Comfortable Faith

 January 4, 2021

The new year has begun, but for many, last year’s old worries and fears haven’t been left behind. Even some who profess faith in Christ are almost paralyzed by fear. It’s understandable. This past year has brought a pandemic, government more intent on fighting each other than actually governing, a contentious presidential race, and a biased media that no one trusts. We’re used to beginning a new year that was more or less predictable. Our world was predictable. Our lives were predictable...comfortable. Not anymore. 

Faith isn’t needed when life is predictable. When I can be pretty sure about what is going to happen, faith is superfluous. I don’t need faith to cross the street. I would need plenty of it to cross a canyon on a tightrope. 

This morning’s devotional reading included this line: “You’ll never learn faith in comfortable surroundings.” I can’t say I particularly like the sound of that, but I know it’s true. If my faith only holds up in the sunshine, it’s not really faith at all. Only if my faith holds me steady in the storm can I actually claim to have faith. A boat that only looks good on dry land isn’t much of a boat. Any leaky tub can keep you high and dry on land.

I have no desire to seek out difficult circumstances. They’ll find me easily enough. But when they come, I have a choice: I can either curl up into an emotional fetal position, run away, or face it head on with courage. I like comfort, but if I want to live faithfully, literally “full of faith,” I will not avoid discomfort. I have 361 days to practice. Hopefully, there will be some comfortable days, but when the uncomfortable ones come my way, by the grace of God, I will learn a bit more what it means to have faith.

Greed

 January 2, 2021

I couldn’t count the number of times I’ve read through the Proverbs, but realized this morning I’ve been misreading 1:19. Verses 10-18 look like a warning against falling in with a violent gang of robbers or burglars—those blatantly determined to accost and rob others. Verse 19 is a “gotcha” verse. The author has drawn us in with obvious warning, but he suddenly turns the tables on us: “So are the ways of everyone who is greedy for gain. It takes away the life of its owners.” Too often, this is me.

We don’t have to stick a gun in someone’s ribs to rob them; however it manifests itself, greed robs those unfortunate enough to fall into the greedy person’s snare. It wrenches out of its victim’s grasp whatever she isn’t strong enough to hold onto. What we don’t realize is how greed robs us of our own lives, causing us to focus on the temporary and elusive stuff that cannot satisfy the soul. 

Someone once asked John D. Rockefeller—at the time the richest man in America—“How much is enough?” Rockefeller’s response was telling: “Just a little more.” Whether it’s our unwillingness to pass on second helpings, or our decision to stuff our things in a storage locker rather than part with it, greed isn’t just the vice of the wealthy. It’s easy to look at the ultra-rich and say, “at least I don’t have THAT much,” and absolve ourselves of guilt and responsibility. I wish I were preaching to someone else, but my wife will testify that I have more junk lying around than anyone could reasonably need. 

When I stand before our Lord and he asks me, “What did you do with all I entrusted to your care,” I hope I don’t have to bow my head in shame and like the third servant in Jesus’ parable of the Talents, say, “instead of investing and multiplying it for you, I buried it.” If I am to be like one of the first two servants and hear Jesus say, Well done, good and faithful servant; enter into the joy of your Lord,” I would do well to rid myself of all the stuff that doesn’t contribute to the purposes for which he has called me to himself. Scriptures like this in Proverbs help me recalibrate my priorities, for which I am thankful tonight.

From Beginning to End

 January 1, 2021

While cleaning out my mother’s apartment last November, we had to decide what to do with all her books. According to Linda, bringing them home was not an option, so we boxed most of them up and gave them to our granddaughter Alex, who will in turn give them to Simba, a pastor she met while in Uganda a few years ago. A combination of devotionals and Bible textbooks collected over the course of about sixty years, I managed to save a few of them for my own use, including a small volume entitled Streams in the Desert, by Mrs. Charles Cowman.

