Frames

 November 20, 2022

“For as the heavens are high above the earth, 

So great is His mercy toward those who fear Him; 

As far as the east is from the west, 

So far has He removed our transgressions from us. 

As a father pities his children, 

So the Lord pities those who fear Him. 

For He knows our frame; 

He remembers that we are dust.”

—Psalm 103:11-14

Psalm 103 begins with a wonderful paean of praise to the LORD: “Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name,” and continues with reasons to worship and bow before him. In the middle of the psalm, David speaks not only of God’s mercy in forgiving our sins, but also revealing God’s heart by telling us that he is merciful because he understands our weaknesses. God sees our sins not only as rebellion or disobedience, but as a weakness that plagues us in spite of our best intentions.

In speaking this way, David chooses an interesting word to describe our condition. He says that God “knows our frame.” The framework of a building consists of the components that holds it together, giving it size and shape. The framework of our bodies is our skeletal system, without which we would be mere flabby blobs of tissue, muscle, fat, organs, and skin. We would be like worms and slugs without our “framework.”

A building’s frame is hidden away inside walls, floors, ceilings. We never see it unless we have to tear out a wall for some reason or other. We only see what is external, which can be deceiving. Many a person has bought a house that looked good on the outside, but closer inspection revealed rotting sill plates, punky studs, or termite infested framing. So when it says that God sees our frame, we are being told that he sees beneath the exterior trappings that we spend so much time making sure it is looking good.

And when God looks at our framework, what he sees is cause for alarm—we are dust, the most unsuitable stuff for supporting the structure of our lives. No wonder we so easily crumble when life’s storms break upon us! We thought we were strong, that we built a good character, laid a solid foundation, but it turns out we were building with dust.

The only adequate foundation, Paul tells us, is Jesus Christ (1 Cor. 3:11). There is no shortage of “good” people, who are educated, upright, kind, even religious, but who have no foundation, no framework that will withstand that last storm life hurls our way—death. I talked recently with a friend who is a good man; whose integrity I would place above my own. In our conversation, he confided that he hopes it will be enough to see him through to the presence of God, but doesn’t have the certainty that I enjoy. The framework is a bit dusty. 

Hurricane Ian devastated large swaths of Florida last month. A friend posted a photo of a section of Ft. Meyers where he had a winter home. He had drawn a circle around what looked like nothing net to a large block structure. “That circle is where my house once stood.” I’m sure the framework wasn’t exactly dust, but in the face of such a storm, it might as well have been. I’m sure before the storm that house looked nice, vinyl siding, manicured lawn, very tidy. But the storm revealed the frame, just as the storms of life reveal ours.   

I am grateful that God knows my frame; he isn’t surprised by how feeble and frail it is, and because he understands, he mercifully and freely forgives, and offers us a new start, a new foundation, sturdy and trustworthy. That frame is Jesus Christ, who enables this dusty frame to stand firm in the strength he alone provides.

Streams in the Desert

November 19, 2022

The handwriting is tiny and precise, revealing a penmanship honed from years of secretarial work. Comments in an old devotional originally published in 1925, this copy dating from sometime after 1950. “Streams in the Desert” was written by (in words of her own choosing) Mrs. Charles Cowman, formerly with her husband a missionary to Korea and Japan until her husbands failing health necessitated them returning to the States.

I write not to inform about the author, but about the original reader, my mother. The devotional deals mostly with trials, disappointments, and the patient waiting that often comes to the Christ-follower. Out of her own struggles in these areas, Mrs. Cowman wrote, encouraging those who would walk the same lonely and shadowy paths. I treasure this little book with words underlined and with short, cryptic comments in the margins, not so much for the author’s gentle wisdom, but for the light those neatly written commentaries shed on the inner life of my mother.

