carpenter is calling measurements for the next piece of lumber needing to be cut.

I’m at that stage of life where things that were pretty effortless once upon a time now take a bit of forethought and planning. I often have double vision at night when driving, which is quite exciting. I have to decide which lines I’m going to stay between, and which of the four taillights ahead of me are real, and which I can ignore. And a day like today becomes a challenge to see how long before my back and feet decide to complain enough that I give them a rest. Sitting on the patio in the evening really is a treat. 

All the sounds around me today were sounds of progress, of construction, and of peace. There was no arguing, no angry shouting, no gunfire and wails of anguish. Were I to listen to some people, I should feel guilty over my so-called “white privilege.” I have none, am grateful for the blessings I have received, and believe that failure to receive them with gratitude would be a slap in the face of the God who gave them as he chose. To whom has been given much, much is required, so I will do my best to give back, to bless others again tomorrow. Tonight, the sounds of peace echo in my heart, and I am glad.

Dr. Day

June 17, 2020

He had the look of a little wizened gnome and the wisdom of Yoda. Dr. Day was the psychologist for the kids at the group home where Linda and I were houseparents in 1975. His methods were unique, to say the least. I remember one time when he was counseling a boy who was standing on his head in a closet. Dr. Day talked to him through the closed door. He had written a paper on eye movement as a means of discerning when someone was telling the truth. When people are talking, they tend to look either to the right or the left; they don’t often look straight ahead into your eyes. In normal conversation, the pattern is pretty consistent, but when someone is lying, a right eye mover will look to the left, and a left eye mover will look to the right. There were other components to his methodology, but eye movement was the foundation of it. It’s surprisingly accurate.

Dr. Day also had a theory about counseling that has been largely abandoned, but remains valid. He didn’t believe in Rogerian therapy where the counselor merely listened to the counselee, asking questions and making comments to help the counselee clarify his or her thoughts and work their way through their problems. He once asked us, “Why do you suppose it is that traditional counselors get better while their clients get worse? It’s because the client does all the talking. People get better when they learn to pay attention to someone else.” His therapy consisted of trying to get the counselee to “shift attention,” ie, get their mind off their problem by focusing on someone else. In the middle of a counseling session, he would often ask counselees, “Can you ask me how I’m feeling?” 

Dr. Day was not a professing Christian as far as I know, but his therapy was true to the Gospel. People are emotionally, relationally, and spiritually sick because they focus on their own problems. Traditional counseling only exacerbates the issue by getting the client to talk about his or her problems when they really need to learn to pay attention to someone else. Jesus said the greatest commandment is to love God with all one’s heart, soul, mind, and strength. It’s impossible to do that while focusing one’s attention upon oneself. The second great commandment is to love our neighbor as ourselves; again, shifting attention from self to others. Sin at its root is choosing to pay more attention to self than to God and others. 

This morning, I woke in a funk. There was no discernible reason for it; it was just the way I woke up. But I had the good fortune that Wednesdays is the day for our north county pastors’ prayer gathering. I knew what needed to happen; as long as I dwelt on how I was feeling, those feelings would spiral ever downward, so on the drive to Dunkirk, I began deliberately shifting my attention to the Lord, to the wonder of his Creation and the joy of his salvation. When I got there, we talked and prayed, beginning with paying attention to the Scriptures, then listening to each other offer our prayers to God. By the time we were done, I felt great! I wasn’t thinking of how down I felt, but of how good it is to be in fellowship with others. 

Christian faith is a lifelong exercise in shifting attention from self to God and others. It is made possible because God led the way when Jesus prayed, “Not my will, but thine be done.” Because he thought of us, we are able to think of him, and in confessing and forsaking our self-centeredness and trusting in his grace and mercy instead of focusing on our guilt and inadequacy, we find life...real life. Thank you, Dr. Day, for unwittingly teaching me some of the most practical Christian theology I’ve ever heard.

The Importance of Always

June 16, 2020

“I have set the LORD always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved. Therefore my heart is glad.” Psalm 16:8.

