L’ Chaim!

 November 30, 2020

Joy almost leapt off the screen. An abortion-minded woman had come into the pregnancy center where our daughter is the Executive Director, but by the time she left, she had decided to keep her baby. Jessie excitedly shared the good news because doesn’t usually happen this way; the victories in this business are small, the disappointments great. It is tragic that so many precious lives have been thrown away in this country since 1973. I'm glad this won't be one of them. This thing we call life which we value so greatly and guard so jealously is not treasured by all. The genocide we call abortion has claimed nearly 60 million lives, legally I might add. It's impossible to turn on the news without hearing of someone whose life has been snuffed out by someone else who valued the high of a drug or the approval of friends more than life. There seems to be no shortage of young men and women who value jihad more than life, willing to kill indiscriminately, even blowing themselves up for the cause. Not everyone values life. 

Seeing life as precious is really a Christian thing. We see it as the breath of God himself, something to be treasured because it is a gift from his hand. It is quite mysterious. I've watched the breath of life leave the body more times than I like to remember, most recently—my mother—and it never ceases to amaze me how one moment there is life, and the next, there is not. The difference between a person and a corpse is this fleeting thing we call life. We know when it's there and when it's not; we can prolong it or shorten it, but what is it, really? Is it merely electrical impulses in the brain, the heart pumping blood through arteries and veins, lungs inhaling and exhaling precious oxygen? Whatever we can explain medically or scientifically, life itself is still a mystery. One moment there are two cells-egg and sperm-the next, they unite and immediately something begins to happen as that newly fertilized egg begins to divide. At the other end, we stand around a hospital bed, anxious and fearful yet hopeful until that last exhalation. Something has happened, and we weep.

The Creed says "I believe in Jesus Christ...who was conceived by the Holy Spirit..." This is a theological as well as a biological statement, neither of which is fully amenable to explanation. Biologically, how do we explain normal conception, let alone this one? Theologically, it flows naturally from the Biblical understanding that sin infected all of humanity through Adam, the male. Being conceived by the Holy Spirit means that God bypassed the sin connection, so that Jesus didn't have the same flawed spiritual genetics that have been passed on to the rest of humankind. I cannot say I understand it, but I can say I understand what it means: God in Christ has entered this human life by the slenderest of threads—that of conception—in order to redeem mankind from the curse of sin.

In our COVID-obsessed world, we hear every day how many people died from it; it is certainly a tragedy, but many of the same people who hang on every sad COVID enumeration think nothing of the far more numerous innocent victims of our nation’s infant genocide. Our Jewish brothers and sisters who experienced lawful genocide in the Holocaust have an appreciation for life that the rest of us often miss, as they joyfully sing, “L’ Chaim!” “To Life!”

Son of God

 November 29, 202

Today is the first Sunday of Advent, the season of the Christian year designed to prepare us not only for Christmas, but even more, to prepare us for Christ’s second coming at the end of time. The Creed is divided into three sections that reveal its Trinitarian purpose. It is quite fitting that as Advent begins, we now come to the second part which deals with the person and work of Jesus Christ.

It is interesting that the bulk of the Apostles' Creed centers on the person and work of Jesus Christ; after all, it is (apart from the Scriptures themselves) one of the primary documents of the Christian faith. After distinguishing which god we worship (the Father Almighty), the Creed speaks of Jesus Christ as Lord, which designation as we noted two days ago, is far more demanding of us than any of the modern counterparts in contemporary government. But three little words slip in almost imperceptibly: "his only Son." It is a common error to associate this phrase with the words that follow concerning the conception and birth of Jesus, but when the Bible and the Creed speak of the Sonship of Jesus Christ, they are not speaking of something that happened in time, as if the Second Person of the Godhead became "the Son" upon his birth to the Virgin Mary. Not at all! Christ is eternally the Son of God. In Isaiah 9:6 we read, "Unto us a child is born, a Son is given." The wording is specific: the Son is not born; he is given. That is because the Son is eternally who he is; he didn't suddenly become the Son upon the birth of the child Jesus.

Sonship in Biblical time indicated primarily two things: identity and authoritative inheritance. Ancient Hebrew didn't have adjectives like ours. One didn't say for example, "That man is devilish." Instead it would be said that "he is a son of the devil." In the same way, a godly man would be called a "son of God." So when in John's Gospel Philip asks Jesus to show them the Father, Jesus replies, "he who has seen me has seen the Father." Why? Because Jesus is the Son of God, i.e., like his Father.

We tend to think of the terms "Son of God and Son of Man" in almost the reverse of their original intent. As Son of God, Jesus the man showed us in human flesh what God is like. "Son of Man" however, has its roots in Daniel where that designation refers to divinity. It only remains to examine that word his "only" Son. That is where we might say divinity kicks in. Jesus Christ in human flesh uniquely reveals the Father to us; no one else can even come close to the revelation we see in him. Again, as Jesus told Philip, "If you've seen me, you've seen the Father." 

People have all kinds of ideas about God. Some are pretty imaginative, many are completely inaccurate; only one gets it right, and that's Jesus, because as St. Paul says, in him the fullness of the Godhead dwelt bodily (Colossians 2:9). Those are pretty lofty words, but nothing less will do. It’s tempting to think of him at this time of year only as a little baby, but this child was and is, Lord of all, God in the flesh, the Son given to us so that we might experience God as his Father, and ours.

Friends

 November 28, 2020

A curious phrase is found in the list of Solomon’s advisors as recorded in 1 Kings 4. Picking up in the middle of the list, we read, ““Elihoreph and Ahijah, the sons of Shisha, scribes; Jehoshaphat the son of Ahilud, the recorder; Benaiah the son of Jehoiada, over the army; Zadok and Abiathar, the priests; Azariah the son of Nathan, over the officers; Zabud the son of Nathan, a priest and the king’s friend;”

All these were important and powerful people in Solomon’s administration; people who had proven themselves capable and trustworthy, but one stands out; Zabud was not only a priest, but also the king’s friend. Heads of state live in a different world than most of us. Like many wealthy or famous people, they can never be sure if those who sidle up to them are genuinely interested in them, or whether they’re interested in what they can get from them. Genuine friendships are hard enough to come by for ordinary folks; for celebrities, it’s almost impossible. 

