Cultural Christianity

June 19, 2017

Tucked away in the story of the sad string of Israel’s apostate kings is a summary of the reasons the nation was carried into captivity. It would be easy to miss, but in 2 Kings 17:33-34, one line stands out: “They feared the LORD, yet served their own gods - according to the rituals of the nations from among whom they were carried away. To this day they continue practicing the former rituals; they do not fear the LORD…”

I used to wonder how people who had experienced so many miraculous deliverances could so easily abandon God for the gods of their neighbors. Not anymore. It happens all the time, and usually in the same way. When in 1 Kings 12 Jeroboam rebelled against the nascent Davidic dynasty, he worried that the worship that was centralized in Jerusalem would undermine his power. If the people under his rule traveled to Jerusalem to worship, they might decide they preferred life in the southern kingdom, so he had two golden calves cast, installing one in the north and the other in the south. Presenting them to his people, he said, “Here are your gods, O Israel, which brought you up from the land of Egypt.” It was subtle, and it was effective. The Hebrew word for our generic “God” is ‘Elohim,’ which can also mean ‘gods’ (plural). It was nuanced, but it worked. He had successfully wedded the LORD, the God (Elohim) of Israel, with his fabrication which had its roots in Canaanite culture.

We do the same thing today when we baptize cultural norms with a Christian overlay, creating a cultural religion that blesses whatever we choose to do. The writer of 2 Kings said it well; “They feared the LORD, yet served their own gods.” I fear that I have done the same thing more often than I would like to admit. 

I am a conservative Christian who has spent most of my adult life in what has been a predominately liberal denomination. While this has presented its share of challenges, one thing I appreciate about my more liberal colleagues is how they keep me honest. They are not shy about challenging conservative Christianity’s cozy relationship with conservative politics. For example, though I am a life member of the NRA, I have a hard time imagining Jesus aligned with the organization and it politics. On the other hand, I would offer the same challenge to my more liberal (they currently prefer the designation ‘progressive’) colleagues when it comes to their espousal of the political agenda of the left. Either way, it is all too easy to chose our agenda and bless it in the name of God.

In Sunday School this week, we began a study of 2 Thessalonians, in which Paul commends the people for their love for each other and their perseverance in persecution. I observed that we seem to need the latter in order to maintain the former. Growing up, my brother and I were often mortal enemies…until a mutual outside threat united us in common bond. Too many churches have imploded over internal issues that would never have arisen had they understood the nature of the culture around them. We’ve been deceived into believing that our culture is friendly to Christianity. It is, if that Christianity is willing to accommodate the culture, much as did Jeroboam. We are often all too willing to worship the LORD, while serving our own gods. 

So today, I am grateful for my liberal colleagues who keep my feet to the fire. And for the Scriptures that convict me when I fail to live up to its standards. And for the love, patience, and forgiveness of our Lord, who commands us to “come boldly to [his] throne of grace that we may find mercy and grace to help in time of need.”(Hebrews 4:16).

Father's Day

June 18, 2017

This morning in Sunday School, we began working our way through 2 Thessalonians, which has as one of its themes the subject of how the Christian handles persecution and problems. There was a time in my life (many years ago) when I believed that if God were behind something, he would almost magically brush aside all the obstacles to make it happen. I've since learned that often he is behind the problems because it's only through them that we grow. When one's steps are ordered by the Lord, even should there be difficulties (and in God's work, there surely will be), he will always provide a way through. Park church discovered this truth years ago when we were poised on the edge of some new and significant ministries. We had only recently moved into a new building with all the ministry opportunities it made possible. Suddenly, the roof caved in (figuratively speaking; the roof of the new building was just fine). Today, Park is again standing on the verge of some new and significant ministries, which means problems are right around the corner. In 1 Thessalonians, we are reminded that for those serious about God’s work and will, problems are to be expected. Among other things, they are his tools to help mold us more closely into the image of Christ. So, if problems are to be expected, so also is his provision and protection.

