Poppa

 January 31, 2022

My second grandfather, poppa Helwig, was not only a deeply committed Christian, he was a consummate horticulturalist, one of only a handful of laymen permitted to take cuttings from the lilacs in Rochester’s famous Highland Park. He had growing in his backyard, rare lilacs worth thousands of dollars, and had developed his own strain of yews.

His home was at the end of a dead-end street beyond which extended a gully that culminated in his back yard in such a way that it was a horseshoe-shaped terraced garden, with the apex of the U giving just enough room between it and his garage for a walkway leading to his vegetable garden on the far side. The near side lay just beyond his kitchen door that dropped away in a steep terrace to the gully about twenty feet below. On the far side of the upper end of the U was his vegetable garden, its sandy-loam soil could easily be turned with a garden fork. It contained not even a pebble, let alone the rocks and weeds that surface in our gardens every spring. I’ve not seen such pristine soil even in greenhouses. 

The inside of the horseshoe held his flowers. Oh, the flowers! Perennials and annuals of every sort; he knew their scientific names, their history, and the various medicinal or gastronomic uses they have had over the years. I wish I had absorbed more of his horticultural wisdom. A veritable library died with him.

One lesson didn’t die. While visiting one day, and admiring the handiwork he attributed solely to God, he shared a bit of gardener’s wisdom that has helped me through many a difficult time. As we strolled through his vegetable garden, I marveled at the total absence of even the tiniest of weeds, to which he responded, “It’s like life; quarter inch, quarter hour; half inch, half hour; one inch, all day. Take care of matters when they’re small.”

A fruitful life doesn’t happen by accident. The soil of our hearts must be tended, adding the compost of thoroughly-thought out meditation on Scripture bathed in prayer, turned regularly by the fork of obedience, and weeded early of the tendencies and small sins which too easily grow out of control. 

“Quarter inch, quarter hour; half inch, half hour; one inch, all day.” Words to live by.

Instructions

 January 30, 2022

The air was, as they say, “blue.” From my vantage point at the closed door at the top of the stairs, I couldn’t decipher the actual words, but even as a nine-year-old, I could tell it wasn’t good. It was my grandfather, whose patience occasionally wore thin.

Poppa Henthorn was the grandfather who lay dying of cancer some years later when pastor Ellis faithfully visited and witnessed to him. Those terrible days were yet to come. Poppa Henthorn was a stubborn man. We didn’t know much about his growing up except that his home life was of the nature that he joined the Navy as a teenager, just to get away.

He was, for that day, a big man, towering about six foot three, solid, but not heavy. Like so many men of that era, he had smoked for most of his life, resulting in a heart attack when he was in his fifties that ended his work as a milkman in the city of Rochester, NY. The doctor said he could no longer keep going up and down the steps of the delivery truck to deposit the bottles in the little cubby holes that used to be built into the sides of houses back then, the ones with doors on both the outside and inside.

He wasn’t one to just sit around, so he bought a barn from his sister who lived on the Ridge outside of Brockport, tearing it down so he could build a himself new house. I guess he figured if he was going to cash it in, it would be doing something constructive. 

In the basement of his new home was a wood shop, complete with table saw, band saw, joiner, planer, drill press, shaper, and other assorted woodworking tools that he used to cut everything from floor joists to molding. Which brings me to tonight’s tale. 

He had just obtained a new piece of equipment. No, I don’t know which one it was, but it needed to be assembled, and the task wasn’t going too well. Thus the “blue” air, when my dad walked in on him. My father asked if he had read the instructions. “NO I HAVEN’T READ THE (blankety-blank) INSTRUCTIONS! Remember, patience was not one of his virtues.

My father located them, looked them over, and said, “Here’s your problem: you needed to assemble this part first.” 

“THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE MADE IT THAT WAY!” Poppa’s response was as loud and curt (and probably profane) as it was typical. 

Without realizing it, poppa gave me a valuable life lesson. So often in life, we struggle to put it all together, frustrated at the complexity of it all, angry when nothing fits the way it should. The problem isn’t with life; it’s that we haven’t bothered to read the instructions, and when someone points it out, instead of repenting, we respond exactly like my grandfather. “God shouldn’t have done it this way!” 

I shudder to think of all the times I failed to read the Instruction Manual; even more at all the times I read it, but didn’t follow it, and got mad because I couldn’t put life together. The answer is simple: pay attention to my father’s example, pick up the Instruction Manual and follow it. It inevitably leads to Christ, who alone is able to put life together in a way that really works.

Squarehead

 January 29, 2022

My children have heard this story before, but last night’s post brought it again to mind; it bears repeating.

I was not an eager convert to Christ. I remember riding my bike through the neighborhood on a Sunday morning, cheerfully waving to my friend Jack as he gloomily sat in the back seat of his parents’ car on his way to church. So when my mother decided we should start going to church, I was, to say the least, greatly disappointed as I joined the ranks of gloomy backseat kids.

We tried the church where Jack’s family went, and if one had to go, this was the least of religious evils; Jack and I made the best of a bad situation by goofing around and not paying attention. That lasted all of about three weeks, when mom announced we were going to a different church down the road. The next Sunday, I found myself reluctantly, but firmly ensconced in the third pew, left hand side. 

That was Sunday mornings. I hadn’t counted on Sunday School, Sunday evening youth group, or Sunday evening services. I was trapped!

A strange thing happened though, on one of these Sunday evening youth meetings. We met in one of the larger basement rooms, just off the kitchen, and on this particular evening, an elderly gentleman stood before us with a contraption he had wired up on a table in front of him. He was short and stocky, with a bald, and what he later described as, a “German square head.”

The contraption on the table consisted of a light fixture wired to an extension cord with one of the dual wires cut. One side was wired directly to the plug, but the cut wire had one end sitting in a bowl of water with the other end stretching from the bowl to the plug which he had inserted into an outlet.

