Slaves No More

 April 30, 2022

A runaway slave sent back to his former master by the world’s most famous Christian leader is just what the skeptic ordered. Can you imagine what the media would do with such a story? This is no hyped up scene from a bloodthirsty reporter; it actually happened. Unfortunately for those who would salivate over such a scoop, there is more to the story. 

Onesimus had run away from his master Philemon, eventually making his way to Paul who sits in a Roman prison for his faith. There he is converted through Paul’s prison ministry. Paul sends him back to his master, along with a letter in which Paul encourages Philemon to receive Onesimus not as a slave, but as a brother in Christ. The difference between the two is stark in its contrast and significance: A slave is valued for what he can do; a brother for who he is.

In Christian circles, we so often emphasize servanthood to the detriment of brotherhood. We describe ourselves as “servants of Jesus.” But Jesus had a different take on all this when he said, “I no longer call you servants, but friends” (John 15:15). 

Seeing ourselves only as servants leads to performance-based lives which can easily drift into blatant legalism, supplanting our Sonship in Christ. It also affects our relationships with others; we see them as we see ourselves—servants who can and should do things for us rather than as brothers and sisters who are valued for who they are as children of God. When we see people as servants, we have unwittingly elected ourselves as God.

Sonship and brotherhood on the other hand, are all about intrinsic worth irrespective of performance. Both perspectives are needed, but I think we (I) should put more emphasis on being a brother, and seeing other people way, too. 

Integrity

 April 29, 2022

Why is Paul’s letter to Philemon even in the Bible? A runaway slave makes his way to Paul in a Roman prison, where Paul leads him to Christ. Paul sends him back to his master with this letter asking Philemon to receive him not as a slave, but as a brother. This would be a pretty ordinary pastoral matter except Paul bolsters his request by leaning on Philemon a bit, reminding him that he owes Paul a great personal debt, perhaps his own salvation. If Paul were a corporation, we would call this a dunning letter.

So why did this make its way into the Scriptural canon? Perhaps it’s the very ordinariness of it, how Christian faith impacts every area of life. In verses 4-6, Paul writes that he is thankful for the reputation Philemon has for love and faith, adding these words: “that the sharing of your faith may become effective by the acknowledgment of every good thing which is in you in Christ Jesus.”

Most of us have at one time or another encountered people who make great profession of faith until they are shown to be charlatans, fakers who behind the facade of holiness lie, steal, slander, or live immoral, ungodly lives. Paul says what we all instinctively know; that sharing our faith can be counterproductive if unaccompanied by a faithful and loving life. I am grateful tonight for the saints in my life who lived honest, quiet lives of faithful service and love, who taught me by both word and deed what it looks like to be a genuine follower of Jesus Christ. In a world of costume jewelry, they are like diamonds.

Prayer’s Purpose

April 28, 2022

For those of us who are praying people, most of us at one time or another have wondered why God doesn’t seem to be listening. Our petitions are earnest, but come up empty. In the present Bailey family saga, people have wondered about the justice of our son Nathan’s having brain tumors. “He’s such a nice guy,” they say. Or, “He loves Jesus and does so much,” as if being a follower of Jesus somehow exempts us from the nasty parts of life. 

I certainly don’t have the answers to all these questions, but this morning at our men’s prayer group, I did get a little insight into this matter of unanswered prayer. We begin our time with a psalm; today’s was psalm 80. The psalm is a lengthy question to God, asking how long Israel is going to have to suffer at the hands of her enemies. Three times in this psalm the exact same plea is offered, but with a notable difference in how God is addressed each time.

“Restore us, O God; Cause Your face to shine, And we shall be saved!” 

“Restore us, O God of hosts; Cause Your face to shine, And we shall be saved!” 

“Restore us, O LORD God of hosts; Cause Your face to shine, And we shall be saved!”

—Psalm 80:3,7,19 

At first, he cries out to God, what we might call the generic name for deity. The second time, he pleas with the “God of hosts,” or armies. God here is not so generic; he is the God who commands soldiers for war. The third plea is even more specific: the “LORD God of hosts,” LORD being the proper name of God, usually translated Yahweh or Jehovah. 

The prayer gains intensity with each repetition. This is no casual, off-hand prayer! It may have begun that way, but it doesn’t remain so. I think the very act of prayer was changing the one doing the praying. Prayer—genuine prayer—has a way of doing that. In the quest for deliverance, the one praying gradually came to a deeper awareness of the One to whom the prayer was offered. 