What an honor and responsibility to be a friend of a king; to be the one in whom the most powerful man in the world turns to when sorrowful or worn out with the duties of the realm! The others had power and prestige, along with the financial rewards that come with the job, but Zabud was the king’s friend.

A good friend is available when the crisis hits, is ready to listen to a broken heart or hopes and  dreams, is not afraid to confront and challenge, will speak truth, and will spend time with you just for the sake of the friendship. A good friend knows when to be silent, and when to stand up. A good friend holds the same values and shares the same perspective. Zabud was the king’s friend.

All of which makes me wonder. Jesus said he no longer calls us servants, but friends, adding, “for all things that I heard from my Father I have made known to you.” There you have it: intimacy—Jesus is willing to reveal his innermost thoughts and feelings to us. Earlier, he states the foundation of this friendship: he is willing to lay down his life for his friends, and we are his friends if we do whatever he commands us (John 15:13-15). The question is, how much do I value his friendship? Do I value the price he willingly paid for my sins? How am I doing at obeying his commands? Do I follow him only when convenient? Am I available to him, eager to simply spend time with him? Do I love the people he loves, treasure what he values? Or am I like so many who simply get close for what they can get out of the king?

Zabud was the king’s friend. What about me? What about you?

Monarchy

 November 27, 2020

In the Christian liturgical calendar, last Sunday was "Christ the King" Sunday, a celebration often lost in the shuffle of Thanksgiving celebrations. Strange it is that the same Christians who are upset over the commercialization of Christmas have allowed the secular culture's Thanksgiving usurp this particular observance of the Christian year, but that's an entirely different matter than what I have in mind today.

Since 1776, we Americans have distanced ourselves from the concept of kingship. Though it's a respected office and has many of the opulent trappings of royalty, our presidency is quite a different bird than any monarchy. And for most of the world, monarchy is but a shadow of what it once was, with ultimate political, social, legal, and military power concentrated in a single person who holds that power by virtue of lineage alone. Perhaps the best known monarchy today, that of England, is more titular than actual. It wasn't always this way. 

Yet in our faith, we remain saddled with terminology that while historic, doesn't fully convey the meaning it once did. We speak of Jesus Christ as King, or as the Creed says, "I believe in Jesus Christ our Lord," (another monarchial term), without really grasping the significance of the word. We think more in democratic terms in which our leaders are elected by virtue of popularity and hopefully competence, and know that we can fire them in the next round of elections. A king or lord on the other hand, has absolute and utter power over his subjects. He rules by divine right, not by the will of the people (at least until the people rise up and depose him through insurrection or war). Strangely, we humans seem to prefer monarchies and dictatorships; we are witnessing many would-be kings in the form of governors and politicians who increasingly rule by fiat instead of consent. That too, is a story for another day.

When we claim Jesus Christ as Lord, it is much more than boss or manager, whose power may be real, but is never absolute. Perhaps the closest to the concept is the Don of mafia infamy, but without the corruption. When I say, "Jesus is Lord," I am relinquishing all say in the matter of my life. My choices, my will mean nothing; his is everything. It is a pretty solemn statement, which we should not take lightly. And yet how often have I mouthed the words while clinging to my independence and insistence upon my rights? To claim Jesus as Lord takes a huge weight of responsibility off our shoulders, but at the same time lays a heavy burden upon us to yield all things in life into his hands-not an easy task by any means. Nevertheless, I am grateful to be able to say, "Jesus is Lord;" it gives me my goal, even when I fall short.

Streams in the Desert

 November 26, 2020

In 1918, due to his ill health, seventeen years of missionary work in Japan and Korea came to an end when Charles and Lettie Cowman returned to the United States. They had founded the Oriental Missionary Society, proclaimed the Gospel to sixty million Japanese, and had plans for evangelizing all of Asia. Mr. Cowman’s health continued to decline until he died in 1924. His wife continued and expanded the work into Eastern Europea in addition to India, China, and Central and South America. 

Mrs. Cowman also wrote, out of her own grief at watching her husband suffer and die. Her first book, a daily devotional called Streams in the Desert, was published in 1925, and has been reprinted many times over the years. The copy I brought home following my mother’s funeral has a copywrite date of 1950, and is heavily noted and underlined in her neat, secretarial script.

Today’s reading is taken from Joshua 15:18-19. Caleb said to her, “What do you wish?” She answered, “Give me a blessing; since you have given me land in the South, give me also springs of water.” So he gave her the upper springs and the lower springs.   

Cowman writes, “There are both upper and lower springs. They are springs, not stagnant pools. There are joys and blessings that flow from above through the hottest summer and the most desert land of sorrow and trial...

“There are springs that flow in the low places of life, in the hard places, in the desert places, in the lone place, in the common places, and no matter what may be our situation, we can always find these upper springs.” 

She goes on to enumerate various Bible heroes who found sustenance and refreshment in the Lord in the midst of difficult and trying circumstances, concluding, “We can find them all the year if we have the Comforter in our hearts and have learned to say with David, “All my springs are in thee.” Jesus himself said as much when he declared to the woman at the well, “Whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. But the water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life.” —John 4:14 

Across our nation and world, we are experiencing trials such as most of us have not seen in our lifetime. People are worried and afraid, confused and angry, and on this day of national Thanksgiving, it is tempting to think all is lost. Many of us are in a desert place, and the springs that we’ve come to depend upon are drying up, which is why it is so critical to trust in Jesus Christ, who alone can make the springs of his Holy Spirit well up from within us, providing the refreshment and life we so desperately need. May we this Thanksgiving, give praise to our God hrist, our Living Water...even in the desert.

Like Me

 November 25, 2015

The Apostles' Creed is built around a three-fold declaration of our faith in God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Christianity is Trinitarian, which simply means that we believe in One God, manifested in three Persons. Beyond this simple declaration, things often get sticky. Some have tried to describe Trinitarian faith as God revealing himself in three different ways, but that makes God out to be merely one Person who wears different masks at different times. Trinitarian faith declares that God is Three in One, eternally Father, eternally Son, and eternally Holy Spirit. Yeah, I don't understand it either, but I believe it. We try to understand it with analogies: an egg is white, yolk, and shell; water can be liquid, solid, or vapor, but analogies ultimately break down before the reality that is revealed in Scripture. And it is from Scripture that we derive our understanding. We would never have thought this up on our own. 