That little word “always” is important. If I only set the Lord before me sometimes; if I look away or turn away, he is no longer by my side. I WILL be moved, and i will lose my joy. The “therefore” in v. 9 connects ‘my heart is glad’ to the ‘always’’’ preceding it. We lose our joy when we lose our focus and forfeit God’s presence. Always, not sometimes keeping the Lord before me is what brings joy and hope.

Futility

June 15, 2020

Turns out the dentist appointment for which I arrived at 9:00 am was actually scheduled for 11:30. Since it’s a forty minute drive, waiting wasn’t practical, so back I go on Friday, hopefully at the right time. A drive to the other end of the county to return the drywall lift we borrowed but didn’t use followed, then to my son’s to start the drywall mudding. My unopened bucket of mud had been around for awhile, but it’s seal had never been broken. Apparently, mold is able to infiltrate a sealed five gallon bucket of drywall compound; instead of pure white, the surface was covered with a nice blue film. Twenty bucks down the drain and a trip to the builder’s supply before we could begin the job.

The entire morning was a series of Keystone Cops scenarios. It was 1:00 pm before anything of any substance was accomplished, and when that was done, I felt just plain weary. My Bible reading for the day was flat; It wasn’t until I made a couple ministry related phone calls that it felt like the day was worth living. 

Viktor Frankl was a Jewish psychologist imprisoned in Nazi Germany’s concentration camps. He noticed that those who lost hope died, while those who envisioned a future were often able to survive. He concluded that if one had a sufficient “why,” he could withstand almost any “what.” We are seeing all around us the devastation that hopelessness breeds. From people fed up with enforced quarantines with the domestic violence, depression, and suicides, to rioting in the streets, the sense of hopelessness and a lack of purpose is an infection eating away at our very souls. I felt just a bit of it this morning, but I know better. On my drive to the dentist office this morning, I reveled in the beauty all around me, knowing full well there are millions in our cities who never get to see such things as forests and fields, cattle and vineyards. If after all that, I can find myself in a funk of purposelessness, it’s no wonder we’re seeing the disruption, destruction, and depression in our society.

I am thankful tonight that my feeling of futility is only temporary, that I have a God who has the future in his hands, and that those same hands hold me. Lord willing, tomorrow, I’ll get up, read my BIble, pray, and get to work. There is plenty to do, and I am itching to get at it. I pity those who get up in the morning with nothing more to look forward to than sitting on a doorstep, getting the next fix, or hanging around playing video games. Even when it doesn’t go as planned, life is a gift worth living, and I intend to live it fully.

Little Things

June 14, 2020

Gratitude is a repetitive and modest art. It’s not something that you do once and done, and it doesn’t necessarily focus on major or life-altering events. It revels in the details that we often overlook as we are overwhelmed by the incessant barrage of media insisting that it’s offering deserves our complete attention and ultimate loyalty. The evening news won’t tell you about a baby’s first steps, a middle aged couple working hard to raise their children to be persons of character and faith, or of the elderly couple still holding hands after fifty years. 

The world scene is replete with fear, hatred, prejudice, greed, and lust for power, sex, or money. It seethes with anger, destruction, and hopelessness. My world today began with breakfast at my son’s, continued with gathering (twice) for worship, listening to my other son, his sister and daughter harmonizing as they led the singing. It included driving through some beautiful countryside, seeing the contrast between the browns of newly plowed fields with the green of young corn pushing through, and the trees in full leaf. Lunch with my wife, conversation and dessert with our kids and grandkids, teaching one grandson how to weedwhack the edges of our yard, reading quietly, and a visit from a friend to scope out a couple trees we need taken down rounded out the day. 

None of this was earth-shattering, but all of it is thankworthy, and I am grateful for the little things which make up the bulk of my life. 

Clutter

June 13, 2020

If aching muscles and creaky joints mean you’re alive, I don’t think I’ve ever been more alive than tonight. The day began fixing breakfast for ten hungry grandchildren, most of them teenagers, if that tells you anything. Then off to my son’s to help install the ceiling drywall, before delivering some lattice work to a friend who needed some. It was a blessing to both of us; to me by finally getting it out of my garage, and to him by saving him the expense of buying new. 