Prayer isn’t just a way of getting what we want, as if God were a celestial Santa Claus. Part of God’s purpose in prayer is his desire to reveal himself to us; for us to gain a deeper and more intimate knowledge of God himself. If God were simply to grant us every wish at our slightest whim, we would become spoiled brats instead of mature believers. God’s greatest gift to us is not the granting of our requests, but the gracious gift of himself. And that is only possible when we persevere in prayer even when it remains unanswered. I wonder how much of God’s presence, peace, and power I’ve forfeited because I gave up on prayer too soon, depriving God of the opportunity to reveal himself to me in a deeper, more significant and life-changing way.

Missionaries

 April 28, 2022

Talking with my son last week, My friend pastor Tim Burden posts a daily vlog devotional. This morning, he said something that has stuck with me all day, especially in light of my son’s words to me last week. Nathan told me he has no fear regarding the tumors in his brain, and that he felt almost giddy about the opportunities this was giving him to tell people about Jesus. His diagnosis has made him realize all the more how fragile life is, and highlights the urgency he feels to spread the Gospel.

In the light of my conversation with Nathan, pastor Tim’s remarks were particularly telling. His was a simple statement: “A missionary is not someone who crosses the seas, but someone who sees the cross.” 

We tend to think of mission work as traveling to some exotic place where every waking moment is spent speaking to people about Christ, when in fact, much of the work of international missions is quite mundane. Our fantasies about international missions obscures and impedes the work of spreading the Gospel right where we are. As pastor Burden implied, we miss the opportunities all around us because we’re looking at the wrong things. If we truly understood the message of the cross; that in it God provided the atonement for our sins and opened the door to eternal life; if we believed that apart from that cross mankind would be irretrievably lost, but through Jesus’ death God has given us new life, we would realize and embrace the fact that we are missionaries right here at home.

“Name, Please!”

 April 26, 2022

Years ago when we used to vacation with our children in Canada, Nate and Deb would often have our two eldest granddaughters ride with us for the trip north. They would dutifully make copies of the girls’ birth certificates along with letters for the border crossing certifying that they were allowed to ride with us. We coached the girls on what to say if they were asked questions, and rehearsed our own answers to whatever we might be asked. 

On this particular trip, we pulled up to the border guard, handed him our passports and the girls’ documentation. He looked everything over and asked the girls’ names, a question I hadn’t expected. My mind went totally blank. I couldn’t remember the names of my granddaughters who were riding in the back seat of our car! Linda frantically leaned over and said, “Alex and Abi! Their parents are in the car just ahead of us. We’re their grandparents!” 

My mind immediately went into overdrive. I could envision spending the night in a Canadian jail. The border guard got out of his booth, leaned his head in the window and spoke to the girls. “Do you feel safe with these people?” Fortunately, they weren’t old enough for the Bailey sarcasm to have set in, and they didn’t respond with screams of terror. We breathed a sigh of relief when the border guard let us through.

We’ve laughed about that incident many times since, but there is something to be learned from it. Some day, we all will stand at the border. We may have rehearsed what we will answer when questioned by God, and think we have it all down pat. He isn’t going to ask the names of our grandchildren or our grandparents. He won’t ask how many rich or famous people we know. There is only one name that will be on his lips: “Do you know my Son Jesus?” 

Rehearsed speeches will disappear, documentation of church offices held, services attended, deeds of charity done will all turn to dust. One question alone will matter: “Do you know my Son Jesus? I gave him to you so you could stand at this moment, confident in the forgiveness and salvation he suffered to provide. Do you know my Son Jesus?” 

Stuttering and stammering won’t get us across that border. Only one answer will suffice: “He is my Savior and Lord!” I hope tonight he is yours.

Timidity

 April 25, 2022

Most people when they reach a certain age look back with a twinge of regret over opportunities missed, weaknesses that took years to overcome, physical, emotional, or intellectual challenges that refused to yield to our efforts to overcome. We read Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 with more than a little skepticism: “I will boast in my infirmities…for when I am weak, then I am strong.” How can this possibly be?

Perhaps it would help if we didn’t take everything so personally. Strength in weakness sounds oxymoronic if it only applies to me personally. But when we bring other people into the equation, it starts to make sense. 