When we declare our belief "in Jesus Christ, [God's] only Son our Lord," the very least we are saying is that this person we believe to be on the same level as God, the Father Almighty. After all, it would look pretty ridiculous to insert my name or yours into the Creed at this point, but it doesn't strike us as odd to do the same with the name of Jesus Christ. That alone hints at what is to follow. I believe in Jesus Christ in a different way than if I were to say I believe in you. And the only reason I can say this at all is because of what we learn about this man in Holy Scripture. Despite what the cults, agnostics, and other religions say about Jesus, the only sure record we have of this man's life clearly indicate how unique he was, so much so that the same kind of language used of God is regularly applied to him. And by devout monotheistic Jews, no less! One can choose to disbelieve the record of the New Testament, but it is impossible to deny that its authors believed that this man was who he claimed to be: God himself, in the flesh.

I need this God in the flesh. It means that God has a human face. This One so different than me in my weakness and sinfulness is like me, has chosen to rub shoulders with me. This God is not some distant, detached deity; he is nearby, he understands, and he cares enough to become one of us. For this, I am grateful tonight.

Principalities & Powers

November 24, 2020

St. Paul toward the end of his letter to the Ephesian church spoke of the "principalities and powers, the rulers of the present darkness, and spiritual wickedness in heavenly places." The terms he uses are quite specific, borrowed from the political and religious language of the day. Unfortunately, except in religious circles, we rarely talk like this today. Outside of church and Hollywood's horror genre of movies, people occasionally speak of someone being an angel, but talk of demons and evil spiritual powers will get you branded as some sort of fanatic weirdo.

Even in religious circles, we don't really know what to do with this Biblical kind of talk. While some religious groups speak freely about demons, if you listen carefully, it often seems like their conception of such things are formed more by film than by Christian faith. I tread on thin ice here; just because I haven't personally experienced some of the strange manifestations others have experienced doesn't mean they are crazy. They might be, but it would be highly arrogant of me to assert that if I haven't experienced something, it doesn't exist.

Nevertheless, when I read of "principalities and powers, of demons and spiritual wickedness," I have to ask what Paul had experienced that made him talk that way. My assumption is that human experience hasn't changed much in the 2000 years since these words were written. For certain, life is modernized in a way that would have been miraculous to people of the first century, but people still experience love, hatred, joy, sorrow, oppression, and uncertainty. So I ask that question. "What did the Biblical writers experience that made them talk that way," and, "What corresponds in human experience today that we describe in different terms?" 

Walter Wink, late professor of Biblical Interpretation at Auburn seminary, wrote three books dealing with the language of power in the New Testament, in which he explored this very concept. He asks what it is that we experience today that corresponds to what was experienced in the 1st century that they used this kind of language to describe. He was dissatisfied with how we conceive of "spirit," as if it were some self-existent ghostly entity. When we speak of "team spirit," it is very real, but ceases to exist if the team dissolves. The same can be said of a "mob spirit," or a "corporate spirit." It is interesting that we use these words differently in religious settings than we do in the corporate or sports world. 

Wink describes "spirit" as the "interiority" of a person or group of people. The corporate spirit of Starbucks for example, is quite distinct from the corporate spirit of Anheuser-Busch. They both trade in liquid refreshment, but they are very different. And should these corporations disband, the corporate spirit would also disappear.

When St. Paul speaks of spiritual powers in heavenly places, he is describing something operating in this world that cannot be seen, but is very real. And according to him, it is evil. We've all felt it at different times. The young woman battling depression, the middle-aged man struggling with alcohol addiction, the couple in a macabre death-dance of abuse and victimization, the corporate executive driven to succeed at all costs, the courting of death shared by abortionists and ISIS alike, the political powers that ravenously consume everything and everyone that gets in the way of its voracious appetite for complete control--this is not adequately explained in psychological, medical, social, or political categories. 

When the Bible talks of principalities and powers, it is to these very real human experiences it speaks. And it is with these realities we deal, clothed in the spiritual armor, fighting in prayer. And when the Creed speaks of "the heavens and the earth," it is to remind us that the world we see, and that which is unseen but very real and very powerful, was made by God. He still remains above and beyond it, yet deeply involved in it through the incarnation of his Son Jesus. When we recite the Creed, we are driving a stake in the ground, reminding both ourselves and the powers that seek to gain ultimate control over us that God is God, the Father Almighty to save. And for that I am eternally thankful.

 

Heaven & Earth

 November 23, 2020

Yesterday I wrote about the phrase in the Creed that goes, "Maker of heaven and earth," but fell victim to the very fault I have found in others: I threw around some religious words that at best were unclear, and at worst, muddied up the waters considerably. In the second-to-last paragraph I wrote about God's creation of heaven and earth, and things went downhill from there.

I said, "We tend to think of heaven as being in the same physical category as earth, but St. Paul's use of the language in his letter to the Ephesians suggests otherwise. The "heavens" is the realm where God rules uncontested. They are that part of creation that we cannot see, but which is as real as physical matter. It is where angels and archangels...and the demonic spirits dwell." To anyone unfamiliar with Christianeze, this explains nothing, and due to the baggage certain concepts carry in our culture, I may have been more harmful than helpful. So tonight I'll try to rectify the matter.

In talking with people about heaven, it is common for people to think in purely physical terms. Heaven is up in the clouds; hell is somewhere below our feet. This is not unexpected, after all, most of us would prefer to have clouds over our heads rather than dirt. As our knowledge of the Universe has grown, we've gotten more sophisticated about it, but we still think in mostly physical terms. This is not altogether improper. Later in the Creed we speak of the resurrection of the body, a very physical matter indeed. Christianity takes this physical body and world of ours very seriously. Heaven and earth are destined to be renewed, not destroyed. In the Revelation, John sees a "new heaven and earth." Some of the cults have a better understanding of this than most Christians. But to speak of the heavens as where angels and demons reside is to miss the point and run the risk of descending into a fantastical and perhaps imaginary world that has more in common with science fiction than Scripture.

