What You See

January 31, 2023

A prison is not where we would normally go for encouragement. Encouragement is usually given from a place of relative comfort. Effective encouragers usually have been through difficulties themselves, but are somewhat distanced from it at the moment they are offering comfort to another. This is not always the case however. 

Paul wrote his letter to the Philippian Christians from a Roman prison. It wasn’t a pleasant place to be, but there isn’t a hint of complaint to be found in his letter. The only time he mentions his current situation, he tells how being in jail has given him opportunity to witness to his faith in Jesus and how he hopes his imprisonment will encourage others to be bold in their faith. Philippians is one of the most joyful books of the Bible, ending with the words, “Rejoice in the Lord; again I say rejoice.”

The apostle John wrote the Revelation while exiled on a small rocky island in the Aegean. Tradition tells us he was boiled in oil and somehow survived. So here is aged, scarred John penning his vision of the end times when violence and suffering and persecution increase exponentially. But there isn’t even a hint of dejection. His words soar with songs of praise and worship, of joy and hope.

John Bunyan was imprisoned in the Bedford jail for twelve years for preaching the Gospel. During this time he wrote two books, “Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners,” and “Pilgrim’s Progress,” two of the most influential Christian books since the Bible itself. 

Bad circumstances don’t have to lead to a bad mood, depression, or anger. The biggest factor in life is not our circumstances, but our response to them. What is inside us is far more important than what surrounds us. Too often, we react to circumstances instead of responding to them. There is a world of difference. When we take medication for an illness, we hope our bodies respond to the medicine. We don’t want them to react to it. 

I’ve known people with big problems who exhibit great joy and optimism, and I’ve known others with minuscule problems who complain and whine their way through life. 

There is a story of a little girl who was promised a pony for her birthday. When her parents took her to the farm, the first thing she saw was a huge pile of manure. She grabbed a shovel and began to energetically attack the pile. Her father asked what she was doing, and she replied, “As big as this pile is, there has to be a pony in there!” Most people would see the pile; she saw the pony. That’s the kind of faith I admire. It’s the kind of faith I desire. 

Persistent Problems

 January 29, 2023

Sometimes the obstacles just won’t go away. Whether it’s a high school or college subject that refuses to reveal its secrets to your brain, the biased professor or boss, the estranged spouse who doesn’t want to reconcile, the cancer that lurks tenaciously inside your body, waiting to strike. You’ve tried your best, consulted with experts, done everything you can think of, but the problem is still there, laughing in your face. And Jesus isn’t anywhere to be found.

The disciples were faced with just such a situation in Mark 9. A father had come to them, begging them to cast a demon out of his son. The man was desperate, and after doing everything they knew to do, the disciples were dismayed and discouraged. Jesus finally showed up, and instead of words of encouragement like, “You tried your best. Great effort,” he castigated them for their failure. He actually seemed a bit disgusted with them. He cast the demon out, and his disciples later asked him why they hadn’t been able to do so. After all, they had done everything he had taught them about healing and exorcism. Their problem was simple: they had the technique, but not the power.

He told them, “This kind only comes out by prayer and fasting.” I’m sure they prayed, so what was the problem? 

I don’t think this incident speaks solely of demonic activity, though it includes that. I think this is a parable of every intractable, persistent and resistant problem. The real problem is that the things we want to happen don’t happen just because we want them. They come through prayer that is more persistent than the problem. Sometimes that persistence takes a lifetime to work itself out. And sometimes, the problem is that we’re praying for the wrong thing. We often want the problem to go away when God wants to use it to mold us and shape us for greater purposes.

I wish I knew why some prayers get the answers we want, and others don’t. Sometimes as Jesus said, it’s our lack of faith, but sometimes there are reasons beyond our knowledge. Years ago when our church was going through some very difficult times, in faith I prayed a prayer that God didn’t answer as I thought he should. 

We had been given $100,000 that the giver wanted to be a pastoral discretionary fund. Not wanting to risk being put in anyone’s pocket, I refused. I was hoping to use the money for missions, but as people left the church with their money, that $100,000 slowly disappeared as we struggled to make ends meet. One day as I was praying, complaining to God about the situation, he said to me, “What are you complaining about? I gave you $100,000 to tide you over till the church was back on it’s feet.” 

So keep praying. Keep believing. Keep putting one foot ahead of the other. The answer might not come as you expect, but God remains faithful. Of that, I have no doubt.

A Wide Place

 January 28, 2023

“The LORD…set me in a broad place.” —Psalm 118:5

Most of my favorite places are on mountaintops (around here, they’re mere hilltops, but they have to suffice) where I can see for miles. There’s something about a vista stretching before me that invigorates. Whatever lies just beyond that hill in the distance beckons, and as I stand in the fresh air gazing into the distance, I feel free. 

The same feeling comes when I can see a long stretch of road before me, especially when I’m on my bike. I don’t have to travel fast; as a matter of fact, when I’m on my bike, I prefer the back roads with their twists and turns, each one a doorway to another scene, another view.

Linda prefers to be home. When she learned our house was for sale, she was enthralled. It’s nestled in a gulley between two steep shale cliffs, sheltered by towering spruce in our front yard. She’s happiest when she’s cleaning, rearranging furniture, or working in her garden. A woman’s nesting instinct is strong in her. She feels safe and secure when the space around her is close. 

I’m sure there are plenty of people who will disagree with what I say next, but it’s OK. I don’t need someone else’s affirmation to certify my beliefs. Back in the 80’s when I served on our denomination’s Board of Ordained Ministry, I noticed that the most prized characteristic in a candidate for pastoral ministry wasn’t theological orthodoxy, but a nurturing spirit. It was important to the system to have pastors geared towards taking care of the saints, whereas an adventuresome and aggressive personality was frowned upon. 

This was quite advantageous to the women candidates who by nature were nurturing types, but I watched more than one male candidate give up in frustration when his in-your-face confrontational manner was routinely squelched. We had many nurturing type male candidates too, but those who would stand on a mountaintop and describe a widening future to those in the pews were few and far between. I suspect that’s one of the reasons why so many of our churches are dying; a church can only take care of its own for just so long before it shrivels and withers away. There’s a time for the nesting instinct, but there is also a need for a warrior who sees the battle lines in the distance and calls for a frontal attack.

