Proddings

 September 30, 2021

I’ve often wondered how some people find the time and resources to do some of the things they do. Every so often we read of someone who like Forrest Gump is walking across the country, or who is trying to circumnavigate the globe solo in a small sailboat.  The hours most of us would spend working, Olympic athletes spend working out. Of course, they get sponsors, which aren’t available to most of us.

Fact is, apart from the ones independently wealthy, those few who do such things have so devoted themselves to their cause that others take notice and want to be a part of it. All of which makes me wonder how that might work in the realm of the spirit. If I devoted myself to prayer as these people devote themselves to their sport or cause, would others want to get on board in some way or another? I would hope at the least, God would take notice! If I devoted myself—really devoted myself—to evangelism, to the homeless, or to saving the unborn, would anyone take notice? Would it inspire anyone? 

I am convicted by Acts 2:42–“They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.” The text goes on to say, “And the Lord added to the church daily those who were being saved.” Daily—not annually, monthly, or even weekly, but daily. Most Methodist churches in our country haven’t received a single new member all year long. No baptisms, no professions of faith. We have programs, organizations, resources galore, but are woefully lacking in prayer, often questionable in doctrine, divided in fellowship, and fail to break bread at every opportunity. 

It is the prayer however, that convicts me. In the Garden of Gethsemane, as Jesus was entering the greatest trial of his life, he asked his disciples, “Couldn’t you wait with me for one hour?” They couldn’t, and we don’t. I think I speak for more than myself when I confess to often spending more time on social media and television than in prayer. There is one solution, and one only. Since none of us are given more hours in the day than anyone else, we must choose how we invest them. And I have a choice as to how I respond to the conviction of the Holy Spirit: I can ignore or I can yield to his proddings. It’s my choice…and yours. May we both choose well.

Back Roads

 September 29, 2021

Back roads at night are a precious gift. Years ago, someone wrote a book about a back roads trip, describing it as “riding the blue lines,” ie. the roads on the map that unlike the highways, took their time getting from one place to another. If you get back far enough, there’s no lines on the road, no streetlights; just the dark winding ribbon threading through corn fields and woods. Tonight as I drove, I didn’t meet a single car until I got back on the main road. In the darkness illuminated only by the dim glow of my headlights, I was transported to another time and place, watching the rows of corn and the stars that winked in the sky above.

Every so often, I passed a house with lights in the windows almost beckoning me to stop and visit with people I don’t even know. The oldest farmhouses almost call my name, their unique dimensions looming behind rows of old maples alongside the road. Those trees were planted before my father was born, by people who envisioned a generation to come. They planted knowing they would never themselves taste the sweetness of the February flow that graces my morning pancakes. Old trees are a testament to faith.

You have to drive slowly on a back road, especially in the dark. This time of year, the deer have a way of suddenly appearing without warning. When that happens, speed is not your friend. Back roads at night make us slow down, which might serve us well if we drove them more often. But then I wouldn’t have the road all to myself, enjoying the quiet and marveling at the wonder of life itself. 

Robert Lewis Stevenson was a sickly young boy, growing up in nineteenth-century London. One evening at dusk, he watched a lamplighter walking down the street, stopping at each streetlamp to raise his wick and set the flame aglow. Years later, he described that event in his poem, “The Lamplighter,” writing that the old man was “making holes in the darkness.” On those backroads tonight, I saw those holes in the windows of homes where life was being lived, sometimes with joy, sometimes with sadness and pain. 

There is much darkness in our world; I only hope I can make a hole in it for someone who needs that flicker of light to take the next step. I hope I am planting spiritual trees from which I will see no fruit nor taste the sweetness of the syrup, but which nourishes and sweetens someone whose life is otherwise barren and bitter, whose road is dark and foreboding. If I have done that, I will sleep well tonight.

Stuff

 September 28, 2021

When teaching his disciples about the End Times, Jesus made it clear that we are not to set dates. At the same time, he did give clues as to when this will all happen, but they are so general that they could apply to almost any time in history. I think that was his point, because none of us knowing what tomorrow will bring, he wants us to be ready at all times. 

In Mark’s gospel, when Jesus teaches about what he called the great tribulation, he spoke these convicting words: “[In the days of tribulation], “let him who is on the housetop not go down into the house, nor enter to take anything out of the house…”

We hold onto our possessions at our own peril; there comes a time when they begin to hold onto us with an iron grip. When I look around me, I see stuff that I value for the memories they bring or the comfort they bring. Photos on the wall, our wood stove, my chair, Linda’s antique roll-top desk, my great-grandmother’s platform rocker, my vintage smoker’s stand cup holder. All this in just one room. If major trouble were to suddenly descend upon me, would I be able to do as Jesus warned here, or would I be like Lot’s wife, looking back wistfully, to my own destruction? To what extent have I allowed the pleasures of this world dull my heart to the things of God? 

I don’t believe I can with complete honesty say with Jesus’ disciples, “We have left all to follow you.” I still have most of it, and I’m guessing it weighs me down more than I imagine. Hebrews 12:1 instructs us to “lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily entangles.” The image is of a runner who strips down to the essentials. Fancy clothes are not in themselves sinful, but they aren’t appropriate for running a race. The stuff I have is only wrong for me if it keeps me from the race Jesus calls me to run. The problem is, we so easily deceive ourselves into believing the stuff doesn’t matter, and that we aren’t being tangled up in our possessions, when in reality, we are. 

Most nations fall not due to external conquest, but because of internal softness. Part of that spiritual flabbiness is due to all the things we hold onto. We are so accustomed to our pleasures and privileges that most of us don’t even recognize how good we have it. If recent events are any indication, that may all change, which means it would behoove me to begin simplifying now, rather than waiting till the last hour. It may not be easy, but traveling light is a skill most of us would do well to learn. I’m not sure where to begin, but I’m betting Linda can point me in the right direction.

Pastor's Prayers

 September 27, 2021

Pray for your pastors! This morning I was talking with pastor Joe about a funeral service we will officiate together. I have this single service, plus will be filling in preaching in Dunkirk this Sunday. Joe has this funeral, two other funerals, two weddings, and one person where the family is making a decision as to whether it’s time to end life support. Did I mention he is also preaching Sunday? I’ve had busy weeks as a pastor, but the only time I came close to this kind of schedule was years ago when I had five funerals in seven days. 

