Strong Enough

 March 29, 2022

“For this reason I bow my knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, from whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, that He would grant you, according to the riches of His glory, to be strengthened with might through His Spirit in the inner man, that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height— to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.” —Ephesians 3:14-19 

Paul says something quite curious in his prayer for the Ephesian Christians when he prays that they be strengthened with might through his Spirit (v.16). Christians are often perceived as weak pushovers in life; those too timid to tackle life on their own terms, needing to be propped up by religion.

Paul sees it quite differently. He wants us to be strong so Christ can dwell in us. The implication is that Jesus has little time for weak, pusillanimous followers. He is too powerful, too big for weak people to contain. It takes a unique kind of strength to admit one’s need for a Savior. It can be scary to acknowledge we need help. Faith means stepping out with certainty onto an uncertain path. Weak people cannot muster enough strength to ask for help, and so never take that first step.

When I was a college freshman, one of my classmates down the hall decided to mix up some homemade root beer. He followed the instructions on the root beer syrup container, bottled the concoction, and put it in his closet to work (ie. “ferment”). I don’t remember how long it sat in his closet, but there came the day when one of the bottles exploded. Then another…and another. One after another, he tallied each explosion. It took about a week before he dared open the closet door, for fear one would burst in his face. Needless to say, his wardrobe was a bit messy!

If we are to be filled with the power of the Spirit, we must be strong, lest the fermenting power of Christ’s new wine burst the bottles of our old self. Weakness just cannot contain what God is up to.

Glue

 March 28, 2022

Yesterday I wrote about Jesus’ story of the Prodigal Son found in Luke 15, focusing on a single word, “himself,” and the profound compliment Jesus gives us in that single word. Last night, a friend posted his own take on this story, from a sermon he preached. With his permission, I share it with you tonight because it shed new light (to me) on the text, and on me. Rick Danielson looks at this story in terms of family dynamics and how grace and forgiveness are the glue that bind us together, and their absence as what tears us apart. It’s true in families, in church families, in communities, and all of life. Read and be blessed. And thank you, Rick.

“Recently I was in a coffee shop and was intrigued by a tattoo inked on the arm of the man I stood behind in line.  In big letters, written in an elaborate, sprawling script, it read “No Mercy. No Compassion,” and beneath, in much smaller letters, were the words “For I have received none.”  The words caught my attention because I had been pondering the story of the Prodigal Son all week, especially the part about the father having compassion when he saw his son again.  I did something out of character for me.  I asked this large man with the leather vest and handlebar mustache and arms like hams about his tattoo and what it meant.  He stared at me for a moment, surprised, and then replied with measured words: “It’s a long story, about a difficult life.”  Then he grabbed his coffee off the counter and walked out the door.

 “No mercy; no compassion”; just a man old before his time, recording the painful legacy of rejection on his bicep in permanent ink.

“People often ask this about the parable of the Prodigal Son: Who is this story really about?  The son who wandered?  Or the loving Father who welcomed him home?  The answer, I think, is “yes,” but it’s even more than that.  It’s the tale of a whole family and how they struggled to understand and to forgive one another.  It’s about the complexity of their relationships and how the stresses of life brought out their best and also their worst.

“Jesus gives us a thumbnail sketch of three family members: a father who cares deeply about both of his boys; a son who is impatient about growing up; a brother who feels invisible and unappreciated in his own home.  The deepest needs of each intersect with and rub up against the needs of the others.  They can leave, as one did, but they can’t get away from each other.  As Maya Angelou, the poet, wrote: “I believe that one can never leave home.  I believe that one carries the shadows, the dreams, the fears, and the dragons of home under one’s skin.”

“Like every family, the father and the two sons each had a specific role, a part, to play.  I think you know what I mean by that.  Here in this story are the roles of “Long-suffering Parent,” “Black Sheep,” “Golden Child.”  They each knew what was expected, and they went through life playing their part and waiting to see if they were affirmed or rejected by those around them.  They wanted to know whether they would be pulled close or pushed aside during their best and their worst moments. 

“Because of our imperfections and tendency to veer off track, as the old hymn puts it: “Prone to wander, Lord I feel it,” we are in constant need of what the Bible calls grace.  I’ve had people say to me, “I understand all about grace, but I just don’t feel like I deserve it.”  Which of course means that they don’t understand grace.  The very essence of grace is that it is in fact undeserved, “unmerited.”  If we deserved it, it would no longer be grace.  Grace is at the core of our life together as believers in Jesus.

“The story of the Prodigal Son, or the Loving Father, or the Resentful Brother, or whatever we want to call it, is a story about us as well; it’s a reminder that the values of compassion and grace are the glue that makes it possible for us to be together. Grace affirms us as fully accepted, and grace relieves us of the burden of trying to make everyone else live up to our requirements.

“In our worst moments there is grace.  Not deserved, but fully and lavishly given.  It’s a gift, like an unexpected sign along the highway.  And it’s a sign that we are loved unconditionally no matter how sure we are that we have passed the limits of redemption.

“When families are at their best, they become the primary and most effective channel for grace to flow into and out of the lives of people like you and me.  Sometimes we’re like a loving parent: throwing open our arms to embrace the wayward child, washing mud from an embarrassed face, showing with our actions once again the supreme value of every person.  Sometimes we’re more like a resentful sibling: wondering why the troublemaker is getting all of the attention again.  But always we are the children of a God who will never turn away from us no matter how determined we are to head in the wrong direction.

“Today is a good day to choose grace; to remember our own need for forgiveness, and to let go of all the requirements we hold for others.  Above all, my hope today is that you will know God as the adoring parent whose love is unconditional and who waits by the door to welcome you home.”

Home At Last

 March 27, 2022

We’ve all heard it or said it. Maybe both. You’ve had a rough day; it seems everything you touch falls apart when someone says something that makes you snap angrily. Realizing your error, you then apologize, saying, “I’m sorry; I’m just not myself today.” Raise your hand if you can say, “Been there; done that.”