In response to a question I asked later in her life, she revealed a few of the ways life was difficult for her, how she faced trials and challenges that most people never knew she endured. The margins of this little devotional are filled with words such as “patience,” “waiting,” “sorrow,” “sickness,” disappointment,” “frustration,” and “tears.” I’ll never know exactly what lay beneath such words; I was never burdened with the cares she shouldered, as they were borne silently in the closet of her own prayers. For seventy years I was the beneficiary of the fortitude and faith that met each circumstance with a strength not her own. 

Whether we know it or not, every day we encounter people carrying crosses too heavy for them to bear. Some collapse right before our eyes; others bravely struggle on, hiding their burden behind a smile, a joke, or as often as not, anger, cruelty, and bravado. Few are bold enough to leave traces of their struggles as did my mother. I am grateful tonight for her devotional, for her comments, her prayers, her victories in hard-fought battles won at great personal cost. I am most grateful though, for the Lord Jesus Christ, her Savior and mine, whose strength, wisdom, comfort, and love carried her till the afternoon she bid this world goodbye to step into His presence to receive a crown and his blessing, “Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful in little; I will give you authority over much. Enter into the joy of your Lord.” 

Contrast

 November 17, 2022

It wouldn’t have been so noticeable if I hadn’t just gotten back from a week in Cuba. I woke up early (for me) at 5:00; my alarm was set for 5:15, but as long as I was awake, I figured I might as well get up. Our men’s Thursday prayer group meets at 6:00, so after brushing about 5” of snow from the truck, I drove over to the church to meet with my brothers for prayer.

At 10:00, Linda needed to be at church to prepare the room for her Healthy Bones exercise class, which meant I needed to have the driveway cleared before then, so when I got home at 7:30, after a quick breakfast, I fired up the tractor. For the next hour or so, I was pushing snow around. About 10:15, I picked up and delivered a couple of the women for her class, switched vehicles, and went home. 

Next, it was time to get the winter tires out from the back deck where they had been sitting all summer. Digging the jack out of a pile of junk that seriously needs to be dealt with, and I was ready for the next job. Linda got home, and switching tires was next on the agenda. It’s not a complicated job, but is one of my least favorite; and it needed to be done. By 2:00, it was.

2:30 found me on my way to my friend Harry’s house to pick him up so we could help move furniture for my daughter. A family was donating office furniture to Options Care Center, so about eight men gathered to load up a trailer full of filing cabinets, desks, chairs, etc. By 4:00 we were done, and Harry and I were on our way back home.

Linda was waiting with supper at 5:00, and finally I am sitting down to write.

Why do I bore you with such detail of the day’s activities? Because it’s such a contrast to my week in Cuba. Life is so much slower there. Breakfast at 8:00, a 10:00 meeting on Monday and Wednesday, 8:00 pm meetings Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, with a memorial service on Thursday and seminars on Saturday. That sounds like a lot, but there was a lot of down time, which gave me time to work on my Spanish and simply relax. 

There has to be some sweet spot in between these two poles of activity, but I have yet to find it. I am grateful for the Biblical command to observe the Sabbath. We are commanded to work six days, but the seventh is for God, a day to reflect and remember what the work is all about. Two more days and Sunday’s coming. Until then, there is work to be done, a reason to rise and shine for Jesus. I’m tired now, but tomorrow is a new day; I want to make the most of it for the glory of God.

Connection

 November 16, 2022

At least we can talk now. When I first began going to Cuba, there was no internet. No one walked around with their nose in a cell phone, which was refreshing, but I didn’t like not being able to all with Linda for whatever time I was there. The authorities tried, and for years succeeded in keeping information from the outside world from getting to the people, but family and friends in the US were traveling back and forth and bringing news and information that the government wasn’t able to control. Bit by bit, things loosened up till now, nearly everyone has a cell phone. The government still controls the narrative, but people know life elsewhere is better.

