Guy Prayers

December 7, 2017

Thursday mornings begin earlier than I would like, but when I walk through the front doors to the church into the room where my friends have already begun to gather, I know it has been worth  dragging myself out of bed at 5:25. On my own, I would barely be coherent at 6:00 am, but when Harry leads off with a Psalm and a prayer, I begin to come alive for the day. Of course, the coffee doesn’t hurt, either. 

Years ago, I heard a preacher say that it’s the daily time spent before the Lord in private that gives public prayer its power. He was making the case for pastors maintaining a robust personal prayer life. While there is truth to his statement, I have found that it is the corporate times of prayer that support and enliven my private prayers, not the other way around. My Thursday morning brothers sharpen me, remind me of facets and aspects of prayer that I may have neglected, and by the time we get to the end of the hour, closing in the Lord’s Prayer and a hymn, I am wide awake, ready to face the day and the rest of the week. So, Harry, Joe, Chuck, and Paul, thank you for your faithfulness. You help me be better than I would otherwise be.

Generosity

December 6, 2017

After granddaughter Jo’s basketball game today, Linda and I took Abi home so she could get some homework done instead of having to stay for the second game. I asked if she had eaten, and she had not, so we took her to the Superette for dinner. That might have been a mistake, since we had planned on attending the dinner and Advent Bible Study in Cassadaga tonight. There are many things the Superette does extremely well; they are a wonderful asset to our community, not only as the only grocery/gas station/diner in town, but also in their generosity in supporting various community programs and ministries. They are not however, a fast food joint. If you order a meal there, you must be prepared to wait for it. Once it comes, there is lots of it, and it’s very good, but you’ll never get in and out in fifteen minutes. 

On second thought, dinner at the Superette was no mistake. It was God’s timing. Unbeknownst to us, the Superette is upgrading their lighting system. I didn’t ask, but I suspect the men at work were replacing the fluorescent tubes with LEDs. While we were waiting for our meal, one of them was working right next to our table, and we got to talking. The long and short of it is that he is Puerto Rican. We talked about how the recent hurricanes devastated his homeland; he is expecting that one of his sons will shortly join him in the states. He began talking about his hope in God when bad times come. “People who say there is no God have nowhere to turn when things get bad,” he told me. Then he said something that will challenge me for a long time. “There are so many people in need; I live on half my income and give the rest away.” He said this without even a hint of braggadocio; he was simply expressing his gratitude for all he has been given.

At this stage of my life, I am able to give more freely than ever before. God has blessed us beyond measure—I suspect far beyond what this gentleman knows. There is precious little we need, and Linda and I have taken great joy in being able to give.Yet he is the one teaching me what generosity looks like. I am humbled. And I am thankful to have met this electrician who in his simple and unpretentious manner schooled me in the art of giving. He is an unsung hero, and a teacher of the preacher.

Unseen Angels

December 5, 2017

Driving into town early this morning, out of the corner of my eye I spotted a deer standing in the ditch by the side of the road, looking like she was about ready to leap. Had she done so, there is no way I could have avoided hitting her, but she just stood there. This has not always been the case. I’ve never actually hit one, but I’ve had them hit me, jumping into the side of the car. Some years ago, I got on intimate terms with one when he shattered the driver’s side window and caved in the door. But this one just stood there, and as I drove by, I thanked God for whatever angel he had sent to hold that deer back.

That motionless deer got me to thinking about unseen angels. The Scriptures tell us that this world is populated not only by the people we can see, but also by spiritual beings both good and evil that remain invisible, off our human radar. Occasionally, they manifest themselves. Elisha’s servant was terrified of the Syrian armies that had surrounded the city preparatory to an attack. Elisha prayed that God would open his servant’s eyes, and suddenly that fearful attendant saw the enemy armies surrounded by a much larger company of the flaming chariots of God. Various prophets and sages occasionally saw things of which we are usually oblivious. Isaiah saw the throne of God, high and lifted up; Ezekiel saw his wheels, while Daniel, Zechariah, and St. John recorded numerous visions.

I have friends who claim to be able to see such things, usually of a demonic nature. One claimed to see them all over Lily Dale, the Spiritualist community nearby. I prayer walked there for about thirteen years, and all I ever saw was a sleepy village populated by mostly ordinary people. I once spoke of my prayer walking and my puzzlement as to why God would lead me to do such a thing when I was so clueless about such things. A woman who grew up there and later came to Christ told me that it was my cluelessness that was my defense. She told me she remained so sensitive to the spirituality of the place that she couldn’t even go near it anymore. My inability to communicate in that realm she saw as a blessing.