I’ve been reading Paul’s letters to Timothy, his young protégé. I get the impression that Timothy was a bit timid, perhaps shy and introverted. Four times in his second letter to this young man, Paul speaks of being ashamed. In 1:8, he encourages Timothy to not be ashamed of Paul being imprisoned for the Gospel, and later in v. 16, he commends Onesiphorus for not being ashamed of Paul’s chains. In 1:12, he declares that he is not ashamed of the Gospel. Later in the second chapter, Paul tells Timothy to work hard so as not to be ashamed (2:15). 

So how does weakness become strength? Had Timothy not had this problem, we would never have read Paul’s stirring words, “I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I’ve committed unto him against that day.” It was Timothy’s weakness, his timidity, that provided the occasion for many to be encouraged to be bold in our faith. 

I identify with Timothy. I confess that for years I hid my faith from others. I was fine in religious settings, but in the marketplace, the mix of people who don’t share my perspective, I was timid. It’s taken many years, but the older I get, the bolder I get. Because of this timid young man over 2,000 years ago, Paul’s word to Timothy has been percolating inside me for years, and is bearing fruit. Weakness has become strength.

Thy Will Be Done

April 24, 2022

God is faithful! I wrote the other day about God challenging me about the Lord’s Prayer. I’ve prayed it for years without difficulty, but when I came to the part where it says, “Thy will be done,” God said to me, “Do you mean it now?” He was asking me about my son’s cancer diagnosis. I couldn’t get any further. 

When God’s will is the same as mine, such a prayer is easy, but when I’m not sure where God is leading, the prayer becomes difficult. At that moment, it was impossible. I wanted to be able to pray “Thy will be done,” but I couldn’t. Not if I were to pray honestly.

This morning, pastor Joe began preaching before he ever got to the sermon. He asked the congregation to name the issues that rob us of our peace and joy. People responded; Pride. Selfishness. Bitterness. Fear. “Bring it to the altar,” Joe said. It was a simple statement, but when he said it, something broke loose inside me. Suddenly I was able to pray the Lord’s Prayer in its entirety; something I hadn’t been able to do for two days. I can’t explain how it happened other than God is faithful to his Word. And to this child of his.

Do I suddenly feel that Nathan is going to be healed? I sure hope so, but I don’t feel one way or another. All I know is that I can pray “Thy will be done,” and am at peace. For this, I am grateful tonight.

Visions and Words

 April 23, 2022

“To the King eternal, immortal, invisible…King of kings and Lord of lords who alone HS immortality, dwelling in inapproachable light, whom no man has seen or can see.”   —1 Timothy 1:7, 6:16.

We sing “Open my eyes, Lord, I want to see Jesus.” Saints and charlatans alike have spoken of visions; even the prophet said, “Old men will dream dreams and young men shall see visions,” yet here Paul says, God is “invisible,” and “no man has seen or can see him.” These are strange words coming from a man whose conversion came as a result of a vision and who claimed to have been caught up into the third heaven. But both his conversion and his subsequent revelation had as their identifying mark, not what Paul saw, but what he heard. He heard Jesus saying, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” And later, he heard things so wonderful he could not repeat them.

Ours is an auditory faith. The Word we hear always takes precedent over the things we see. We live in a visual world, worshipping an invisible God who disdains any visual representation of himself. He knows how easily we are led to bow to things we can see, and although the physical world around us, an our very bodies are an integral part of our salvation, they are that part needing redemption, not to be confuse with the Redeemer.

This auditory nature of our salvation is why preaching remains central to the Gospel. “Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God,” Paul explains in Romans 10:17. Our faith is not acted out on a stage; it is proclaimed anywhere someone is there to speak and someone to hear. I suspect the auditory nature of salvation may also be why prayer is so central to our faith. I and my family have been recipients of the prayers of many, for which we are deeply grateful, knowing that it is the means through which God fulfills his promises and accomplishes his purposes in this world. So we listen, knowing that what we see will only become important when Jesus returns and “every eye will behold him.” Until then, we listen and pray, coming “boldly to the throne of grace that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.” (Hebrews 4:16)

God’s Will

 April 22, 2022

John Wesley was a young Anglican priest. He had been sent as a missionary to the colony of Georgia in the Americas to convert the Indians there. The mission was by all accounts, a disaster, and sailing back to England, he was despondent and filled with doubts. In his journal he wrote of his return in January 1738:

I went to America, to convert the Indians; but oh! who shall convert me? who, what is he that will deliver me from this evil heart of mischief? I have a fair summer religion. I can talk well; nay, and believe myself, while no danger is near; but let death look me in the face, and my spirit is troubled. Nor can I say, 'To die is gain!'

