Overcomer

 March 3, 2022

Linda and I spent the evening in the bleachers cheering on our granddaughter’s basketball team in their semifinals. Sadly for us, they lost a squeaker. There was a terrible call at the end of the game which in all likelihood would have changed the outcome. On the other hand, the team gave up a first quarter lead with a second quarter when despite their best efforts, they couldn’t get the ball in the hoop.

When our children were little, I thought my main job as a father was to protect them from harm and even disappointment. A few of life’s hard realities soon divested me of that notion, and I realized instead that the most important thing I could teach my children was how to overcome adversity and injustice. I couldn’t prevent bad things from happening and hurting, but if I didn’t teach them how to come back from defeat, to overcome evil, to pick themselves up when life beat them down, I would have failed them as their father. 

There were times when like all children, they complained that we weren’t fair in our decisions. “Life isn’t fair,” we countered. “Get used to it.” It seems today that we are raising a generation that expects fairness and wilts into a puddle of despair, tears, and tantrums when they get sucker-punched by reality. I wish life were fair, but wishing doesn’t make it so. 

I suppose in one sense, it’s a good thing life isn’t fair. The Bible tells us that all have sinned and come short of God’s glory (Romans 3:23), that the wages of sin is death (Romans 6:23), but that God took on himself the penalty and judgment that we deserved in order to set us free and give us life (Romans 58). If God were completely fair, I would still be in my sins, without hope, and without a future, but as it is, instead of fairness, God chose mercy and grace. 

I truly wish tonight’s outcome had been different; that these girls don’t have to lay their heads down on their pillows tonight bitter for what might have been, but even more, I hope they don't let this defeat defeat them. I hope and pray that one way or another, they will learn what it means not just to win, but even more, to become overcomers.

Giving Up

March 2, 2022

Ash Wednesday. The beginning of the Christian season of Lent, during which with the lengthening of daylight, we ponder the brevity of life as preparation for Holy Week and Easter. Growing up as I did in an independent Baptist church, we didn’t observe Lent. That was something the Catholics did, but not Baptists. It was only as I slipped my way into Methodism that Lent began taking on significance for me. That’s a story for another time.

The usual Ash Wednesday question asked by those inclined to observe Lent is, “What are you giving up for Lent?” The idea is that we deny ourselves some pleasure so as to help us focus on spiritual matters. Unfortunately, for many, this “giving up” amounts to little more than a minor inconvenience such as giving up chocolate or coffee (I realize that for some, such a sacrifice is not a minor inconvenience, but neither is it a major intrusion into our lives).

This year, I’ve decided to give up three “S’s:” Sweets, Snacks, and Seconds (as in second helpings at the table). My wife suggested another “S” for the list, which puzzles me, as I haven’t played the saxophone in years. I think she was just being funny, but you never know. 

Giving up something can only get you so far in life, so in light of the national and international mess we are in, I think instead of merely subtracting from my life, it would be appropriate to add something, so here is the “S” I’m adding: Supplication. As in prayers for others. Don’t get me wrong; I pray for others all the time, but I think it’s time to get really serious about it; to spend significant time and effort praying for our world, holding before the Lord Almighty the brokenness we are seeing all around us. 

I live in a pleasant area of the world, surrounded by beautiful country, living amongst wonderful family, friends, and neighbors. Gunfire doesn’t lull me to sleep at night, we don’t experience major flooding, wildfires, hurricanes, or earthquakes. I am insulated from most of the tragedy that defines so many people’s lives. Most of these matters I am powerless to influence, but I can bang on the gates of heaven. It’s time for me to do so a bit more insistently. I’ve already begun, and hope I’m not alone in this endeavor. 

 

Photos

 March 1, 2022

This evening as I opened my iPad to write, a photo from three years ago popped up at the top of my screen—one of the apps that happens to run on these machines. I clicked on it and was treated to a slideshow of photos of the grandkids, from winter sleigh rides after breakfast at one of the area sugarbush pancake houses to the Easter egg hunt at our son’s. Intermingled were pictures of friends in Cuba, people I’ve been unable to see for two years, people like family to me, Christian brothers and sisters who have suffered much through the pandemic that has been mostly inconvenient to me, but tragic for them.