I’m glad there are some who see things to which I am blind. My world is pretty much what I see. The world of higher math (anything more than knee high) is completely foreign to me, as is computer science and angelic visitations. Maybe someday God will grant me the ability to see that spiritual realm, but until he does, I have to trust those who see differently than I. In the meantime, I’ll measure their claims against the Biblical record, and thank God for the many times (most of which I am assuredly unaware) his messengers have stepped in on my behalf.

Sitting Together

December 4, 2017

God had work for Ezekiel, the unpleasant task of prophesying to his rebellious people with a message they didn’t want to hear. It wasn’t one of those “God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life” kind of messages. It was the kind of message that today would get you skewered and shunned, if not physically assaulted. If you are the kind of person who needs a trigger warning when some unpopular speech is imminent, Ezekiel would not be the man you’d want to listen to. 

He didn’t flinch. He had a word from God, and he was tough. God had told him that he would make Ezekiel’s forehead like flint, ie. he would be able to face entrenched opposition without flinching. He wasn’t kidding. Ezekiel fearlessly waded into hostile audiences and told them not what they wanted to hear, but what they needed to hear. He was one tough dude!

But lest we imagine that he waded into a fight, guns blazing from both hips, God slipped into the record a little phrase that changes the whole tenor of Ezekiel’s career. In 3:12, he hears a thunderous voice exclaiming, “Blessed is the glory of the LORD from his place!” Before he could say anything to God’s people, he needed to understand that the word of condemnation that he would be speaking wasn’t the whole story. The condemnation of sin isn’t something we do with glee, as if we are happy to hear judgment passed. Any preacher who proclaims judgment without a tear in his eye and an ache in his heart isn’t speaking the word of God, but his own prejudice, revealing his own judgmental heart. Sin is a rejection of God’s glory, and apart from having even just a glimpse of that glory, we have no basis of judgment.

But it is the 15th verse that impresses me. Having experienced the glory of God, Ezekiel “came to the captives at Tel Abib, who dwelt by the River Chebar; and I sat where they sat, and remained there astonished among them seven days.” Before saying a word to them, he sat where they sat. He didn’t pass judgment or proclaim God’s word from on high. He sat where they sat, experienced life as they experienced it. He listened before speaking. 

I suspect that if more of us took the time to sit where our people sit, we might speak God’s truth to them with more compassion than is often done. It’s easy to condemn people we don’t know. But when we sit with them, see life through their eyes, we tend to frame the message differently. If there is a word of correction, it isn’t given harshly, but with the tenderness of love. 

Over the past four months, I’ve been preaching to the Dunkirk congregation. It started out just filling in, but it’s different now. I’ve spent time with the people, listened to their stories, heard their hearts. In short, I’ve come to know them, and in knowing them, to love them. The message isn’t any different, but the way I give it is. I am grateful God has given me the privilege of sitting where they sit. It may not change them, but it is changing me.

Interruptions

December 3, 2017

When Mary and Joseph decided to marry, they had no inkling of what lay in store for them. Although the texts don’t say so, I imagine they planned on a wedding typical of Jewish weddings of the day. There would be a week long celebration with dancing and feasting, culminating in the marriage being consummated in typical fashion. But when Mary showed up at the door from her three month visit to her cousin Elizabeth, obviously pregnant, those plans went right out the window. Mary’s story of being visited by an angel and her somehow being miraculously and divinely impregnated would have been as incredulous to Joseph as it would be to us today. So he planned to quietly divorce her...till he himself was visited by an angel in a dream, probably the only way he could be convinced that her story was true. I know it would take a similar angelic visit for me to believe such a tale!

Joseph’s plans changed once more. He took Mary as his wife, but the consummation of that marriage would have to wait. Then came the census. At nine months, Mary was in no condition to travel, but any plans to quietly give birth at home changed once more, and contrary to any mother’s dreams for her firstborn baby, she would give birth in a stable.

Later on, the wise men expected to meet the newborn king in a palace, offer their gifts of congratulations and return home rejoicing. They didn’t expect to be sneaking out of town so as to avoid the violent and dangerous Herod. Herod himself didn’t plan on having his authority challenged by a baby born right under his nose.