He began to talk from Matthew 5 where Jesus spoke of being salt and light in the world. As he spoke, he began stirring salt into the bowl of water. Slowly, the lightbulb began to glow until it shone brightly through the room. “You are the salt of the earth,” he said. “You are the light of the world.” I don’t remember much else that he said other than asking if any of us wanted to receive Jesus Christ as Savior. I raised my hand.

A few minutes later, I was standing just outside the door, talking to our pastor’s wife. I bowed my head and prayed. The following Sunday morning when the invitation was given, I stepped out of that third row pew and walked to the front of the sanctuary, professing publicly my newfound faith in Christ—all due to a simple talk by an old “German square head.”

My grandmother was widowed about that time. The pastor had daily visited my grandfather in the hospital as he lay dying of the cancer that would all too soon take his life. Pastor Ellis’ faithful witness paid off, and when shortly before dying, my grandfather finally professed faith in Christ, my grandmother did, too.

She was terribly lonely, but about two years later, she married an older gentleman whose wife had passed away some years before. And so it was, that the old, bald, German square head who led me to Christ became my grandfather, Poppa Helwig. God is good…no, much better than good; God is great…all the time!

Pleasant Lines

 January 28, 2022

What is a twelve-year old kid doing in the middle of all these older men drinking coffee and eating donuts at 11:00 pm on a Monday night? Ozzie Palmer, Chuck Bassett, Al Orgar, Merle Silver, Roy Comstra, Charles Ellis, John Helwig, Roy Beach, my dad…these, and others whose names elude me gathered every Monday evening at 7:00 for work night at the West Side Baptist Church. 

A skinny kid who didn’t really belong and had almost no ability, but was accepted by these men as one of them. They plumbed, wired, installed dry wall and ceiling tiles, while I mostly painted trim for the doors and windows. We worked for three or more hours before gathering in the kitchen where one of them would pull a jug of last week’s leftover coffee from the refrigerator and added the night’s brew to it. I’m betting that some of the original beans were still sloshing around years later.

My dad wasn’t much for joe, so they thumbtacked his teabag to a stud in the unfinished kitchen, to be reused like the coffee. Until one night, someone found a shriveled-up mouse and tacked it to the wall by the tail where his teabag usually hung. These men worked and laughed and prayed together. And they included me. Without a single formal lesson, they mentored me, taught me what Christian masculinity was all about. 

Sixty years later, these names roll off my tongue, flowing from my heart, continuing to embrace and bless me. Their influence is as unmeasurable as it was influential. Our church had its programs; I attended Sunday School, youth group, Christian Service Brigade, Youth for Christ, but I think Monday nights was where I learned most who I am, for I felt a misfit among my own age: I wasn’t athletic, played, of all things, the bassoon in high school band. I’ve never been cool. But I was accepted by these men as one of their own. 

The Bible says it best: “The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; yes, I have a good inheritance.” —Psalm 16:6. Those lines helped shape me, told me who I am, preached more than any sermon that I was accepted by God, loved by Christ, and commissioned by the Holy Spirit for the work of ministry. Yes, those lines fell pleasantly to me, and I am deeply indebted to each one of those men who unknowingly had a hand in laying them down.

Praise and Blessing

 January 27, 2022

“God be merciful to us and bless us, 

And cause His face to shine upon us, Selah 

That Your way may be known on earth, 

Your salvation among all nations. 

Let the peoples praise You, O God; 

Let all the peoples praise You. 

Oh, let the nations be glad and sing for joy! 

For You shall judge the people righteously, 

And govern the nations on earth. Selah 

Let the peoples praise You, O God; 

Let all the peoples praise You. 

Then the earth shall yield her increase; 

God, our own God, shall bless us. God shall bless us, 

And all the ends of the earth shall fear Him.”

Psalm 67:1-7 

For too many years I’ve been reading the Bible incorrectly. I would read a text like the above psalm somewhat detachedly, as if the statements were merely that—generalized declarations that in practice amounted to little more than suggestions. In recent months, God has been raising my awareness to the fact that the words I had read and understood in that detached way were in fact, direct commands from God himself.

In this 67th psalm, we are commanded three times to praise God, and holds the promise that from that praise, “the earth shall yield her increase” (v.5), and God’s “salvation among all nations” (v.1). The train of thought begins with the request for God’s blessing, but the blessing itself is a result of our praise being offered (“Then the earth shall yield her increase [and] God…shall bless us” (v.6). In other words, the requested blessing comes as a result of our praise.

If we neglect praise, even our prayers become self-serving—what we want, rather than what God wants. Praise, and praise alone, focuses my prayers and attention towards God instead of myself. God alone is worth of praise. His majesty and mercy, his love and judgment, his power and forgiveness are reasons to praise.

So let us praise him. Praise alone fosters our sanctification by turning our hearts from their petty, selfish, and sinful desires, and gives us the mind of Christ. When we, as St. Paul commands, think on what is “true, what is noble, what is just, pure, lovely, of good report, virtuous, and praiseworthy (Philippians 4:8), such praise and thanksgiving helps us bring every thought captive to Christ. And that is where God’s blessing is found.

Crucified

 January 26, 2022

I’ve often wondered about St. Paul’s strident declaration in 1 Corinthians that “the message of the Cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God” (1:18). When I look around and see the condition of the world, and even more, the condition of the Church and many of God’s people, including myself, I wonder what kind of power this is. Sure, a lot of good things have happened in the name of Christ, but the world still goes on its destructive and wicked ways. Christians still struggle with jealousy, anger, violence, lust, and greed. I’ve often asked the question, “Where is the power?”

The answer in part, is found in Paul’s letter to the Galatians where he says, “I have been crucified with Christ” (2:20). It isn’t only the physical crucifixion of Christ that Paul has in mind when he speaks of its power; it is that the cross cuts across my self-will. The wisdom of God is that it’s not through human striving (““Not by might, nor by strength, but by My Spirit,” says the Lord”” comes to mind), but through the negation of human willfulness that transformation happens. 