I am so very grateful to have had the privilege of being invited into the holy ground of grief and joy, funerals, and weddings and baptisms. I am also grateful now to be retired and living at a slower pace. Having been there, I know at least some of the challenges pastors face. I never had to deal with the societal shut down of COVID which ramped up responsibilities and challenges exponentially. I didn’t have to deal with the ubiquitous and invasive technology that is inundating our families and kids with everything from bullying to pornography. Pastors today have to navigate raging seas that were in my time merely troubled waters. 

I am grateful to have a pastor of integrity and passion for Christ matched with a disciplined and agile mind and a heart for people. So tonight I pray for pastor Joe, and invite you to pray for your pastor. Speak words of encouragement to him or her. Your pastor may be on the verge of collapsing under the burden of caring for you. Please, please, pray for your pastor tonight!

Top and Bottom

 September 26, 2021

“Whoever wants to be first shall be slave of all.”

—Jesus (Mark 10:44)

If you want to be at the top, you have to spend a great deal of energy and time fighting all the others who also want to be king of the mountain. You can never take your eye off those who want to take your place. If this is a dog-eat-dog world, the top is usually populated by the most voracious wolves. At the top, you have a target painted on your back; you can’t simply sit back and relax, and often can’t do what you really want to do, or even what God wants you to do. It’s not only lonely at the top; it can be idolatrous, robbing us of our focus on God as we try to stay in first place.

To the uninitiated, the top looks like a place of privilege, when often in reality it is a prison. When we spend an inordinate amount of time trying to protect our possessions and place, privilege can shackle us as surely as irons.

Jesus’ remedy is surprisingly simple, yet deceptively difficult. It’s found in the previous verse of Mark’s gospel: “Whoever desires to become great among you shall be your servant.” Greatness isn’t about position or power; it’s about service and sacrifice. God’s saints don’t often roam the halls of the rich and powerful; they are more likely stooping at the doors of hovels and mixing with what one rich and powerful person called “the unwashed masses.” It can be dirty, smelly business, but you never have to worry about others clamoring to take your place. There is a lot of elbow room at the bottom.

A Full Day

September 25, 2021

Living in a small community with our kids and friends (and their friends) nearby has advantages that far outweigh any of the so-called liabilities. Bright lights never held much allure for me. We are close enough to metropolitan areas that we can take in a concert or stage production if we choose, without having to constantly fight traffic and congestion of city life. And these days with their restrictions on public assembly make urban life even less desirable to me.

This morning I got a call from #2 son asking if he could borrow my tractor with bucket loader. He was breaking up some concrete and needed to haul it away. I loaded everything up and delivered the tractor. His neighbor Bob came over and helped throw pieces into the bucket, even bringing some of his tools to help with the project. After moving a couple loads of concrete pieces, I left the tractor there and came home to finish taking down a dead ash in my backyard. I borrowed #1 son’s chainsaw because mine isn’t big enough to make a clean hinge cut. 

The tree came down just as I had hoped. The hinge was perfect and it landed right where I wanted it. Returning the saw, we rehearsed for next week’s funeral. I ran out of time to work my bees, but they’ll wait. Sermon preparation is next in line before grandson Nathan’s soccer game tonight. I hadn’t planned it this way, but today was a fulfillment of Scripture:

“Live joyfully with the wife whom you love all the days of your vain life which He has given you under the sun, all your days of vanity; for that is your portion in life, and in the labor which you perform under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might; for there is no work or device or knowledge or wisdom in the grave where you are going.” —Ecclesiastes 9:9-10 

I don’t find my life to be vain or empty in any way; instead, it is filled with the blessings of salvation. Linda and I do live joyfully together, through thick and thin, good times and hardship. I live where we can and do help one another out on a regular basis, and I put my hand to work today, giving it everything I have. Should I wake tomorrow morning in the presence of Christ, I would say to him, “I gave you everything I had up till the very end.” I did it far from perfectly, but any failure or shortcoming was not for a lack of desire, and I know grace will continue to go before me till I see Christ face to face.

 

Spiritual Workouts

 September 24, 2021

“I watch as the joggers as they go by,

Mile after weary mile.

Tell me, if jogging is so much fun,

Why don’t they ever smile?”

—Vern Bigler

This bit of doggerel by a former District Superintendent is proof that genuine faith is no enemy to wry humor. To me, it has a ring of truth. Runners talk about “runner’s high,” that point of exhilaration that comes at some point in a long run. I have to take their word for it; I’ve never experienced anything remotely exhilarating about running. That goes for most exercise. I know guys who get really pumped at the gym. Few of them consider me a friend.

I work out pretty regularly, aiming for about half an hour three times per week. This is laughable to the devotee of all things physical, but it’s better than I did thirty years ago. I do it, but can’t say I enjoy it; I do it because I know I need to if I want to actually live out whatever days I have left in this life. There are no guarantees, but my best shot at mobility and sanity into my nineties rests upon the habits and disciplines I build into my life now. A bit of non-enjoyment today goes a long way to paying me back by enjoyment years from now. It’s called delayed gratification.

I don’t expect to feel immediately stronger after a workout. Instead, I expect to be winded, and the next day or two, to be sore. Overall, it’s not a pleasant experience, but it has a pleasant long-term outcome, so I do it.

Spiritual disciplines are no different. I like it when I read my Bible and some bit of wisdom or insight leaps off the page into my heart, but that doesn’t often happen. It takes a real Biblical workout before I experience that strength, guidance, or forgiveness I need. Just as when I eat a meal, I don’t immediately feel stronger or more energized, I don’t skip my spiritual meals; doing so will soon starve my soul of the energy it needs for the challenges it faces. So I shun the fast-food non-nourishment of quickie drive-through devotional meals all prepackaged and served up with empty spiritual calories, and instead, dig in and work out. My soul thanks me, and I thank God. 

Raging Praise

September 23, 2021

“The Mighty One, God the Lord, 

Has spoken and called the earth 

From the rising of the sun to its going down. 

Out of Zion, the perfection of beauty, 

God will shine forth. 