There was a time when my reaction to such an apology would have been, “No; your real self just came bursting through the facade you’ve established.” In one sense, I wouldn’t have been entirely wrong. If we have any conscience at all, we are aware of how careful we are to make a good impression. We aren’t proud of our jealousy, our greed, our lust, our laziness, so we work hard to offset those tendencies with acts of kindness, selflessness, and sacrifice.

Today’s Lectionary Scripture is taken from Luke 15; the story of the Prodigal Son. In actuality, it’s a story of two sons. One wandered from home, but came back; the other never left home, but was just as lost as his younger brother. 

In the story, this younger brother squandered his inheritance in a faraway land; something we’ve sadly seen with amazing regularity. Whether the fortune is actual dollars, or perhaps health, or relationships, squandering what has been given us is too often our own story. This young man ends up in the worst of all places—a pigpen. For a Jew, there could hardly be a more despicable place to be. But he’s there, starving, when according to the story, “he comes to his senses.”

Only that’s not what it says. Our modern translations have missed the mark here, for Jesus was paying this sad young man quite the complement. What Jesus said about him was this: “He came to himself.” Whereas once I thought people at their worst were exhibiting their genuine self, Jesus saw things in a completely opposite manner. This young man wasn’t his real self wallowing in a pigsty. He was his true self when he thought of his father and home.

How we see people, the lenses through which we interpret life tell more about us than them. Saying that people at their worst is who they really are is a reflection on me. My outlook is skewed, my vision is clouded by my own sinfulness, the darkness in my own soul. Our true selves are seen in our longings for home, for a father who stands at the gate, gazing into the distance, hoping and praying for his lost son to come home.

In the end, the story is a contrast between the father and the elder brother. The father’s heart was broken for his son; the brother’s heart was hard and heartless towards this younger sibling who, broken by his sins, finally came crawling home. I suspect the elder son saw his brother much as I used to see people: He was a worthless wastrel who deserved no pity. The father however, saw him as he really was: a son who finally had realized his real identity. 

It was some years ago that God taught me my error; I can still be judgmental, but am grateful that my heavenly Father saw through the filth and grime and told me who I really am. It made all the difference.

Splashing in the Shallows

 March 26, 2022

I’m still musing over yesterday’s text:

“…I ask that you do not lose heart at my tribulations for you, which is your glory. For this reason I bow my knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, that He would grant you, according to the riches of His glory, to be strengthened with might through His Spirit in the inner man, that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height— to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”

—Ephesians 3:13-14, 16-19 

Though imprisoned and having endured many trials, when Paul prays for eh Ephesian Christians, his request of God is that they may know the surpassing love of Christ. He didn’t ask to be delivered from prison; his troubles didn’t dissuade him of his assurance of Christ’s love. Unlike many of Luis today who question God’s love with every little problem that comes along, Paul’s assurance didn’t come from an external situation, but from within. 

I suspect that we have difficulty in this area. Because we haven’t plumbed the depths, but are rather content to paddle around on the surface of life. We measure Christ’s love for us by the amount of temporal blessings we have received, and when they are taken away, we discover that all we had was the shell of temporal blessing. There is no inner substance to our assurance, which is why we are so dependent on the external signs. We get so caught up in them we never even imagine there’s anything more. We don’t even look.

Too often, we’re like toddlers in an inflatable wading pool set up on an ocean beach. We splash and laugh, unaware of the length, breadth, and depth of the ocean that washes the sands only inches away.

“Lord, show me how to step out of my little pool. Give me the courage to cast out into the deep. It takes more than Bible study. It takes you.”

Back to the Future

 March 25, 2022

How often I’ve listened to Christians speak of the “attacks of Satan” upon them. We face a difficulty, a temptation, or an obstacle, perhaps an illness, financial instability, a strained or failed relationship, even death, and we interpret it as an attack from the enemy. It is tempting at such times to feel as if we have been singled out for special wrath.

In his book, “Praying Circles Around the Lives of Your Children,” Mark Batterson references Lisa Bevere, who in her book “Girls With Swords,” compares the enemy’s attacks to the Terminator movie in which the heroine is living a rather ordinary life until a robotic assassin from the future tries to kill her. She doesn’t know why this is happening until it is explained to her that in the future, an artificial intelligence network will initiate a nuclear war designed to wipe out all mankind. Her yet-to-be-born son will rally an army of survivors to lead a resistance movement. This movement is on the verge of victory, so the Terminator has been sent back in time to kill her before her son is born.

Bevere muses: “The attacks on your life have much more to do with who you might be in the future than who you have been in the past.” Batterson adds that they may have to do with what God plans to do through your children or grandchildren than they do about you.

It’s a powerful thought. Much of what we think is about us isn’t about us at all. You may labor in obscurity, imagining yourself a failure, but God is using you as the incubator for what he intends to do long after you have been laid in the ground. In my reading of Ephesians 3 this morning, I came across this little gem: “I ask that you do not lose heart at my tribulations for you, which is your glory.” (V.13)

In the next verse, Paul launches into his prayer for the Ephesian Christians. Linda has prayed this prayer over our grandchildren for over twenty years. I will quote it as she prays it.

“I pray that Christ may dwell more and more in your hearts, living within you as you trust in him. May your roots grow down deep into the soil of his marvelous love so you may know and understand how wide, how long, how deep and how high God’s love for you really is, though you will never fully know or understand it, but someday you will be filled up with God himself.”

You can read it for yourself in Ephesians 3:14-21. What I hadn’t noticed before was the context of this prayer. Paul is languishing in a filthy Roman prison. He could be feeling sorry for himself, cursing Rome, railing against God, but instead he says to his readers, “I don’t want you to get discouraged because of me.” His suffering wasn’t about himself, but was for them. “For your glory,” is how he put it. 