Left to myself, I would continue to exalt myself, insist on my own way, trample over or ignore others, allow lust, greed, and violence to govern my actions. In the end, such a life ends up lonely, embittered, and miserable, a shadow of the glory of humanity, barely recognizable as having been made in God’s image.

Apart from the Cross, I would give undue attention to the nightly negative news, give way to stinking thinking, become critical, cynical, and depressed. The message of the Cross is not only that Christ was crucified in our place, but that in the cross, Christ demonstrated a different way to victory; that the humble giving of oneself has power beyond our understanding to transform human life.

I can believe that message, receive and auto on it, or I can reject it. When I believe it and allow it to take root in me, that which seemed foolish proves to be wisdom beyond measure. I am given back my life in ways far better than before I shouldered that cross myself.

New Paths

 January 25, 2022

The first time is always the hardest, but the more you work at it, the easier it becomes. The sun was shining and the temperature hovered in the 20s, which made it a perfect day to get out the cross country skis and check my beehives. The only problem was, it has been snowing almost nonstop for two days, and the snow was almost up to my knees. I could only shuffle my way through the first pass around the yard, but after about five runs, the snow was tamped down enough that I was actually able to ski on the long stretches.

It’s too cold to actually open the hives and check on the colonies, but I could see on one of my long hives where they had dragged out the dead ones in their determination to keep the hive sanitary. As long as there aren’t too many laying on the snow, it’s a sign the colony is in good shape. Getting through winter is always a challenge, and waiting for spring can be a nail-biter.

But the exercise was good; as cold as it was, I worked up a sweat, and as I said, each time around was a bit easier. It’s true of life, too. Sometimes we hesitate to try something new, and if we try it, we give up because it’s harder than we thought and not worth the effort. But if we keep at it, it gets easier. The only caveat is, we must be doing the right thing. We often repeat the truism that “practice makes perfect,” but it doesn’t. As John Maxwell used to say, “Practice makes permanent.” If we practice the wrong things, we get the wrong results. Like my ski ruts, the path becomes easier the more we travel it. 

This is why it is often so hard to overcome sinful habits. It’s easier to stay in the rut than to break out and carve out a new trail. As Christians, we expect the power of the Holy Spirit to make new and better habits easier, but the only thing that makes them easier is keeping at it. Breaking away from the old is always difficult, so we continue in our old, destructive ways, praying for God to change us or work a miracle, when God is waiting for us to simply choose the new path. Once we travel it enough, it becomes easier, but that’s the end result, not the beginning. 

I carved a new trail, sweating my way through the snow. By the fifth time around the yard, this new trail was a pleasure to ski, and I was able to enjoy the workout and check out my bees. To top it off, I got a good life lesson out of the experience.

Authority

 January 24, 2022

I couldn’t get my mind working yesterday, so I apologize to any who might have been looking for my evening post. Tonight, I am reflecting on yesterday’s sermon—well, not the sermon as much as the text from which it was taken. Well, not so much the text as the verses just prior to the text. I’m referring to Luke 4:1-2, 13-15.

“Then Jesus, being filled with the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, being tempted for forty days by the devil. And in those days He ate nothing, and afterward, when they had ended, He was hungry...Now when the devil had ended every temptation, he departed from Him until an opportune time. Then Jesus returned in the power of the Spirit to Galilee, and news of Him went out through all the surrounding region. And He taught in their synagogues, being glorified by all.”  

I often hear Christians speak of being filled with the Holy Spirit, or wanting Holy Spirit power in their lives. It is a noble and proper desire, but for many, is but wishful thinking as they neglect the prerequisites for such presence and power.

Prior to returning “in the power of the Holy Spirit,” Jesus had been baptized and tested. He received the power in his baptism, and that power was tested in the temptations, so when he came forth from those experiences, he walked and taught, not in theoretical power, but in experiential power. He KNEW from experience the power of the Holy Spirit, and it was reflected in his teaching, as Mark says, “he taught them as one that had authority” (1:22).

We want the power of the Holy Spirit, but recoil from the experience of testing that gives us the assurance of it. We see difficulties as attacks of the Enemy, which in a sense they are, but we fail to see them as the discipline of a loving Heavenly Father who wants us to know in our experience the power of which we speak. In the New Testament, the words “test” and “temptation” are the same word. Actually, they are two sides of the same coin. From God’s perspective, life’s difficulties are challenges…tests designed to show us in real time our strength. They are designed to make us stronger, much as a weightlifter puts his body to the test with increasing resistance. The Enemy intends the same situation to be the occasion for our downfall. The difference is in the intent. Our Father wants to strengthen us; the Enemy wants to stop us.

The power of the Holy Spirit is available to us just as it was for Jesus. He was filled with the Holy Spirit at the river and tested in the desert. At his baptism, the Father declared his love for him. In the desert, Jesus demonstrated his love for the Father. The power of the Holy Spirit worked through the Scriptures Jesus quoted. He works the same through us, and as we fill our minds and hearts with Scripture, we give the Holy Spirit within us the tools to defeat Satan, and we emerge in power and authority.

Wrinkles

 January 22, 2022

I might be in trouble for tonight’s musings, but it’s worth it if I’m able to adequately express my heart. 

Ginner ruined all those mother-in-law jokes for me. She was a rare soul, a woman of guarded strength and open love and generosity. When I say “guarded strength,” I mean she didn’t flaunt it around, but instead lived humbly, in some ways in the shadow of her husband. He was definitely the man of the house, but after he died, we were able to see in clearer light the forcefulness of her personality. She was the most selfless woman I’ve ever known, returning kindness for insult and gentleness for ill-treatment, constantly busy helping any and all who needed her.