In March, he wrote again of his despondency:

Saturday, March 4.—I found my brother at Oxford, recovering from his pleurisy; and with him Peter Bohler; by whom, in the hand of the great God, I was, on Sunday, the fifth, clearly convinced of unbelief, of the want of that faith whereby alone we are saved.

Immediately it struck into my mind, “Leave off preaching. How can you preach to others, who have not faith yourself?” I asked Bohler whether he thought I should leave it off or not. He answered, “By no means.” I asked, “But what can I preach?” He said, “Preach faith till you have it; and then, because you have it, you will preach faith.”

In a roundabout manner, Wesley’s question keeps niggling at the back of my mind. I don’t wonder if I have faith; that issue was settled long ago. Mine is a different kind of struggle, and it relates to my son’s cancer diagnosis. I have no doubt about God’s ability to heal him. I would easily stake my life upon it, but it’s not my life that’s at stake. It’s my son’s. He told me the other day, “I have no fear.” I believe that, and I can’t say I am fearful. But I am wondering.

As a part of our worship service and prayer times on Sundays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, we pray the Lord’s Prayer. I’ve preached my way through it on more than one occasion. I’ve read scholarly books about it; it has often given my own prayers shape and form when I didn’t know what else to say. But today God challenged me as I’ve never been challenged before. 

“Every time you pray that prayer, you utter the words, “Thy will be done.” Do you mean it now?” The question left me stunned. I want to mean it, but I’m not sure I’m there. How can I pray those words when what I really want is for MY will to be done? I could easily pray those words if I were sure God’s will and mine were in alignment, but I can’t be sure of it. I feel like Abraham when God ordered him to kill his own son as an offering. Looking back from 4,000 years later, we know how the story ends, and say with confidence, “Of course, God was going to spare Isaac.” But at the time, Abraham didn’t know that. He believed God could bring him back to life again, but God hadn’t told him anything of what he planned. For all Abraham knew, he was going to walk to Mount Moriah with his son, and trudge home alone.

Faith is a funny business. When I was a teenager, we would sing lustily, “Faith is the victory that overcomes the world.” I had no idea then how my world would be thrown to the winds and how I would have to fight and scrabble for my faith. If we only have faith in the sunshine, it’s not much faith at all. The test comes in the storm. Like Ulysses hearing the siren song between Scylla and Charibdis, I lash myself to the mast of God’s unwavering love, because I know I will not always be strong enough in myself to hold on. If I were not bound by the strong cords of Christ’s love and power, I would surely sink. But tonight, I sail on, like Wesley, proclaiming the faith I do not feel, praying the prayer I’m not sure I can honestly pray, till it carries me through the storm to God’s will on the other side.

Manifest Evidence

 April 21, 2022

“We ourselves boast of you among the churches of God for your patience and faith in all your persecutions and tribulations that you endure, which is manifest evidence of the righteous judgment of God, that you may be counted worthy of the kingdom of God, for which you also suffer;” —II Thessalonians 1:4-5 

The authors of the Bible most often viewed life through a different lens than we moderns. We take it for granted that God’s blessings consist of prosperity, health, peace and comfort; not so the Biblical writers. The many promises of prosperity attached to holy living are often the natural consequences of such a lifestyle. Hard work, frugality, and the avoidance of vices tends to produce prosperity, while dissipation and laziness do not.

Contrariwise, living a godly life tends to put one at odds with society. Cultures and societies, even those with Christian roots, trend towards hostility against those who dare challenge the ultimate loyalty demanded by them, which helps explain today’s Scripture. Persecution or mistreatment for giving our ultimate loyalty to Christ is a badge of faithfulness and as Paul says, “manifest evidence” of this loyalty. 

Only those who are somewhat unhinged eagerly court persecution. We usually avoid unnecessary trouble if we can. But faithful living is practically an open invitation to ridicule, mistreatment, and ostracism. Paul’s answer to such matters is to remind us that God has chosen us for a different path, and the fact that this path is strewn with obstacles and stumbling blocks is an indication that we are on the correct and narrow way to life.