Father's Day is here, and it's been good. Worship this morning was Spirit-filled. We have two worship teams which divide up the responsibilities, which means I get to help lead every other week. I play the upright bass, which is more fun than I can explain. In the afternoon, we gathered at our eldest son's for a cookout and celebration of the Day and of our family's June birthdays. Just as we were wrapping it up, the skies let loose with a torrential downpour, which we have sorely needed. I had to wait for a break in the rain to drive my bike home. 

Father's Day has for the past five years, been very special to me. Five years ago, I called my dad to wish him a happy Father's Day. Three months before, that wouldn't have happened. He had for years been severely hearing impaired, and phone conversations were impossible. Three months earlier, he had gotten new digital hearing aids through the VA, and it was like watching someone being raised from the dead. Deafness shuts people off from life even more than blindness, because when you can’t hear, you can't participate in conversations. Over the years, we had watched as dad slowly receded from life...until he got those hearing aids.

I called him; we talked; I told him how much I loved him, how much he had taught me, how his example of faith and faithfulness was the foundation of my life. As I said, three months earlier, that conversation never would have happened. He was at their camp with my mother, my brother and sister, and my brother's boys and grandkids, surrounded by those he loved and who loved him. 

After talking, he took a nap, and when one of my brother's boys who lived at a distance called to wish him a happy Father's Day, they woke him up, but his words were slurred. They rushed him to the hospital, but on the way, he slipped into a coma from which he never woke up. So why is this day so special? Because on it, he was surrounded by family, and the next thing he knew, he was in the presence of his Heavenly Father. I hadn't known it at the time, but my mother told me a couple months ago that I was the last one on earth to talk with him. What an honor! What a glorious (although at the time, difficult) day it was! I am thankful today for this man who by his life taught me what following Christ is all about. I am thankful for the new ministries being set before us, and I am thankful for worship this morning, where we enter God’s presence in praise and prayer, and unfailingly receive grace, mercy, and forgiveness, and the challenge to follow in Christ’s footsteps wherever they may go.

A Little is a Lot

June 16, 2017

It’s amazing what a difference only a few weeks makes. Tomorrow, I’m scheduled to play bass for worship. Due to having been in Cuba for three weeks, preaching for a friend on a fourth Sunday, and having my bass in the shop for a much-needed tune up, this will be the first time I’ve played it in nearly two months. I figured I had better practice, so tonight I tuned it up and ran some scales before working on a couple of the songs we’ll be doing tomorrow. 

The upright bass is a very physical instrument; it’s big and unwieldy, and requires more than a little pressure on the fingerboard to sound the notes. By comparison, the electric bass plays easily, with very little pressure required. I spent the morning with hammer and cold chisel till my wrists ached. My hands had been feeling pretty good lately until today. And now, a mere half hour pressing the strings was all I could handle. Tomorrow will require an hour’s rehearsal, plus two half hour segments of playing. It’s going to be a challenge.

I’m looking forward to it. I love playing. The times I’m in the congregation, I’m watching the bassist, listening to his technique, and wishing I could join the band. Tomorrow I will. Not having played in awhile, I may be rusty, but the Scripture tells us to “make a joyful noise unto the Lord;” I like the ‘noise’ part. It offers lots of leeway for a hack like me. I’m grateful to be able to offer the best I have, even if it’s not much, because in God’s hands, even a little is a lot.

The Master's Hand

June 16, 2017

Squeals of laughter floating across the backyard drift into the window as I sit on our bed and write. Little Gemma is trying to get to sleep at the foot of the bed, while the Alex and Abi read downstairs and the younger ones play hide and seek outside. It’s a good ending to a wonderful day. Suppertime included “High/Low,” where each one told of the best part of their day, and if they wanted, the worst. “Highs” are mandatory; “Lows” are optional. It’s a good thing; there were many more highs than lows, and lots of conversation and laughter throughout. These Friday nights with the grandkids are always a high for me. Few grandparents that I know have the opportunity to build into their grandchildrens’ lives as we do. And make no mistake: they build into ours, as well.

Earlier this evening as the younger ones danced through the sprinkler and splashed in the creek, we built a fire. As the flames died down and the embers glowed, it was time for S’mores. The younger ones then headed for the backyard while Alex and I sat and talked about life. She’s at that age when life-changing decisions are being made, often inadvertently. I didn’t go to college intending to marry someone I had never before met, but that’s exactly what happened. So with Alex, and with so many others, the plans we make give way to the greater plans of God, and our lives turn in a direction we had never imagined. 