When God sets us in a wide place, it’s a time to look with wonderment, but also an opportunity to scan the horizon for signs of the enemy. We can’t do that hunkered down in our cozy little churches. Like Moses, God calls his followers to the mountaintop to meet him, but also to gain a new vision of the future to which we are being called. 

Breaking through

 January 27, 2023

“[My enemies] surrounded me like bees.” —Psalm 118:12

I’m no expert on bees, but I’ve had a bit of experience with them over the years, presently owning four colonies of honeybees which I hope make it through the winter. Most people, including my wife, think I must be a bit balmy to want to work with anywhere from 10,000 to 80,000 of these little critters per colony, but I find them fascinating. Linda and I occasionally spar lightheartedly about them, me telling her that only the females sting, and she reminding me that the drones (males) are freeloaders, serving only to mate with the queen. Each fall they are unceremoniously drubbed out of the hive to die, having outlived their usefulness. 

One thing about honeybees is they are generally far more docile than most people give them credit. You don’t bother them; they won’t bother you…which is what makes this psalm interesting. If you are surrounded by bees, there’s usually only one reason: you have disturbed their home. People have asked me about getting stung when I’m harvesting honey. My stock answer is, “If I broke into your home, rearranged all the furniture, got into your child’s room, and stole the money you’ve saved to tide you over the winter, wouldn’t you get a bit upset?” 

If your enemy is surrounding you like bees, you can be pretty sure you’ve invaded his home territory and he isn’t too happy about it. For the Christian, the enemy is Satan and all his infernal demonic host. As Christians, we can cavort all around the world, sing and dance, praise and pray all we want, as long as we aren’t upsetting the devil’s home. But as soon as we break into his home and start poking around, he gets upset. 

If the Enemy of your soul is surrounding you with his demonic hoards, aggressively buzzing and stinging you, you can be sure of one thing: you have hit home. So don’t start feeling defensive; don’t fret and whine about your troubles. They are a sign that you’re on the right track. The Enemy is buzzing about because you are messing up his neat little world. 

So when troubles are buzzing around you and you’re getting stung, don’t give up. It just means you’ve broken through the devil’s stronghold, and if you keep going, there’s honey on the other side. 

Rejected

 January 26, 2023

You know you need to pay attention when Jesus himself quotes Scripture. In his debates with the religious leaders of his day, Jesus chided their hardness of heart and their opposition to his ministry with words from Psalm 118. “Haven’t you read this,” he said.

“The stone which the builders rejected 

Has become the chief cornerstone. 

This was the Lord’s doing; 

It is marvelous in our eyes.”

—Psalm 118:22-23 

We read this psalm in our men’s Thursday prayer time this morning, and it got me to thinking about rejection. If you’ve ever been turned down on a date or for a job, you know the feeling of rejection. If you’re an aspiring writer, you probably know a lot about rejection. A kid in school feels the sting of rejection trying out for the school play or team. Too many people know the jagged edge of rejection in divorce. Rejection cuts deep and bleeds for a long time. It carries a particular stigma—you are a reject, just like a part on the assembly line that is flawed, inferior, and unfit for use.

All this makes these verses in the psalm to be truly Good News. In ancient Israel, the chief cornerstone was the first stone to be laid. It had to be “just right,” because the rest of the building was measured by that cornerstone. If it was out of place or flawed, the entire building would be flawed, out of plumb, not squared up. Nothing else would fit right. Such a cornerstone would understandably be rejected.

So when Jesus, referring to himself said that “the stone the builders rejected has become head of the corner,” he was also saying something about the rejects of this world. If the Cornerstone is a reject, in fact, the Head Reject, all the other rejects will fit seamlessly into his plans. That is Good News indeed!

It’s like Jesus is the Chief Misfit in the Island of Misfit Toys. “If they rejected me, they’ll reject you,” he told his followers. But rather than hide in shame from that rejection, Jesus owned it and wears it as a badge of honor, inviting us to pin that same badge on our chests, too. The Main Reject calls to all the other rejects of this world and says, “You have a home with me. Let me be the Cornerstone of your life, the foundation by which everything else is measured, and the world will see what I can do with a reject.”

Stop Talking!

 January 25, 2023

Yesterday at our pastors’ prayer time in Jamestown, son Nathan began to read the story of the Prodigal Son. He didn’t read the entire parable, which is really a story of two sons; instead, he zeroed in on the wandering son in what to me was a very different way. Here’s the story:

“Then He said: “A certain man had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the portion of goods that falls to me.’ So he divided to them his livelihood. And not many days after, the younger son gathered all together, journeyed to a far country, and there wasted his possessions with prodigal living. 

But when he had spent all, there arose a severe famine in that land, and he began to be in want. Then he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country, and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would gladly have filled his stomach with the pods that the swine ate, and no one gave him anything. “But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, and I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.” ’ 

“And he arose and came to his father. But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight, and am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ “But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet. And bring the fatted calf here and kill it, and let us eat and be merry; for this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ And they began to be merry.”

—Luke 15:11-24 

Nate pointed out that when the son returned home, he began his rehearsed speech, but his father cut him off, and for the first time, someone other than the wayward son speaks. Everything changed when the son stopped talking and started listening. He was willing to settle for servanthood when the father was restoring his Sonship.

How often are our prayers so full of our words that we can’t hear our Heavenly Father saying, “Bring on the best! My son was dead, and is alive again, he was lost and is found!” We are so busy rehearsing our own words that we miss God’s living word to us. Everything changes when we stop talking and listen to God. Don’t miss that. EVERYTHING changes when we stop talking and start listening to God.

Three Funerals

 January 24, 2023

This week is one like I haven’t had in years. I’ve been retired for nine years—six actually, since I went back to work for three years, pastoring in Dunkirk with some wonderful people. But for the past three years, I’ve actually been retired. I preach here and there occasionally when asked, but the pace is slower. Until this week. Tomorrow will be the first of three funerals at which I’ll officiate this week. Each one presents a unique twist. The first is the mother of a faithful member of Park church who for years attended the Cassadaga Baptist church. I knew her, but we weren’t close.

Thursday will be the funeral for one of my closest friends who has been in a wheelchair for the past seven or eight years (maybe more; I’ve lost count), the result of a stroke following open heart surgery that left his right side paralyzed and him unable to speak. I visited him most Tuesdays, and deeply feel the loss.