Our God shall come, and shall not keep silent; 

A fire shall devour before Him, 

And it shall be very tempestuous all around Him.”

—Psalm 50:1-3

How often I want to come to God in quietness and rest to experience the still waters and green pastures of Psalm 23, only to find that he is raging tempestuously. God doesn’t always merely pour oil upon troubled waters. Sometimes he also lights the match. How often I’ve imagined I had the right to wander in and out of his presence at will, thoughtlessly and carelessly. How can I be so arrogant as to imagine I have any right to come into the Presence of the Holy God? It is only because he keeps covenant with his faithless people that I would dare enter his courts (v.5).

“Offer to God thanksgiving, 

And pay your vows to the Most High. 

Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, 

and you shall glorify Me…

Whoever offers praise glorifies Me…”

—Psalm 50:14-15, 23

How often have I forfeited deliverance by my neglect of praise? I have been so wrapped up in my concerns that it’s all I think about, focusing on the situation instead of the Savior. No wonder I struggle with my sins! 

“May I praise you in sickness, in turmoil, in poverty, in failure, in brokenness as well as in my successes and the blessings of life. Praise turns my eyes first upon You, the Mighty One, in whose presence everything else pales in comparison.”

 

Popping the Clutch

 September 22, 2021

John Wesley was a young Anglican priest in 1737. He had been a missionary to the English colony in Georgia, but sailed home with his tail between his legs, having been run out of the colonies for refusing communion to a young woman he courted and lost. On the trip home, he was despondent, not only for the failure of his missionary endeavors, but for the gift of salvation itself. He feared that in spite of being an Anglican priest, he had no real knowledge of salvation. Then he met Peter Boehler, a Moravian missionary whose confidence and joy in forgiveness was overflowing. 

Wesley knew he needed what Boehler had, and they talked and debated Scriptures regularly. At one point, when Wesley despaired of even preaching, wondering aloud how he could preach faith in Christ when he felt he himself didn’t have it, Boehler responded, “Preach faith until you have it. Then because you have it, you will preach faith.”

Sometimes I feel like Wesley when it comes to my nightly musings. There are days like today when my mind is dull and my spirit listless. I read my Bible, but it seems like just so many words on a page. I pray, but without the burning fervency I would like to have. And when it comes time to write, for all I have to say I often think I should just write, “Blah, blah, blah, blather, blather.” It would make just as much sense.

But Boehler’s words haunt me, so I write. And tonight I say, “Write. Pray. Read. Serve!”Even if you don’t feel like it, even if it seems empty and hollow, even hypocritical, do it anyway. Like Wesley who preached faith till he had faith, then preached faith because he had faith, we just keep doing it. Back in the day of standard shift, we often started a car with a dead battery by pushing it in neutral, then popping the clutch. The car would jump to life. We keep doing these spiritual disciplines knowing that somewhere along the line, God will step in, pop the clutch, and jumpstart us to life.

Stillness

 September 21, 2021

“It is more blessed to give than to receive.” So St. Paul remembers the words of Jesus in Acts 20:35. I’ve been on both ends and can testify to the truthfulness of these words. Today I had the double blessing of giving twice. I can’t say more without exposing the grief of a good friend to public view, but over the years, I’ve stepped on more holy ground than you can imagine. 

We Americans like to think we can solve problems wherever and whatever they may be. We’re beginning to learn the fallacy of that mindset; there are issues of life we cannot fix, much as we try, but in our frantic efforts to do so, we often miss experiencing the presence of the One who bids us “be still and know that I am God.” Oftentimes, my busy-ness prevents me from knowing God, for my activity is the antithesis of stillness. I’m not sure that slowing down and just sitting with a friend was a God-experience for him, but it certainly is for me, and for that holy privilege I am grateful tonight.

99

 September 20, 2021

Today would have been my mother’s 99th birthday. A mere two weeks before, she Walked for Life, raising money for the pro-life Options Pregnancy Care Center our daughter oversees. Just a little over a month later, she died. We were fortunate to have been able to be with her throughout the summer and for her final days. Due to fears of COVID, the government had shut down care facilities, all but forbidding families to visit their loved ones. Over the past year I listened to countless heartbreaking stories of people who were forbidden from being by the bedside of a dying loved one, or having to stand outside a window in the snow, waving but unable to speak.

My brother, sister, and myself were blessed to have her for so many years, and to have had a godly mother who was willing to put up with my disgruntled sulking when she insisted we attend a Bible-believing church. Were it not for her persistence, I would never have come to Christ, never have become a pastor, never had the life I’ve been privileged to live. She and dad were not great teachers if by that you mean sitting us down and giving us life lessons. Theirs was a life of faith taught by example. For example…

Once upon a time (no, this isn’t a fairy tale), I had made plans with a friend. I cannot remember what it was, but about a week after these plans had been made, an opportunity came my way for something much more exciting and enjoyable. I was ready to call my friend to cancel our plans when mom found out about it. “Absolutely not!” was her response. “You stick to your original commitment even if something better comes along.” This advice has made decision-making much simpler. There is no need to revisit or second-guess decisions when you operate on such a principle. This advice even came in handy just last week.

At the end of July, we bought a 2018 Prius. We had looked for a 2021 because of the government incentives offered with them, but there wasn’t a 2021 to be found anywhere. This 2018 however, had been a lease vehicle and only had 11,000 miles on the odometer. It looked like it had just come out of the showroom. It happened to be their top of the line model, with (drum roll, please!) a heated steering wheel! For someone whose hands are always cold, this made Linda very happy even though she was a bit intimidated by all the computer-driven stuff. On top of that, it was blue.

About two weeks ago, the salesman we had dealt with called up to tell us he had a brand new Prius that he thought with the incentives we might be able to get into with money back. It was next-to top of the line, and didn’t have the heated steering wheel. Besides, it was white, which is the one color Linda didn’t want. To be polite, I told the salesman I would look at it. It was nice, but we had made our decision, and I told him that even though it made good financial sense, we were going to stick to our original decision. Mom’s advice came through again!