A shorter conversation with our oldest grandson about a life of Christian service followed. Ian thinks deeply, is inquisitive and studious, and loves the Lord. He’s a technology buff, so Lord knows what direction that will take him, but I know that if the issue isn’t raised, Christian ministry is not something he would think of on his own. No one does. Jesus himself said that no one comes to the him unless the Father draws him. That’s true of ministry, too. I can lay the possibility before him, but if God isn’t in it, it would be a bad idea.

The bulk of the day was spent driving to the north of Buffalo to pick up my bass. I had other business in Niagara Falls, so combining errands made sense. I will never be a virtuoso on the instrument. I’ll be lucky if I can attain to hack status. But I love the instrument, and the work Monaco does is outstanding. It sounds like a new instrument; the lows are responsive, and it plays butter-smooth. Even I will sound good now! It reminds me of an old poem written by Myra Brooks Welch in 1921:

'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer

      Thought it scarcely worth his while

To waste much time on the old violin,

      But held it up with a smile.

"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,

    "Who'll start the bidding for me?"

"A dollar, a dollar. Then two! Only two?

      Two dollars, and who'll make it three?"

"Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;

      Going for three…" But no,

From the room, far back, a grey-haired man

      Came forward and picked up the bow;

Then wiping the dust from the old violin,

      And tightening the loosened strings,

He played a melody pure and sweet,

      As a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,

      With a voice that was quiet and low,

Said: "What am I bid for the old violin?"

      And he held it up with the bow.

"A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?

      Two thousand! And who'll make it three?

Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice,

    And going and gone," said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,

    "We do not quite understand.

What changed its worth?" Swift came the reply:

    "The touch of the Master's hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,

      And battered and scarred with sin,

Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd

      Much like the old violin.

A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine,

    A game — and he travels on.

He is "going" once, and "going" twice,

    He's "going" and almost "gone."

But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd

    Never can quite understand

The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought

    By the touch of the Master's hand.

Don’t be mistaken. I’ll never master the upright bass. It was Mr. Monaco whose touch brought out the potential of this instrument. And it will not be me who brings out the potential in my grandchildren; that’s God’s job. All I can do with them is what I did with my bass: put them in the hands of the Master. In his deft hands, the music will come. It will surely come.

A Prayer for Jesus

June 15, 2017

The Scriptures repeatedly remind us of the importance of reflection. It is too easy to allow ourselves to simply move through life without ever examining why we're here or what it all means. The Bible word for it is 'meditation.' In Joshua 1:8, we are told that if we want to be successful in life, we need to meditate on the Word of God day and night. So it is that this morning in our men's prayer group, Harry opened with Psalm 20.

I've read this Psalm countless times before, but this morning as we were praying, I stopped long enough to actually let it speak to me. It was written as a song to be sung in worship, and begins with the notation, "To the Chief Musician." The identity of this person is lost in the mists of time, but as is often the case, the meaning of this Psalm is deeper than we at first see. Ultimately, the Chief Musician is not the man who led the choir in the temple; it is none other than Jesus Christ himself. This is the only way the psalm makes any sense. 

This is a song that pleads with God the Father for Jesus, his Son. It begins asking that the LORD will answer Jesus in his day of trouble, and defend him. Jesus prayed in the garden that this cup would pass from him, but if not, that God's will would be done. Verse two pleads for help from the sanctuary, ie. from heaven itself, which in fact, was given. It goes on to ask that the Father remember the sacrifices of this Chief Musician, that his heart's desire be given, his purposes fulfilled.

Finally, in the fifth verse comes our rejoicing in the Chief Musician's salvation, and the full confidence that the LORD saves "his anointed," an appellation given almost exclusively to Jesus. Because of all God has done for Jesus, we can be confident in his plans for us. The psalm ends declaring that "we have risen and stand upright." This is not merely wishful thinking; it is a theological and spiritual fact. St. Paul tells us that we have been raised with Christ, and we stand firm against the trickery of the devil (Ephesians 2:1, 5-6, and 6:11 & 13). 