Saturday will be the service for my daughter-in-law’s father. Again, we weren’t particularly close, but had a good relationship where I felt free to speak of Jesus to a man who wouldn’t classify himself as particularly religious.

 

It’s not particularly difficult to write a cohesive and hopefully compelling sermon. I’ve had lots of practice and know the mechanics of putting one together. What is challenging is finding God’s word for that particular moment, that specific situation. Boilerplate sermons are a disservice to those to whom we minister, and a disgrace to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. When God speaks to people, it’s almost always to an individual. He called Abraham, Moses, David, and Isaiah. Each of Jesus’ disciples was called by name; the only ones not individually called were brothers James and John.

So the question for me is always, “What does God want to say to these people at this time?”And the answer to that question is only found in prayer—time spent quietly and intently listening to God. If I fail here, there’s no way I can succeed tomorrow, or Thursday, or Saturday. Even worse, if I don’t succeed, I deny God the opportunity to offer grace, salvation, and healing when people need it the most. 

So I think, I read Scripture, I write, and I pray, trusting that God will once more fulfill his promise to speak his healing word through me. If you will, I invite you to pray also. As I said, the mechanics are pretty mundane, but the message is anything but, and those who are hurting deserve all the comfort and strength God offers without interference from me.

God of the Pigskin

 January 23, 2023

I’m probably going to be pilloried for tonight’s musings, but you know the saying about fools rushing in…

Yesterday, Western New York’s darlings of the gridiron simply collapsed on the field, going down in were it not for the snow, flaming defeat. I’m glad to have watched the game from the warmth of my home, if only to avoid the potential road rage of alcohol fueled, deflated fans, stuck in traffic in a blizzard at night. Thankfully, there were no reports of accidents in the aftermath of the debacle.

I must say up front that I’m not much of a football fan. There’s too much standing around, waiting for the snap and a few seconds of frenzied activity followed by more standing around. That being said, if I’m going to root for a team, it will be the Bills. Lord knows, we are a patient people here in this part of the state. Fans—REAL fans will dutifully buy tickets and show up next year, tentatively hopeful that their dreams won’t be dashed again.

I know people who have transformed basement rooms into Bills Mafia shrines, replete with big screen TV, memorabilia, and the iconic Bills buffalo on the wall. I use the word “shrine” deliberately; it’s not merely a game for many. It’s a religion. Every conversation is about the game, the players, the stats. Entire fall and winter calendars revolve around the game schedules. Peoples’ demeanor, their delight or depression is tied to the outcome of the game. On Sunday morning, many a fan will give lip service to the Lord God Almighty before bowing that evening before the altar of the Lord God of Pigskin.

I’ve often wondered how many fans who sit through three hours of shivering in a blizzard, screaming like teenage girls in the presence of the latest rock star, would sit through a single hour in Christian worship. I must admit however, that most of what the church offers as worship can’t hold a candle to the excitement and energy of a Bills game, so maybe the comparison is more a measure of the blandness of most of what passes for worship than it is an indictment of the secular worship at the altar of the stadium. Maybe we in the church need to “up our game.” After all, the weekly conflict between light and darkness, good and evil, heaven and hell shouldn’t be dull and boring.

So on the one hand, I’m not surprised at the excitement generated by the game, but am at times a bit ashamed at what we offer in its place. On the other hand, I’m also not surprised at the failure of a football game to offer lasting satisfaction. Even should we some day win the Super Bowl, the very next day people have to go back to work or school, the world will have taken one more spin on its axis, and the disillusionment of life will set in once more. No matter how hyped up we get, nothing in this world is eternal, and nothing apart from Jesus Christ can fully satisfy the longing of the human heart. Here in Bills country, this should be an easy sell, but we human beings have a stubborn tendency to worship false gods, no matter how many times they let us down. Maybe this is the year we’ll learn. I would like to hope so.

102 Years Ago

 January 22, 2023

On this day one hundred and two years ago an event occurred that changed history. Well to be honest, it didn’t change the history of the world. Eight years later, the stock market crashed, plunging the country into the Great Depression, and another twelve years after that, we found ourselves in the middle of a second World War. January 22, 1921 was all but forgotten except by a very few whose lives were forever changed by that event.

Ward Russell Bailey was born to Harry and Elsie Zweigle Bailey on that cold January morning, the only child who grew up to become my father. History was changed that day. Great world events were happening then as they are now, passing by this baby boy, ignoring him as most baby boys are ignored by history. But it is these unremarkable and forgotten baby boys who one by one, change their world forever. Politicians get us into wars, generals plan them, but it’s the ordinary boys who do the fighting and dying. 

Hospitals, schools, factories, and homes are built by unnamed ordinary men like my father. My father wasn’t a big man; 5’10” and maybe 150 lbs, but he made a huge impact in the lives of many. I’ve lost count of the grandchildren and great grandchildren he had, every single one of them impacted by his genes, but even more by his character. He taught me patience, integrity, faithfulness, attention to detail, and so much more, as much by his example as by his words. 

If I have had any positive impact on anyone’s life, it’s in part the impact of my father, whose influence now spans three generations. It’s a ripple effect that has no shore to stop it. Yes, the world was changed that day, and much like another (fictional) Bailey named George of Bedford Falls, NY, this world would have been a poorer place had he never been born. I hope that twenty nine years from now, it can be said of me that the world was a better place because I was born into it.

Love Wins

 January 21, 2023

Mary Magdalene is mentioned in all four Gospels as the first to visit the tomb where Jesus had been buried. She’s highlighted in John 20 in a detailed conversation she unknowingly has with the risen Christ, and is the only one mentioned by name in all four accounts. This is very unusual, in that (as I recall) the only other incident included in all four Gospels is the feeding of the five thousand. This makes it significant.

Three days earlier, Mary is found at the foot of the cross, watching in agony as Jesus dies, but other than that, the only mention of her is found in Luke 8 where she is one from whom Jesus cast out seven demons. In that context, she is seen as one of the women who bankrolled Jesus’ ministry, apparently out of gratitude for having been delivered from demonic oppression (see Luke 8:1-3).