The afternoon and early evening was filled with cleaning the garage. For some, that would mean merely a minor tidying up. My garage is infamous. A minor tidying up wouldn’t even get through the first layer. Five hours’ work made a dent in it, but it will take another ten to really get things in order. Thus my aching muscles and creaky joints.

I’ve said more than once that the order (or lack thereof) in one’s external living space is a witness to the order (or lack thereof) in the inner habitation of the heart. I believe that. Physical clutter is indicative of inner spiritual and psychic clutter. The problem with clutter is that it is rarely noticeable to the one living in that space. It has become normal, and normal is invisible. For me, it’s not our home (Linda is fastidious about order); it’s my garage that reveals the state of my heart. I tend to put stuff where it’s convenient at the moment instead of where it belongs, and before long, stuff is just piled everywhere. A good garage cleaning is a lot of work, but worth it. A good heart cleaning is hard work, too, but even more necessary, because it’s not only where my soul dwells, it’s the dwelling place of God; we are the temple of the Holy Spirit. 

If you read the directions God gave Moses for the Tabernacle, you discover that there wasn’t much inside it. The bronze altar for sacrifices and the laver for washing were the only articles in the outer court. The Holy Place contained the altar of incense, the table for the Bread of the Presence, and the Menorah for light. Behind the curtain sat only the Ark of the Covenant. That’s it! No clutter, no stuff laying around. Which means, if I want to meet God, I need to de- clutter. Our God is a God of order. Today I participated in his ordering of life in a very pragmatic way. Though my body is sore, my soul is renewed, ready for the Order of Worship tomorrow.

The Old Normal Reprise

June 12, 2020

At last, the new normal is the old normal once more. For the first time in three months, we had a full-bore Meema and Beepa night. For the uninitiated, that’s one of two Fridays each month when all nine of the grandkids come for dinner and stay overnight. Meema’s mac and cheese, hot dogs, homemade applesauce, cottage cheese with peas is standard menu, with cakes and eggs with a side of sausage in the morning. 

For the last four years, attendance has been sporadic. Two away at college, high school sports and musical practices took its toll. Sometimes it’s been as few as two, but the full complement of kids hasn’t been with us for some time. Until tonight. Quarantining brought a halt to our gatherings, but tonight the dam finally burst, bringing a flood of grandkids to our door. After dinner, we sat around the table with “High-Low,” where each one named their high point of the day, and their low, if they had one. Being together again was overwhelmingly the high for each one. 

A campfire with S’mores, followed by a rousing game of Ghosts in the Graveyard concluded the outdoors part of the evening. Bedtime prayers, talking and laughing around the kitchen table, and bowls of ice cream rounded out the day. I have an appointment to install drywall at my son’s tomorrow morning, so I’m turning in early (actually, it’s late—11:40), but they’re still going strong. It’s been a good day, and I’m grateful tonight.

Singing Away from Home

June 11, 2020

This coming Sunday, I’ll be asking a centuries-old question. Israel had been carried off into captivity in Babylon, where they would remain for seventy long years. This was not their home; their hearts were back in Jerusalem while their bodies were held captive in this foreign and pagan land. Adding insult to injury, their captors mocked and taunted them with these words, recorded in Psalm 137: “For there those who carried us away captive asked of us a song, And those who plundered us requested mirth, Saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!””

Their response was, “How can we sing the LORD’S songs in a foreign land?” It’s a question worth pondering today. The world as we have known it has been swept away. Here where I live, it hasn’t been as drastic as in the cities, but people walk around masked, stores have to post signs saying we are required to social distance and keep our faces covered, summer events have been cancelled, and you can protest, but not worship in crowds. Yes, it’s a different world. Where once Christian faith was assumed, it gradually became tolerated, then suspected, and now vilified. 

In the twenty-ninth chapter of the book that bears his name, Jeremiah told the captives to settle in for the long haul. This calamity that had befallen them wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. I’m sure that was pretty disheartening to many, just as it would be today. No one is saying how things will be in the next seventy years, but we’ve already seen the hospitality industry teetering on the brink of collapse, as well as movie theaters. Who knows what will happen to stadium sports such as baseball, football, and basketball? 