Linda has often said she wishes to be like her mother. I think she already is. She is kind and generous to others, often at great cost to herself. She knows how to listen and hear the heart of whoever is speaking to her. I cannot imagine life without her; she can do more work in an hour than I can accomplish all day, and no matter how tired she may be at the close of the day, if one of the grandkids call or want to stop over, she will be there with a spring in her step and a lilt to her voice. Like her mother, she is generous, selfless, and kind.

There is only one way Linda didn’t want to be like her mother. As she got older, Ginner’s face was deeply wrinkled. Most of them were laugh lines that highlighted her ready smile. Linda will look in the mirror and exclaim, “Look at this! I look just like my mother!” Honestly, most of the time, I don’t notice, because I see her soul, which is as smooth and soft as the day she was born. Today’s gratitude suggestion is “something wrinkled, smoothed, folded.” Tonight, I fold my hands in grateful prayer for the wrinkles on her face, knowing I have the blessing of living with a woman who has none on her soul.

Experiencing God

January 21, 2022

In yesterday’s 6:00 am prayer group, pastor Joe prayed that we would experience God through all our senses—to smell his fragrance, feel his touch through the sensors in our skin, to taste him in the Bread and Wine.

I’m not a touchy-feely guy. I know what I’m thinking at any given moment; I’m less apt to know what I’m feeling. My faith isn’t dependent on feelings; they are too fickle and false for me to depend on them. If I lived by my feelings, my faith would be down in the gutter most days, with occasional rises to normalcy, only rarely ascending to what most would call real joy. But Joe got me to thinking. One of the earliest Christian heresies was Gnosticism, which taught that the physical world, especially the body, is evil; only the spirit can be good. This teaching manifested in various ways, one of which was to minimize the body and emphasize only the spirit.

Orthodox Christianity rejected this teaching, insisting on the salvation of the whole person, not just the immaterial part of us. The Church insisted upon the bodily resurrection of Jesus for this reason. The natural world was created good, and will be redeemed. God’s plan of redemption extends to all Creation.

I believe in the significance of this material world in God’s economy. What we do with our bodies is important, but as I reflected on Joe’s prayer, I realized that I’ve separated the physical and spiritual in my everyday life, shutting out the fullness of how God created me and how he chooses to relate to me. He is revealed not only in and to our spirits, but also in our bodies. The problem is that I’ve never developed the ability to experience God in all of who I am. 

The Bible says, “Taste and see that the Lord is good.” Feel the texture of the Bread upon my tongue, savor the flavor of the wine. Like Elijah, may I feel the touch of God’s tap upon my shoulder. May all of who I am experience and respond as much as humanly possible to all of who God is. 

Restoration

 January 20, 2022

One of my favorite TV channels is YouTube. I’ve learned how to be a better beekeeper, which attachments I can most use with my tractor, and use free follow-along workouts in the mornings. Recently, I found an interesting British series called “Home Restoration,” in which people restore stately homes that were often in danger of collapse, and even destined for demolition till someone with vision and means bought and began the work of restoration.

Almost without exception, these were people with vision and means (in their dilapidated state, these places could cost the equivalent of three or four million dollars). These individuals imagined the past glory of these mansions and wanted to see them live again. Part of the show features a historical architect and a historian who search out the history of these places, often going back three or four hundred years. 

Though expensive to buy and restore, the new owners were undaunted by the deeper issues they often encountered, dealing with decaying foundations and beams, unstable walls, and all the bureaucratic red tape of restoring an historical building.

This show has gotten me to thinking. Much as these people looked beneath the present decay to an imagined past magnificence and envisioned future glory, so God looked through my sinful deterioration, to see the original glory he created. He had the vision and the means to save and restore that which others couldn’t see, couldn’t fix; that which was destined for destruction.

Like these houses, God knew my history and gave me a future, made me once more a reflection of his glory and a home in which he himself would dwell. So Lord, in your image, make me a restorer of decrepit lives, and instrument of your redemption. Open my eyes to see beneath the decaying effects of sin to the magnificence of the soul you created and the glory of a life restored.

Changing Prayers

January 19, 2022

Nearly fifty years ago, my seminary theology professor challenged the class to examine our beliefs in light of things we had written in the past. “If you have been preaching, review your sermons,” he said. I did, and was appalled. 

I truly believed then as now, that we are saved by grace through faith in the atoning and substitutionary work of Christ on the cross for the forgiveness of our sins. But as I read through five years of sermons, I discovered that most of the time, I was telling my congregation to work a little harder, do a little better. I was giving good advice, but not Good News. I vowed to never again preach a sermon that didn’t have a clear presentation of what God has done for us in Jesus Christ. I’ve often had to scrap entire sermons or rewrite what I had written because I had inadvertently slipped back into the advice column. It is easy to believe one thing and be unaware that what we are saying is in contradiction. It’s called by many names—integrity, hypocrisy, inconsistency among them.

Two days ago, I commented on Jeremiah 29:11-13, how we seek God’s blessing instead of seeking God himself. It was an indictment of our modern Western Christian mentality—a milder form of what has become known as the Prosperity Gospel which teaches that God wants to shower us with material prosperity so we can be happy. I’ve contended for years that God is far more interested in our holiness than our happiness, but as I continued to reflect upon this text, the Holy Spirit started to work. He has a way of wielding his Sword of the Word against the very one who holds it. It is TWO-edged, after all, and cuts both ways (Hebrews 4:12). 

God tells Jeremiah, “Is not my word like a fire…and like a hammer that breaks the rock in pieces?” (23:29). Well, he started hammering away, and in the process opened my eyes to something I hadn’t noticed before. If I truly believe that we should seek the Giver more than the gift, why don’t my prayers reflect this conviction? Too often, my prayers consist in little more than a laundry list of things I want God to do. Most of it is intercession for others, but these prayers still end up being, “Would you do this? Please heal this person. Provide for so-and-so’s needs…” When all is said and done, I’ve sought only the gifts, not the Giver.

