Contentment and Compulsion

 January 7, 2022

My friends Tsoogi and Tsengel regularly send me photos of their work as they share the Gospel with their countrymen living on the steppes of Mongolia. Much of where their work takes them, there are no roads; they drive cross-country from settlement to settlement. Their winters are harsh and unforgiving, the work is challenging, to say the least. But they keep at it, visiting door to door and holding meetings witnessing to everyone they meet about Christ.

They have taken seriously the words of St. Paul, who said, “The love of Christ compels me…” (2 Corinthians 5:14), and in their devotion to the work, put me to shame.

I find myself torn between the wisdom of Ecclesiastes 9:9 and the urgency of Paul. Ecclesiastes urges us to “Live joyfully with the wife whom you love all the days of your vain life which He has given you under the sun, all your days of vanity; for that is your portion in life, and in the labor which you perform under the sun,” while Paul admonishes us to ““Preach the word! Be ready in season and out of season. Convince, rebuke, exhort, with all longsuffering and teaching.” —II Timothy 4:2 

This morning I sat by the fire reading my Bible and praying. Our back room is a pleasant place, with the wood stove and windows overlooking the creek. The bluejays, woodpeckers, chickadees, finches, and cardinals were squabbling over the seeds in our feeder just outside the window, and I was thinking about what I want to do with my bees come spring. I am content, even when plowing a foot or more of snow this afternoon. 

But as nice as it is, contentment isn’t God’s ultimate purpose for us. So I feel myself torn between contentment and compulsion, preferring the former, but haunted by the latter. I’m not sure where the balance point is, but I know my friends have grasped the compulsion of the Gospel in a way I have not. So as I pray for them, I pray also for myself, that God would search my heart and lead me in his way everlasting (Psalm 139:23).

Return!

 January 6, 2022

Three times in Jeremiah, chapter 3, and once in the first verse of chapter 4, God urges Israel to return to the LORD, with the promise of forgiveness, restoration, and preservation; quite an amazing appeal at a time when the usual motivations of the gods were fear and recrimination. Nevertheless, these pleas were all in vain as they steadfastly insisted on pursuing the false gods that were leading them to destruction. I fear we are repeating their sins. 

Jeremiah was told at the beginning that his ministry, though faithful, would end up in what we would call a failure. Any intimations of repentance due to his preaching were only temporary, and most likely insincere. People then, as now, don’t like the message of repentance, and history bears out the sad result of such stubbornness.

There is something appealing however, about being one who is not moved by the winds of change. Reflecting upon this text, I know I must let the message of repentance pierce my own heart before I can preach it to others. I don’t have wisdom enough to search my own heart, which is deceitful and wicked (17:9). So I need You Lord, through your Word and Spirit, to do the one for me (1 Corinthians 2:9-16).  “Search me O God, and know my heart; try me and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting” (Psalm 139:23-24).

Holiness

 January 5, 2022

Wednesday morning breakfast and prayer with two friends took us to Psalm 99. We often need the reminder that begins this ancient song: “The LORD reigns!” We’re apt to forget this when we look at the state of things today, and must remind ourselves that this is a statement of faith, not sight. If we approach the day only from the standpoint of what the talking heads on TV tell us, we will fall into the trap they have deliberately set, and live in fear and apprehension, which is just what they want. Fearless people are not easily manipulated.

After descriptions of God’s majesty, three simple words are found: “He is holy.” These words are repeated twice more, emphasizing the importance of the thought behind them. It is reminiscent of Isaiah’s paean of praise in the sixth chapter of his book, where he uses this thrice-repeated superlative to proclaim this attribute of God: “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD!” The message is clear: The God who reigns is holy, ie. not only without blemish, but of such character that all else fades into dull shabbiness compared to him.

To me, the best part of this psalm is found in the eighth verse where it is recorded that “you [are]…the God who forgives.” Apart from this, God’s holiness would be a condemning fury before which no one could stand. As it is, this One who is more glorious to us than we are to a common slug, welcomes us, sinners that we are, into his Presence. It would be many years after these words were written that we discover how that could possibly be:

“Seeing then that we have a great High Priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” —Hebrews 4:14-16 

Clutter

January 4, 2022

Yesterday and today was spent cleaning out my desk in the living room. You might wonder how it could take two full days to straighten up a desk, and the answer is, “You obviously haven’t see my desk, nor my penchant for clutter. It’s a good thing Linda handles the bills; if they were my domain, they would end up buried beneath piles of papers, and we would end up in arrears for almost every monthly bill that comes in. 

I should have taken before and after photos, but the best I can do is to say I filled up an entire trash bag with old financial statements, magazines, cards, and unnecessary files. Everything looks pretty good, just waiting for the clutter to begin all over again. I promise myself it won’t happen, but invariably it does because I tend to stuff things in an “out of sight/out of mind” sort of way.