Envy

April 20, 2022

“Can’t you just FEEL the presence of the Lord?” I cannot recall how many times I’ve heard statements like this; I smile politely, nod my head, and stand awkwardly for a few moments before slowly walking away. 

I’ve often wondered what is wrong with me that I don’t feel things the way other people do. I am occasionally moved to tears in worship, but it doesn’t happen often. When others holler and scream at sports events, I sit there enjoying the game, but wondering how people can get so worked up over it. I’ve wondered what it would be like to feel…really feel the ecstasy some people seem to feel at various times. I don’t have many highs, and my lows are pretty mild. If my emotional state were printed out on a heart monitor, you’d say I was dead…flatlined.

For years, I’ve seen this as some sort of curse. “Why can’t I feel the joy so-and-so feels?” It would be wonderful to be carried away by the wind of the Spirit, or so I think. But maybe there’s another side to things. My family is walking through a difficult time right now with my son’s cancer diagnosis. Linda, having a mother’s heart, has felt crushed. As Simeon said of Mary, “a sword shall pierce your soul,” so Linda feels the stab of shock and sorrow. She lives out of her emotions, so it’s been hard on her, as I know it has been for our daughter-in-law Debbra, and their girls. I don’t mean to sound sexist, but the women in our family process things differently than we men. 

I think God wired me just right for times like this. I’ve had my moments, but for the most part, I’ve been pretty steady through it all. I was sitting in pastor Daniel’s house in Cuba when I first got the news; supper was about to be served, and though I wasn’t hungry, I ate, then went outside by myself. I called people who needed to know, but mostly just brooded through the night, praying and crying out to God. Arrangements were made, and I flew home, stopping at the hospital long enough to see Nate and pray with him. Since then, I’ve just carried on, doing what needs to be done; “Steady Eddy.”

Remember I used to wish I could feel more deeply? God convicted me of this today. Envy is a sin, even when it targets another’s spiritual gifts or experience (Romans 1:29). Envy essentially says, “God, you don’t know what you are doing! You gave me the wrong personality, the wrong gifts; I want something different.” I had to repent of this sin, and today, I am grateful God wired me the way he did. It enables me to walk through this trial relatively unruffled. God knew what he was doing when he made me the way I am. And he knew what he was doing when he made you the way you are. He is good…all the time! 

A Merry Heart

 April 19, 2022

“A merry heart doeth good, like medicine.” —Proverbs 17:22

This past week has been a roller-coaster ride as we received news of our son’s brain tumors. When I arrived at the hospital last Thursday evening, I had no idea what I would be seeing, so seeing him encouraging his nurse and praying for her was a relief I hadn’t expected. Friday he came home, and Sunday, he addressed both services at church. “I didn’t expect to be here this morning,” he said, and although it wasn’t in his normal capacity as worship leader, he was grateful to be there, adding that he hadn’t realized how much of life we take for granted.

People keep asking how we are doing; how he is doing, and the answer is, I think he is doing much better than we. Case in point: his sense of humor hasn’t been affected by the tumors. Saturday, he and Debbra hosted their annual Easter egg hunt, as they have done for years. Later in the day, the family gathers again to color eggs. It’s interesting watching high school and college age kids coloring eggs like they were kindergartners. 

Nate has a niece who hates to be hugged, so he approached her, arms open wide. When she balked, he pointed to his head and said, “Brain tumor!” He’s decided to milk it for all it’s worth. Yesterday, I stopped over to give him a phone number. He was out walking in his backyard, phone to his ear. After waiting for about ten minutes, I went into his barn, got a shovel, and started picking up dog poop. He talked for another ten minutes, finally edging close as I scooped up another pile. “If I keep pretending someone’s on the other end long enough, you’ll have the whole yard done,” he whispered as he walked by.

He could be angry, heartbroken, or sad, but he told me, “I’m almost giddy about the opportunities this is giving me to speak of Christ.” He understands the challenges yet to be faced, but sees even more the wider ministry this offers. And through it all, his merry heart will be a big part of his healing process. 

So, don’t expect a long face and woe-is-me eyes. His heart is too full of Christ for that; the same Christ who “for the joy that was set before him, endured the cross.”