But I digress. Soon after arriving in Cuba, we were able to buy temporary SIM cards that enabled us to use internet messaging to call and even video chat with family back home. Unfortunately, the service is spotty and intermittent. The lightning strike that in July torched four 850,000 gallon oil storage tanks in Matanzas only added to the difficulties caused by the government’s response to the pandemic. Almost all Cuba’s electricity is generated by oil, and the loss of those tanks was keenly felt. Then hurricane Ian hit, completely knocking out the power grid for the entire country. Back in September, the electric was only on for about an hour a day. Now, the rolling blackouts are only for four or five hours.

So there were times especially in the mornings when I desperately wanted to talk with Linda and was unable to connect. Which got me to thinking…Why is it I am more desperate to talk to Linda than with God? Why do I so often rush through prayer as if it were a chore instead of a spirit-filling joy? What if I were as diligent in seeking God as I was in trying to connect with my wife? 

I wish I could say with the psalmist, “My soul longs for Thee, as the deer pants for the water,” but it wouldn’t be entirely true. There are times when I can speak those words, but not always. What I do know is this: If I don’t seek God with desperation, eventually I don’t seek him at all. Love neglected soon cools; the fire goes out. The logs of prayer and meditation must be regularly added to the fire if there is to be any heat or light. There is no other way. And unlike the fire in my stove where I can quickly toss in another log, stoking the fires of love requires time; much time. 

I think that’s one of the lessons of Cuba. Life is slower there. People walk most everywhere; few have cars. Feet are the most common mode of transportation. Walking takes time, as does everything else in Cuba. There are no fast foods, few canned and no frozen items. Cooking is a slow process, and with supplies of everything being in short supply, everything takes longer. No one is in a hurry, and any given day has large blocks of time that can be wasted or invested. I chose to invest more than waste, so prayers are not so truncated as they tend to be here. The trick now is to incorporate Cuban time into American life. It’s a challenge worth the taking, and as the rewards are great, I am ready for it.

Fulfilled Prophecy

 November 15, 2022

Sometimes prophecies are fulfilled in strange and unexpected ways. I was in Cuba, speaking to the congregation of a church in Jovellanos when I heard a loud bang on tin roof. A little boy jumped from his seat, ran down the aisle and came back moments later with a huge mango that had dropped from an overhanging branch. He gave it to Yami, one of the pastors. She turned, handed the mango to me and said, “Whenever a mango drops, whoever we give it to is to start a new congregation in the next twelve months.” She added, “You are a Caleb.” You are wondering what you will do when you retire. You have new mountains to conquer. Go and conquer.”

That was ten years ago. I retired from the church I had pastored for 32 years, spent three years figuring out what retirement was like before taking on another church for an additional three years. Starting a new congregation didn’t happen. 

Last night I got home from another trip to Cuba, where a most interesting thing happened. This past Thursday (the 10th), I had just finished up a second teaching on leadership in the church, when a woman stood up and began talking. She had listened to my first teaching on leadership and was feeling confused about what it meant for her. But hearing what I had just finished saying in the second session, she believed God was telling her to sell everything she had and move to a new city to start a new church. 

Ten years on, and in a way, I am starting a new church…indirectly, perhaps, but I’ll take it, with gratitude. With our God, you just never know.

Everyday Hero #18

 November 2, 2022

In 1968 I met Earl Higley. He was a lanky farmer who felt God’s call upon his life and was living it out working for Miracle Mountain Ranch in Spring Creek, PA—a Christian kids camp birthed just a few years earlier out of the vision and hard work of Dale Linebaugh, graduate of Bible school and eventually PhD and president of a Bible college. But that was years in the future. 

Earl didn’t teach or lead groups; he was all-around help. As a former farmer, he understood all that went into keeping a stable of horses fed, housed, and healthy. I worked as boys counselor for two summers—68 and 69.

An interesting side note—about twenty years ago, I was introduced to a man at a graduation party. He looked at me quizzically and asked if I were the Jim Bailey who had worked at Miracle Mountain Ranch years ago, and didn’t I like peanut butter on my pancakes. When I affirmed that I indeed was that Jim Bailey, he rushed forward, gave me a big bear hug and said, “You are my spiritual father. You led me to Christ one night in the bunkhouse, and I’ve been looking for you ever since!” To say that I was surprised is an understatement! I remember counseling and talking with the boys one on one each night, but didn’t remember this particular encounter. You never know what impact you can have on a child if you’re just faithful to clearly share the Gospel and ask for a response.