Tomorrow, I’ll start on my garage, which is even more disastrous than my desk. Part of the problem there is the amount of stuff I’m trying to cram into a rather smallish space. I have antique motorcycle parts spread all over the garage, on shelves, in the loft, and jammed into a space by the back wall. In my workshop/motorcycle bay are chair parts, lumber, hardware, bee equipment, and books. Yes, books. It’s pretty much a disaster, and my job for the next couple weeks is un-disastering it. It’ll take at least that long, but it desperately needs to be done.

Linda and I were talking with granddaughter Alex tonight. When she moved to Brooklyn for her job, she took about half of what she owned with her. Coming home for Christmas, she brought about half of that back. Her work now has taken her to Chautauqua Institution, where she halved her possessions again, fitting what she needed into a backpack and suitcase. “I don’t need all that stuff,” she says; “I live quite well as a minimalist.” 

I think she’s way ahead of me in her detachment from the stuff of this world. She’s spent time in Cuba and Uganda, has seen firsthand the desperate plight of people in these places, and sees no need to weigh herself down with the things that matter so much to so many of us. In a way, I envy her. I have loads of stuff that hangs around because it might come in handy some day, but rarely does.

I’ve often said that one can tell the state of one’s inner life by peeking into their personal space.  Clutter and chaos in those places I believe, are reflections of the state of our souls. My spaces haven’t been pretty, and I suspect it mirrors my inner life. So tomorrow, I tackle the garage, and if my suspicions are correct, by the time I’m done, not only my garage and desk, but my soul too, will be in order. That will be great occasion for thanksgiving! 

A Planting of the Lord

January 3, 2022

In the the early ‘80’s, I was rapidly burning out in ministry. I was going through the motions—all the things pastors were supposed to do, such as visiting the sick, writing and preaching sermons, presiding at meetings, but inside I was dying. A series of fortuitous circumstances, including the leadership of my district superintendent Bob Pascoe, instilled new life, new energy, and most of all, a new vision of what ministry could be like. I began working on a mission statement for Park church, the shortened version which read, “Reaching the Heart of the County with the Heart of Christ.” It succinctly stated what we were about as a congregation, and became the basis on which we made practical, everyday decisions: “Does this move us toward this goal, or not?”

In the late ‘90’s as we were gearing up for a new building, we began asking the question of what it would look like if we accomplished our mission, and our vision statement began to take shape. Our vision was to be “a Garden of God’s Delight, Oaks of Righteousness, a Planting of the Lord.” This garden imagery guided much of how we built, and the direction ministry would take for the next decade. 

This imagery was taken from Isaiah 61, a beautiful text that Jesus quoted as he began his earthly ministry:

““The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me, Because the Lord has anointed Me To preach good tidings to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, To proclaim liberty to the captives, And the opening of the prison to those who are bound; To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, And the day of vengeance of our God; To comfort all who mourn, To console those who mourn in Zion, To give them beauty for ashes, The oil of joy for mourning, The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; That they may be called trees of righteousness, The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.” 

It was the last of this prophecy that became the foundation of our ministry for many years. As I read today, I saw something I had never before noticed. Before Jesus would proclaim liberty to those held captive by their sin, he preached healing to the broken-hearted. I think he did this because broken-hearted people are not able to appropriate the freedom God gives. Their discouragement and defeat prevent them from grasping the hand that would set them free, and keeps them planted in the prisons of their hearts and minds. Healing is an essential mission of the Church. 

Consolation for those who grieve, beauty for ashes, joy in place of mourning—all this is what must be proclaimed before people can truly be free. But there is more.

When pastor Joe took over upon my retirement in 2012, he slowly began to put his own stamp upon the ministry here. This is as it should be. Over time however, the mission statement disappeared from the wall of the sanctuary, and the vision statement faded into obscurity. Joe is not my clone, so this was to be expected, and is entirely appropriate. But I often wondered how this vision God gave me could have been temporary. Being a Garden of God’s Delight, Oaks of Righteousness, a Planting of the Lord didn’t seem to me something to merely be discarded. But I couldn’t figure out how it might continue to find life, other than in my own mind. Then this morning, I read the rest of the text.

“They shall rebuild the old ruins, They shall raise up the former desolations, And they shall repair the ruined cities, The desolations of many generations.”

—Isaiah 61:4 

Our planned mission trip to Cuba has been delayed due to the newest governmental Covid restrictions there. But as I read these words this morning, I began to see that while this vision may no longer be in place for Park church, it still is God’s call on my life, but now with the addition of verse four. 