Our steadfastness and faithfulness in the trials and difficulties of life aren’t merely the devil’s attacks upon us; they are components of God’s plan to bless someone else. He wants to be able to point at us and say, “Do you see him/her? THAT’s what I’m after. Follow his example. Listen to her words.” And it just may be that those times you stumbled and God picked you up were his way of keeping you on the right path for the sake of a child yet unborn who is to be the teacher, the pastor, the physician, or the statesman who will be instrumental in transforming the lives of multitudes. 

It’s not about you. It’s not about me. It’s about Jesus.

This Generation

 March 24, 2022

When it seems that the world is shaking, tottering off its foundations, it is good to know Psalm 24. 

“The earth is the Lord’s, and all its fullness, 

the world and those who dwell within. 

For he has founded it upon the seas, 

and established it upon the waters.” —v.1

Adults often worry about the world their kids or grandkids are growing up in. Things are certainly different than when I was growing up in the ‘50s and ‘60s, but the promise of God remains:

“This is the generation of those who seek him, 

who seek your face.” —v.6

And finally, 

“Lift up your heads, O you gates!

And be lifted up, you everlasting doors!

And the King of glory shall come in.

Who is this King of glory?

The LORD strong and mighty,

The LORD mighty in battle.” —vv.8-9

God makes no mistakes. He has raised up our children for this hour, and will be as faithful to them as he has been to us. Of course, not every child seeks his face, but there is a generation of young adults who are doing so with an intensity and purpose that many of us older folks would do well to emulate. And the world they are inheriting from us, for all its tragedy, danger, and sorrow, is still God’s world. He is the one who establishes it, and even when the foundations tremble, God’s Word endures. He who calmed the troubled sea will one day calm all of Creation as every knee bows and every tongue confesses Jesus Christ to be Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Jesus himself guaranteed it: “Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my Word shall never pass away.” (Matthew 24:35) So I pray for my kids and grandkids, and for many other young adults I know. I don’t pray in fear, hoping against hope that nothing bad happens to them. We know better. “In this world, you shall have tribulation,” Jesus promised (John 16:33). My prayer is that when that trouble comes, this generation will have learned how to stand strong, how to get up when they’ve fallen, how to overcome adversity. If they don’t, it’s on us for not teaching them.

This old earth may totter and shake, but we can lift up our heads because the glorious LORD of all the earth is coming! Contrary to some (deficient) theology, the world doesn’t belong to Satan. He is at work, but he is an intruder, and this world, sad and broken as it is, belongs to God, who will restore it to even greater beauty than at the beginning. 

In the meantime, this generation is rising up; a generation who seeks God’s face, and in seeking, will find, and in finding, will stride forth in the power of the Holy Spirit to shake this world in a whole different way.

Instrumental

 March 23, 2022

Tonight at our Lenten dinner and Bible study, a video by Max Lucado told the story of a man who vowed never again to play his trumpet after playing taps at his son’s funeral. But his daughter-in-law was pregnant at the time, and now twenty years later, his granddaughter wanted him to play for her wedding—a request any grandparent knows can’t be refused.

So he took his old instrument to the repair shop where the master craftsman hammered out the dents, freed up the valves, and polished it till it shone. As I listened to this story, it occurred to me that the instrument can play songs of sadness or joy. It can only do what the music and the musician determine. The music determines the melody, the instrument the tone, but it is the musician who determines the soul, taking notes on paper and translating them into music that swells and recedes, carrying aloft the emotion and intensity of the song.

We are instruments in God’s hand. He wrote the music, and is the conductor of the orchestra. We play with all the intensity and love, the gravitas and joy that is in his own heart. We provide the subtle and varied tones, from the reedy clarinets, oboes, saxophones, and bassoons, to the brassy tubas, trombones, euphoniums, and trumpets. There are the soft notes of the flutes, the rattle of the snares, the chords and runs of the piano, the sweeping sweetness of violins, cellos, and basses. Each instrument contributes a different timbre, a different feel to the music, but the performance is the work of the Composer/Conductor, and elicits the praise of all Creation. 

Isn’t it amazing that we get to play our part, contributing to the symphony that was in the Father’s heart, written in the blood of his Son, and moved by the wind of the Spirit in us!

Repent!

 March 22, 2022

Imagine my surprise when I opened my documents and realized I hadn’t posted anything last night. I suspected my mind might be slipping, but didn’t anticipate having also stripped its gears! 

My thoughts for the past week have been soaring like vultures over the sermon text for the week from Luke 13:

“There were present at that season some who told Him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. And Jesus answered and said to them, “Do you suppose that these Galileans were worse sinners than all other Galileans, because they suffered such things? I tell you, no; but unless you repent you will all likewise perish. Or those eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell and killed them, do you think that they were worse sinners than all other men who dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you, no; but unless you repent you will all likewise perish.”” —Luke 13:1-5 

Current events were what triggered the story Jesus told in our text: More than 2000 years later,  we wrestle with the same issues: There is injustice, and there is little we can do about it. Or if you prefer, injustice and impotence.

Our responses, and those of Jesus’ disciples stem from our sense of justice, the age-old question of why bad things happen to good people. In their question, they were justifiably angry at Rome, the “evil empire.” Soldiers had raided the temple, murdering the worshippers. It was easy to point the finger. Jesus however, took it a bit further. “What about that tower collapse?” Now it wasn’t Rome on trial, but God himself. So what does Jesus say to this?

“Unless you repent, you will likewise perish.” Not very comforting, is it?

But Jesus does something very necessary here: He moves the discussion from “out there” to “in here.” We expend a lot of energy fighting battles we cannot win, beating our heads against matters@ we can’t control. 

Very few of the issues of life’s injustices lie within our capacity to influence. We may feel justified in our anger or complaint, but talk all we want, it’s not going to change a thing. We feel justified, vindicated, if we can pinpoint the blame, but remember, fixing blame doesn’t fix the problem.