We live in a world where people break promises without a second thought. Wedding vows fly out the window at the first disagreement or the first time a pretty girl walks by, business arrangements that used to be settled with a handshake are now so convoluted by legalese that it is often a simple matter for a clever lawyer to break a contract. Our government lies so often and so casually that few take their words seriously. 

So on this special day, I say, “Thank you, mom, for setting the example and teaching me a life lesson that has simplified things for me and for those who trust in me. You were a living witness to the old hymn, “Great is Thy Faithfulness” when it sings, “Thou changest not, thy compassions they fail not. Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.”

Gratitude

 September 19, 2021

A conversation with a woman this afternoon has given me pause for gratitude. She was helping her mother arrange items for a yard sale next door to my daughter. Not everyone had yet arrived for dinner, so I took the opportunity to wander over, look briefly at the offered wares, and introduce myself. She is a personal assistant to some wealthy clients in Palm Beach, Florida where she lives half the year, splitting her time between there and back here near her mother. Since my granddaughter is at the time in the same occupation, we talked about what it was like. 

She told me she lives simply, enjoys the freedom her work offers, and is grateful for the life she is privileged to lead. From other parts of her conversation, I gathered that she is Seventh Day Adventist, which is neither here nor there except for our common faith in Christ. We are both grateful for life in the slow lane, but also for having the opportunity to experience those who have far more than we, but also those who have far less. 

There is a perspective gained from such experiences that most people miss, not for the lack of opportunity, but for the lack of will. Most people who visit other places don’t go to experience life as the commoner lives it; they usually go as tourists, seeing only what they want to see, experiencing only that which satisfies their truncated and often selfish desires. 

I left that conversation today looking up at the sky blazing in all its azure glory, and grateful to live where I do and when I do. The wealthiest and most powerful of monarchs of only two centuries past didn’t enjoy half the privileges and comforts I take for granted every day. Even today, most of the world’s nearly eight billion people cannot even imagine what to me are ordinary blessings. Life here in our corner of Creation is pretty laid back. I am surrounded by beauty—beautiful countryside, beautiful people, a beautiful Savior. To take my eyes off this and gaze only upon the problems and ills of this world would be a sin because it destroys my perspective and becomes the inadvertent object of my worship. This I will not do.

Fear

 September 18, 2021

Fear is a great motivator, as any tyrant knows. Make people fear the loss of health, income, privileges, and they can be manipulated into almost anything. We are seeing it play out before our eyes in the public arena today. Fear of COVID 19 has led to the contraction of our economy, the erosion of our freedoms, the pitting of people against each other as hasn’t been seen in my lifetime of 72 years. 

Some fear is legitimate. I stop at red lights because I don’t want to get broadsided by a dump truck. On the other hand, I don’t avoid black cats for fear of some superstition. Mark’s gospel speaks often of how fear controls our lives. In the 5th chapter, a woman is afraid when she thinks Jesus is going to berate her for touching his garment when she was in a ceremoniously unclean state. Later that same day, Jesus told grieving people not to fear death. But the strangest story of fear is in this same chapter as Jesus heals a man demon-possessed. 

In today’s world, he would probably be locked away. He lived in a graveyard, possessed such strength that even chains couldn’t hold him. He went about naked, shrieking and cutting himself with stones. People were understandably afraid of him. But when Jesus succeeded in casting out the demons, sending them into a herd of pigs which then stampeded and drowned, we are told that the people, seeing him sitting quietly in his right mind, were afraid. What was there to be afraid of?

This is a story not just about a particular crazy man, but of a crazy society. It isn’t uncommon in a school setting for example, for one child, usually female, to be picked on by the rest of the class. She is the scapegoat, the recipient of all the inner demons and evils of the rest. This child often so deeply desires companionship that she will endure the most humiliating offenses just to be a part of the group. In a perverse way, she needs the attention, and even more perversely, the group needs her. They can only function when they have this one person upon whom to cast their collective sins. 

Here, the demoniac is chained by the demons, shamed by his nakedness, seeks his own execution by stoning (a ritual form of execution in that culture), and lives in the tombs as one already dead. The thousands of demons inhabiting this unfortunate soul were once in the people of the area. Like the bully classmates, they projected their ire and dysfunction upon him. Jesus sent the demons, not back into the townspeople, but into the pigs who then drowned, just as Scripture says, our “sins he has cast into the deepest sea.”

The people were afraid, begging Jesus to leave, because he had upset the carefully laid social, psychological, and spiritual balance their dysfunction had created. Without the madman, who would take the blame for their sins? They would have to look into the mirror, which is always a scary proposition. Instead, they begged Jesus to leave; they would find another scapegoat, and all would return to normal. 

It happens over and over. The alcoholic sobers up, and the family falls apart. They need him to keep drinking so they can continue to be the aggrieved spouse and children. If he cleans up his act, there is no dark backdrop against which to live their lives. The family dynamic has been blown apart; they are afraid, and ask Jesus and his healing to leave.

The Gadarene community needed the Gadarene demoniac in order for them to function. In truth, they were as sick as he. Our society is as sick as the demoniacs we excoriate. We can kill the Saddam Husseins and convict the Derek Chauvins, but we need them and their ilk, so when Jesus comes along with healing power, we are afraid…afraid that our own demons will be exposed, afraid to let go of the sick treadmill we’re on. So we ask Jesus to leave; maybe not in so many words, but at the very least, we desire to put him on a leash or in a box where he cannot mess things up. 

Yes, fear is a great motivator, and we have lots of it because we prefer a familiar bondage to a foreign deliverance. We cannot solve the problem ourselves, but pride and the pursuit of power keeps us from receiving the solution God offers. May he have mercy on us all!

Life

 September 17, 2021

Two weeks ago, the colony was bursting with bees and honey; today they were mostly gone, the hive robbed dry. I should have checked it earlier when I first noticed the lack of bees at the entrance, but we can’t always get to tasks quite when we want. The colony next door to it is doing fine, but one of the others may be queenless. It’s been more than twenty years since I first kept bees, and a lot has happened in the meantime; I know more about bees than most, but a whole lot less than the experts. I’m learning, but have a long way to go. In the meantime, losing a colony or two, while unpleasant, isn’t a total disaster. There’s always next year.