Halfway around the world, memories like this are being buried in the terror of bombs and artillery, parents trying to shelter their children in the midst of an invasion they were unable to prevent and may be unable to stop. They fight in whatever way they can because it isn’t political to them; it’s personal. The old saying is true: “Rich man’s war; poor man’s fight.” However hopeless it may seem, when defending one’s own home and family, the gloves come off. 

I look at these photos and see people I know and love, and know that in the Ukraine, parents and grandparents see and pray for people they know and love. Even in Russia, mothers and grandmothers are praying for their sons sent to the frontlines by men who will not themselves taste the bitter tears of their decisions.

It was not my choice to be born here, to know the advantages this country and my family provided me. I am blessed beyond measure, and thank God every day when I wake up for the breath that gives me life, and for the people who give me joy. I thank him for the sacrifice he made for me in the giving of his Son for my salvation; his going to fight a war I could not win against an enemy more powerful than I. He was bloodied for my sake as he stood in the gap and took the blows meant for me. 

Just a few months ago, Ukraine was being pilloried for its corruption. Today it is elevated almost to sainthood for its resistance to Russia’s aggression. Both then and now, those who bear the brunt of the decisions made by the upper echelons are ordinary people who like me, look with affection at photos from years ago, and pray for those whose faces they see. May God hear those prayers and answer in his mercy.

Life Letters

 February 28, 2022

“You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everyone. You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.” —2 Corinthians 3:2-3 

“You are the only Bible some people will ever read.” I cannot say how often I’ve heard these words, admonishing us to live out our faith with integrity. They simply restate St. Paul’s word to the Corinthian Christians who had not been doing particularly well in this department. This church was filled with gifted and talented people, but they were constantly at each other’s throats, scrabbling for power and influence while behaving so badly that they were worse than the pagans outside the faith.

He had written to them before about the sad state of their lives and witness, and had received word of a favorable response to his letter of correction. So now, he could breathe a bit easier, and commend them for their change of heart and life. 

At our men’s Bible study tonight, we asked the question, “How easy is it for people to read Jesus in you?” Do we write in invisible ink? Is our life story disjointed or illegible? Do we hide our life’s letter in a stack of papers so no one will see it? 

I’m an introvert by nature, and have had to work all my life on writing this life-letter plainly and legibly. I’ve had to force myself to open my mouth with a word of testimony; people are surprised that as a preacher, it doesn’t come naturally to me. It’s one thing to talk about Christ in church where the majority of those listening are in agreement and supportive; it’s quite another to do so in the marketplace of ideas where the message of the Gospel is not readily accepted, but instead is ridiculed or outright opposed. But it’s there where my life-letter needs to be written in large script, clear for all to read.

We asked a second question tonight: “Where does your life-letter need some editing?” What doesn’t follow the story line? What contradicts the message we are trying to give? My daughter has written a few books, and will give plenty of testimony about how many times she had to go over her manuscripts, editing them to make sure the grammar lined up or the story flowed consistently. It was a demanding and difficult process, but was necessary to get an end product that would adequately convey the message she had to give.

I’m not done editing my life yet. There are parts of the story that don’t properly fit into the redemption story I’m trying to live. So the work goes on. I’m trying to write my life so people will be able to clearly “see the light of the gospel that displays the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.” —2 Corinthians 4:4 

Temperance

 February 27, 2022

“And everyone who competes for the prize is temperate in all things. Now they do it to obtain a perishable crown, but we for an imperishable crown.” —I Corinthians 9:25 

“Temperance” was the topic in Sunday School this morning. “If we are temperate in all things,” one class member observed, “life becomes flat and uninteresting.” This person had a point. Years ago, John Maxwell quoted a little ditty about this kind of living:

There was a very cautious man
Who never laughed or played.
He never risked, he never tried,
He never sang or prayed.
And when one day he passed away,
His insurance was denied;
For since he never really lived,
They claimed he never died.

If temperance is the goal, life indeed will be dull. But St. Paul doesn’t think of temperance as being a goal in itself, but a means to a goal. Anyone who wants to excel at anything has to eliminate from his life any distractions that would get in the way of the goal, whether it be a sport, music, business, or family. That’s what temperance is all about—making sacrifices to attain a goal.