If my children or grandchildren only came around when they want something, they would be seeking only the gift, and I would be quite disappointed that they weren’t interested in our relationship. I am happy to give, but that delight would diminish considerably if they never wanted just to enjoy one another’s company.

Like my pre-seminary sermons, my prayers have not lived up to my beliefs. So as with the sermons, the prayers have to change. I want to be a God-seeker, not a gift-seeker. 

Fact/Faith/Feeling

 January 18, 2022

Two days ago, I missed Sunday School due to a preaching engagement in my old Dunkirk congregation, but I have the study guide and Linda’s relating the gist of the class discussion as fodder for today’s meditation. But first, the Scripture that is the foundation of my thinking:

“For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who sleep in Jesus. For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord will by no means precede those who are asleep. For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And thus we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore comfort one another with these words.” —I Thessalonians 4:14-18 

The discussion Sunday revolved in part around this question from the study guide: “Why is it necessary to FEEL His presence?” (Emphasis in the original). Some were adamant about this necessity, while others weren’t convinced. 

While I would be among the first to acknowledge that the emotions, the awareness of God’s presence is a wonderful thing, the Scriptures are notably lacking in such terminology. The Psalms I admit, often enjoin us to praise and give thanks with joyful hearts, but plenty of them are psalms of lament, with the author raging against injustice. 

I find it interesting that in the text above (and in many others I could cite), feelings are not mentioned. Believing is. We are never encouraged to feel the presence of God, but we are commanded to believe in it. There is a world of difference. Let me explain.

On July 4, 1776, 56 men signed a document that even today has an enormous effect upon my life: the Declaration of Independence. I can read about the events surrounding the signing of this document, but I don’t have to feel anything at all for it to have its effect upon my life. Whether I am happy or sad, good or bad, this event created an entirely new reality, the impact of which continues more than 250 years later. 

In the same way, Jesus’ death and resurrection created a new reality that is not in any way dependent upon my feelings. The only response required is faith—believing that this actually happened. If I chose to disbelieve what those 56 men did 250 years ago, it wouldn’t change the new reality they created, but it would impact my participation in it. I could choose to forfeit the freedoms and rights that, and the Constitution afford me. But in either case, how I feel has no bearing on the effect of either the Declaration or the work of Christ on the cross. 

Do I like feeling the presence of God? Of course! But I am also glad that he remains present even through those dark times when I feel nothing at all. I believe that Jesus died and rose again, and that he is coming again. Sometimes I have to remind myself of what I believe most deeply; so much of what goes on in this world claims to be the only reality. THAT thought is depressing! But it’s only a thought; what I believe is in the finished work of Christ on the cross, his resurrection and ascension, and his coming again to set this sad world straight. And what I believe becomes the basis for what I feel; not the other way around.

Look at what I call the Fact/Faith/Feeling steam train. The Fact of Jesus’ work is the engine. Faith is the coal car. Feeling is the rest of the train. If I shovel coal into the Feelings, the train just sits there. I have to shovel my faith into the Fact of Christ’s work of salvation if the train is to start moving. Too many of us shovel all our faith into the train instead of the engine and wonder why we just sit there immobile. Shoveling my faith into the Engine of God’s work in Christ always gets the train moving.

Hard Blessings

 January 17, 2022

A favorite text for high school baccalaureate services comes from Jeremiah 29:11-13

“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.”

I’ve preached from this text myself, but I fear we too often misread it by taking it out of context. Back in my college days, professor Warren Woolsey used to say, “A text without a context is a pretext.” This particular text is used to assure impressionable people that “God’s got this,” that he is going to arrange life so as to prosper them and smooth the path before them. 

There’s nothing wrong with wanting a future filled with hope and peace, but two conditions are given for this blessing to become a reality, one in these verses quoted above, and one in the surrounding text.

The first condition is our seeking God with our whole heart. God doesn’t promise to bless any old dream we may have. Too often, we want the things God can do for us, but care nothing about God himself. God says we must seek him, not his blessings, but God himself. When things don’t turn out as we had hoped, and the blessing we wanted doesn’t materialize, we quit the whole enterprise. We weren’t interested in God, but in ourselves. Will I seek God even when he refuses the blessing I longed for? Am I willing to be like Job, who lost his wealth, his family, and his health, only to say, “The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD” (Job 1:21)?

The second condition to the blessing offered here is patience. The first wave of exiles had been removed from Judah, and the people were hoping for a speedy return. False prophets were claiming that God promised deliverance within two years. Jeremiah told the people to prepare for a long wait, to settle down in Babylon. God’s deliverance wouldn’t come for seventy years. In addition, they were to bless the very people who took them captive: “Seek the peace of the city where I have cause you to be carried away captive, and pray to the LORD for it; for in its peace you will have peace” (29:7). 

It’s one thing to seek God; it’s quite another to seek peace for people who have interrupted and even ruined your life, but that’s one of the conditions for the future with hope God promises. In spite of disappointment, in spite of opposition, in spite of dreams that have been dashed and plans ruined, will I seek God with my whole heart, and seek peace for the very people who have made life difficult? And am I willing to live this way for a lifetime, without seeing the hopeful future realized? It’s a tall order, but it’s the rest of the story behind this text we love to misquote so much—a hard and difficult blessing, indeed!  

Called By Name

 January 16, 2022

“You shall be called by a new name, Which the mouth of the Lord will name. You shall also be a crown of glory In the hand of the Lord, And a royal diadem In the hand of your God…For the Lord delights in you.” —Isaiah 62:2-4 

Preachers like to talk about being called into ministry. I remember being interviewed by the Board of Ordained Ministry when I was pursuing ordination in the United Methodist Church, and being asked about my calling. It wasn’t a thunderbolt experience, but I just knew from the time I was 14 that I was to be in some sort of Christian work. I thought it would be in foreign missions, but God had other plans, which is another (long) story in itself.