Immediately prior to the mention of these women who were following Jesus, is the incident of the woman who crashed the party at Simon’s house, anointing Jesus’ feet, washing them with her tears, and drying them with her hair. Though there can be no certainty about this, the fact that Mary is mentioned by name immediately following as one from whom Jesus cast out seven demons is at least suggestive of her being the unnamed woman in the preceding chapter. Was she that mysterious woman? We may never know, but it is an interesting thought.

If my suggestion is true, this raises an interesting point: Nothing is ever said about Mary accomplishing anything. Forgiven and delivered, she simply loved gratefully. The one thing she offered to do was denied her; there was no body to be carried away from the garden that first Easter morning (see John 20). All she could do, she did do—she ran and told the others that she had met the risen Christ. For this, she gets top billing, a lesson for all over- and under-achievers. Grace is offered, gratitude ensues, and love wins.

Fickle

 January 20, 2023

Knowing who one’s friends are is important…and tricky. Mark 12:37 says, “the common people heard [Jesus] gladly.” It’s not surprising, since his message was one of encouragement. He elevated the common man, and regularly skewered the elites and establishment, earning him praise from the former and enmity from the latter. 

There is a lesson here: When those with power and privilege praise you, it’s time to worry. The Bible tells us this world is unrepentantly hostile to the Gospel. It may speak peace, but it is never our friend. The problem is, the common man who heard Jesus gladly are notoriously unreliable. Fast forward to Mark 15:13-14. 

Jesus is on trial before Pilate, his life hanging in the balance. The politicians and religious leaders have colluded together in a remarkable alliance of otherwise mortal enemies to put an end to this pesky trouble maker who threatened to disrupt their cozy elitist world.

“Now at the feast he was accustomed to releasing one prisoner to them, whomever they requested. And there was one named Barabbas, who was chained with his fellow rebels; they had committed murder in the rebellion. Then the multitude, crying aloud, began to ask him to do just as he had always done for them. But Pilate answered them, saying, “Do you want me to release to you the King of the Jews?” For he knew that the chief priests had handed Him over because of envy. But the chief priests stirred up the crowd, so that he should rather release Barabbas to them. Pilate answered and said to them again, “What then do you want me to do with Him whom you call the King of the Jews?” So they cried out again, “Crucify Him!” Then Pilate said to them, “Why, what evil has He done?” But they cried out all the more, “Crucify Him!””         —Mark 15:6-14

Do you catch the irony? Those who heard him gladly were now clamoring for his death. We can’t claim that it was exactly the same crowd both days, but crowds are usually made up of common, ordinary people who as often as not, blindly follow the demands of the very people who oppress them. It is not without reason such crowds are often called “sheeple.” That the oppressed should demand that the oppressors crucify their best champion is testimony to the blindness of the crowd. As T.S. Eliot mused, “When the whole world is running headlong towards the precipice, one who walks in the opposite direction is looked at as being crazy.”

The older I get, the less interested I am in being popular, accepted, appreciated. It’s nice, but it’s no measure of my faithfulness to Christ. It is much more important to me to do my best to make sure that as much as I am able, my life measures up to the Gospel. I can trust neither the crowd nor the the academic nor the politician to have my best interests at heart. God alone does that, and for it, this world crucified his Son.

Like Father, Like Son

 January 18, 2023

“Help! I’m becoming my father!” It’s the agonizing cry of men in their forties or fifties. I resigned myself to it years ago, but lately it’s reared its head in one troubling way. No, I’m not referring to my dad jokes. I actually take pride in them, much to my wife’s dismay. My favorite is my dad’s response to anyone who said he was spoiled because he was an only child: “No, I’m not; the whole family smells that way.” You can groan anytime now.

I never became my dad in his love for fishing. My brother got that gene, and has dutifully passed it along to one of his sons and at least one grandson. Passivity is one thing my dad passed along to me. He wasn’t aggressive; it didn’t matter to him if mom were to have fixed the same dinner five nights a week. She didn’t, but had she done so, he would have happily eaten it. I’m the same way. Linda is always trying new recipes and asking what I think. In fifty-two years, there’s only been a couple that I suggested should be a one-off. Linda likes to rearrange the furniture occasionally. If the couch never moved from where it is now, I’d be content.

Dad was not one to take risks. He always played it safe with investments, never had a penchant for fast cars. Conservative and practical were his middle names. In this area, I spent a lifetime working to overcome. There was a time in my ministry life that things got so predictable I knew it had to change or I would have to find a new career. The way things were going in the mid-eighties, the church was almost on autopilot, and I was getting spiritually and emotionally numb. In the New Testament, serving Jesus was an adventure! There was danger and challenge. I knew I needed to shake things up, so we started doing things differently. We began to grow, and finally got to the place where we couldn’t be sure everything would succeed. In other words, we had to actually trust in God. I had stepped out of the risk-less world of my father into my own shoes.

But here I am, seventy-three, and seeing my father growing large in me. In his later years, dad was always cold. I think that’s why he loved going to Florida every winter. I don’t see that happening for us anytime soon, but in the winter, if I’m not moving around a lot or sitting by the fire in the back room, I’m cold. I no longer silently chuckle under my breath at my dad wearing long johns from October to June. I’m not that far along yet, but the day may be coming.

If there’s any way in which I want to see my father when I look in the mirror, it’s in his integrity and faithfulness. With my dad, what you saw was who he really was. There was no dissimulation, no prevarication with him. He was faithful to my mother and faithful to Jesus. He took fatherhood seriously, and passed that along to me. He wasn’t perfect, but I am grateful to be able to look back over the years and see an example of steady, quiet leadership. I think it’s because he looked to Jesus. Jesus told Philip, “If you’ve seen me, you’ve seen the Father.” Dad kept his eyes on Jesus, and through him learned what being a father is all about. That’s my goal, too, and though I’ve still got a long way to go, I can say with a measure of pride, “Like father, like son.” Except for the long johns.

Abiding

 January 17, 2023

Sunday, I preached about what it means to “abide” in Christ (John 15:4). Here’s what Jesus said: “Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me.” “Abide” is a word we don’t use much anymore unless we’re commenting on Jesus’ words here. It’s the verb form of the noun “abode,” which is another old-fashioned word referring to one’s home. 