Back to Earl Higley. After my second year at Miracle Mountain, Linda and I were married. We set up housekeeping in the tiny hamlet of Alma, NY, nestled in the foothills of the Alleghanies along the Pennsylvania border. 

One night, Earl showed up at our door. He came to talk, so we stood, leaning against the fender of his car, recalling camp stories and enjoying each other’s company. He told me that from his experience at Miracle Mountain, he had felt God calling him to start a Christian camp in Kentucky; a pretty significant step for a middle-aged former farmer. As the sun settled behind the mountains to our west and the stars started winking in the dark, Earl looked down, kicked the gravel by the side of the road, and quietly said, “Isn’t it amazing? God could raise up better servants from the stones beneath our feet, but he chose us.” 

Yes, Earl, it is amazing. You’ve long since gone to be with the Lord you served so well, but your wonder at the goodness and grace of God remains with me to this day, which is why you are another of my Everyday Heroes.

Leadership

 November 1, 2022

Who is qualified for leadership? Don’t you wish there were some sort of gauge that could tell us whether a leader is able or trustworthy? Too often today, what we call leadership is little more than selfish ambition dressed up in fake altruism. It sounds good, but is rotten at the core. 

Numbers 17 tells a curious story. Israel’s leadership has been under continual attack from within and without. In chapter 12, Moses’ siblings Aaron and Miriam challenged his leadership. This was an assault from within, at the very top of the system. In chapter 13, ten of the 12 spies sent to reconnoiter the land declared it too difficult, again challenging Moses’ position. In 14, the entire nation listened to the majority report, refusing to move forward. This was not merely insubordination; it was outright rebellion. In chapter 16, Korah and Dathan, along with their supporters, again challenged Moses and Aaron’s oversight. This wasn’t quite as serious as Aaron and Miriam’s offense, but it appears that their earlier rift paved the way for this defection. So for five chapters, the leadership of Israel has been repeatedly challenged by pretenders who saw themselves as heirs-apparent to Moses whom they would as soon displace as succeed.

So a test was devised, this curious matter of each of the leaders of the twelve tribes placing in the tabernacle their rods, symbols of their authority. The rod that budded would then reveal the leadership God had chosen. Aaron’s was the budded rod. The story seems made of superstitious stuff, things that could never really happen, but there we have it in the Bible in black and white.

I’m not a particularly gifted Biblical scholar, and haven’t researched the various commentaries on the subject, but it seems to me that at the very least, this teaches us that the test of leadership is in fruitfulness. We often get it backwards, especially in the church. We send candidates to school, then to seminary, subject them to batteries of psychological tests, then put them in small churches, only to advance them through the system irrespective of the results they do or do not produce.

In some parts of the world, they’ve understood that an academic approach to spiritual leadership is fundamentally unsound. It’s not that there is anything wrong with education in itself. Once, John Wesley, who was highly educated, was chastised by a woman who said, “God doesn’t need your education.” He replied, “He doesn’t need your ignorance, either.”

Education is good, but instead of the endless pursuit of degrees as a measure of ministerial office, why not do what is done elsewhere? In Cuba, a pastor isn’t given a church. The candidate is told to go start a church. Only after doing so and overseeing its growth is the candidate approved for ministerial service. Fruitfulness counts more than an academic degree. I think this fits quite well with Jesus’ words, “By their fruits you shall know them.” 

The trick is in understanding what Jesus considers worthy fruit. We all know that anyone with enough talent can attract large crowds. It’s the changed lives that count. I’ve long ago left the notion behind that a large church is a good sign. It may be, but more telling are the testimonies of those who can say, “You made a difference in my life.”