Location, Location, Location!

 April 18, 2022

“Location, Location, Location!” any real estate agent will tell you it’s the most important factor in buying or selling property. A cottage located in the middle of a tract of land a developer has eyed could be worth more than a mansion in a run down section of a city. Our last house suited us perfectly; it had a mother-in-law apartment on one side, plenty of storage, four bedrooms and three baths, hardwood floors and remodeled throughout. I loved that house, but there was one problem. The local fire department was almost in our backyard. When the siren went off, it was ear-splitting! If outside, we had to cover our ears. When it went off in the middle of the night, we swore it could wake the dead. No matter how much I loved that house, its location determined its value.

The first two chapters of Ephesians, and scattered through the firs three chapters of Colossians, is the phrase, “in Christ,” or “in him.” Too often, we read these words experientially instead of positionally. We want to feel “in Christ,” whatever that means. By doing this, “in Christ” is reduced from an eternal fact to a temporal feeling, robbing it of its significance and power. That little word “in” is not a description of emotion, but of position, and according to Paul, it is an eternal fact. Upon which we can and must lean, especially when feelings fail and circumstances lie to us. How I feel is unimportant; where I am is what counts.

“In Christ” is not only the best; it’s the only place to be, for only there are we clothed in righteousness, filled with his Spirit, living in grace and holiness, bathed in his beauty, and sealed for eternity. 

Disarmed

 April 17, 2022

Our son continues to amaze me. He spoke at worship this morning about his diagnosis of having five tumors on his brain and a lesion on a lung. “Not what I had envisioned this Sunday to be,” he said. But immediately, he turned to his purpose. “Whatever you’re going through today, you need Jesus.” “I didn’t realize how much I’ve taken life for granted; we’re not promised tomorrow, so get right with Jesus today.” “Pastor Joe and I agree; we are one-trick ponies. All we have to offer is Jesus.”

Yesterday, I wrote about Saturdays; those dark days of waiting, in between disaster and deliverance. I expect I may face quite a few of those Saturdays over the next weeks and months. Maybe not; perhaps God will miraculously heal our son. I would be delighted, but if God chooses a different path, we’ll walk it as faithfully as we know how, holding tightly to Jesus’ hand because that’s all you can do when you can’t see the path yourself.

This morning’s reading was in St. Paul’s letter to the Colossians Christians, chapter two, verse fifteen, where he says something curious in its accuracy. He says Christ has disarmed the principalities and powers—the very ones we stand against in Ephesians 6:12. “Disarmed,” he says. I would have said, “They are defeated,” or “destroyed,” but Paul knows better. Jesus disarmed them, took away their weapons of lies, hatred, fear, pride. “The battle is the Lord’s,” the Scripture says. Jesus fought the battle in our place, a battle we could not win and he did not lose. So we don’t actually have to fight; all we do is stand our ground. 

These principalities and powers are still here. We can see their destructive work everywhere they have not been exposed for what they really are—toothless pretenders.

On the cross, Jesus disarmed them. In the tomb, he buried their weapons forever. In his resurrection and ascension, he declared before heaven and earth his power forever. The principalities and powers of darkness may strut and brag; they threaten and cajole, but their weapons are gone! We stand on sure foundation of Jesus Christ, wielding the powerful weapons of our warfare that are able to cast down imaginations and all that exalts itself against God. We wield them against an enemy who stands naked and powerless before us because our Lord in whom we live and move and have our being has disarmed him, striding forth on this day from the tomb in glory and majesty and life eternal!

Saturday

 April 16, 2022

They had done all they could, but sometimes our best doesn’t seem enough. They had watched the One who promised eternal life die, hanging like a piece of meat, nailed to the cross. They took him down, washed him as best they could, wrapped him in linen and laid him in the tomb. Now all they could do was wait. Through the first night, all the next day, and the night following, they waited.

I’m beginning to understand what we now call Holy Saturday. Suspended between the shock and horror of the diagnosis, wondering how everything will turn out, bouncing between fear and faith like we were in an old pinball machine. St. Paul tells us to bring every thought captive to Christ (2 Cor. 10:4-5), and it turns out to be a full-time job. My thoughts break loose like an errant calf, bolting for places I don’t want to go. I have to chase them down and drag them back to Jesus. Over and over again.