Over the past dozen years that I’ve been going to Cuba, I’ve seen the beautiful classic cars, tasted their Cuban coffee, and even tried a Cuban cigar (I cannot see what pleasure anyone gets from those things!). But I see also the evidence of a once-thriving country in continual decline, streets and infrastructure in disrepair, buildings crumbling, people living in poverty and despair. The old ruins are desperately in need of repair, sad remnants of what once was. God is calling me and others to rebuild the old ruins, to step in, in whatever way we can, to restore that which has been destroyed by the Enemy of our souls, for it’s not only the infrastructure that is in ruins; it’s the spirit and hearts of the people.

We have the Good News! And God has sent us to proclaim it, that there might be “beauty for ashes, The oil of joy for mourning, The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; That they may be called trees of righteousness, The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.”

 

Surprise!

 January 2, 2022

My kids think I’m a bit goofy, and I don’t suppose I can blame them. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been thinking about it, and this morning, I took the plunge. There is a backstory to this tale, which I will divulge now, unlike the story of when I first tasted Mountain Dew or saw the Three Stooges. The mockery of my sons forty years ago as I was about to regale them with that saga forever sealed the story within the vaults of my personal memory. But I digress.

The year was 1976, our nation’s bicentennial. A friend from church, a Mr. Covel by name, dared me to grow a beard. I said I would if he would. He has to admit that his attempt was pretty pathetic; his facial fur was scattered across the landscape like he had the mange. I, on the other hand, was able to produce a pretty bushy growth that managed to remain in place in one form or another ever since. Until a few weeks ago.

As I said, this morning, I took the plunge. Off it came! All of it, no less! People’s reactions have been priceless. It took Linda about twenty minutes to notice; one of the grandchildren said, “I knew there was something strange about you!” Of course, that could be said even apart from the change in my facial fuzz.

All four of the women in my life (wife, daughter, daughters-in-law) said, “You look just like your mother!” Now, my mother was a wonderful woman, and in her youth was quite a beauty, but I’m not sure how to take this comment, other than the general consensus was for me to cover my face again ASAP, which leads me to this little ditty I learned years ago:

“I know my face ain’t no star,

But I don’t mind it,

‘Cause I’m behind it; 

It’s the folks in front get the jar.”

Sudden changes are part of life. I’ve been planning a mission trip to Cuba; pastor Joe and I even made a video announcement about it, inviting people to participate by donating over the counter medicines and vitamins, which are unavailable but so much needed there. This afternoon, I received a call from the young man organizing and coordinating things for this trip. The Cuban government just instituted new Covid restrictions for travel into the country—vaccination, eight days’ quarantine, and a negative Covid test. They are also on the verge of completely locking down the country again, forbidding any gatherings of people outside of immediate family. 

The quarantine would require us to stay in a government hotel at increased expense, with no guarantee we would afterwards be able to do the work we had planned. So the decision was made to postpone for a few weeks and re-evaluate later. Linda was nervous about me going, so this was clearly an answer to our prayers for wisdom and guidance.

Then later this evening we get a call from our friend Verna, whose husband passed away in November. Their small church was on the verge of closing. Today was to have been their last Sunday, but visitors showed up. It turns out that they had been led of the Lord to visit, and that their ministry was to help small churches stay open until they could secure a pastor. We praised God together that he sent this couple, that the church will remain open, and Verna doesn’t have to endure another loss in her life.

My point in all this? There are lots of surprises in life, but nothing takes God by surprise; as a matter of fact, he is often behind them. The only part of today’s surprises that were humanly engineered was the one I inflicted on myself and my family. And the universal consensus is that only God’s surprises are worth keeping. I can live with that.

Quiet Beginnings

 January 1, 2022

It feels odd to begin the new year quietly. Not that Linda and I are party animals; we’re ready for bed at the time when real partiers are just getting warmed up. We lazily stayed in bed far past my usual 6:00 am rising, and did little more than take down one of our Christmas trees. I did manage to install a Christmas gift grab hook on my tractor bucket and unpackaged the electric lawn mower I bought Linda. 

The OT Law contains numerous feasts and celebrations which were required of the people. We would call them holidays or perhaps vacations, but whatever names we give them, they were times when the people stepped away from their regular daily work to reflect and recalibrate their lives in light of the salvation God had brought them. 

Life has a way of constricting our vision till we only see what is immediately around us. We may set goals and think of our life’s purpose, but day by day, we tend to do whatever the job requires without thinking much farther. If we take no time to step away from the mundane, we get swallowed up by it. A slow day can be just the right way to start a new year, decompressing our souls and refocusing our hearts on the eternal matters of God. 

It’s been a quiet day. Tomorrow we gather to worship, and Monday the new year really kicks in. The words of Isaiah ring in my ears: “For thus says the Lord GOD, the Holy One of Israel: “In returning and rest you shall be saved; In quietness and confidence shall be your strength.”” If recent events are any indication, this year will be as challenging as the last, in which case, we will need all the confidence and strength we can muster. Starting the new year quietly is God’s prescription for all that will come our way, so I deliberately calm my soul. Confidence and strength are on the menu, and I am ordering a big helping.