I think it would be better to think of heaven and earth in the terminology of the Nicene Creed which speaks of things "visible and invisible." To say that God created things we cannot see is different (and more) than to say he created the realm where spirits dwell. For most people today, that kind of language is meaningless at best, and misleading at worst. But to speak of things invisible is to speak of that with which we are all familiar. For example, I cannot see love. I can't touch it, can't weigh it. But it is just as real, perhaps more so, than the keyboard on which I type. Where did that love come from? Is love merely the accidental confluence of atoms and molecules in my brain? Is it limited to the electrical impulses that jump between the synapses or the dopamine that certain glands secrete? I don't know of too many people who would make such a claim, and of those that do, I can't imagine being satisfied with being told that any affection one might have towards me is merely these physical mechanisms. Can love be stripped so barren and remain love? 

But if it is more than this, where did it come from? How did it evolve? When we declare that God created things invisible, it is this realm of which we speak. Of course, this invisible world also contains hatred, betrayal, lust and greed, but these are perversions and distortions of the good, not the opposite of them. It is in this invisible world where sin and salvation play out. But God created it, and deep down at its core, it is good. For that world I am thankful tonight. It is what makes this physical world beautiful. Tomorrow I'll write a bit on the angels and demons part. 

Father Almighty

 November 22, 2020

Sometimes a single line is worth the price of the whole book. Way back in another lifetime, an odd set of circumstances landed me in a liberal United Methodist Seminary, quite a contrast from my independent Baptist upbringing and Wesleyan Methodist collegiate experience. I felt back then and still do today that much of my seminary education was a waste of time. Except for that single line. It came in the form of a question written in red ink on a paper I wrote for a Systematic Theology class taught by Dr. Paul Hessert. I couldn't tell you the name of any other professor I had, which tells you something about the impression they, and Dr. Hessert by comparison, had on me. 

If you wanted to know the subject of that paper I'd have to dig through my files to find it, but I can tell you the exact wording of Dr. Hessert's question: "When you say 'God,' what do you mean?" No one had so brazenly challenged my assumptions before. He followed up that question with a statement. "I want to know what you mean by 'God,' not what someone else has written." His question began a process in me that continues to this day of carefully choosing the religious words I use. I've discovered that there are plenty of preachers who throw words around without considering what they really mean.

The Apostles' Creed begins by affirming faith in "God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth." I wrote yesterday concerning the first words of the Creed. Tonight I've been thinking of the second phrase in this beginning declaration of faith. It is important that we do so, because we aren't here merely talking about the weather or the latest sports scores, but about what moves us, what remains when all else in life is removed. When that happens, we had better know what we really believe.

When I declare that I believe in God, the Father Almighty, I am by implication declaring also my faith in Jesus Christ, since God is our Father only because he is first the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is Jesus who taught us that God is our Father; we are his children secondarily, because we are "in" Jesus Christ, who is the firstborn, the only begotten Son of God. Those words are highly charged, and would require volumes to begin to unpack their significance, but for tonight, it is enough to know that it is by virtue of our being in Christ that God is our Father. 

The Creed goes on to say that this God/Father is Almighty. We don’t always put the two together. Almighty sounds harsh and controlling, whereas Father conjures up images of intimacy and kindness...but not for everyone. Martin Luther says it was a long time before he could say the Lord’s Prayer because his earthly father was such a brutish man. The Creed affirms that the Almighty is also tender and compassionate towards us. 

The Creed continues by saying this God who is Father Almighty is the Maker of heaven and earth. The Nicene Creed states this a bit differently when it says he created things visible and invisible. We tend to think of heaven as being in the same physical category as earth, but St. Paul's use of the language in his letter to the Ephesians suggests otherwise. The "heavens" is the realm where God rules uncontested. They are that part of creation that we cannot see, but which is as real as physical matter. It is where angels and archangels...and the demonic spirits dwell. 

When the Creed says that God made all this, it means among other things, that he stands outside of it all. He is not subject to it, but rules over it. At those times in life when it seems no one is minding the store, to know that God made all that is, both visible and invisible, and is a loving Father, is reassuring. Heaven and earth declare God's glory, revealing in part his character, but they are not to be worshipped because they like us, are finite. Our God, the Father Almighty, made all that is, and as Maker, stands outside of it, all of which is subject to his eternal purposes that are wrapped up in Jesus Christ. All of which tells me that if I keep centered on Christ, all will be well. And for that, I am truly thankful tonight.

Which God?

November 21, 2020

It’s Saturday night. Tomorrow, we will gather together to worship God. We will begin the service with the Apostles’ Creed, the ancient statement of faith that declares which of the many gods of this world we Christians worship. The Creed begins with "I believe;" in Latin "Credo," obviously where we get the term. This single word begs the question: What do I really believe? Sometimes we need to remind ourselves of the beliefs we hold to be most important. That which is most easily apparent to us-the physical world in which we live doesn't really give us much in which to believe, but it has the ability to drown out the still, small voice of God. In our postmodern world, the heavens don't declare the handiwork of God, they have become for us simply stars, gas, and empty space that just happened to burst into existence all on it own billions of years ago. Even our terminology-"the Natural World"- has detached us from the eternal significance of Creation. 

What do I really believe? And why do I believe it? Do I accept this Creed merely because I was raised by Christian parents who took me to church and made sure I was taught certain things? Would I believe differently had I been born in India, Iraq, or Indonesia? It's hard to say, but it does no good to speculate about hypothetical situations. This much I know: I believe in God, the Father Almighty. Each word is significant, and even the comma is important. 

There are many gods worshipped in this world. The word "God" is pretty generic. It's the modifying phrase that identifies the God in whom I believe: he is the Father Almighty. It was Jesus who taught us that the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob is not some distant deity, but a loving father. And this fatherly God is also Almighty. We don't often juxtapose those two concepts, but for Christian faith to be authentic and apostolic, both are necessary. A god who is a loving father but not almighty would be a pushover, indulgent and ultimately incompetent and unnecessary. A god who is only almighty would be unapproachable, fearsome and cold. Our God  is both Father and Almighty, able to do all he purposes to do, including loving and forgiving his erring children. This is our God; there is none like him. In a world where "Allahu akbar" is often followed by some murderous atrocity, I am grateful to be a follower of a different God, "the Father Almighty." 

Give Thanks, No Matter What

 November 20, 2020

Martin Rinkart was a Lutheran minister who came to Eilenburg, Saxony at the beginning of the Thirty Years' War. The walled city of Eilenburg became the refuge for political and military fugitives, but the result was overcrowding, and deadly pestilence and famine. Armies overran it three times. The Rinkart home was a refuge for the victims, even though he was often hard-pressed to provide for his own family. During the height of a severe plague in 1637, Rinkart was the only surviving pastor in Eilenburg, conducting as many as 50 funerals in a day. He performed more than 4000 funerals in that year, including that of his wife. Before the epidemic was over, he buried some 8,000 people, often in trenches and without services.