I commented on these words of Jesus on January 11, noting that our abode is where we live, where we go for rest and nourishment; it’s where we belong. We may spend a great deal of time at work, but it’s not our abode, where we live. If we travel, we stay overnight at a motel or B & B, but it’s not where we live. My point was, Jesus wants to be our default, where our thoughts and affections gravitate when we’re not actively engaged in something else, like our job or school work. It’s where he wants us to turn when anxious or afraid, instead of to drugs, alcohol, pornography, or even hobbies. 

When Linda and I were talking about this the other day, she asked, “How can we possibly be thinking of Jesus all the time?” That’s a good question, deserving an honest answer, and Jesus gave us the answer shortly after telling us to abide in him: 

“If you keep My commandments, you will abide in My love, just as I have kept My Father’s commandments and abide in His love. This is My commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” —John 15:10, 12 NKJV

It’s not a matter of having every thought being about Jesus. That would, as my old Sunday School teacher used to say, make us “so heavenly minded we’re no earthly good.” When Jesus said, “Abide in me,” he explained it by telling us to love one another. How can I know if I’m “abiding in Jesus?” Not only by how often I think of him, but also by how often I think of others, both instead of thinking about myself. Abiding in Christ means shifting my thought patterns from my own concerns to others, of putting their needs before my own. 

I woke up today not feeling particularly spiritual. I read my Bible, prayed as best I was able, but certainly didn’t feel very connected to God. But I had a list of people I had planned to see; people in the hospital, nursing home, a shut in, and a friend whose life has been restricted for months to rounds of doctor’s visits. When I started, I can’t say I really felt eager to do so, but by the time I got home, my outlook had completely changed. Paying attention to others was a form of abiding in Christ by allowing his love for them to live and find its home in my heart. Was I every moment thinking of Jesus? Nope. But was I abiding in Christ? I believe so. I know this much: even without being conscious of it, I was receiving the life-giving flow of the Holy Spirit into my heart, making it possible to bear the fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness… (Galatians 5:22), and that’s good enough for me.

Hard Obedience

 January 16, 2023

Somewhere around sixty years ago, Billy Graham featured as one of his crusade guests a woman whose life had been characterized by alcoholism, drug addiction, three failed marriages, and an attempt at suicide. She was born into great wealth, but was miserable. Until she met Christ. Her name was Gert Behanna, and I’ll never forget a story she told. 

She was fifty-three when she was converted, and at that age somehow got on a speaking circuit, giving witness to the power of the Gospel to change a life such as she had lived. On this particular night, she was tired…bone tired. Just plain worn out. She didn’t want to go on stage that night, but knew she was the expected speaker of the evening, so reluctantly left her hotel room to go to the conference center and address the women there.

All the time she was speaking, she said her inner conversation was, “I don’t want to be here.” When she concluded her speech and gave the invitation to receive Christ, to her surprise, the altar was filled with women responding to the Gospel call, a far greater response than she had experienced at other times when she felt the Holy Spirit working through her. She was puzzled.

Gert came to the conclusion that obedience to Christ when one doesn’t feel like obeying was the sincerest kind of obedience, an obedience that God honors because there was nothing in it for her. 

Some days, we just feel “off.” Some days, it seems that God is elsewhere, working through someone else, but surely not me. Opening the Bible, the words seem just so many markings on the page. Prayer is forced and stilted. The desire is present, but the heart is cold and unresponsive, and no discernible reason can be found. The day is grey and the horizon dimmed by mist and clouds. There is no real storm, but the calm is ominous and heavy.

At such times, simply obeying God is a matter of just putting one foot ahead of the other. The joy of serving has melted away, and only the drudgery of it remains. At such times, I remember this woman, along with some of the Biblical saints. We read the stories of marvelous interventions of God, forgetting that often years separated those interventions, and the saints had to just soldier on. They did so, and we honor their faithfulness. As we follow their example, I can only hope and pray that someday in the distant future, someone will read my story, including the dry, desert chapters, and see God’s faithfulness in the midst. One thing I know: that will only be possible if I do as Gert Behanna did years ago, and simply do what needs to be done, whether I feel like it or not. Who knows? Maybe God will use the difficult testimony to break through the wall of resistance in someone’s heart.

Fading Joy

January 15, 2023

It’s amazing how something that brings such joyful anticipation at the start can end up fizzling out like a burnt up sparkler. Just a little over a month ago, Linda hauled the decorations up from the basement and began transforming our home into a Christmas wonderland almost rivaling the professional displays in the stores. Garlands, lights, Nativities, nostalgic plaques and pictures, her beloved caroler collection, all set the stage for the tree with its ornaments and lights. It was beautiful, and gave much pleasure.

Tonight we debated whether she would bake the banana bread she’s been talking about, or take down the tree, which she’s also been talking about. Tonight the banana bread won out, which means tomorrow the tree comes down. The corner will look bare, but the magic is gone, so the tree must go with it. 

It is a parable of life. We anticipate with joy, but realize with ennui. The thrill of the latest acquisition may last a few hours or a few months, but eventually, whatever we chased loses its power to satisfy, and we hold in our hands something for which we gave a bit of our life, and realize it was a bad trade. Whether it’s a new car, a new boat, a new toy, or a new job or partner, the golden sheen wears off, revealing the clay beneath. 

The Bible’s warning is made for today:

“Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life—is not of the Father but is of the world. And the world is passing away, and the lust of it; but he who does the will of God abides forever.”

—I John 2:15-17

It’s all passing away; all except the Word of God (Isaiah 40:8), and that which is passing away has not the ability to satisfy the soul which will never pass away. God has given all things in this world for us to enjoy, but not for us to set our hearts upon. Like our Christmas decorations, the things of this world give momentary pleasure, but only the love of God shared among the people of God can give eternal joy.

 

Unchanging

 January 13, 2023

Most of the grandkids were home for this weekend’s Friday overnighter. As has been our habit for more than twenty years, we prayed together before bedtime, but knowing that four of them (including a boyfriend and a girlfriend) will be off to college Sunday makes the prayer time poignant for me. They are growing up in a world vastly different from the one I grew up in. Every generation has its challenges, and we old folks are often tempted to wish their world was more like ours. I suppose our parents thought the same thing. 

We forget that God is in control and they were given to us for such a time as this, and that our job was and is to prepare them for a world none of us has yet seen. How do we prepare young people for such an ever- and fast-changing world? That’s a question that has been bouncing around in my head, and I think I know the answer.