Her Scripture choice for January 1 comes from Deuteronomy 11:11-12. “The land which you cross over to possess is a land of hills and valleys, which drinks water from the rain of heaven, a land for which the LORD your God cares; the eyes of the LORD your God are always on it, from the beginning of the year to the very end of the year.” —Deuteronomy 11:11-12 

The “land” we are entering today will have its hills and valleys, its ups and downs, but it is God’s land, God’s year, and he will be watching over it from now until December 31, 2021. We never know what a coming year will bring; we got blindsided last year. Perhaps we were a bit overconfident, walking through life with a swagger of invincibility. 2021 certainly knocked the wind out of our sails. That doesn’t mean we should stay in safe harbor for this next year. God’s eyes are on this year, from beginning to end, and if he sees it, he who loved us so much that he sent his Son to die on a cross for our eternal salvation will not allow into this year anything destructive. The only way we can be destroyed is by turning away from the God who sees and bowing before the deceptive gods of this world who allure with their siren song of prosperity without pain, harvest without sowing, and love without tears. 

Our God and Savior sees, and loves...and still is King of kings and Lord of lords. Let us praise his Name forevermore!

Out with the Old

 December 31, 2020

People everywhere tonight are giddily bidding farewell to 2020 in full expectation that 2021 HAS to be better. I hope it will be, but trusting that a change in the numbers on a calendar will automatically bring better circumstances is a pretty thin thread upon which to tie our futures. I’ve said it before: 2021 is not our savior. Only Jesus.

This past year has taught me much about myself, some of which I highlighted in last Sunday’s sermon. I would like to think I am a man of faith, trusting implicitly in God. Sunday’s sermon was taken from the infancy narrative of Matthew 2, where the wise men came looking for the new king. I noted that there were three main players in the story: the magi, Herod, and the priests and scribes. Jesus came unexpectedly into their world, throwing their carefully crafted life plans out the window. The magi had planned, prepared, and persevered through a long desert trek to find the Baby, only to discover he wasn’t where they expected. They recognized Opportunity, and faced it.

Herod’s domain, his authority was suddenly challenged by the appearance of these men, but even more by the birth of this Child. He recognized Danger and fought it.

The priests and scribes knew the Scriptures and were able to quote them to the Magi, but were so wrapped up in their academic and religious world they recognized Nothing, and faked it.

My question to the congregation was simple: “Where are you in this story?” I would like to think I’m the Magi, overcoming all obstacles in my quest for Jesus, but this last year has revealed that more often than not, I’m like Herod, chafing and railing against what God is doing, because he challenges my authority and control in life. And if I’m not mimicking Herod, I’m like the priests and scribes, oblivious to what God is doing in spite of having the Scriptures at my disposal. 

Like many, I’ve grumbled and groused my way through 2020, refusing to surrender my throne, instead of adjusting my compass to unceasingly seek Christ. I don’t know what 2021 will bring, but I do know Who brings it, and am ending this year praying for more wisdom and grace to be more like the Magi and less like Herod, the priests, and the scribes. I want to seek...and find the Christ, because only the Magi went home “another way”—changed by having met and worshipped the Lord.

Dancing in the Rain

 December 30, 2020

“In my prosperity I said, “I shall never be moved.” By your favor. You have made my mountain strong. You hid your face and I was troubled.” —Psalm 30:6-7

When Linda and I were first married, we lived in a little community nestled in the hills of Allegany County, NYS. Our home was literally a stone’s throw from the Pennsylvania border. A couple dozen houses, a general store, single bay fire station, and the little church I served pretty well summed up the community. It was an idyllic place to begin married life, and naive as I was, I preached confidently about the peace of God that comes with knowing Christ as Savior and Lord. 

After five and a half years, we moved to Chicago, and my preaching was never the same. Living on the Northwest side, midway between Humboldt Park and Cicero (the one being notorious for race-related riots and other assorted violent crimes and the other’s notoriety stemming from being Al Capone’s base in the 1930’s), I would never again speak so easily about the peace of God that passes understanding. Notice I didn’t say I would never speak of it, only that I would never speak of it easily. Living where we did, I learned that much of what I had thought was the peace of God was merely the product of a peaceful countryside.

The 30th Psalm echoes this sentiment. How often when things are going well, have I felt “I shall not be moved?” I was confident, self-assured, until God hid his face. It’s not hard to stand firm and stolid when things are going well, but when God hides his face and life plunges into the abyss, it’s an entirely different story. And make no mistake—sooner or later, life will dump you unceremoniously into the abyss. 