Rinkart was an accomplished musician as well as a pastor, and in 1647 wrote one of the most revered hymns giving praise to God for his blessings. Considering all he had experienced, his hymn is testimony to a faith even deeper than the adversity that had filled so much of his life. In a day and age where so much Christian music consists of little more than love songs to Jesus, Rinkart’s words stand faithfully defiant against all the ills this world can throw at us. In our present pandemic, it would be good to remember that life has often been much more difficult than we can imagine. Rinkart and many others chose to live and serve faithfully, refusing to give in to fear. We can be thankful tonight for this man of God who directs us to the Triune God who still rules and cares for his children, no matter what comes.

Now thank we all our God, 

with heart and hands and voices,

Who wondrous things has done, 

in Whom this world rejoices;

Who from our mothers’ arms 

has blessed us on our way

With countless gifts of love,

and still is ours today.

O may this bounteous God 

through all our life be near us,

With ever joyful hearts 

and blessed peace to cheer us;

And keep us in His grace,

and guide us when perplexed;

And free us from all ills, 

in this world and the next!

All praise and thanks to God 

the Father now be given;

The Son and Him Who reigns 

with Them in highest Heaven;

The one eternal God, 

whom earth and Heaven adore;

For thus it was, is now, 

and shall be evermore.

Medicare Advantage

 November 19, 2020

We were young and stupid. That’s the only explanation for some of the things we believed back then. Every year at Annual Conference, some of the old guys would make impassioned speeches urging us to vote increases in the compensation, benefits, and retirement for pastors. Some of us were idealistic; we didn’t get into this business of preaching to make money, but to serve the Lord. He would take care of us, we reasoned. But the old guys were good. They could reason, argue, cajole, and shame, ultimately steamrolling our noble ignorance with their proposals.

Over the years, the United Methodist Church and I have had a somewhat testy relationship. My independent Baptist background didn’t always jive with the more liberal United Methodist culture, but if there’s anything the UMC does well, it’s taking care of their pastors. 

For the past three or four weeks, we’ve been inundated with offers for Medicare Advantage plans. It’s the season; we have till December 7 to decide if we want to keep our present plan or change to something else. Everyone has a plan they want to sell us, but how do we know which is best for us? Everyone wants us to believe their product is the best for us, but these letters and phone calls don’t necessarily represent our best interests; they’re just trying to make a living. Fortunately, we have an ace up our sleeves. Today we had a telephone appointment with a representative from our United Methodist benefits agency. Their specialists have access to all the various Medicare supplemental insurance plans available to us, and can make on the spot comparisons on our behalf. I don’t know how people navigate this stuff on their own. Our conversation today resulted in a considerable savings from our present plan. 

Tonight I am thankful for those older pastors who years ago fought the good fight for us, for the health insurance we have, and for the assistance we received today to make a good choice. Our long-ago naive faith that God would provide for us wasn’t in vain; it’s just that he did it through the ministrations of those saints who stood their ground, giving those then young and now old pastors a gift that has kept giving for forty years.

Work

 November 18, 2020

It used to be called the Puritan work ethic. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was raised on it; my father was adamant that you don’t play till the work is done. If that means no play, so be it. That ethic has stood me in good stead for seventy years, perhaps a little too good, since I find it hard to just relax for a day. If I don’t accomplish something, I feel that my day is wasted, and as I’m on the home stretch of life, I don’t want to waste what time God gives me. It’s too precious a gift to fritter away on stuff that doesn’t matter.

The trick is determining what matters. When I was pastoring, it was easy to prioritize. God came first, then family, church, community, and last of all, me. As you can imagine, there usually wasn’t much left for me at the end of the day. I have no complaints; I chose as I believed I should. But now my time is invested in un religious stuff. Through the summer and fall, I took time to work my bees. Linda and I made weekly trips to Rochester to see my mother, often staying overnight. That season is over and yesterday and today were spent wiring the laundry room. Lord willing, tomorrow I’ll work on the plumbing; pretty ordinary stuff. 

It would be easy to say my present work isn’t as important as that which I spent most of my life doing, but that Puritan ethic reminds me that all work done in the name of Jesus is holy work upon which he smiles a blessing. The God who carefully formed the first man out of the dust of the earth, who breathed life into him; the God who calls the stars by name, who raised up the mountains and set a boundary for the seas; this God works and invites us to work alongside him in a calling made holy by his presence. Tonight I am tired and sore, but grateful to be able to flip a switch and have the lights come on in the laundry room. It may not seem like holy work, but when I flip that switch, I participate in the work of the God who said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. My work is a reflection of God’s, and that makes it holy.

Old & New

 November 17, 2020

“Then He said to them, “Therefore every scribe instructed concerning the kingdom of heaven is like a householder who brings out of his treasure things new and old.”” —Matthew 13:52

It’s interesting to me that we Americans who are usually infatuated with anything new, are now longing to go back to the “old ways.” We hear the phrase, “the new normal,” and cringe. It may be new, but unless you’re among those few who get to decide the rules for everyone else, you prefer the old normal. 

The Bible gives us quite a wide berth when it comes to “new” and “old.” Christians love to quote Christ’s words in the Revelation: “Behold, I make all things new” (21:5), or Paul’s word to the Corinthian Christians, “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things are passed away; behold, all things are new” (2 Cor. 5:17). Jesus talked of new wineskins and a new covenant, but also said that he didn’t come to destroy the old, but to fulfill it. Paul tells us to contend for the “faith once delivered,” and to be wary of new teaching. There are times when old is good.

I am grateful for that, especially as I fit so snugly into the “old” category myself. I am thankful my wife doesn’t think life would be better with a new husband, and I am absolutely certain my life wouldn’t be better with a new wife. Actually, if I tried, there wouldn’t be any life, better or not. Tonight, we are sitting in our Millstone room, the fire dying in the stove before us, the dog lying on the floor before it. All three of us are old; we feel it in our bones. Nevertheless, our hearts are young. We have the advantage of the householder who in Jesus’ story has stuff tucked away ‘just in case.’ We appreciate new things; we love newborn babies, appreciate a new car when the old one wears out, and soon, our new laundry room will mean these old bones don’t have to navigate the steep cellar stairs on a daily basis. 