The list goes on and on, how God interrupted well intentioned plans to fulfill his own. At the beginning of the Story, he had said that one day the offspring of Eve would crush the head of the Serpent, that a child would be born in Bethlehem who would rule his people. Jeremiah had said that God has his own plans to bless us, Isaiah adding that God’s ways are higher than ours.

I had it all figured out. I would retire, but continue to serve for a year to the help the new pastor learn the ropes, all without cost to the church. After all, our conference didn’t have much experience with transitioning from a long-term pastor to new leadership. It made perfect sense to me. The bishop nixed my plan. I was not happy; my perfectly reasonable plan had been rejected. But a year later, God sent us pastor Joe, the very best man I could have hoped for. Time and time again, I’ve had my plans interrupted by God’s, my timetable thrown out while God elbowed his way into my life. Advent and Christmas are times when we plan for things to be Hallmark-perfect, but God, seeing a bigger picture, may have something else in mind. If he does, I hope I’ll be receptive, like Mary who said, “I am the Lord’s servant. Be it unto me according to your word.” If I can handle God’s interruptions with such grace, I’ll be very thankful.

Brothers and Cousins

December 2, 2017

Some traditions are worth preserving. When I was a boy, every Christmas Eve, my father and mother would load the three of us kids in the car and head for Canandaigua where after our Aunt Marion’s lasagna dinner, we hit the streets. Or more accurately, the street. Our dads, our cousins, and ourselves donned coats, boots, and hats, poured out the door, and traipsed over to the neighbors for Christmas caroling. Once done, we urged and cajoled till they joined us, all to be repeated at the next house, till we had gone down one side and up the other of their dead-end street at the top of a hill. Finally, we all ran, tumbled, and trudged our way through the snow to the Witherspoon’s at the bottom of the hill. They were the neighborhood rich people, who opened wide their doors to receive thirty or more adults and kids for hot chocolate (and probably other refreshments) and cookies. Then it was time to go home.

The details are different, but today the Sinclairville Baileys and Andersen’s drove to Brockport Walmart where we met my brother and sister in law, their kids and grandkids to Christmas shop for a couple needy families. A couple hours later, we were at my brother’s home, wolfing down appetizers before digging into the soups prepared for the day. Our side of the family took turns going to visit mom at the hospital, while we all tackled the task of wrapping everything. 

It was warm enough today that the younger grandkids went outside to play kickball, while a few of us older ones tried our hand at cracking the Indiana Jones bullwhip Matt took in trade for a knife (BTW, it’s harder than it looks in the movies). Cousins who love getting together to bless complete strangers end up blessing themselves in the process, my brother and I get to witness the chain unbroken for three generations. It was, as it was fifty years ago, finally time to head home, but I did so a very thankful man tonight. As the Psalm says, “How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity.” (133:1) How good? Very good!

Real Hope

December 1, 2017

Their troubles weren’t continual, but they were seen as disloyal citizens, to be treated with suspicion at best, and as traitors at worst. For reasons most of the upper crust couldn’t understand, they had turned to this weird sect that held dangerous beliefs and associated with undesirables. So when Paul wrote to them explaining the foundations of their faith, he concluded by reassuring them that though rejected by their peers and superiors, they were in good company, and that in spite of their somewhat dodgy economic and social prospects, they had a bright future ahead of them.

In Romans 15:13, he reminded them of all this. “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.” Taken out of context, this sounds like the vague and vapid faith promoted by countless religious charlatans and cultural Christians. “Just have faith,” they say, without indicating where that faith is to be placed. Those who follow this kind of advice may feel good for awhile, but when life gets tough and cruel, such insipid advice proves to be a fragile cane on which to lean. 

That isn’t what Paul is saying here. Prior to these words, he reminds his readers of the new society into which they have been introduced: the people of God who possess the promises of God. Our hope comes from the joy and peace that is God’s gift of grace to those who believe, who place their confidence not in this world or themselves, but in Jesus Christ who conquered death itself. He reminded them also that our joy and peace are not blanket coverage that is bestowed on us in some magical way irrespective of our participation in it. Our hope and peace come from believing what God says is true: that we are counted as among his people, and included in his promises given through Jesus Christ. In this world of uncertainty, we need a hope like this, for it is the only avenue to joy and peace. We can be thankful that God hasn’t left us with an empty Pollyanna hope, but with a hope that we can lean on no matter what.