So how do we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land? You’ll have to wait till Sunday to find out, but I’ll give you a clue: Psalm 24:1 lays out the boundaries of God’s land, which by definition also sets the boundaries of foreign lands. Only when we are outside of God’s land will we find it hard to sing. Whenever we are within God’s boundaries, we can sing. And sing, we will, with gratitude and joy.

Waiting

June 10, 2020

My reading of the Psalms today included 40:1–“I waited patiently for the LORD; And He inclined to me, And heard my cry,” and 130:6—“I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, And in His word I do hope.”

I hate waiting. I will leave a purchase or go to a different restaurant rather than wait in line. When I was officiating at weddings, I would tell the wedding party at the rehearsal that when the appointed hour came, we would begin the service. Anyone who arrived after the hour was late and would be on their own for seating, wedding party included. I hate waiting.

I’m not alone in this. We Americans are always in a hurry. We have our fast-food restaurants, microwave ovens. Thankfully, we have pretty much gotten over our love affair with instant coffee. In our TV shows, cops and detectives solve the crime in under an hour, and thanks to the internet, we can find the answers to the most arcane questions in seconds.

Unfortunately, the most important things in life aren’t instant. A musician practices for years to become proficient, the athlete works out with a regimen the rest of us are unwilling or unable to endure. Character takes years to build, and often requires us to simply wait. We chafe at that. We want to be doing something, making progress, seeing results, while God patiently murmurs, “Wait.” These past three months we’ve been waiting, and I confess I’ve not done too well at it. And all the while I’m champing at the bit, God is trying to get my attention by taking away all the distractions and making me wait. I’m like the little child jumping up and down in the pew whose mother told him he had to sit down in church. He finally complied, but disgustedly told her, “I’m standing up on the inside!”

The Psalmist says, “I waited PATIENTLY...” I have trouble waiting impatiently. But it was only through that patient waiting that God inclined his ear and heard the man’s cry. In 130, he says, “my soul waits.” This wasn’t a folding his arms, tapping his foot kind of waiting. In his soul, his innermost being, he was waiting and hoping. It is a very difficult discipline, especially when we resist learning it. I’ve been in remedial waiting classes many a time. 

Isaiah waxes poetic when he says, “They that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles. They shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” (40:31) I wonder how much of my spiritual weakness and weariness is the result of my impatience.

Waiting is not passive. It is deeply active, but completely non-manipulative. Too often, my busy-ness is a cover for trying to coerce God into doing what I think he should do. We don’t want to admit that we think, “If I work harder, God owes me,” but that’s often what goes on beneath the surface, and it’s why we feel betrayed when God doesn’t answer our prayers the way we imagine he should. God will not tolerate our attempts at coercion. 

When the Bible tells us to wait, it is very specific: “Wait on the LORD.” We aren’t waiting for fate, aren’t waiting in fear for what may come. We wait on the LORD, not as if we were waiting in the dentist’s office for a dreaded root canal, or for the test results from the doctor. We wait in hopeful anticipation, like a child eagerly and excitedly waiting for Christmas. And we wait purposefully, like the waiter who attends to our every whim at the restaurant, not paying attention to her sore feet, but to the needs and wants of the one she serves. That is how we wait on the LORD. 

But it is still waiting, not yet realizing the fulfillment of the dream. I’m trying...I really am, but I’m not too good at it yet. I have a sneaking suspicion that God will keep me waiting till I can do it patiently. I just wish he would hurry up.

Returning

June 9, 2020

“I forgot.” So said John Newton, over and over again. The author of “Amazing Grace” started life under the tutelage of a godly mother who died while he was but a boy. He fell into bad company, took to sea, became a slave trader. God kept prodding him, but soon after making a resolution to change, “I forgot.” Until that day God finally captured his heart for good. As an old man walking the streets of Bristol, he never tired of telling people that though he was a great sinner, Christ was a great Savior. 

I used to wonder about the ancient Israelites. How was it that time after time, they kept forsaking the One True God and turned to idolatry? Used to be, it didn’t make sense to me, but these days, I understand. Returning to old habits is part of human nature, and one of the reasons genuine change is so hard. We have good intentions, but bad habits. 