Jesus moves us from what we cannot to what we can control: “Repent”—ie. fix what’s wrong in you, and the rest will work out. Instead of wasting time railing against what we cannot control, we can start with what is in our grasp: Repent.” Change your way of thinking. Change your behavior.

What to repent of? Here’s a short list: Complaining. Stinking Thinking. Prayerlessness, or simply selfish prayers. Ingratitude. Judgmentalism. A lack of faith: Repent/Repeat.

It can be a bitter pill. We would rather point our fingers at what’s wrong “out there.” It makes us feel better. After all, “I don’t do all those bad things.” So we measure life by its negatives instead of its positives, justifying ourselves while rejecting God’s justification of us in Christ…a justification that can only be received by repentance and faith: “Lord, I’m no better than _____; forgive me for smugly feeling superior and doing nothing about what I can change instead of humbly repenting and changing what I can.

Just Say Yes

 March 20, 2022

I wonder if St. Paul was ever nervous about what lay ahead when he was on his missionary journeys. I wonder if during that day and night he was floating around, clinging to the wreckage of the ship that sunk underneath him (2 Cor. 11:25), if he ever questioned whether he had gotten a word from the Lord or had misunderstood. When we are weary, hungry, or in pain, it is easy to begin wondering if we are on the right path. And there are those times when we just plain wonder if this crazy adventure we are on came about as a word from the Lord, or was some fantasy of our own imagination.

I’m not having doubts about my going to Cuba; but I do get nervous. I don’t like leaving my wife behind, going through customs is always an unwelcome adventure, and I’m not one who seeks adventure for the sake of the thrill. Just this morning, I preached again in Cassadaga. It’s been awhile since I’ve done so, and my stomach was churning the entire time, just like it used to when preaching was part of the job. I would have been quite happy if like Abraham about to sacrifice Isaac, an angel thundered from heaven, “STOP! You don’t have to preach this morning; I was only testing you.” That didn’t happen, of course, and I went through with it.

I’ve had a running argument with those who say following Christ would be worth it even if the Gospel weren’t true. St. Paul is on my side on that one when he said, “If Christ be not raised, we are of all men most miserable…our faith is futile and you are still in your sins” (1 Cor. 15:17, 19). It wasn’t the joys and pleasures of this life that impelled Paul on his missionary journeys. It was the love of Christ that would reach down and take a sinner like himself, pick him up, give him a job to do, and a reward at the end—that’s what motivated the apostle. 

I have no special talent. My preaching isn’t particularly dynamic. My scholarship is limited, and my Spanish is laughable. I go, not because I have great wisdom to offer, but because I’ve been invited, which I interpret to be the call of God through the invitation of his people there. I’m a firm believer in the concept that it’s not our ability, but our availability that God is after. The former is limited, but the latter God has completely, and that is enough for me.

Grandfathering

 March 19, 2022

“For He established a testimony in Jacob, 

And appointed a law in Israel, 

Which He commanded our fathers, 

That they should make them known to their children; 

That the generation to come might know them, 

The children who would be born, 

That they may arise and declare them to their children, 

That they may set their hope in God, 

And not forget the works of God, But keep His commandments;” Psalm 78:5-7 

As parents or grandparents, we often look back on our parenting years with at least a small amount of regret. We see the teaching opportunities we missed, the times we disciplined not out of love, but of anger, the times we were so busy with work or even church that our kids felt that they were add-ons, of lesser value than other, important things in our lives.

My grandchildren occasionally tell us some of the habits their parents have developed, like “High-Low” around the dinner table where each one has to say what their high for the day was, and if necessary, the low. Or the question “Where did you see God at work today?” I wish I had thought of those kinds of questions when my kids were young.

We did some things right, too. We were at almost every one of their swim meets, concerts, and musicals. We took in some of their friends who needed a safe home. I insisted they speak to their mother and each other with respect. Once, when one of the boys raised his voice to Linda, I jumped all over him. “I don’t speak to her that way, and you won’t, either!”

But there were those times I failed. I wasn’t the example they needed. Mine is the lament of every parent: “I could have done better.” At such times, Scriptures like those of this psalm take on fresh meaning. God gave me the responsibility of teaching my children, that they might teach theirs, and for good measure, he added another generation to it. I could cite Scripture after Scripture that emphasizes the importance of this fatherly responsibility. I can’t pawn it off on the preacher or Sunday School teacher or youth leader. It is my job. Mine alone. The others can help, but they can never take my place.

This is good news to me as a grandfather. It tells me my job isn’t done. Churches and society are filled with boys whose fathers either don’t know or don’t care to shoulder the responsibility. My kids are grown; my grandchildren almost so. But there are others; boys who need a man who can show them what male godliness is all about, girls who need a man who can love them as they deserve to be loved, with a purity that fills their hearts so they won’t need to look for love with boy-men who don’t know how to give it.

I spent the better part of the day today with hundreds of men who want to make a difference. The good news is, it’s never too late. We cannot change our mistakes of the past, but we can build a new future by the grace of God. May we be wise and courageous enough to do so, for their sakes, and to the glory of our God and Savior, Jesus Christ. Another generation is coming!

Cuba Again

 March 18, 2022

Plans have finally come together; I’m Cuba-bound! I won’t publish the dates, but request your prayers, not just for me, but for the people there who have endured so much more than we during the pandemic. I will be teaching in the seminarios, but really ought to be sitting at their feet. The church in Cuba is growing; worship services are packed; people are hungry for the Gospel. They don’t have the luxury of online or streamed services. We could learn much from them about faithfulness in difficult times.

I’ve been asked to teach on the Christian family; the husband-wife relationship, raising godly children. God has been good to Linda and me; these are topics I think I can address with integrity. God willing, I’ll be able to teach about how to study the Bible, and sermon preparation. I also hope to teach on the opportunities and the pitfalls of the internet, which is fairly new and limited there. Pray that I will be faithful to the Gospel in my teaching, and that I’ll be able to minister to new gatherings as well as with old friends.