So we can sing this song in retrospect, knowing that its longing was answered 2,000 years ago when Jesus cried out in prayer to his Father, who answered decisively when he raised him from death and seated him above all authorities and powers, at the right hand of the Father by "the saving strength of his right hand." And because all this is true, the final words of this Psalm are also true: The King will "answer us when we call."

Perseverance

June 14, 2017

Sometimes it takes awhile to get something right. Last year I spent a small fortune on some epoxy sealer for the fish pond in our front yard. When we moved here three years ago, the pond was half filled in with silt and debris, and I was foolish enough to try to bring it back to life instead of burying it for good. In short, it leaked. We could only fill it about halfway; thus the epoxy sealer. The epoxy itself was bad enough; I'm not going to tell you how much I paid for it. I also paid grandkids Ian and Izzi and Izzi's friend Hailey to clean the pond and paint it with the epoxy. When all was said and done, I couldn't put any more water in the pond than when we started.

This spring I had the good fortune of coming across some used rubber roofing just like I had used on our fishpond in Cassadaga. Finally, a couple days that were both available, sunny, and hot; perfect for laying down the rubber and gluing pieces together so everything fits. Today I jacked up the rocks surrounding the pond and slid the rubber edges underneath to hold it all in place. It looks pretty ugly now, with folds and creases all over the place where I had to make it conform to the odd shape of the pond, but they won't be noticeable once it's filled with water. The only question is whether I got any gaps in the gluing where the water can leak out. I'll know in a day or two when I start filling it.

Even now, just like some of the excuses people give me for not following Jesus Christ, it may not hold water. If that happens, I'll locate the leak and find a way to seal it. The crazy thing about all this is it's all for a bunch of fifty cent goldfish! I'm stubborn that way. Someone once asked me why I put up with a particularly troublesome friend. "Jesus didn't give up on me; how can I give up on him?" was the only answer I could come up with. 

Too often people give up instead of soldiering through their problems. Marital problems, aches and pains, a difficult school class, or financial issues that could be solved or endured, instead become occasions for throwing in the towel, preventing them from experiencing the satisfaction of overcoming.

This evening, our granddaughter Madeline was honored by the local Kiwanis Club for being a "Terrific Kid." She was one of four chosen by her school faculty out of more than eighty names submitted. chosen for the character traits of Thoughtfulness, Enthusiasm, Respect, Responsibility, Inclusiveness, Friendliness, Inquisitiveness, and Capability. Madeline works hard, cares for others, and has a tender heart. And she never gives up. My perseverance may not pay off this week, but it will eventually. The leaks will not win, but that is of little ultimate consequence. What really matters is the kind of perseverance Madeline demonstrates, the kind that makes a difference not in a puddle, but in people. It's been a good day, and I am thankful tonight, not for the pond, but for Madeline.

Respite

June 13, 2017

Dinner tonight was exquisite. A text from our daughter mid-afternoon invited us to join them for swordfish and chicken on the grill. That was just the beginning. Rosemary potatoes, roasted Brussels sprouts, along with squash, yellow peppers, onions, mushrooms, and red peppers added up to a dinner par excellence. A rousing and somewhat innovative game of softball followed, with a combination pitcher, infielder, outfielder, and catcher facing three batters. Home plate was the deck step, first base a fence post, second a soccer ball, and third the slide on the swing set. With three grandkids, our son-in-law, and myself, score was meaningless and unnecessary.

It was a welcome end to what began as a frustrating day. Four hours on the phone and online with government agencies to solve what should have been a simple problem, with no end in sight is not my idea of a fun day. It got better as I put unfinished business aside to glue some rubber roofing together to make a liner for our fish pond. Another day or two, and it will be ready to use. Sometimes God uses ordinary things to calm a troubled soul. My problem is solvable; it will be inconvenient, but it's solvable. Lots of people are facing issues for which there are no earthly answers. I am grateful tonight for an evening's diversion. Tomorrow is a new day. I'll tackle the government again. Goliath will eventually fall when I find the right stone. Putting all things in God's hands lets me let go to enjoy the moment unsullied with the frustrations of the morning, and causing me to give thanks tonight.