A couple weeks ago, I initiated an online conversation with a more liberal pastor friend

about social justice in light of the death of George Floyd and the resulting protests and riots. We were able to converse civilly, but others jumped in, and the conversation fell apart.

I’m a slow learner. More than seven years ago, I eschewed political comment on social media, and encouraged others to do the same, but find myself sucked back into that arena. It is a cesspool, deadly to my soul. Most people are more interested in scoring points than learning anything. Those who adhere to the party line shame those who think differently, and those who refuse to parrot the majority narrative accuse others of being sheep. There are many versions of this, but it’s playing out tonight over racism and COVID-19. I’ve slipped into reading what everyone is saying, but it’s only serving to agitate my spirit.

The ancient Hebrews repeatedly slipped back into pagan polytheism and the moral decay that accompanied it. I have been slipping back into that pagan world of politics. It blares at us in all the media, in our conversations, in the masks people are wearing, in the smoldering debris of our cities. I must choose where I will allow my thoughts to go. Others may legitimately choose differently than I, but I know what I need to be doing. Psalm 139:1 confirms the correctness of my original resolve of seven years ago:

“I will guard my ways lest I sin with my tongue. I will restrain my mouth with a muzzle while the wicked are before me.” I am returning to the roots that have nourished me for the past seven years. It doesn’t mean I have no opinions or that I don’t care. It’s just that all this political talk is robbing me of my joy, and not convincing anyone of anything, while inviting conflict I don’t need. Already, I feel the weight lifting, and am thankful for the promise that “God will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee.” (Isaiah 26:3)

Graduation Advice

June 8, 2020

On our 50th anniversary as we were driving to our chosen destination, Linda asked me, “In light of fifty years of marriage, what is the one bit of advise you would give a couple wanting to be married if you were still pastoring?” I did t even have to think about it. It was this: “Don’t let everything that comes into your head come out your mouth.” Too many relationships are torpedoed needlessly because one or both parties just had to say whatever was on their mind at the moment. I try always to remember that having to say something is not the same as having something to say, and that either one can always be improved upon by silence.

That being said, her question reminded me of something I wrote for my niece’s son when he graduated from high school five years ago. I offer it tonight because it’s been a long day of hard work, and I don’t feel like thinking deeply tonight. Actually, I don’t even feel like thinking shallowly tonight. Or maybe thinking at all. Anyways...

To my great-nephew Zach:

Your mom called me requesting that I give you a word of wisdom from my experience. I want you to know I have far more experience than wisdom. I am a slow learner. But I’ll do the best I can. First, don’t eat yellow snow. That is something even a nincompoop should know. The other wisdom I have isn’t so widely understood (Common sense isn’t that common, after all), but is more important for good living. In all that follows, I will assume that first and foremost, you give yourself unreservedly to Jesus Christ, even in those areas where you haven’t the foggiest idea of what he is up to. That means committing yourself to disciplines of prayer, Bible study, worship, fasting, giving, serving, loving. Always. No turning back. With that foundation settled, let’s get on to the business at hand: 

1. The first is something my mother taught me when I was a kid. It is this: Keep your original commitment, even if something better comes along. If you do that, it will save you a lot of side-stepping, back-tracking, and fancy footwork that you would have to do to try to make excuses for your failure to do what you first said you would do. There is a Scripture for it: Psalm 15:4b “Blessed is the man who swears to his own hurt, and does not change.” 

2. Pay as you go. If you don’t have the money for it right now, you don’t need it. God promises to provide for our needs. So don’t take out a loan or borrow. You don’t need a new car, stereo, or anything else. Rich people have one thing in common: they don’t buy what they don’t need, and they don’t buy what they can’t pay cash for. There is a Scripture for this too: Proverbs 22:7 “The rich rules over the poor, And the borrower becomes the lender's slave.” 