Covid has brought additional bureaucratic boondoggles to international travel. I have to arrange for a covid test to be administered no sooner than 72 hours prior to my flight.  

Pray also for Linda. Neither of us relishes the thought of being apart, but she’s not a world-traveler, and would rather me be away from her than her be away from home. Her support and prayers are as much a part of what I do in Cuba as my being there. 

This has been in the works for a long time. I’ve been preparing, planning, and praying for more than two years. This is your invitation to partner with me in prayer. Your prayers can spell the difference between ruin and revival. 

Wandering at Home

 March 17, 2022

Most people who are in any way associated with Christianity have heard the story of the Prodigal Son. It’s almost a part of American folklore, but is usually misunderstood. We take it as a story of a young man who is joyfully received back home by his father after wasting his life and fortune in dissipation. It’s taken by most people to be an illustration of God’s unconditional love for us, no matter how far we’ve wandered from him.

The story is this, and so much more. In fact, there are two brothers in the story; the one who wandered, and the older brother who stayed home, faithfully taking care of the family business. When his father welcomed the younger brother back home, this faithful son was not at all pleased. “I’ve slaved for you all these years,” he fumed, “and you never threw a party for me!” 

Jesus’ point was clear. This wasn’t a story about a wandering son coming home, but about the elder son who never left home. For every person who has wasted years in profligacy, there are perhaps dozens who have diligently toiled away, doing the right thing. We pat ourselves on the back and believe all is well, but when the wastrel is received, our true colors emerge. We may speak eloquently about God’s grace, but we believe in fairness, getting what is due us. Our relationship to God is based on performance, not love, and this attitude spills over into our relationship with others. 

If I haven’t lived in grace, I will have none to give. If I want to know about my relationship to God, all I have to do is check my attitude towards those who have wandered. Do I, like the father in the story, receive them joyfully, or do I, like the elder brother, impose conditions? My attitude to people reveals the quality of my relationship to God. Not all who wander are lost, and it is quite possible to be lost while never leaving home.

Weakness Made Strong

 March 16, 2022

“And an inscription also was written over Him in letters of Greek, Latin, and Hebrew: THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS. Then one of the criminals who were hanged blasphemed Him, saying, “If You are the Christ, save Yourself and us.” But the other, answering, rebuked him, saying, “Do you not even fear God, seeing you are under the same condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we receive the due reward of our deeds; but this Man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said to Jesus, “Lord, remember me when You come into Your kingdom.” And Jesus said to him, “Assuredly, I say to you, today you will be with Me in Paradise.”” —Luke 23:38-43 

In the first century AD, when the Romans executed people by crucifixion, a sign declaring the crime for which the victim was being crucified was hung above them on the cross. It was meant as a deterrent, a way to keep the peace, for crucifixion was reserved for the most heinous of crimes, those against the state. The horrors of this slow, painful death coupled with the reason for the sentence were thought to make anyone else thinking of crossing Rome think again.

So Pilate wrote out the sentence and had it posted above Jesus: “This is the king of the Jews.” It was a warning to anyone who posed a threat to the authority of Rome. But it turned out to be something more. Two thieves were crucified with Jesus that day. It might be more accurate to describe these two men as not mere petty thieves, but as men whose crimes were determined to be against the state. Perhaps they were caught stealing from a Roman villa, or perhaps they had been engaged in subversive activities against the state. It is unlikely that they were mere bottom-feeders. 

As they hung there, painfully dying, one railed against Jesus, begging him to prove his identity by saving them from their fate. The other realized the error of their ways and asked Jesus a single simple question: “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.” How would he have known Jesus was a king? There is no indication he was present at Jesus’ trial, nor at Pilate’s display of imperial power when he had Jesus stand before the crowd with the words, “Behold your king!” It’s possible, but the Bible is silent here.

What we do know is there was a sign hanging over Jesus’ head, a lesson for us today. God used a sign, words written in mockery, to open this man’s eyes and heart. “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He saw these words written as an accusation and realized the truth they proclaimed. And if God can use such words of condemnation, mockery, and shame to bring a soul from death to eternal life, he can use even the worst of whatever I place in his hands. 

My testimony may at times be weak and hesitating; I may stumble over my words and completely miss the mark, but God takes the weakest and humblest, even scrap wood with mocking words scribbled in haste, and uses it to his glory. It’s a good thing, too, because even my best is little more than stubble and straw. But Christ turns it into precious jewels of salvation for anyone who sees those words and believes.

Temptation

March 15, 2022

Last night in our men’s Bible study group, we talked about temptation, and defined as anything that distracts or deters us from God’s purpose for us. It doesn’t have to involve horrible, bad thoughts or deeds. Even good things can be a temptation if they keep us from God’s purposes.

Of course, if we are to deal effectively with temptation as defined this way, if we are to recognize and resist it, we must know what God’s purposes for us are. The Westminster Catechism helps here: “The chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy him forever.” I tend to focus on glorifying God (which can deteriorate into legalism), but neglect the part about enjoying him. Perhaps it’s because I am pretty reserved emotionally, but I know my Cuban friends worship exuberantly, singing and dancing, while I tend to stand on the sidelines only tentatively able to join in.

In Ephesian 1, Paul reveals God’s purpose for us in words like “predestined,” and “his will.” These purposes are, 1) to be holy and without blame before him (v.4), 2) to praise his glorious grace (v.6), 3) to know the mystery of his will (v.9) ie, bringing everything to Christ, 4) to know him (v.17), 5) to know the hope of his calling, the riches of Christ’s inheritance in us, and his great power (vv.18-19), and 6) to do good works (2:10). These are descriptions of God’s purpose for us; temptation is anything that would prevent us from these goals.