This evening, we were listening to our grandkids talk about situations in school, from classmates who bark like dogs to those who are confused about their sexuality and have no responsible adult able or willing to give the guidance they need. They are navigating relationships that for the girls at least, can get quite volatile as friendships and alliances are changing constantly. We are blessed in that our grandkids have solid parental support and guidance that shields them from some of the craziness. None of them have much patience with the drama of some of their friends. When it came time for nighttime prayers, Linda and I had the opportunity to brace them for the future by letting them know the drama sometimes carries over into adult life, but that God will use these kinds of situations to strengthen and develop them into godly and mature Christian men’s and women. Muscles get stronger when stressed by exercise; the soul gets stronger when facing life’s challenges in faith. 

Just like with my bees, things don’t always go as planned or desired, but with Christ, it doesn’t have to be the end of the world. Jesus strengthens us in prayer, worship, and Bible study, equipping us for the challenges that come with living. We are grateful tonight for the privilege of listening to, and praying with our grandkids. We learn, are better able to pray for them, and hopefully, are able also to impart a bit of wisdom and perspective for those times when their world is going nuts. 

Silent Prayers

 September 16, 2021

Sometimes silence is the best prayer. I read today the following: “Those moments when you just can’t put your prayer into words, God hears your heart.” I wonder if sometimes our words get in the way of our prayers. Through my years as a pastor, I have often been the ‘go to’ person  when the occasion seems to warrant a prayer. It’s expected that the pastor will have just the right words and can offer a prayer both fluent and eloquent, when as often as not, I am left mumbling words that may sound pretty but which are as empty as my brain often is.

Pastors make their living with words, but finely crafted words can be deceptive. When I was a teenager, Wednesday night prayer meetings were almost obligatory in our church. I and a few other teenagers sat in the back, dutifully quiet for the most part. There came a time however, when a prayer was either expected or needed to break the silence. Heaven knows, we can’t have a silent prayer meeting! So one of us would pray, not necessarily to talk to God, but to see how many Amens we could get. One or two was barely adequate; a good prayer would go on for five minutes or more and garner a boatload of Amens. Yeah, that was me back then.

I don’t care about Amens anymore, but I do fear that my public prayers today are often no more genuine than the ones offered in those long-ago prayer meetings. This morning at our men’s prayer group, Harry was absent, so I led…not as well as I would have liked, though. I said the words, but early in the morning, my brain isn’t fully functioning, and it felt as if I were just saying the right words, but missing the essence of prayer, which is communion with our Heavenly Father through the Holy Spirit of Jesus Christ. When the heart or head is conflicted or confused, silence might be better. Next time, I’ll try to remember that.

Rest

 September 15, 2021

Sabbath days don’t always fall on a Saturday. Sometimes they seemingly pop up out of nowhere to slow things down and give us a breather. Even in retirement, our days are usually pretty full…a bit slower pace perhaps, but still full. For me, it’s being part of our worship team, leading a men’s Bible study, two different prayer groups, calling on people for our pastor, teaching bass at our school of the arts, all in addition to regular chores needing to be done, and supporting our grandchildren in their sports endeavors. There are very few days that don’t have something written in the calendar.

Today was one of those days. After my morning prayer time with two friends, the calendar was completely blank, so I decided to clean out the drawers in my dresser and night stand. That may not sound like much, but only if you don’t know how long this stuff has been accumulating. A fair amount of it I could throw out, but there were also mementos—cards from my wife, notes from our kids, old photos, etc., all of which I sorted through. Unexpectedly, I found the journal of a man who had been imprisoned at Andersonville during the Civil War, a couple books from the archives of Arch Merrill, who decades ago wrote extensively about Western New York. 

On the surface of things, I didn’t accomplish much today. Some might even say the day was wasted, but for me, it was a Sabbath—a day of rest to let my soul catch up with the rest of me. Too often, we get rushing about so frantically that who we are inside gets lost in the chaos of activity. Even the spiritual disciplines of Bible reading and prayer can inadvertently become part of the mania of everyday life if we rush through it so we can say we did it. We American Christians are a busy people; the call of Christ to reach the world with the Gospel often weighs so heavily upon us that we forget it is Christ’s call, and that he calls us first of all to be with him, to “find rest unto our souls” (Matthew 11:29), and that the only burden he bids us shoulder is the Cross. In cleaning out and reviewing old stuff, I found rest today, and thank God that this day, too, is his plan for me.

Crucified

September 14, 2021

I’ve discovered that I get myself into trouble when I fail to distinguish between what God has done and is doing in my life and what he expects me to do. If I’m not careful, I’m sure to get them backward. Paul’s letter to the Galatians illustrates what I mean.

Four times in this letter, Paul speaks of crucifixion, one of which refers solely to the death of Christ, the other three of our identification with him in death. Christians have become so used to speaking of such identification that we tend to forget how odd this language really is. We don’t find this kind of talk in business circles, in politics or education. Only in religion do we speak of identifying with someone in death. 

Paul speaks of our being crucified in three different ways. First, he says, “I have been crucified with Christ” (2:20). He wasn’t as I believed for years, speaking of putting an end to his sinful ways, but of his good works. He has been talking of all the things he did to earn God’s favor (cp. 2:16), and how the Cross puts an end to human striving and self-justification. It’s not only our sins that need to be crucified; it’s our goodness, too, as I have mentioned elsewhere.

The second time he uses crucifixion language is in 5:24, where he says “those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.” Notice the change in how he speaks of crucifixion. Before, he said it was something that happened to him. Here, he says it is something he must do. This is where we so often get tangled up. On the one hand, we strive to prove ourselves to God when we should simply receive the work he has done for us in Christ. On the other hand, we expect God to step in and miraculously fix our passions and desires, funneling them into holy and productive channels, when this text clearly says this is our job. When we transpose these two crucifixions, we either puff up with pride at how well we are doing, or we sink into failure because we haven’t put forth the necessary effort to put to death the sinful desires we all have.

The third time Paul speaks of crucifixion, he says, “God forbid that I should boast except in the Cross of Christ, by whom the world is crucified to me and I to the world” (6:14). Here he speaks not of the internal and personal battles against sin or self-righteousness, but of the world around him. When we understand and live out the first two crucifixions, this third comes almost automatically. This world with all its temptations and strivings no longer has a hold on him, which enables him to glory only in the Cross of Christ.