3. Extend grace to those who don’t deserve it (See #10 below). Don’t give up on people. The worst ones will sometimes surprise you. Hey, God doesn’t give up on you or me. So what gives us the right to give up on anyone? You’ll need grace plenty of times in your life. Anyone who thinks they can get through life without screwing up has already screwed up. If you don’t make any mistakes, you aren’t trying hard enough. I’m not saying to be stupid, but don’t be afraid to stretch, to try, to fail. If you live that way, you’ll take a few nosedives. It’s nice to have someone who doesn’t rub yours it in when you do. Which is why it’s good to be one of those people to someone else. 

4. Beware of “experts.” There are a lot of people out there who want you to think they know more than they do. Think for yourself. This is especially important in religion and politics, two areas that have more than their share of charlatans. 

5. Don’t equate money with success. I know a few rich people whose lives are a mess. Pity their children. 

6. Always tell the truth. Always. ALWAYS. ALWAYS!!!!! But you don’t always have to tell everything you know. A girlfriend who asks, “Does this dress make me look fat?” doesn’t really want to know. You are a fool if you tell her it does, unless you are eager to be rid of her, or think you look good with a bloody nose. 

7. Be generous. It will always come back. And if it doesn’t, sometimes lending money to people who then avoid you because they don’t want to repay you can be the best money you ever spend. 

8. Tip your waitress well. The worst witness I can think of is a Christian who leaves a tract for a tip. Jerks like that deserve to have hot coffee poured in their laps. I would even volunteer. 

9. Listen well. You learn more when you hear than when you talk. Pay particular attention to the little guy. The one you slap on your way up is the same one you’ll meet on your way down. Count on it; he’ll remember. And sooner or later, you will go both ways. 

10. Don’t be a slob. Dress as well as you can. Torn jeans and a dirty shirt doesn’t impress anyone. Seeing your underwear makes me want to puke. In them. Put things away. Brush your teeth. Except for movie and rock stars, slobs are just ordinary slobs. Movie and rock stars can be extraordinary slobs. I’ve never met a slob I wanted to follow, unless it was so I could push him into a shower. Or a garbage truck.

11. Don’t pick your nose in public. Or your butt. 

12. Always be kind to children. They are going to be in charge when you are old. You won’t want them remembering you as a creep. 

13. Learn the difference between principled compromise and compromising your principles. 

14. Forgive those who don’t deserve it. That’s what forgiveness is all about. Don’t ever say, “This is too big to forgive.” If it isn’t big, just get over it. Forgiveness is for the big stuff. And forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting. It means to let it go. People who hold onto their hurt only hurt themselves. Forgiveness is God’s way of helping you heal. Refusing to forgive is like drinking poison to kill your enemy. It’s just plain stupid. 

15. Emotion Follows Motion. Remember that. Too many people believe that they can only do what they feel like doing. If you act cheerful when you don’t feel it, you will soon begin to feel it. If you act loving when you don’t feel it, you will soon begin to feel it. People who only do what they feel are slaves to everyone else. Don’t let someone else’s actions, words, attitudes determine who you are. The only one who has the right to tell you who you are is God. Don’t believe the devil’s lies. He has lots of them, so get to know God’s truth. 

16. Avoid angry people. Even if they are talented, wealthy, popular, influential. Stay as far as you can from them. They are a lightning rod for trouble, only it will hit you. Even if they are likeable, keep them at arm’s length. I tell you this from painful personal experience. 

17. Tell your mom you love her. She likes to hear it, and you need to say it. If nothing else, it reminds you that you are not the center of the universe. Corollary: remember her birthday. Better yet, remember her on yours. She did the work; why should you get all the cake?

Well, I could go on and on, but that would violate my last point: KISS. You know all about that. Abraham Lincoln said it best: “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.” With that, I close. I can’t imagine that you would want any more. Most of us have more advice than we want, which is why I often tell people, “Take my advice; I’m not using it.” I must say however, that what I’ve said above is daily stuff that has made a difference in my life.

There is one more thing, and may the most useful: You will run into people who badmouth you, betray, you belittle you (or others). The best way I have learned to deal with people like that is to remember a little poem I learned a long time ago: “Come what will/Come what may/Dogs will bark/And asses bray.” That about sums it up.

Uncle Jim