We prepare them for a constantly changing world by teaching them how to connect to an unchanging God. “Jesus Christ,” the Bible says, “is the same, yesterday, today, and forever,” meaning that he alone provides the stability they need to face life’s uncertainties. I’ve been thinking about that “connecting.” So much of it is a matter of the mind; disciplining our thought life so that Jesus Christ—who he is, what he did for us, and what he expects of us—becomes our default. It’s not easy. Sin has rendered nearly everything else in life as our default. When not thinking about anything in particular, or when we face trouble, crisis, or merely anxiety, we default to all sorts of things; negative thinking, anger, depression, alcohol or drugs. Or we default to more work, a frenetic pace, hobbies, religion, or mindless social media. 

It takes effort to bring every thought captive to Christ (2 Cor. 10:4-5), but it’s worth it. Repentance is foundational. It simply means changing how we think. I’m working on it. Like any skill, it takes practice. Maybe someday it will become as effortless as Jeff Beck playing guitar or Yo Yo Ma the cello. Until then, I keep working at it, and do whatever I can to show my grandkids how to do it. Because their future depends on it.

Lamps

 January 12, 2023

“People don’t use lamps anymore.” So said Cheryl as we were pitching stuff into the dumpster. We were cleaning out Samaritan House, our local thrift ministry that operated out of the old Methodist church in Sinclairville. Samaritan House has always been a shoestring operation, a ministry to those in the community who struggle most to keep life and limb together. Clothes, appliances, walkers, crutches, and canes, along with kitchenware, tools, and toys; if you need it and don’t have the money for it, Samaritan House was the place to go.

Covid hit the ministry hard; none of the volunteers were able to work at the site for two years. And now everyone is that much older, and the building is in serious need of repair. The roof leaks like a sieve (literally), the basement is damp, windows need replacing, and of course, everything costs more these days. The Samaritan House board is at least temporarily suspending operations while we figure out how to save the building. Without the building, there is no place for all the stuff, and therefore, no ministry. So a bunch of us were there today, sorting and cleaning out, getting the place ready for repairs.

In one room, there were probably two dozen lamps; table lamps, floor lamps, desk lamps. They were outdated, sixties and seventies’ style, but the electrical fixtures, the sockets and switches, were good. Since most of them had good hardware, I hated to toss them in the dumpster, but even at a dollar apiece, no one was taking them home. That’s when Cheryl spoke up. I have never thought about it before. We have both floor and table models scattered throughout the house; I didn’t realize no one uses lamps anymore. 

I’m sitting beneath an antique floor lamp, chrome base topped with a depression glass piece , and an arm that swings out so the light can shine directly on the pages of my book. Next to that is a 1930’s era smoking stand with a glass bass that lights up. It makes a great pedestal for my coffee cup. They remind me of a time when elegance was in style, and though no one could with a straight face call me elegant, I do like these old things in my home. Antiques just seem to belong here. Maybe it’s because I’m one myself.

Ceiling lights, recessed or otherwise are OK, but I like my lamps. And I must add, I like the 1930’s era sconce lighting I managed to find for the master bedroom we added on a few years ago. I guess you could say my preferences are living evidence of Jesus’ saying in Luke 5:39. “No one, having drunk old wine immediately desires new; for he says, ‘The old is better.’” Sometimes, you just can’t improve on old.

Default

January 11, 2023

One of the surest ways to tell that God is at work in you is when you do the right thing when you’d rather do something else. I’m no super-saint, but that happened to me today. I was actually surprised by it. I’ve been preparing for Sunday’s sermon (Yes—I’m preaching Sunday! Hooray!) by thinking about what is my default when I’m not deliberately thinking about something “spiritual,” like a sermon. 

I was driving into town, mulling the sermon over in my head, but if I stopped for even a moment, my thoughts turned to that Ruger Mini-14 I’ve had my eye on, or the absurdity of our governor considering banning gas furnaces and appliances in the future just as gas production is at an all time high. There’s a dozen or more personal or political topics that my mind could as easily default to, but the point is, my default is not Jesus Christ. 

In life, when I think of where I find rest, peace, safety, and belonging, it’s when I’m home. When I was pastoring, I put plenty of time in at the office and out in the community, but that wasn’t my default. It’s possible to work for Jesus, to read the Bible and pray, and still not have him be your default, the place where your mind and heart rest when trouble or anxiety comes or when not actively engaged in something that requires concentration. 

Bringing every thought captive to Christ (2 Corinthians 10:4-5) is constant work for me. My thoughts are like little calves running here and there. As soon as I get one corralled, another breaks loose, and I have to rope it in. It’s not that they’re always bad thoughts, although some of them are, but I want Christ to be my home, that place to which I naturally gravitate. I think that’s what Jesus meant when he said, “Abide in me”— in other words, “Make me your home.”

Today when I deliberately turned those random thoughts towards Christ, instead of drooling over that Mini 14, I wired money to my friend in Mongolia who is soon heading out into the steppes on another evangelistic mission trip. God was at work. How do I know? I did the right thing instead of what I had wanted to do. And it was all because at least for the moment, Christ was my default, my home.

Lest it sound like I’m bragging, I must add that my thoughts and my mouth left home for awhile just before bed. Linda and I had a misunderstanding, and I blurted out harsh words to her. Now I must apologize and ask forgiveness. This abiding business is harder than it looks, but home in Christ is where I want to be so that my heart can be her home.

Where is Jesus When I Need Him?

January 10, 2023

There is a curious story in Mark’s gospel, chapter six. Jesus had held a three day seminar for the crowds of people who gathered to hear him. Unlike most seminars today, meals weren’t provided, and by the end of the third day, people were hungry. To make a long story short, Jesus fed them and sent them home. It is there we pick up the story. Teaching for three days is exhausting work, and Jesus wanted a little alone time to recuperate, so he sent his disciples on ahead, telling them to take the ferry to the other side of the lake while he spent some time praying (This detail is important). 

A storm came up, and these normally stolid fishermen were afraid. Wait! Haven’t we heard this story before? We read an almost identical story chapter 4; they were in a boat when a storm arose, threatening to sink the ship. They were scared then, too. But there is a difference in these stories. In the first, Jesus is asleep in the back of the boat; here, he is nowhere to be found. He’s somewhere back on land, praying. I imagine the disciples were saying to themselves, “Where is he? We need him here! Now!” 