The athlete sacrifices social life, junk food, free time, to work out, practice, refine her skills. The musician puts in hours of practice that might have been spent with friends or playing video games. The soldier sacrifices ease and comfort to drill, endure war games, work to the point of exhaustion in order to be in the best fighting trim. In short, nothing worthwhile is accomplished in spare time and minimal effort. 

Temperance would be a sad way of life if it weren’t for the goal. God calls us to deny ourselves to the point of taking up a cross, not so we can pat ourselves on the back for being more austere than others, but for the greater goal of which Paul spoke in Philippians 3:14–“I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”

Temperance isn’t easy, but it will be worth it when we stand before Jesus and hear him say, “Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of your Lord.”

Choose Joy

 February 26, 2022

Last Sunday, Nightbirde lost her battle with cancer. If you don’t follow such things, she was a “Golden Buzzer” winner on America’s Got Talent, with her performance of her original song, “It’s OK.” It wasn’t only her song; her story is what captured the hearts of millions. Even as she sang, her body was wracked with tumors in her lungs, spine, and liver. 

It was her spirit that touched us. Constantly smiling, she told us that the doctors only gave her a 2% chance of survival for more than six months. “But two percent isn’t zero percent,” she said with a smile. She wrote about her prayers—“I’m the downstairs neighbor banging on the ceiling with a broomstick”—and her rugged and often ragged faith. 31 is too young to die, especially for one so determined to live.

My favorite quote from Nightbirde: “You can’t wait until life isn’t hard anymore before you decide to be happy.” The radiance of her smile, her determination, and faith through all her struggles puts many of us to shame. She insisted on believing that life and God are good, even when life is hard and God is unintelligible. In these dangerous and deadly days when all the news is bad news, her words and her perspective are needed more than ever. In the worst of circumstances, we have choices to make about our attitude. Choosing joy can bring us through the darkest of valleys. Don’t wait to decide to be happy.

Praying for Ukraine

 February 25, 2022

“The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much.” So says James 5:16. Yesterday, Russia invaded the Ukraine. Putin fears not our president, nor the invective of Western Europe. The former is a weak, mentally compromises shell of his former self, the latter dependent on Russian oil and gas. Putin is not swayed by international censure and is not likely to stop until he has accomplished his aims. Militarily, he holds all the high cards.

In the face of all this, from half a world away, we pray. For most of us, it’s all we can do, but in our hearts we wish there were something more substantial, more tangible at our fingertips. Implicit is the belief that there actually is something more powerful than our prayers—guns or missiles, perhaps.

We pray, but what do we expect in response? Do we really believe our prayers have any effect, or are they words we utter only because we see nothing else we can do? Do we believe James5:16, or merely give it lip service? We read how the mighty men of God prayed and called down fire from heaven, or stopped powerful armies in their tracks, but do we believe God can still do the same today? 

James’ statement contains conditions. Our prayers must be effective, ie. targeted. General and vague requests have little value. Jesus himself reminded us that if we pray rightly, we will have that which we request, not something similar, but the very request itself. He also said that we must be in agreement. It’s not enough for some to want merely a cease-fire and others a retreat. When we fail to consult together, it is hard to pray in agreement.

James says the prayer must be fervent, not lackadaisical. Jesus asked his disciples, “Could you not watch with me for one hour?” Most of us have trouble with even five or ten minutes. We know nothing of Jacob’s wrestling all night with the angel till we come away victorious. Limping, maybe, but victorious. James also mentions an ethical and spiritual dimension of our prayers: “a righteous man.” Left to our own devices, none of us can claim this; our only hope is the imputed righteousness of Christ that begins the process of imparted righteousness. If we haven’t accepted the former, we can’t expect the latter. You can’t leave the station if you haven’t boarded the train.

Let us pray for the Ukraine. But let us pray expectantly, actually believing that our prayers move the mighty hand of God. Let us not look to the news to determine our response, but to the Good News of the Gospel that assures us God is in control. Let us pray effectively, pointedly, fervently, and righteously, praying in faith and confidence that our God is still in the business of delivering the oppressed.