At the interview, the pastors who were examining me for some reason never asked me about my views on baptism (I grew up in an independent Baptist church and sort of slid into Methodism by the back door). What is really amazing is that I was never asked about my church membership, and to this day, I am the only United Methodist pastor I know of who has never been a member of a local church. Anywhere. That would never fly today. Even today, my membership is in the Annual Conference, not the local church. I’m in a similar situation to the Roman Catholic priest who never being married, counsels couples on marital matters. I have received many people into membership in a local church, but have never experienced it myself.

During my ordination interview, someone commented that I was calmer than the others they had interviewed that day. “Why is this,” he queried. 

My response? “I know I am called into ministry. I just don’t know where. You know your system; it’s your job to find out if I fit. If not, I’ll just go elsewhere.”

Today’s lectionary text comes from Isaiah 62, in which Isaiah tells Israel that they will be called by a new name. That intrigues me. Have you ever called out to someone only to discover that the person you hailed wasn’t who you thought it was? You wondered why they didn’t answer until he or she turned around and you realized it wasn’t your friend. They didn’t recognize the name, but only responded to the shout. 

What if God called you by a new name, and you failed to recognize it? He would call and call, and you’d be oblivious to it because you didn’t recognize the new name he had given you. I suspect that happens more often than we realize. We’re so used to the old names we go by that when God calls out our new name, we don’t recognize it as belonging to us. We’re used to names like “failure,” “dumb,” “cheater,” “insecure,” “gossip,” “guilty.” The list goes on, but you get the idea. 

So when God calls out our new name, it goes right over our heads. And what is the new name he whispers in our ear? “Crowned with Glory,” “Royalty,” “Beloved,” “Forgiven,” “Courageous,” “Holy and Righteous.” There are more, but do you see what I mean? When was the last time you answered to God speaking your new name? When will you stop answering to the old names this world has given you? Your name is your identity, and in Christ that has changed, for “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away. Behold, all things are become new.” —2 Corinthians 5:17

Things Above

 January 15, 2022

“Seek those things that are above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God” (Colossians 3:1). St. Paul is very clear about his intention here; much clearer than most of us understand him to be. We think we know what it means to seek things above, but we often read into the text our own imagination of what those things that are above actually are.

In this sentence, the second phrase modifies and explains the first. The things above, the things we are to seek, have to do with the authority of Christ. We are to seek the authoritative rule of Christ that isn’t something that will happen someday in the future; it is even now present, even if we have a hard time seeing the evidence of it. We tend to seek the things of this world—prosperity, promotion, position, pleasure, but if our vision is limited to these things; if this is all we seek, we become blinded to the greater vision and realities to be found in God.

Not only are we to look for the rule of Christ, keeping our eyes peeled for how he is active in our present reality; we are to set our minds upon it. In other words, we think about Christ’s authority continually. Setting our minds on his present rule will keep us looking for (“seeking”) ways it manifests itself. 

Jesus often spoke of the Kingdom of Heaven as being hidden, obscure to most people. He told parables of how it is like a treasure hidden in a field, or a valuable pearl that had to be sought out. I think God wants to know if we really want it enough to search it out. 

If we only look at our circumstances, or what we see at large in our country and world, we will inevitably become discouraged and perhaps cynical. By seeking things above and staying focused on Christ’s authority, we can remain optimistic, resist temptation, and find a purpose that transcends this earthly life.

Bloody Feet

 January 14, 2022

We used to sing a chorus with the words, “Be excellent in what is good; be innocent of evil…And the God of peace will soon crush Satan; God will crush him underneath your feet.” It was a simple song and a great tune that doesn’t deserve to be relegated to the inactive file.

It’s lyrics come straight out of Romans 16:19-20. We love the concept, relishing the coming day when that dream becomes a reality. It’s promise reminds me of an earlier promise found in Genesis 3:15 and spoken to the Serpent that tempted Eve: “The woman’s seed will bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.”

We rejoice and sing about Satan’s bruising and of our victory over him in Christ, but often do so almost cavalierly, not considering how that bruising occurred. Jesus’ victory over Satan was not a walk in the park. It was a brutal, bruising battle, described in part by Isaiah who prophetically said of the effects of Jesus’ scourging and crucifixion that his visage was so marred as to almost appear inhuman.

If Jesus’ victory over Satan was so catastrophic to his own person, what would make me think that mine would come at a lesser price? Certainly, Jesus died in my place an atoning substitutionary death that paid the penalty for my sins, but it was Jesus who told his disciples that if they mistreated the Master, they would certainly also mistreat his servants. God will crush Satan under our feet, but our heel too, will be bruised in the process. As Hebrews chides us, we have “not yet resisted unto blood.” We will crush Satan, but it will be with bloody feet.

Satisfaction

 January 13, 2022

It was 1965; more than fifty years ago, when Mick Jagger wailed “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction” into a microphone. It’s no wonder; satisfaction cannot be found in any of the places he and Keith Richard’s were looking. Psalm 65:4 gives us the answer to their frustration: “We shall be satisfied with the goodness of your house, of your holy temple.”

Linda and I were out on an errand yesterday and after it was complete, we stopped at Frewsburg’s Emporium and Hallenback’s, both dealers in antiques and assorted old junk. Each had an assortment of nice old furniture and interesting odds and ends. Linda liked a set of “12 Days of Christmas” tumblers, but decided not to buy them. As we strolled through the shops, we talked of all the things we saw and how we needed none of it. We can appreciate nice things without owning them. We have enough…more than enough; so much that it would be sinful not to be generous with what God has placed in our hands. 