Suddenly, they see him in the distance, walking on the water! Mark says Jesus would have passed by, except they called out to him. 

 I wonder how often I bungled my way through a crisis, missing out on what God intended for me simply because I didn’t ask for help. How often was Jesus walking by and I was grumbling because I couldn’t find him in the boat? I wanted to be able to shake him awake, to shout in his face that I’m sinking, but he wasn’t there; he was passing by.

It’s a good thing that he wasn’t in the boat, and a good thing that he’s not in the boat with me today. Hebrews 7:25 tells us that while Jesus isn’t in the boat with us, he is praying for us, which I suspect is more important. While the storm is raging, Jesus is praying for me…for you, and will come by at just the right time for us to cry out. But if we are going to see him walking on water, we have to quit looking for him in the back of the boat and be willing to stare the storm in the face. And if it looks like he’s passing by, it’s time to shout, “Lord, HELP!” 

Affirmation

January 9, 2023

We don’t have to have the news on for five minutes before some politician or activist is ripping into somebody with whom they disagree. That in itself wouldn’t be so bad except that only rarely does the disagreement deal with the issues; the other person’s character is attacked. Granted, character is an issue, and those who seem to continually make the headlines often display a definite vacuum in the character department. I’ve noticed that there is an inverse relationship between the weakness a person’s arguments and the vehemence of his ad hominem attacks. It’s easier to attack the person than the idea because you don’t need any ideas of your own to attack another person.

All this comes to mind from comparing two Gospel accounts of Jesus’ baptism. In Matthew, as Jesus comes out of the water, those standing by hear “a voice from heaven saying, “This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.” (Matthew 3:17). I would imagine those standing by would have been quite impressed upon hearing these words. “I guess we better listen to this Jesus,” they might have said to each other. 

Mark records the incident a bit differently. As Jesus comes up out of the water, “a voice came from heaven, “You are my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” (1:11). Did you catch the difference between Matthew’s account and Mark’s? In the latter, the Father is speaking not to the crowd, but to Jesus himself. It is a word of affirmation for him personally.

It is always nice to receive affirmation before others. I remember years ago receiving the Denman award for evangelism from our Annual Conference. It was humbling and affirming to be recognized before others, but that kind of recognition fades with time. People’s memories dim, or they change their minds about you, and the cheers quickly turn to jeers.

But God’s personal affirmation has a way of sticking with you. Immediately following his baptism, Mark tells us that the Holy Spirit drove Jesus into the desert to be tempted by the devil. When you’re all alone in the wilderness, sweating through your spiritual battles, the opinion of the crowd fades. It’s in the dark loneliness of the trial that the only voice that matters is the whisper of your Heavenly Father saying, “You are my beloved child, and you bring me pleasure.” 

It’s in those times of harsh desert emptiness that all you’ve accomplished seems to evaporate into thin air, and all that matters is God saying, “I love and affirm you not because of what you can do, but because of who you are. You are mine, and that is enough.”

Have you experienced that affirmation lately? If not, maybe it’s because you haven’t received the forgiveness God offers through Jesus Christ. I am not naturally a child of God; the Bible says there was a time when I was a child of Satan. I became a child of God when I confessed my sins and turned from them to receive the gift of eternal life through faith in Jesus and his death on the cross in my place. I became a child of God by virtue of being “in” Christ, as Paul puts it. And because the Father affirms Jesus, in Jesus he affirms me. That affirmation never fades, for which I am most grateful tonight. 

Temptation

 January 8, 2023

I don’t know why I can’t leave well enough alone. I’m in our back room looking at the train layout that circles the room at about eight feet, and thinking that with a change in the brackets I made to fasten it to the wall, I could fit a secondary line beneath it just big enough for an HO set. I have most of the equipment; a couple years ago I picked up a couple boxes of assorted train stuff—four or five engines, a couple dozen cars, eight transformers, and lots of track. All that stuff is calling my name, and Linda isn’t discouraging me from my crazy ideas.

The fun for me is in the creation even more than operation. After all, you can only watch a train going in circles just so many times before it gets old, and I have neither the space nor the interest in building a layout with villages, staging areas, and mountains with trestles and tunnels. I appreciate those who have the time, interest, and money to create elaborate layouts, but I’m not one of them. It’s probably good that I don’t have the space. 

All of that makes me think about temptation. Any time I get to feeling a bit self-righteous, God reminds me that there have been plenty of times the only reason I didn’t yield to temptation was that I didn’t have the opportunity. Had the opportunity presented itself to me, I would likely have presented myself to the sin. It’s all about grace. I am keenly aware of the times God stepped in and stopped me from doing something foolish. Although I know it’s happened, I’m less aware of the times God steered me in a different direction away from the temptation without my knowing it. Whenever I have failed, it’s because I deliberately turned away from the provision God offered; whenever I succeeded, it’s because God smacked me alongside the head, got my attention, and intervened. To him alone belongs all the praise and glory!

Doing What Jesus Did

 January 6, 2023

In Mark 6:7, Jesus called his disciples to himself, not so they could merely enjoy being with him, but so that he could send them out to fulfill his mission of bringing the Good News to everyone they could reach. He does the same today. We aren’t called merely to gather and worship or fellowship or study, but to be with him, to learn from him so he can confidently send us into the world. Notice how Mark states the matter: “He began to send them out,” which means he wasn’t finished back then. He continues to send his followers into the world.

In vv. 12-13, when the disciples went out, they called on people to repent, ie. to change their way of thinking. When people change how they think, miracles happen. Demons leave, sickness departs. More than 50 years ago, I learned in beginning psychology class that more than 80% of our illnesses are psychologically induced, which means people could be free from many of their physical ailments if they changed how they think about their lives. I wonder what would happen in the Church if we Christians got serious about repentance—changing how we think.

In v. 30, Having told his disciples to go and preach, they went, and reported back the results. The response was far more than they could have imagined. Five thousand people wouldn’t have gathered to hear Jesus teach if the disciples hadn’t prepared the way by their spreading out through the land preaching. It’s the same methodology the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association used successfully for decades. At least a year before the event, teams of advance workers would actually move into the city where the crusade was to be held. The result was massive crowds when Dr. Graham arrived to preach. He merely copied Jesus’ method.