Living as long as we have means we not only have an attic full of stuff we don’t know what to do with, but for sentimental reasons don’t want to throw it out; it also means we have a storeroom of experience to draw upon when current circumstances get a bit dicey. We don’t panic over the election, aren’t terrified by COVID, and are content with what we have and who we are, even when it requires work. Yesterday, I spoke of editing these posts, and more than a few people have volunteered to hold my feet to the fire. The good news is, I have lots of material. The bad news is, I have lots of material. But I made a promise, and even worse, I made it public, so this old geezer is on his way, encouraged by the fact that Moses was 80 when God called him to lead Israel out of Egypt. If the pattern holds, I’ve got another forty-nine years to Get ‘R Done!

A Dream

 November 16, 2020

A dream without a plan is only a wish. And a plan without action is nothing. For a couple years now, I’ve been encouraged by friends to put my nightly musings into book form. I’ve started and stopped a dozen times; editing is harder than writing, deciding what is worth including and what needs to be left behind, and I’m no further along today than I was last year when I set a goal to finally get it done. 

“Ready, Set, Dream” is a class my son leads to help people identify and accomplish life goals. After listening to the ravings of those who’ve taken the class, I decided to give it a try myself. It is rewarding to be challenged and humbled by one’s offspring; tonight, in addition to compiling a list of our goals, Nate had us organize them by ETA—estimated time of arrival: one, five, and ten year goals. He then talked about the significance of small adjustments up front that can make a big difference down the road. There was a lot more to the class, but the important part was the ending; our commitment to take the first step tomorrow. It doesn’t have to be a big step, but it must be taken. So, tomorrow, I begin...again. Even if nothing I read turns out to be worth using in a book, I’ll have taken a step. My goal? To have 365 pages by the end of 2021.

It’ll be a lot of work, but the dream has a plan, and tomorrow it begins. I am thankful tonight for my son, who challenges his father to be the best and do the most he can to fulfill a dream that has been sleeping for too long.

Calm Down!

 November 15, 2020

Recently, I was in an online conversation with a high school friend whose political proclivities are much different than mine, but with whom I can have a civil conversation—somewhat rare these days. A friend of hers chimed in, and the essence of their conversations dealt with the inner unrest they have felt because of president Trump. Referencing the rioting in DC and COVID’s continual spread, the friend’s last words were, “so much for calming down. Wish I could harness how you do it!” 

I responded with, “I know how, but most people aren’t willing to actually do the work to calm down.” It starts with where our lives are centered. In today’s reading from Our Daily Light devotional, the centering of our lives is described:

“God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” 

Organizing life around anything that can be taken away is a sure recipe for anxiety. Savings, family, political alliances, health...all these can evaporate overnight. If my well-being is dependent on any of these (and everything else in this earthly life), sooner or later, my well-being won’t be very well. it is one thing to have faith in the sunshine; quite another to have it in the storm. 

The devotional continues:

“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.—God said, “I will make my dwelling among them and walk among them, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.”—Indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ.”

This is where most people walk away. The faith we profess must be held with the desperation of a drowning man to a life ring. I know plenty of people who gave the appearance of faithfulness when things were going their way, but when life crashed, they did, too. Their grip on Christ was tenuous, and though Christ promises to never abandon us, we will not experience the security and assurance of those promises if we fail to cling to them as Mary clung to the hem of Jesus’ garment in the garden (John 20). Christ promises to be with us, but when our gaze is fixed on what we have lost or stand to lose, it is not fixed on him, who alone is our Rock and Fortress. Such “holding fast” is not easy, and is not for the faint-hearted. Only when we do so can we accomplish the next part of the devotional text:

“Rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed. That you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”

We Americans have been spared the kind of suffering common in many parts of the world and throughout much of human history. Sure, we know the suffering of illness, betrayal, and loss, but we haven’t experienced persecution. The time may be drawing near, and if so, it will be a refiner’s fire, purifying and separating the gold from the dross. I am not an alarmist, and certainly don’t have a hotline to God’s mind on these things, but we all have the same Scriptures, which prepare us for challenges by urging us to trust in Christ; first, for the forgiveness of our sins, and then for strength and help for the day.

Years ago when visiting Beijing, I listened to an aged Chinese pastor who had endured much persecution during Mao’s purges. He spoke of many things, but the one thing that I remember from this saint who himself had endured so much, was a simple statement: “Persecution is not good for those who love Jesus a little. It is good for those who love Jesus a lot.” 

Tonight, I am thankful for this devotional that Linda and I have used for years. Today it gave the answer to that woman’s plea—“Wish I could harness how you do it!” 

1 COR. 1: 9. HEB. 10: 23. 2 COR. 6: 16. 1 JOHN 1: 3. 1 PET. 4: 13. EPH. 3: 17—19.— Daily Light on the Daily Path (From the Holy Bible, English Standard Version): The Classic Devotional Book For Every Morning and Evening in the Very Words of Scripture by Jonathan Bagster

Not as Planned

November 14, 2020

The only problem with DIY projects is that inevitably I get to a point where DIY becomes “call the pro.” I had great plans for today. Linda had taken the girls for their annual Christmas shopping spree at Grove City, and I had a full day to get things done. Full that is, after fixing breakfast for three of the grandkids, taxiing two of them to a going-away gathering for a friend, and the other to a soccer scrimmage. I rushed to the store for the parts I needed for my project, rushed home, and discovered there was no way I was going to accomplish the one small task necessary to get to the next step. 

Back to town to pick up the soccer kid, then to camp for the other two, and another try at the project. Nope. 

The day isn’t totally lost. After a gourmet meal of Ramen noodles, I’m writing, and will soon work out. Maybe even practice my bass. Though the day didn’t turn out quite as planned, I’m not in the same boat as so many whose lives didn’t turn out as planned. Sickness, accidents, poverty and hunger, or relationships that ran aground, haven’t been my lot in life. I am blessed beyond measure, and thankful that God willing, I will sleep well and wake in the morning rested to worship and give praise to my Maker and Redeemer.

 

Pressure

 November 13, 2020

Making cider is simple: gather apples, cut them in quarters, dump the pieces into the hopper, crank the grinder, fold the mesh, and start turning the screw. Pressure makes the juice flow. No grinding, no pressure, no sweet cider. The finer the grind, the more the pressure, the more cider we get. 