The word satisfaction has an interesting etymology. It comes from the Latin “to make enough,” with the same root as “satiate,” to be completely filled, even to overflowing. We are satisfied, not by the stuff of this world, but only by the house, the presence of the Lord who chose us and in his mysterious wisdom causes us to approach him. Amazing Grace!

Lord God Almighty, may our “more than enough” become “make enough” for others, for the poor and needy, for those who have never heard the Gospel. May we be avenues of grace, rivers of blessing that freely flow, releasing what we receive instead of holding on with grasping desperation, for it is only in giving that rivers remain fresh and clear. The river that flows the swiftest has the clearest water; the slower it releases what it has received, the more stagnant and muddy, till it becomes only a swamp. So may those whom you have satisfied become rivers of life to all. 

Favored Ones

 January 12, 2022

In chapter 24 of the book that bears his name, Jeremiah relates a vision he had of two baskets of figs, one very good figs, and the other, very bad inedible figs. Surprisingly, God says the good figs represent those who will be carried off into exile in Babylon, while the bad figs represent those who remain in the land. 

My instinct would tell me that getting carried off into exile would be bad, while escaping this disaster and remaining in the land would be a blessing, but that’s not how God sees it. Isaiah quoted God as saying, “My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways, For as the heavens are higher than the earth, So are My ways higher than your ways, And My thoughts than your thoughts.” —Isaiah 55:8-9

When we see bad things happen to good people, we instinctively question the love and wisdom of God. It doesn’t make sense, and violates our understanding of justice, of right and wrong. But God has a broader and longer field of vision than do we. He saw that those carried into exile would be purified and strengthened by the experience, horrible as it was. Though they had their issues, they never again turned to false idols, while those who remained in the land continued their syncretistic ways, blending worship of the LORD with that of the gods of those imported into the territory by the Babylonians as part of their policy of weakening opposition by dispersion.

Sometimes those upon whom God’s hand has fallen more harshly are in the end, the ones he blesses with a heart to know him. Your suffering and heartache are not in vain, and those who seem to live a charmed life are not necessarily favored over you. Though the last chapter has been written, it hasn’t yet been realized; but when it finally comes, we all might be a bit surprised to discover who really is favored by the Lord.

The Burning

 January 11, 2022

I’ve been retired for almost ten years now, and although I thoroughly enjoy the more relaxed pace and lessened responsibilities, I still resonate with Jeremiah. He inspires me. Right from the start, God told him what he was to do, and added, “They aren’t going to listen to you.” In other words, by most of the metrics we use, Jeremiah’s ministry would be a failure. He would have no great following, no streets named after him, no monuments to his memory.

Knowing all that from the very beginning of his calling, he still pushed on, never giving up, never throwing in the towel. What kept him going? He tells us in 15:16–“Your words we’re found, and I ate them.  And your word was to me the joy and rejoicing of my heart; for I am called by your name, O LORD God of hosts.” Jeremiah knew who he was and whose he was, because God’s word was so deeply planted in his heart.

God’s word has a way of making things happen. They are life and light, and in 20:9, Jeremiah reveals how it moved him: “Then I said, “I will not make mention of Him, Nor speak anymore in His name.” But His word was in my heart like a burning fire Shut up in my bones; I was weary of holding it back, And I could not.” That’s how I feel! I love working with my bees; I love riding my sidecar motorcycle; I love playing my bass; but none of those things fills the empty place inside me that proclaiming God’s Word filled. That’s why I write; it’s why I prepare for Cuba even when getting there is difficult. The fire sometimes burns with intensity, sometimes it just smolders, but it never goes out. For that, I am grateful tonight. 

Insomnia

 January 10, 2022

It’s not often that I cannot sleep, but last night I awoke about 3:00 am, my mind swirling with indecision about a matter of some importance. This matter has been on my mind for some days now, and somehow came to a head in the middle of the night. 

Linda often wakes at such times, and after lying still and praying for an hour or so, will often rise and go out to the couch, turn on “Murder, She Wrote” reruns and promptly go to sleep. She turns the volume down and says the sound lulls her back to sleep. Not me; though the plots are cheesy, they would keep me awake till the end of the show.

I am usually unable to pray in the middle of the night; my thoughts are so garbled and jumbled that coherent prayer cannot escape my lips. Fortunately, when I wake, I can usually get back to sleep without incident. Last night however, was different. My mind kept trolling various Scriptures, seeking guidance that so far hasn’t come. It’s not a matter of right or wrong, so it comes down to simply finding peace in the midst of the confusion.

I’m not the only one who has traveled these roads. Some decisions are easy; there is a right decision and a wrong decision—it’s a matter of moral or ethical weight. Other decisions are a bit more difficult; it’s not a choice between right and wrong, but between right and almost right. As someone once said, there is a big difference between lightning and lightning bug. 

Although my spirit is still not at rest over the issue, I am confident that day will come, at just the right time. James 1: 5-6 says, “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him. But let him ask in faith, with no doubting…” God’s promise is clear: if we ask for wisdom, he will give it. I don’t have to wonder or worry. And I don’t need to second-guess whatever decision I make. He promises wisdom, and I accept that promise even though at the moment I am unsettled in my spirit. Our God wastes nothing; he doesn’t give strength before the battle, and withholds wisdom until the decision is necessary. Until then, I’ll keep praying, searching the Scriptures, and trusting in the goodness of God. And maybe…just maybe tonight, I’ll be able to sleep.

Complete Healing

 January 9, 2022

Writing to the corrupt spiritual leaders of his nation, Jeremiah levels an accusation that should haunt every would-be preacher of the Gospel: “They have also healed the hurt of My people slightly, Saying, ‘Peace, peace!’ When there is no peace” (Jeremiah 6:14).