In v. 37, we read that Jesus commanded his disciples to do what they could not possibly do. When they told Jesus the people were getting hungry, he simply said, “You feed them.” I can imagine them looking at each other with incredulity. “There’s no way we can do this, Jesus; you’re the one who can provide the food. We’ve seen what you can do, so do it again.” But Jesus was adamant: this was their job. We don’t know what they were thinking when it all began, but I can imagine them muttering, “This is crazy; there’s no way. Why is he telling us to sit them down in groups?” 

But they brought the little they had and began to do the impossible thing he commanded. That which they couldn’t do on their own happened when they simply obeyed. It’s not our talent, our ability, or even our resources that determine what we can accomplish. It’s our faith and obedience that makes the difference. This entire sixth chapter of Mark is designed to teach us that what Jesus did, he wants us to do. He still feeds the five thousand, the same way he did back then, through the obedience of his followers who against all logic, believe his Word enough to act upon it.

Breathing Praise

 January 5, 2023

“The dead don’t praise the LORD.” —Psalm 115:17

As breath is life to the body, so praise is life to the spirit. If there is no praise, it’s because there is no life. The Christian who doesn’t praise God is a Christian in name only. As only the living breathe, so only the spiritually alive praise God. The level of my praise is the measure of my life. Prayer without praise is dead. 

Sleeper Faith

 January 4, 2023

Nearly fifty years ago, I was visiting my brother in law who at the time was living outside of Rochester, NY. He was somewhat of a gearhead, and had a friend with a “sleeper” 1958 Corvette. “How’d you like to go for a ride?” the my brother in law asked. “I’m sure he’d be happy to take you for a spin.” (For the uninitiated, a “sleeper” car is one on which the owner spent no money on frills like new paint or upolstery. Every cent went into the motor). 

Being somewhat of a gullible chump at the time, I said, “Sure,” and hopped in. At the time, my brother in law was living in a trailer court that only had a gravel driveway. His friend got behind the wheel, turned the ignition, hit the gas and popped the clutch. As my head jerked back, we barreled out of the driveway, literally took the corner on two wheels, and were going 120 mph before I knew what was happening. I’ve watched drag races, and have to believe we could have won that day.

Reading the first five chapters of Mark’s Gospel takes me back to that long-ago day. It’s like being climbing into the seat of a literary sleeper Corvette, revving the engine and popping the clutch. It’s a whirlwind, hang-onto-your-hat ride with Jesus at the wheel, laughing and saying, “You think THAT’s crazy; watch this!” He goes from miracle to miracle, healing, calling men to follow him, casting out demons, teaching, and all but challenging the religious leaders to a spiritual showdown. And all along, he’s telling people to stop being afraid and to believe the Good News. 

That command from Jesus is just as important today as it was back then. There was plenty to fear then, and there is plenty to fear now. He wouldn’t tell us to not fear if there weren’t legitimate things to be afraid of. But his word is true, and it takes the form of a command. He isn’t suggesting that we not fear; he commands it. He is able to command it because he is able to control it, if we believe. That’s the key: If I don’t believe God is in control in this crazy “sleeper Corvette” world, fear is the only other option. Jesus is behind the wheel; if you look close, you can see the twinkle in his eye as he stomps on the gas, takes the corner on two wheels, and glances your way to see you wide-eyed and white-knuckled, holding on for dear life. One thing Mark assures us—life with Jesus will never be dull.

Follow

 January 3, 2023

One of the first commands Jesus ever gave was to Andrew and Peter: “Follow me!” According to the Gospels, they did just that, and did it immediately (a favorite word of Mark). He called; they followed…immediately. There’s significance in that word. Too often, we act as if we had all the time in the world, when in reality, our time is limited, perhaps more than we realize. That’s a topic for another day.

Peter took Jesus’ command seriously, and without hesitation, he left everything his life had been, and followed Jesus. But at the end of Mark’s Gospel, there is a change in the wording. Peter followed “at a distance.” (14:54). By following this way, he ended up denying Jesus and grieving deeply at his weakness. Peter was afraid to come out in the open, much like ourselves. How often have I kept quiet when I could have spoken his Name? How often, instead of giving testimony, I sank into the shadows? Whenever we follow at a distance, we lose courage, because courage isn’t taught; it’s caught, and to catch it, we must get close to the Source. Denial, grief, and regret always follow when we follow at a distance.

In a Heartbeat

 January 2, 2022

Everything can change in a heartbeat. When I woke up in Cuba last April 13, I was planning to attend a wedding of two of my Cuban friends in just a couple days. Little did I expect to get a call from home telling me that my son Nathan had a brain bleed and had been taken to the hospital. One phone call, and everything changed. The wedding I had been excited to attend suddenly became secondary in my estimation. In the nine months since, life has remained changed. My prayers are more focused, I am more focused on life and relationships, so much of this world’s distractions and attractions have lost whatever luster they once had for me. They just don’t matter anymore.

The people of Ukraine—Everything changed when Russia invaded. Life suddenly became “un-normal” for millions. Things that were important suddenly became secondary.

When the new year began yesterday, football fans were looking forward to the Bills-Bengals matchup. A game that would determine placement in the playoffs was on the minds of every fan. No one in America expected that one of the players would be fighting for his life soon after kickoff. For Damar Hamlin, everything changed in a heartbeat. The game suddenly became just that—a game. As I write, we don’t know how this will end; we just know that life can change drastically in a heartbeat, and if it can change for Hamlin, it can change for you and me, too. Jesus spoke to the uncertainty of life when he said, “Watch, for you don’t know the day nor the hour when the Son of Man will come” (Matthew 25:13). We usually think these words apply to the End of the Age, the Second Advent when Jesus returns to establish the Kingdom of God, but it is true for each of us with every single breath we draw. We don’t know which will be our last. We just don’t know. Which is why we are told to watch, to live as if the next moment will be our last. 

As a Christian, this means being aware of those around me. Many of my friends don’t know Jesus as the One who forgives their sins and offers them eternal life. Many of my friends don’t realize the seriousness of sin; the separation from God and others that occurs when we choose self over any and everyone else. Many of my friends are believers, but haven’t considered the seriousness of the call of God on their lives to bring the Good News of Salvation to others. And this includes myself. Every time I look into the eyes of another human being, I am looking into eternity. And when eternity is at stake, every moment counts…because everything can change in a heartbeat.