 

God’s Goodness

 September 13, 2021

My daughter commented on yesterday’s musings, saying, “I love hearing these stories, Dad. These are things I never knew.” So I thought, “Why not another obscure story from the life and adventures of Jim Bailey?”

The Bible covers about 3,000 years of human history, so although we read many stories of divine intervention, when we take into account the years between the various events recorded, miraculous acts of God aren’t as common as we sometimes suppose, and even these are often clustered together in the lives of a very few individuals. Angelic visitation was common enough to be believable, but rare enough to be exceptional. For example, we read of the Angel of the LORD stopping Abraham from sacrificing Isaac, of God speaking to Moses from a burning bush, and parting the Red Sea. An angel visited Joshua and Gideon, appeared to Daniel, and escorted Peter out of prison.  

I was about seven years old that summer when the family vacationed at Silver Lake, Canada, camping with some friends of my father and mother. Our tents were set up near a small, relatively shallow bay that opened up to the larger lake beyond. On this particular day, the adults were swimming about fifty yards out in the bay near where it met the rest of the lake. I was floating on an air mattress closer to shore, leaning over to watch the fish swimming beneath me. I can still see in my mind’s eye the sticks that lay in profusion on the muddy bottom of the bay. I leaned a bit too far and suddenly fell off the air mattress into the water. I couldn’t touch bottom, couldn’t swim, and was too far from the adults for them to notice. 

Frantically splashing and struggling to keep my head above water wasn’t workin; I was choking as I went under. The next thing I know, I’m on the shore. The adults were still out in the bay, oblivious to the crisis unfolding behind them and out of reach. There was no one else around. A moment before, I was under water, over my head; the next, I was standing on the shore, safe.

I knew nothing of God or angels at that point in my life, so I didn’t know what had happened. At that age, I had no inkling of the call God was to place on my life, but looking back, I can sing with Jonah, 

“The water came over me and choked me; the sea covered me completely...I went down…into the land whose gates lock shut forever. But you, O Lord my God, brought me back from the depths alive.” —Jonah 2:5-6 

I have failed him many times since then, but Christ has always been faithful. Yesterday in worship we sang my testimony of the Goodness of God:

I love You Lord

Oh Your mercy never fails me

All my days

I've been held in Your hands

From the moment that I wake up

Until I lay my head

I will sing of the goodness of God

All my life You have been faithful

All my life You have been so, so good

With every breath that I am able

I will sing of the goodness of God

I love Your voice

You have led me through the fire

In darkest night

You are close like no other

I've known You as a father

I've known You as a friend

I have lived in the goodness of God

—Ed Cash & Jenn Johnson

Effective Prayers

September 12, 2021

There is a difference between answered prayer and effective prayer. James tells us that the “effective fervent prayer of a righteous man accomplishes much.” (James 5:16) Other translations render it, “The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective,” or similar language. I like the Good News Bible: “The prayer of a good person has a powerful effect.”

Although James cites Elijah as an example of powerful, answered prayer, he doesn’t conclude from the Elijah story that our prayers will be answered as was his, but that they will have a powerful effect. I take great comfort in this. I’ve often prayed hard for something, only to have the answer elude me. I’ve prayed for people to be healed, and watched them sicken and die. I’ve prayed to avoid certain trouble and difficulty only to have to wade through deep waters. I’ve prayed for calm seas and had to ride out the storm. Those prayers weren’t answered…at least not in the way I envisioned.

But James doesn’t speak of answered prayer here. He speaks of effective prayer, ie. prayer that changes things even if I can’t see what the change is. Let me give one example.

When I was a much younger man, between my freshman and sophomore years of college in 1968, I counseled at Miracle Mountain Ranch, a Christian horse camp for kids. One of our responsibilities as counselors was to go around to each bunk at bedtime and pray for the kids in our care. After lights out, I would stop at each bunk and talk with my boys, asking them about their day, and talking to them about faith in Christ. If any of them indicated that they had never prayed to receive Christ as Savior and Lord, I would ask if they would like to do so, and lead them in prayer if they wanted. It was not uncommon to have the boys pray and ask Christ to be their Savior, but even with follow up notes and letters, I soon lost track of them. 

Fast forward to about fifteen years ago. Linda and I were attending the graduation party of one of the youth in our church. The young man’s father introduced me to a friend. Hearing my name, the friend looked at me oddly and asked, “Do you like peanut butter on your pancakes?” When I answered in the affirmative, he then inquired, “Did you counsel at Miracle Mountain Ranch back in the ‘60s?” Again, I answered affirmatively, whereupon he grabbed me in a big bear hug and said, “You are my spiritual father. I’ve been looking for you for years! I prayed to receive Christ in your bunkhouse, and it changed my life!” I was, needless to say, dumbfounded. 

Years ago, a prayer was effective, even though as far as I could tell, it changed nothing. So today when I pray, even if it seems to go unanswered, I know there is an effectiveness I cannot measure, but for which I can give thanks nonetheless.

 

Small Town Life

 September 11, 2021

Twenty years ago. Everyone is asking the question: “Where were you when the towers went down?” We remember so clearly that the emotions we felt back then come bobbing to the surface of our consciousness twenty years hence. Last night, our grandchildren were talking about it from the sheltering distance of not having been born when it happened, an event they didn’t experience that yet shapes their lives.

We said we would never forget, but twenty years later, we are more divided than we were back then. Thousands of lives and billions of dollars swallowed up in a response that of late has turned into a political reaction. The adage is true: “Rich man’s war, poor man’s fight.” Political infighting, power struggles, and the peddling of fear have left us weaker and more vulnerable than ever. 

Today was “History Days” in Sinclairville, a tradition that began nineteen years ago as a remembrance of the tragic events of the year previous. Building up to it was Johnny Swanson over the past couple weeks painting one of his silos with portrayals of the Twin Towers alongside flags of the first responders. Today’s observance began with a service of remembrance, followed by an old-fashioned parade with fire trucks, tractors pulling wagons of kids, local muscle cars. Vendors in the park, a magician at the library, live bands throughout the day, concluded with fireworks in the evening. It’s small town life at its best. 