Much of life works that way. We love the times of ease, when the pressure’s off and we can relax. It feels good, but the sweetness doesn’t come from relaxation. It comes from the grinding and the pressure. COVID has certainly provided both, but the result hasn’t always been sweetness because the grind and the pressure can only squeeze out what is inside. Dry, bitter apples will make bitter cider, and only a small amount. So I ask myself, “What is the grinding and pressure bringing out in me? Am I producing sweet nourishment or bitter disappointment? I hope the former, but fear the latter. 

I don’t like the pressure any more than anyone else, but it’s necessary if I am to reveal the character of Christ. The Eternal Cider Maker knows best, and won’t hesitate to put the squeeze on me to slake his thirst for holiness. And even when I resist, I am thankful that he doesn’t relent. The product is worth it. 

Winning

 November 12, 2018

Sometimes the winner doesn’t come in first. Let me explain. Our granddaughters Izzi and Jo were quadruple winners at the county swim meet tonight. Izzi took first place in the 200 individual medley and the 500 freestyle, while Jo took first in the 50 and 100 freestyle. Both were on the winning 200 and 400 freestyle relays. We are so very proud of the hard work they’ve put in, and the accomplishments they’ve made. 

But there was another winner tonight. She didn’t take the spotlight, didn’t post a winning time. In fact, she was dead last in her event. Because I was a timer, I got a front row seat, and saw it as no one else did. She was a bit pudgy, and when the buzzer sounded, her dive was a perfect belly flop, followed by wild flailing through the water. Four lengths...I wasn’t sure she would make it. She couldn’t do a flip turn; instead, grabbing the edge of the pool like the true beginner she was. But in my book, she was a winner. As she stepped onto the starting block, she flashed a big smile and exclaimed, “I’m having so much fun!” 

Her enthusiasm reminded me of Eddy the Eagle, the British ski jumper who came in dead last in the 1988 Olympics, but won the hearts of the fans with his enthusiasm. Winning is hot just about taking firs place; it is a matter of the heart. Gold medals are mere discs; the accolades fade, and names that captured our imagination one moment are forgotten the next. But this young lady knew as few people do, the joy of the contest, of improving her own ability, of being a part of something that captured her imagination. My granddaughters will have their names in the paper, but this girl whose name I don’t know was just as much a winner in my book. I wish her well, and am grateful tonight for her reminder to me of what really matters.

Perspective

 November 10, 2020

These nightly meditations began back in 2012 when all the political rhetoric was heating up between Obama and Romney. I was getting caught up in it, only to discover I was losing my soul. God confronted me with four simple words: “Where is your joy?” I had to admit, I didn’t know. I determined then to focus on that which edifies, particularly, the giving of thanks.

It wasn’t as easy as you might imagine. It often felt as if I were somehow shirking my duty to decline commenting on much of the stuff people were posting, even after realizing that few people care what someone else thinks. Social media is mostly preaching to the choir. Nevertheless, in the intervening years, it has been a seesaw struggle to disengage from political ruminations. This year’s election drama has been particularly difficult, which makes my determination all the more important. 

Today, we buried mom and her sister, side by side. Aunt Marion died two years ago, and her daughter had kept her ashes, waiting for this day when we could lay them to rest together. When years ago, mom and dad decided they couldn’t keep traveling back and forth to Florida each year, mom cried almost uncontrollably. Her sister lived near them in Florida, and mom’s words were, “I’ll never see my sister again.” However, when my uncle Ray died, aunt Marion decided to move back north to be near her only daughter. God gave them nearly eight more years together. 

These two women lived through the Great Depression, World War II, the Korean and Vietnam conflicts, segregation, Civil Rights...the list goes on and on, and through it all, they raised children to be men and women of integrity, industry, and character. All the “great” events that swirled around them certainly affected them, but didn’t deter them from being the women they needed to be to fulfill God’s purposes in them. Their lives weren’t defined by the politics of the day, but rather by the purposes of their hearts. The same holds true today. Albany and Washington want us to buy into their agenda, to genuflect reverently before their all-wise pronouncements. But they do not, and cannot bestow life and the meaning of life. That is found closer to home. 

We paid our respects, offered our prayers, said our earthly goodbyes. And we give thanks for these women, for the families in which we’ve been privileged to live, and particularly for the joy that comes when we step away from the world’s agenda and see life as a holy gift from God.

Fear and Enemies

 November 9, 2020

“Saul was...afraid of David. So Saul became David’s enemy continually.” —1 Samuel 18:29. David’s star was on the rise, while Saul’s erratic leadership was becoming apparent to everyone. Saul was murderously jealous; almost everything he did was designed to destroy the one loyal man he thought was out to get him. Jealousy breeds all sorts of foul sins. David, “a man after God’s own heart,” refused to retaliate against this man who not only wanted him dead, but would go to great lengths to see to it. David’s righteousness only highlighted the contrast between him and Saul’s descent into darkness.

A true Christian will have enemies—lots of them. We are commanded to love all people, but should not expect to receive love in return. We can love because in Christ, we need fear no one. Often, people hate because they fear the holiness they see in us, if in fact, it is genuine and is showing. The first Christian martyr was Stephen, whose face shone with the glory of Christ as his murderers gnashes their teeth while dragging him away to die.

The holiness of Christ in us reveals the corruption of the hearts of those who oppose him. Fearing exposure by the light of his countenance, they make themselves enemies as they attempt to destroy that which condemns them in spite of themselves. We often wonder why those who do good are persecuted; it is because that goodness reveals by contrast the bitterness, hatred, pride, greed, and lust in the hearts of the persecutors. 

I was often surprised by the vitriol heaped upon Mother Teresa by people in the entertainment industry. “Why would they exhibit such anger and hatred for such a kind and gentle woman?” I often wondered. I’ve learned a few things since then, and I now know it was because her goodness revealed their own selfish and craven thirst for adulation. Most of us are deathly afraid that somehow, somewhere, our worst selves will come out. 