Praising God for his grace is mentioned three times (1:6, 12, 14), which accords with the Westminster Catechism’s enjoying God. I am seriously deficient in this. Little children if not abused, are experts in praise and wonder, which may be why Jesus held them in such high regard as an example for us who wish to enter the kingdom of God. 

When one has been a Christ-follower for some years, it is easy to imagine being beyond temptation. The old sins of our youth may be behind us, but we never get beyond the distractions of this life that would keep us from glorifying God and enjoying his presence. For me, the latter means giving more attention to praise and thanksgiving. Giving attention to these spiritual disciplines are the among the best means I know to both avoid and resist temptation.

 

Heavenly Places

 March 12, 2022

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ,” —Ephesians 1:3 

“Therefore I also, after I heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all the saints, do not cease to give thanks for you, making mention of you in my prayers: that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give to you the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of Him, the eyes of your understanding being enlightened; that you may know what is the hope of His calling, what are the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints, and what is the exceeding greatness of His power toward us who believe, according to the working of His mighty power which He worked in Christ when He raised Him from the dead and seated Him at His right hand in the heavenly places, far above all principality and power and might and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this age but also in that which is to come.” —Ephesians 1:15-21 

When I think of “heavenly places,” images of saints and angels bowing before God’s throne in worship come to mind. All is gloriously bright and colorful, a scene of immense beauty and joy. The blessings that come from such a place are able to lift the spirit from despondency to ecstasy, and to fill every empty heart with joy. It is where Christ reigns supreme, the place of origin of all spiritual blessings. All is wonderfully perfect.

St. Paul reveals a great truth the next time he uses this phrase—that we are seated with Christ, ie, the same authority he holds, he confers upon us. How amazing is that? We get to sit on the throne with him! 

“But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up together, and made us sit together in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, that in the ages to come He might show the exceeding riches of His grace in His kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.” —Ephesians 2:4-7 

The next time he uses this phrase, it takes on a subtle new connotation. Heavenly places are not only populated by the saints and angels, but by what he calls “principalities and powers,” which we later learn are not the best of spiritual company. Amazingly enough, God gives us the responsibility and privilege of letting these principalities and powers God’s plan to redeem the world through Jesus Christ, which must be a bit discouraging to them.

“To me, who am less than the least of all the saints, this grace was given, that I should preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ, and to make all see what is the fellowship of the mystery, which from the beginning of the ages has been hidden in God who created all things through Jesus Christ; to the intent that now the manifold wisdom of God might be made known by the church to the principalities and powers in the heavenly places, according to the eternal purpose which He accomplished in Christ Jesus our Lord,” —Ephesians 3:8-11 

The last time Paul uses these words is when he speaks of spiritual warfare:

“Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.” —Ephesians 6:11-12 

These heavenly places are not the same as “heaven,” but are the spiritual realms where our prayers are operative. It’s like a parallel universe where the connecting portal is prayer. In that realm, we have authority in Christ, and through our prayers engage the very powers behind powerful individuals, corporations, organizations, and nations. In these encounters, we experience the blessings of Christ’s presence, his wisdom, hope, and inheritance. It is a great place to be, but it requires a willingness to engage in a spiritual encounter that can be exhausting. But it is also exhilarating, and that is worth my gratitude and praise today.

The Word and the Name

 March 11, 2022

“You have magnified your Word above all. Your name.” This most amazing statement is found in Psalm 138:2. Paul tells us in Philippians 2:10 that God has so highly exalted Christ that at his name, every knee shall bow…and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.” “At his name, every knee shall bow,” and yet God’s word is magnified even above that name, which is for the Christian, almost incomprehensible. How can this be?

I’ve listened to many people speak the name of Jesus almost as a talisman. They fervently pray “in the mighty name of Jesus,” somehow imagining that merely mouthing the syllables will make something happen. The reality is that there are plenty who will claim the name of Jesus for all sorts of things, mostly good, but sometimes selfish and evil. But the Name without the Word is only a good-luck charm, a rabbit’s foot. Shouting the name of Christ is no shortcut for faith in and obedience to the Word of Christ. 

There is no substitute for faithful study of and meditation upon the Word of God. It is exalted above the Name because it is the fountain of faith (Romans 10:17–“Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God”), the source of our life in Christ. If I abandon the Word of God, my claiming the Name of Christ amounts to no more than vain repetition, but allowing the Word of God to transform my life brings the power of the Holy Spirit when I speak the Name of Christ.

If as Paul said, the Name of Jesus is exalted above all other names, how much more the Word of God than all other words! Which begs the question: Why do we listen to all this world’s voices before we search out the Word of Christ?

An Honest Bargain

 March 10, 2022

“If I don’t force myself to do it, pretty soon I won’t do it at all; I need the discipline to keep my mind from getting lazy.” I had been lamenting having to write a nightly article even when I couldn’t come up with anything significant to put to paper (or in this case, keyboard). Linda asked me why I didn’t just not write on the days when nothing seems to be working. There are days when ideas flow freely, but more often than not, it’s a struggle, especially since retirement has slowed the pace of my life considerably.

Tonight there were no basketball games, no school or church functions, no one over for dinner, so we went for a walk through town, from one end to the other. It didn’t take very long. When we got back, I told her I needed to try out my new keyboard, and she said, “Why don’t you write about that?” Granted, a keyboard is not the stuff of great literature unless a great novelist happens to be using it. No such luck here. There is a backstory however, and I gladly share it with you tonight. 

I bought my first iPad some ten or more years ago, and with it a Zagg keyboard which turned it almost into a laptop. The old iPad got seriously out of date about three years ago, so I bought the one I’m using now. The old keyboard didn’t quite fit, but was useable, so it happily tagged along for the ride with the new machine. For the past year or so however, the battery has been fading, and when it gets weak, the keyboard gets wonky, adding or subtracting keystrokes at random. Last week, even on an overnight charge, it barely got me through my nightly article.