I am blessed and grateful to be living where I live. The momentous world events that occupy the minds and souls of urban dwellers affect us too, but only indirectly. Today, it was conversations with friends as we strolled among the vendors’ stands, sitting with a friend at his sister’s celebration of life, cheering on our granddaughter’s soccer game that filled our souls. Tomorrow, Lord willing, we will rise early, worship together, sit down to dinner, and thank God for the simple life we’ve been given. It is a gift many have not had the privilege of receiving, and I am deeply grateful for it.

Freedom

 September 10, 2021

When in Galatians 2:20 Paul said, “I am crucified with Christ,” he wasn’t (as I have believed for many years) speaking of his attitude towards his sins, but of how he viewed the good works upon which he had been depending for acceptance with God. He relates all the things he had been doing to prove his devotion, and says, “they were as rubbish” (Philippians 3:8). The original is much more earthy and expressive. The Cross of Christ was to him the ultimate proof that all his good works were worthless; after all, if God anything less than offering his only Son to die on a cross would suffice to reconcile us to him, he certainly would have chosen that route. 

What Paul is saying here in Galatians is that the best he could offer was insufficient; therefore, he laid all his good works behind him as surely as if he were burying a loved one. The Cross puts an end to any form of justifying ourselves except by grace through faith. It isn’t only my sins that need to be crucified; it’s my goodness, too. The Good News in all this is that it releases us from the endless cycle of guilt that goes with trying to measure up and continually failing to do so. 

It can be hard letting go of my self-image as a basically good, moral person—so hard that that old self has to be forcibly nailed to a cross. It can be excruciatingly painful; after all, most of us have spent a lifetime trying to make others approve of us. But laying that self-righteousness to rest in the grave of God’s judgment and grace is incredibly freeing, which was the whole point of Paul’s letter to the Galatians. As he said in 5:1, Stand fast therefore in the liberty by which Christ has made us free, and do not be entangled again with a yoke of bondage.”

Kathmandu

 September 9, 2021

The view of the Himalayas outside my hotel room was breathtaking. They stretched above and beyond the crowded flat roofs festooned with Buddhist prayer flags and laundry hung to dry in the morning breeze. I stood, drinking in the beauty when a pretty young woman stepped lightly from the stairway to the roof adjacent to the hotel, a basket of laundry on one hip. Setting the basket down beside the washtub before her, she looked straight at me and smiled. Suddenly she dropped the sari she was wearing and stood stark naked before me. Today’s reading flashed through my mind, and I quickly turned away. This morning’s Scripture was the story of David and Bathsheba as told in 2 Samuel 11 and 12.

I wonder what was going through David’s mind that spring day when instead of going out to the battlefield with his armies, he stayed behind in Jerusalem, strolling across his palace roof. Was he having a midlife crisis, wondering if his youthful vigor was beginning to fade away? Was he questioning whether he “had what it takes” to be the king and man he needed to be? Was he afraid of his waning strength? A man in such a state is vulnerable, and if that man is a king, used to getting whatever he wanted, that vulnerability is especially dangerous. David was ripe fruit, ready to fall.

A fleeting glance, a second look, a spark of desire; David was a lusty man and didn’t turn away. That desire turned into a plan which gave birth to an act, and that act to an even more destructive reaction—the murder of a good friend and faithful soldier, the death of a baby boy, and the beginning of sorrows and troubles for his family and nation. All this was running through my mind that morning in Nepal.

I am thankful for this story of David’s failure. Remembering David’s cascade of sins three thousand years ago was a bolt of grace from God enabling me to preserve my integrity those years ago. Even today, reading this story once more moves me to pray, “Thank you Lord, for preserving me in that moment years ago in Kathmandu. Guide my steps as through your Word I place a guard over my eyes and heart.”

Joni

 Tonight’s meditation is from Joni Earackson Tada, a quadriplegic since a teenager. Her perspective is worth hearing in a world where it seems so much has gone wrong.

Ten Words That Changed Everything About My Suffering

Article by Joni Eareckson Tada

Founder and Chief Executive Officer, Joni and Friends

God permits what he hates to accomplish what he loves.

I remember it like it were yesterday. I was fresh out of the hospital, barely out of my teens, and sitting at our family table with my friend Steve Estes with our Bibles and sodas. We had become acquainted when he heard I had tough questions about God and my broken neck. He also knew I wasn’t asking with a clenched fist, but a searching heart.

So, Steve made a bargain with me. I’d provide sodas and my mother’s BLT sandwiches, and he would provide — as best he could — answers from the Bible. Though I cannot reproduce our exact words, the conversations left such an indelible impression on me that even now, over fifty years later, I can capture their essence.

“I always thought that God was good,” I said to him. “But here I am a quadriplegic, sitting in a wheelchair, feeling more like his enemy than his child! Didn’t he want to stop my accident? Could he have? Was he even there? Maybe the devil was there instead.”

Decades later, Steve would tell me, “Joni, when I sat across from you that night, I was sobered. I mean, I had never met a person my age in a wheelchair. I knew what the Bible said about your questions, and a dozen passages came to mind from studying in church. But sitting across from you, I realized I had never test-driven those truths on such a difficult course. Nothing worse than a D in algebra had ever happened to me. But I looked at you and kept thinking, If the Bible can’t work in this paralyzed girl’s life, then it never was for real. So, Joni, I cleared my throat and I jumped off the cliff.”

God Permits What He Hates

That night, Steve leaned across the family table, and said, “God put you in that chair, Joni. I don’t know why, but if you will trust him instead of fighting him, you will find out why — if not in this life, then in the next. He let you break your neck, and perhaps I’m here to help you discover at least a few reasons why.”

Steve paused and then summed it up with ten words that would change my life:

God permits what he hates to accomplish what he loves.

The sentence hit me like a brick. Its simplicity made it sound trite, but it nevertheless enticed me like an enigmatic riddle. It seemed to hold some deep and mysterious truth that piqued my fascination. “Tell me more,” I said. “I want to hear more about that.” I was hooked.

“God permits what he hates to accomplish what he loves.”