Saul was afraid of David; he didn’t need to be, but his own insecurity fueled that fear till it consumed him. It makes me wonder, who, or what am I afraid of? Have I seen someone as an enemy because he or she makes me look bad by comparison? Do I avoid those who are better and more righteous than I? Do I pass judgment on people, fearing that they will somehow gain power over me? Fear is the root of many an evil, which is why Jesus himself told us to fear God alone. I want to run towards his light, not away from it. The Light that exposes my sin is not my enemy. May I be more afraid of my sin than of the Light that exposes it so it may be forgiven.

At Your Word

 November 8, 2020

“Master, we have toiled all night and caught nothing; nevertheless, at your word, I will let down the net.” —Nevertheless at your word—the old maxim that doing the same thing will only give the same results is not always true. “At your word” changes everything.

If you’ve ever been discouraged, felt like a failure, worked hard only to see your efforts melt away like snow on a sunny spring day, you know how Peter felt that morning. After another fruitless night fishing, Jesus told Peter to launch out into deep water and try again. Peter’s response was what most of us would have said; “C’mon, Jesus, we’ve tried that and it didn’t work. Maybe another day.” I wonder if I would have, as Peter did, follow my hesitation with surrender.

Three conditions must be met for success:

1. Jesus must be Master. If I usurp that role, all bets are off. It isn’t my place to make the rules or decide reality. I don’t get to choose which commands I will follow and which I will ignore. Absolute surrender to Jesus Christ is absolutely necessary even if I can’t understand his ways.
2. I must be able to discern and willing to obey his word. There are many imposters, not only in this life, but in the spiritual realm as well. The Enemy constantly whispers in our ear; fear is his greatest tool, and when life turns dark and hard, he will use fear to speak his lies into our hearts and minds. Recognizing the voice of Jesus and surrendering to his command, even if it seems absurd, is essential if I am to be successful.
3. Willingness to stand alone. The text is subtle here; “We” labored all night vs. “I” will let down the net. The lyrics to the old gospel song ring true: “Though none go with me, still I will follow...” Peter’s decision to obey resulted in success for them all, but it always takes one who will stand out and be first to say yes. 

The decision is mine: Is Jesus Master? Will I train myself to hear and obey his word? Will I follow even if no one goes with me? Will I cast my net one more time? Just one more time...?

The Power of the Spirit

 November 7, 2020

After Jesus was baptized by John, Mark says Jesus was “driven” by the Spirit into the wilderness. Matthew and Luke have the milder words “he was led” by the Spirit, but I suspect Mark’s perspective may be closer to the reality. Forty days’ fasting, followed by a personal engagement with the devil is not the sort of thing most people would undertake without a bit of resistance. Matthew and Mark conclude the Temptation narrative by telling us that Jesus then began his ministry. Luke adds one important bit of information the others left out. He tells us that Jesus returned “in the power of the Spirit” to Galilee. 

We read words like this without really paying attention, missing significant truth in the process. Luke makes this statement without elaborating as to what he meant by “in the power of the Spirit.” We often imagine that the power of the Spirit has to do with such things as miracles, supernatural gifts, etc. but here, no such manifestations are mentioned until the middle of the chapter. Instead, Luke simply tells us that Jesus preached, taught, drew crowds, and quickly made enemies. He did cast out an evil spirit, healed Peter’s mother in law and everyone who came to him in their illnesses, but these are mentioned almost off-handedly, making me wonder.

What would it mean for me to walk in the power of the Spirit? I confess I don’t often feel very powerful, especially when preaching. I can go for days at a time, reading my Bible and praying, without feeling any sense of a special visitation from God. So I ask, what does it mean to live in the power of the Spirit? Here’s a possibility:

Linda and I had plans. Those plans are now up in the air because someone insisted on injecting themselves into the situation. I was not happy. My mother always told us to keep our original commitments even if something better came along. Well, this isn’t something better, and I am not happy to be asked to change. I sputtered and fumed, while Linda graciously listened, finally reminding me to “do the right thing,” which is not what I wanted to do. By myself, I would plant my feet and refuse to change plans. I don’t want to change, but tonight, walking in the power of the Spirit looks a lot like giving in. 

Living by the Spirit’s power isn’t always fancy, showy miracles. Sometimes, it’s just doing what we don’t want to do, allowing him to humble our proud hearts, and soften our hard resistance to doing what is rig

Is There a Cause?

 November 6, 2020

1 Samuel 17 tells the epic tale of David and Goliath, the underdog emerging triumphant overwhelming odds, slaying the giant with a sling and a stone. There is however, an important part of the tale that seldom is mentioned—David’s rather tense conversation with his older brother Eliab, who may still have been stinging from being snubbed by Samuel, passed over in favor of this mere kid brother of his. 

David had watched in amazement as Goliath taunted the Israelite army with cursing and blasphemy. In spite of Goliath’s massive size, David was astounded that no one was willing to even attempt to confront him. The text reads, “Now Eliab his oldest brother heard when he spoke to the men; and Eliab’s anger was aroused against David, and he said, “Why did you come down here? And with whom have you left those few sheep in the wilderness? I know your pride and the insolence of your heart, for you have come down to see the battle.” 

David’s response cuts to the heart of the matter: “What have I done now? Is there not a cause?”” —I Samuel 17:28-29 

Most modern translations aren’t happy with this old rendering of the original Hebrew text, changing the wording to such phrases as, “Can’t I even speak?” These more recent versions may be more accurate, but the old King James preserves an important nuance so often missed. “Is there not a cause?” I.e. “isn’t there a good reason to stand against this blasphemy and arrogance?” 

Saul’s soldiers were afraid because their leader Saul was afraid. All any of them could see was the size of this Philistine. They couldn’t discern their own destiny, their calling in life. They had no cause, no great calling to fulfill. They were on the battlefield because they had been conscripted into the army and had no stomach for a fight. Only David had a cause—the honor of the Name.

I wonder how much I have surrendered because I haven’t had a cause, a reason to charge the Enemy. Too often we’re more interested in being nice, in being liked, than in the honor of the Name of the Lord. We sit on the sidelines, watching the Enemy saunter and taunt, when we should like David, charge full speed ahead towards that before which everyone else cowers in fear, shouting as he did, “You come to me with a sword, with a spear, and with a javelin. But I come to you in the name of the LORD of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the LORD will deliver you into my hand, and I will strike you and take your head from you. And this day I will give the carcasses of the camp of the Philistines to the birds of the air and the wild beasts of the earth, that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel.” —I Samuel 17:45-46 NKJV

What is your cause?