In and of itself, this story wouldn’t be worth noting except for two facts. The first is my experience at the Apple store. I went there expecting to buy a new iPad with keyboard. For all the years I’ve had this, I figured most of the storage memory would be gone, but the young man at the store checked it out and said, “You have plenty of storage; you’ve only used half of what’s available.” He then told me they didn’t have any keyboards in stock, but I could try Best Buy if I didn’t want to wait to order one.

Best Buy didn’t have any, so I checked Amazon. Second fact: a thirty-five dollar keyboard and free delivery in two days! An honest salesman at the store saved me from paying $500 on a new machine and keyboard, and I got a bargain keyboard to boot! I LOVE a good bargain!

So tonight, I am writing without all the glitches of the old keyboard, having saved about $450 from what I had expected to pay. I am grateful tonight for an honest salesman, for a store that didn’t have what I wanted, and for an online bargain. It’s not world-shaking stuff, except perhaps for the honest salesman, but I am thankful nonetheless to be able to continue writing so my mind doesn’t turn to mush.

Crying Out

 March 9, 2022

Four times in Psalm 107 we read, “They cried out to the LORD in their trouble” (vv 6, 13, 19, 28). With each occurrence of that phrase, the nature of the troubles changed, but the result remained constant: he “saved/delivered/brought them out of their distresses.” Three of the four times, this pattern repeats itself in the past tense, but the last occurrence is in the present tense, underscoring the reality that God’s deliverance is not merely a historical record, but a present reality if we cry out to him. 

That is a big “if.” How often I’ve failed the test because I neglected to cry out. I thought I could handle it, or was just plain stubborn in my sin, but when I cried out, God has never failed to deliver.

The circumstances change. In v. 5, “Hungry and thirsty, their soul fainted in them.” Ie. they were exhausted and terrified. In v. 12, “They fell down and there was none to help.” Ie. they failed. In v. 18, “They drew near to the gates of death.” They were physically sick due to their sin. In v. 27, “They are at their wits’ end,” facing problems they didn’t know how to solve. In each situation, when they cried out, they were helped. When we are weary and fearful, when we fail, when we are sick, when we don’t know which way to turn, when we cry out to the LORD, he listens and “brings [us] up out of our distress.”

So what is our response to such undeserved and amazing faithfulness? No matter what the specifics, the proper response to God’s deliverance ought to be that which was given so many years ago: “Oh that men would give thanks to the LORD for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men!” 

God is still in the deliverance business if we are willing to acknowledge our need and call out to him. And when he does, may we give thanks to him for his goodness, for his wonderful works to us.

Grace

 March 8, 2022

It often amazes me how, having read a Bible text perhaps hundreds of times, every so often something new pops out at me. This morning I was reading Galatians 5:4–“You have become estranged from Christ, you who attempt to be justified by law. You have fallen from grace.” 

It is no secret that Paul was a champion of grace. After all, he considered himself the worst of sinners for having persecuted followers of Jesus in his younger years. That Jesus should appear to him as he was on his way to Damascus for the purpose of hauling some of them off to prison was a source of constant amazement to him. He was chosen, and he knew it, and it had nothing to do with any goodness in him. He knew the depths of depravity in his own heart from which he had been snatched by grace, and was not about to let anyone minimize his experience. 

So his words to the Galatian Christians were particularly strident. This is Paul’s only letter that didn’t begin with some sort of commendation. Even his epistle to the corrupt and decadent Corinthian church opened with words of praise. Not so here in Galatia! Infighting, sexual depravity, desecrating Holy Communion was nothing compared to abandoning grace! For Paul, any attempt to justify ourselves by our fidelity to the law deserved the most damning condemnation. He knew from personal experience how zealotry for a cause can be perverted into the most destructive behaviors.

Even if we acted with the most circumspect manners, trusting in our own goodness can profit us no more than the earthly praise it garners. Worse, it separates us from Christ himself. Whenever I imagine I haven’t done enough, or when I think I have, I step away from grace. Even God cannot justify the person who insists on justifying himself!

How often I’ve carried guilt over not measuring up to even my lax standards, let alone the Law of God! How often I’ve figuratively patted myself on the back for my good behavior! Either end of this spectrum takes me out of the realm of grace, mercy, and forgiveness, and plants me firmly in the rocky soil of guilt and pride. May God once more grant grace to us who so desperately need it, and lift us by it into the presence of his glory with angels and archangels, and all the saints redeemed by the blood of the Lamb!

Skunk

 March 7, 2022

If you come to our house tomorrow, you might want to wear your mask. No, it’s not about COVID; Emma tangled with a skunk. In reality, the mask will do you about as much good as it did to ward off the virus, but you’ll feel better about yourself, and you’ll send a message to those who care.

There was no hint of this intruder when I let Emma out at 6:00 this morning, but the pungent aroma filled the air as I opened the door to let her back in. She herself didn’t smell too bad…at first. It didn’t take long for the stench to kick in, despite two baths, the latter in a combination of Dawn dish soap and baking soda; a trick we learned from Nicole, who lives with Nate and Deb. Right now, Emma smells pretty good for a dog, but enough of the skunk oil must have gotten into the entry room to make it quite aromatic.

Years ago when Linda was growing up, her father ran over a skunk’s nest while mowing the field behind their house. He had read somewhere that if you hold a skunk by its tail, it can’t spray, so he started chasing his girls around the field holding a baby skunk by its tail. Apparently the skunk hadn’t read that part about not being able to spray when held by the tail, because it sprayed him right up his arm. They buried his clothes, and for weeks afterward, every time he took a shower, he smelled of skunk.