Over that summer with Steve, I would explore some of the most puzzling passages in Scripture. I wanted to know how God could permit hateful things without being in cahoots with the devil. How could he be the ultimate cause behind suffering without getting his hands dirty? And to what end? What could God possibly prize that was worth breaking my neck?

He Does Not Afflict Willingly

So, let me parrot some of Steve’s counsel to me that summer. He started off with Lamentations 3:32–33:

Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men. (NIV)

In the span of a verse, the Bible asserts that God “brings grief,” yet “he does not willingly bring . . . grief.” With that, Steve was able to reassure me from the top that although God allowed my accident to happen, he didn’t get a kick out of it — it gave him no pleasure in permitting such awful suffering. It meant a lot to hear that.

But what about my question of who was in charge of my accident? When it comes to who is responsible for tragedy — either God or the devil — Lamentations 3 makes it clear that God brings it; he’s behind it. God is the stowaway on Satan’s bus, erecting invisible fences around the devil’s fury and bringing ultimate good out of Satan’s wickedness.

Buck Stops with God

“God’s in charge, Joni, but that doesn’t mean he actually pushed you off the raft,” Steve said. “Numbers 35:11 pictures someone dying in an ‘accident,’ calling it ‘unintentional.’ Yet elsewhere, of the same incident, the Bible says, ‘God lets it happen’ (Exodus 21:13). It’s an accident, but it’s God’s accident. God’s decrees allow for suffering to happen, but he doesn’t necessarily ‘do’ it.”

These were deep waters: God decreeing, but not necessarily doing? When I pushed Steve further, he smiled. “Welcome to the world of finite people trying to understand an infinite God. What is clear is that God permits all sorts of things he does not approve of. He allows others to do what he would never do — he didn’t steal Job’s camels or entice the Chaldeans to seize Job’s property, yet God didn’t take his hand off the wheel for a nanosecond.”

Then he added, smiling, “So, the buck stops with God, Joni, even when people think he had nothing to do with your accident, that it was all your responsibility for taking a careless dive into shallow water!”

Okay, I got it. God permits what he hates. But what about the next part — the part about him permitting awful things in order to accomplish what he loves? I still could not imagine what good and lovely thing would be worth the horrible cost of pain and quadriplegia.

Who Crucified Jesus?

When it comes to the old cost-versus-benefit problem, God first put himself to the test. He willed the death of his own Son, but he took no delight in the actual agony. God planned it, but Satan was the instigator.

Think of the treason, torture, death, and murder that led up to Christ’s crucifixion. How could those awful things be God’s will? Yet Judas Iscariot and the whole bunch, including the Romans who nailed Jesus to the tree, did “whatever [God’s] hand and [God’s] plan had predestined to take place” (Acts 4:28).

So, God as much as said to everyone who screamed for Christ’s crucifixion, “Okay, so you guys want to sin? When you do, I’ll make certain you do it in a way that maintains your guilt, yet performs my will!” In short, God steered their devilish scheme to serve his own marvelous ends. A divine plan that would bring good to his people and maximum glory for himself.

“And the glorious plan that was worth the horrible cost of the cross was,” Steve said quietly, “salvation for a world of sinners.” I would soon learn how suffering and sin are related.

Defeating Evil with Evil

“Joni, he cares about your afflictions, but they are merely symptoms of a deeper problem. God cares less about making you comfortable, and more about teaching you to hate your transgressions and to grow up spiritually to love him.

“In other words, God lets you feel much of sin’s sting through suffering, while you are heading for heaven. And it should constantly remind you of what you are being delivered from. So, one form of evil, your pain and paralysis, is turned on its head to defeat another form of evil, and that is your bitterness, resentments, anxieties, fears, and I could go on — all to the praise of God’s wisdom.”

It was becoming clearer. God permitted what he hated on the hill of Calvary to accomplish what he loved — my salvation and his honor in saving me. So, Satan ended up slitting his own throat, because the world’s worst murder became the world’s only salvation.

Suffering for the Rest of Them

“Joni, this perfectly parallels your life,” Steve said. “God permitted what he hated — your spinal cord injury — to accomplish what he loves, and that is ‘Christ in you, the hope of glory’” (Colossians 1:27).

“But it doesn’t stop with you,” Steve reminded me. “Just as Christ had to suffer to reach a lost world, you too will learn to suffer for the sake of others. It’s no secret. He wants your afflictions to be a platform to win others to Christ.” My story, then, is much like the story of Joseph and his wicked brothers.

Joseph flat-out said to them in Genesis 50:20, “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today.” Yes, God permitted my hateful paralysis, but his love goes far beyond Christ in me. He wants others to experience Christ in them, their hope of glory!

Fifty Years Later

It has been over fifty years since that summer when I spent so many nights with Steve by the family table. He is now senior pastor at Brick Lane Community Church in Pennsylvania, while I am a “Joseph” being used of God at Joni and Friends to save lives by telling people with disabilities the good news.

People are sometimes mystified by my joy, especially since I now deal with chronic pain. But God shares his joy on his terms, and those terms call for us, in some measure, to endure suffering, as did his precious Son. But that’s okay. For when I hold fast to God’s grace in my afflictions, the joy he gives tops everything. It’s how my so-called hateful paralysis now makes me so happy.

Yet nowhere near as happy as I will be in heaven. “For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Corinthians 4:17).

“God will exponentially atone for every tear, and will abundantly reward us for every hurt.”

True, God permits awful things, but (to paraphrase Dorothy Sayers) something so grand and glorious is going to happen in the world’s finale that it will more than suffice for every pain we experienced on this planet. God will exponentially make up for every tear (Psalm 56:8), and will abundantly reward us for every hurt (Romans 8:18). Best of all, God will make plain the mysterious ways of his will.

Has Horrible Happened to You?

So, I pass these ten words to you: “God permits what he hates to accomplish what he loves.” If you are struggling as I once did, trying to understand how a good God could allow horrible things to happen in your life, let me jump off the cliff here.

God’s decrees have allowed your afflictions. I don’t know why, but if you will trust him instead of fighting him, you will find out why — if not in this life, then in the next. He permitted your hardships, and perhaps I’m here to help you unravel the beautiful riddle that will bless your life, enrich others, bring maximum glory to your Savior, and make your heavenly estate more joyful than you can now imagine.