It’s Saturday. The night has settled and I’m left with my thoughts and prayers; thoughts that wander and prayers that as of yet have no answers. Saturday is not a good place to be, but it is where I am. I know Sunday will come. I know the Story and believe in it’s promise, but I also know I’ll be living in Saturday for awhile now. I’ll get to know its contours, its shadows and turns. I’ll get to stand face to face with my faith. I know God is in control, but I don’t know what that means for us here and now. So I lean hard. Not on how I feel, but on what I believe; I lean hard on Jesus. 

This One who spoke eternal life lies in the grave tonight, and I lie with him. Tomorrow, whenever my tomorrow comes, we shall rise together, step into the sunshine and smile. Tomorrow. But tonight I must endure the darkness, feel the damp of the tomb, lie on the cold, hard stone, for if I refuse, there can be for me no resurrection. And that is something I don’t want to miss!

Tested Faith

 April 15, 2022

The past three days have suddenly turned our world upside down with the news of our son’s brain tumors. I wasn’t able to post because I have been in Cuba and wasn’t able to get online with my iPad, on which I write my posts. News such as ours has a way of putting things in perspective. Suddenly, things that had seemed important fade into the background, assuming their proper place in the hierarchy of significance.

We are tempted in our prayers to bargain with God, pleading Nathan’s service, his heart for Christ and the Gospel, those who look to him and depend upon him, but Nathan knows better than most that before a holy God, our only plea is the blood of Christ and God’s own promises in his Word. Not having righteousness of our own, we claim that of Christ who on this day more than two millennia ago, offered his in our place, taking our sins upon himself. Theologians have for these two thousand years attempted in vain to understand the Atonement; many theories have been offered, but it remains a mystery how God has worked through Christ on our behalf.

So if we can’t plead with God, citing our own virtues, what plea do we have? Only the promises in the Bible that God is for us in all things. He hasn’t promised an easy road without troubles and setbacks, but he has assured us of his goodness and faithfulness and his own presence in the midst of the trials.

Flying home from Cuba to be with Linda and with Nate, I was reading Martin Luther’s “Table Talk,” notes from dinner conversations recorded by a friend of his. Luther had his share of troubles; excommunicated from the Church, often in danger of his life from those who didn’t share his views. In one of his talks, he said this:

“Without trouble, trials, and vexations, prayer cannot rightly be made. Therefore God says, “Call on me in the time of trouble,” etc. without trouble it is only a cold prattling, and goeth not from the heart; the common saying is “Need teaches to pray.”

Before going to Cuba, I had reflected on forgiveness. People have said to me that certain offenses were too big to forgive; my response has always been, “Forgiveness is for the big stuff; the small things we ought to merely brush aside.” I think the same is true of faith. It isn’t hard to have faith that God will heal when it’s merely a cold, a broken bone, or such. But cancer? In the brain? That’s another matter altogether, and we all easily cite times we’ve prayed for healing in vain, causing us to pray tentatively, if at all.

As Luther said, apart from troubles, prayer is meaningless. But when the walls we face are tall and strong, it’s easy to believe what we see around us rather than what we can’t see. We are like Elisha’s servant, fearful of the enemy surrounding us, unable to see that enemy surrounded by the armies of God (2 Kings 6:17). I confess that I have to keep telling myself of the promises of God, because my mind wanders to all the “what ifs,” imagining scenarios I don’t want to consider. It’s then that Paul’s word to the Corinthian Christians keeps coming back to me, “Take every thought captive to Christ.” They keep wandering, and I keep roping them back back in through prayer.

A dear friend stopped by this evening, sharing her own story of God’s healing her of brain cancer. “They weren’t hopeful, but here I am, twenty years later…ALIVE because of Christ!” So I keep praying, and when my mind wanders to places I don’t want to be, I claim the Scriptures and refocus my attention upon Christ, our Savior and Healer. Keep praying for Nate; we are only beginning this journey, and know not what twists and turns may lie in the road ahead. But we are determined to walk it together with each other and with Christ. If you want to join us in informed prayer, his wife Debbra has put together a Facebook page, “Nate Bailey’s Progress Page.” found at the following link:

 https://www.facebook.com/NateBaileysProgress/?notif_id=1649958553634317¬if_t=page_invite_accept&ref=notif

Thank you in advance for your prayers. Pray believing, trusting God’s promises instead of your feelings. To God be the glory!