Believe it or not, there’s a lesson here, and it’s more than about skunks. The Bible says we are to bear the sweet aroma of Christ to the world around us. To some, it will seem the aroma of death, but to others, the fragrance of life:

“Now thanks be to God who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and through us diffuses the fragrance of His knowledge in every place. For we are to God the fragrance of Christ among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing. To the one we are the aroma of death leading to death, and to the other the aroma of life leading to life.” —II Corinthians 2:14-16 

It’s about impossible to escape the pungent odor of skunk, and likewise, the fragrance of expensive perfume is hard to miss. God intends us to be noticed in the world. Jesus told us not to hide our light under a basket, and St. Paul in his letter to the Corinthians is saying much the same thing. If we are living as we ought, some will sniff and turn up their noses. A holy life is as repugnant to their souls as skunk is to our noses. Others will catch a whiff of the fragrance of Christ and be captivated by its beauty. The difference is in the olfactory, not the air. I imagine skunk smells pretty good to another skunk.

Emma is snoozing before the fire, almost aroma-free. The bath did its job. May the bath of the Holy Spirit washing his children clean produce a heavenly fragrance that sticks around like skunk, but smells like roses to those around us.

Humility

 March 5, 2022

Eighteen years ago to the day, I began to learn humility. I know the date because it began on the night when our eldest grandson was born. The details I’ve outlined before, and though they engulfed our lives back then, they are really unimportant today. The bottom line is, I thought I knew a lot about growing a church. Eighteen years ago, I began to discover just how little I knew. 

The literature on church growth is quite extensive; it began back in the fifties with a missionary by the name of Donald McGavran. While serving in India, he noticed that some ministries flourished, while others barely limped along. What was interesting to him was that it didn’t matter whether the work was thriving or diving, those involved chalked it up to the hand of God. If the ministry was thriving, it was because God was blessing it; if it was struggling, it was because they were being faithful to the Gospel.

Clearly, something else was going on, and McGavran was determined to find out what it was. Over time, he learned that successful ministries had certain things in common, as did unsuccessful ministries. He began publishing the results of his research, and the Church Growth Movement was born. When I learned of his teaching in the late ‘80’s, I became a disciple. 

The church grew, and I knew the things I was learning were responsible. I had the right motives—it wasn’t just about numbers; it was about bringing people to Christ; I had the right methods—I went to conferences, bought books, was mentored by some of the best. They were heady days. But on this date eighteen years ago, it all began to unravel.

Ministry involves methods, but they aren’t the foundation for it. I had the right methods, but missed some key spiritual components that blindsided me. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was trusting the false god of methods instead of the One True God. And when I thought I knew what I was doing, pride began to infiltrate my heart. Did you hear how I said that? I thought I knew what I was doing—no matter how much I spoke his Name, God can’t be found in that statement. So God decided to do something about it.

The church I knew how to build, the devil knew how to destroy. It all fell apart, but in the process I learned how much I didn’t know. I still don’t. If you were to ask me today how to build a church, I would tell you, “I don’t know.” What I do know is that I have a wonderful Savior who never gives up on his children, a God who knows where to find every broken piece of our shattered dreams, and how to put them together again…but stronger. I wouldn’t say much about building a church, but I would say much about building deep relationships with Christ and others. And I would do my best to simply point you to Jesus, because even though I don’t know how to build a church, he does. 

“And I also say to you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build My church, and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it.” —Matthew 16:18 

Freedom

 March 4, 2022

It’s late; we just got home from dinner with friends after a busy day. So here’s a blast from the past—this same date, but in 2016.

Yesterday morning I was sitting in the back room reading when I heard a thump on the sliding glass door. Getting up, I looked out to see a sparrow sitting in the snow, wings spread out, apparently dazed. Being the Good Samaritan that I am, I opened the door, scooped up the bird and deposited it on a table where he just sat there gathering his composure. Leaving the room for awhile, I took Linda breakfast in bed, completely forgetting the bird in the meantime. Suddenly remembering, I told Linda we had a problem. "What's that?" she inquired. 

"I can't find the bird." 

"You can't find the bird?" she said, in that tone of voice that only an experienced wife can assume. I told her the story, ending with our having a bird sitting on the table in the back room. "In a box, right?"

"Not quite. Just sitting on the table." She gave me one of those looks, so I went back downstairs Sure enough, the table was still empty and the bird gone. There's only so much room where he could go, and I looked high and low, to no avail. Worry that our cat might start looking too is what made me  'fess up to Linda so she could join the search. The good news was, there were no telltale feathers lying around.

I finally found the critter hiding in a corner by the door, and picked him up. He had however, recovered enough to escape my grasp, which he did. Unfortunately, the same can't be said about the cat's grasp. It amazes me how that lazy cat can move like lightening when sufficiently motivated. I guess lunch fits into that category. I chased the cat into the kitchen and managed to grab it, whereupon he dropped the bird. Tossing the cat out into the entry room, now we had to locate the bird again. It was a bit easier this time; all I had to do was follow the trail of feathers. I found him in the corner of the dining room, but when I reached for him, he jumped up and flew straight into the dining room window. Stupid bird! When Linda picked it up, it seemed a bit perkier than I thought it might be, given that it had collided with two windows and barely escaped being cat food. 

"Now what?" Linda asked.

"Take him outside and toss him into the air." This would be the acid test of our rescue skills. If he just flopped to the ground, we could always open the entry room door and let the cat have the snack for which he had worked so hard. All's well that ends well, and when she tossed the bird, it flew away. A bit erratically, but  it did fly. I guess I'd be a little erratic too, if I had nearly knocked myself out running into a window and almost been eaten. All in all, I'd say it was a lucky bird. 

Often, life seems to be one problem after another. We go from a mistake in judgment to unexpected rescue to near catastrophe in short order. We wonder where God is in it, never dreaming that he delivers us, not to lead us into disaster, but to demonstrate his ability to transform even the worst of our situations into blessing and freedom. Like that bird, we fly into unseen obstacles, knocking the wind out of our sails, only to experience deliverance, only to find ourselves in an even worse situation. But God is faithful, and gently picks us up and sets us free to fly again. And for that I am very thankful tonight.