We say we believe in the ministry of healing; we pray for people to be healed of all sorts of illnesses, but I wonder how often we only skip along the surface of the matter instead of digging down to its heart. With the advent of all the different Covid variants, I don’t know what the current state of affairs is, but it used to be said that between 85 and 90% of our physical ailments are psychological in origin. I do know that sin lies at the root of many of our ailments, and that forgiveness of ourselves and others is very often the path to freedom and health.

Having been a pastor for more than forty years, I can say with the confidence of experience that it is all-too-easy to deal with surface issues and ignore the deeper spiritual roots of our problems. We talk about repentance and confession, but do so in such generalized terms that we don’t really have to confront the reality of our own sins. The liturgy for the Lord’s Table includes the prayer of confession and absolution which rolls off the tongues of many without even thinking about it. “We have done things we ought not to have done, and left undone things we should have done…” So it goes, all the while we continue to hold onto grudges, resentments, lust, and greed.

And we pastors, as spiritual leaders, heal the hurt of our people only slightly, offering words of absolution, exhorting our people to “go in peace.” Our nation is reeling with the consequences of sin, while we tell people merely to mask up and keep safe, all the while sealing the real infection inside where it can fester and poison both body and soul. Why do we act this way? I think it is primarily because we have a deep seated need for approval, and dealing decisively with the deeper issues is hard, exhausting, and dangerous work. 

Once the enemy of our souls has lost us to the grace of Christ, he knows he cannot get us back. God’s salvation is without repentance, and those who in repentance and faith put their trust in the atoning and substitutionary work of Christ on the cross he cannot reclaim. But he can make us ineffective in the witness that could help set another free, and he does that by keeping us from fully dealing with the wounds and hurts caused by our own, and others’ sin. We get saved, but not sanctified. We get healed, but only slightly. 

God’s Word is key, and so is the ministry of the Holy Spirit: “For the word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart” (Hebrews 4:12). “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, Nor have entered into the heart of man The things which God has prepared for those who love Him.” But God has revealed them to us through His Spirit. For the Spirit searches all things, yes, the deep things of God” (I Corinthians 2:9-10).

May God grant us grace to have the courage to delve deeply into our souls, that we may be healed, not just slightly, but completely.

Compassion and Fear

January 8, 2022

“But you, beloved, building yourselves up on your most holy faith, praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life. And on some have compassion, making a distinction; “but others save with fear, pulling them out of the fire, hating even the garment defiled by the flesh.”

Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling, And to present you faultless Before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy, To God our Savior, Who alone is wise, Be glory and majesty, Dominion and power, Both now and forever. Amen.”

—Jude 1:20-25 

Thankfully, not everyone is as naturally critical and judgmental as I at times can be. People who lie and manipulate for their own ends, abusing the power or authority they’ve been given, can get under my skin. So, reading Jude 21 challenges me: “Keep yourselves in the love of God.”

Keeping myself in the love of God, making sure my conversation and thoughts are governed by love instead of disgust or anger, is not easy, but is crucial if I am to model my life after Christ. The love of God is necessary if I am to do what all Christian are called to do—bear witness by bearing the cross, doing all in our power to rescue people from eternal ruin. Verse 22 tells us that some are rescued through compassion—they respond to the kindness and mercy of God offered through his people. Others respond to the fear of punishment (verse 23). We must be able to distinguish between these two kinds of people if we are to be effective in our witness, but for both, we must keep ourselves in the love of God, not threatening, but warning people of the dangers of facing eternity apart from Christ.

A struggling preacher once asked an older and wiser why he was so successful in getting people to come to Christ. “I preach the same message of sin and salvation, of heaven’s joys and hell’s terrors,” he said. “But no one responds. When you preach the same message, people come to Christ. What is different?” 

The elder preacher pondered this question for a moment, then quietly said, “When you speak of hell’s torment, you speak as if you were glad for sinners to end up there. When I preach, it is with a tear in my eye and a lump in my throat, fearful that they might not choose heaven’s joys, pleading with them to turn before it’s too late.”

“Lord, I need your grace and strength to keep myself in love, so as to serve you and minister effectively, honoring you with the glory, majesty, dominion, and power you deserve. Put a check in my spirit when instead of love, I begin to speak with criticism, cynicism, and fleshly disgust with the sins of the world. May I have the heart of Christ, who let not the joys of heaven nor the terrors of hell keep him from seeking and saving all who would hear his call to come home.”

 

Contentment and Compulsion

 January 7, 2022

My friends Tsoogi and Tsengel regularly send me photos of their work as they share the Gospel with their countrymen living on the steppes of Mongolia. Much of where their work takes them, there are no roads; they drive cross-country from settlement to settlement. Their winters are harsh and unforgiving, the work is challenging, to say the least. But they keep at it, visiting door to door and holding meetings witnessing to everyone they meet about Christ.

They have taken seriously the words of St. Paul, who said, “The love of Christ compels me…” (2 Corinthians 5:14), and in their devotion to the work, put me to shame.

I find myself torn between the wisdom of Ecclesiastes 9:9 and the urgency of Paul. Ecclesiastes urges us to “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,” while Paul admonishes us to ““Preach the word! Be ready in season and out of season. Convince, rebuke, exhort, with all longsuffering and teaching.” —II Timothy 4:2 

This morning I sat by the fire reading my Bible and praying. Our back room is a pleasant place, with the wood stove and windows overlooking the creek. The bluejays, woodpeckers, chickadees, finches, and cardinals were squabbling over the seeds in our feeder just outside the window, and I was thinking about what I want to do with my bees come spring. I am content, even when plowing a foot or more of snow this afternoon. 

But as nice as it is, contentment isn’t God’s ultimate purpose for us. So I feel myself torn between contentment and compulsion, preferring the former, but haunted by the latter. I’m not sure where the balance point is, but I know my friends have grasped the compulsion of the Gospel in a way I have not. So as I pray for them, I pray also for myself, that God would search my heart and lead me in his way everlasting (Psalm 139:23).