For many, this past year has been like that. Last January, life was good; we thought to ourselves, “I shall never be moved.” Our faith was strong, our church was filled, we were on the move! Our mountain was strong, at least through February. But when the two weeks to flatten the curve turned into two, then three, and now ten months, with little end in sight, God hid his face...and we were troubled. Many of us still are. Turns out, our strong mountain is more like a molehill made of sand.

The Psalm continues with David crying out to God who “turned [his] mourning into dancing,” even when he continues to hide his face. We don’t have to wait till prosperity once more shines upon us. If we keep our focus upon the Lord, the winds of prosperity and adversity have no ability to move us one way or another. We can dance, even in the rain.

Temple

 December 29, 2020

I was never much of an athlete. Growing up, my friends played baseball; I played the bassoon. That should tell you something! But when I turned 50, the Lord spoke to me. I generally know it’s the Lord speaking when a thought comes into my head that is out of character for me—something I would never come up with on my own. This particular time, it went like this: “Jim, your body is my temple (1 Corinthians 6:19), and I don’t like the shape it’s in.” I checked out an infomercial on TV, and ordered a set of workout VHS tapes (yeah—50 was that long ago!). I lost about 15 pounds, felt better, and later upgraded to DVDs, Linda bought me a Chuck Norris Total Gym, and recently I found a guy on YouTube who went through entire workouts for free, specializing in men over 40. I easily qualified, began doing his workouts, and was pleased to discover that I could keep up with him.

This evening I had a conversation with my friend Chuck, in which we ranged from work to workouts, with most everything in between. I told him about as a thirteen-year-old reading St. Paul’s word to his protege in 1 Timothy4:8–“Bodily exercise profits little, but godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now i, and of that which is to come.”

I took that as a word from the Lord to shun physical exercise in favor of spiritual disciplines, which was part of the reason I was no athlete. When God spoke to me about the condition of his temple twenty years ago, I knew I had misread and misunderstood that verse, but didn’t know exactly how. Chuck gave me the answer this evening.

“If exercise is good for our physical bodies, imagine how good godliness is for our souls,” he commented. The lights suddenly came on. Chuck got it right! All those years I had, as my father used to say, “placed the emphAsis on the wrong syLLABle.” Paul wasn’t berating physical exercise; in fact, he occasionally used the sports of the day as examples of spiritual principles. Paul was instead telling us that as good as workouts are for the health our bodies, spiritual workouts are that much more important for the health of our souls.

I am still no athlete. Seventy-plus years have taken their toll on even the minimal athletic ability I once had. Running to catch a fly ball isn’t going to happen, and my whitewater kayaking days are probably over, but at least I now understand what St. Paul was getting at. I’ll workout tomorrow, and when I’m done, I’ll give my soul a workout, too. I want this temple to be a place God is proud to inhabit!

Choose Life!

 December 28, 2020

My evening musings began on this date eight years ago. I had allowed my contentment to slip between my fingers, receding before the onslaught of incessant election coverage until God brought me up short, asking, “Jim, where is your joy?” When I couldn’t answer, he gave me a way out of the darkness into which I had unwittingly descended. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had been consistently neglectful of a simple Christian command: “In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you” (1 Thessalonians 5:18). That disobedience was poisoning my heart, darkening my soul.

I began writing down the things for which I was thankful, totaling up over a thousand gifts of grace, both great and small before the year had come to an end. In the intervening years, my thoughts have ranged from gifts of gratitude to musings on the Apostles’ Creed, various Scriptural texts and personal experiences. 

Tonight, I am thankful for the gift of life itself. Life is such an amazing and precious mystery, even in the midst of difficulties and trials of which there has been no shortage this year. We’ve welcomed new life into this world, and bid tearful farewell to old life slipping quietly away. In the one, the joining together of man and woman produces something that wasn’t there before, mimicking the work of the Creator. In the other, that which was suddenly is no more, the body that lived and breathed stilled, exhaling in its last breath the spirit that returns to God. In between, we love and hate, build and destroy, give and receive, curse and praise. If we open to it, grace lights upon us, sometimes gently, other times in fierce assault upon a resistant heart and a dull mind. Always, life comes as a gift we can either open and give thanks, or leave wrapped and unused as we trudge through this world in hopeless despair. Moses had it right: “I set before you this day life and death...Choose life!”