Watering Donkeys

 August 6, 2022

“These were the sons of Zibeon: both Ajah and Anah. This was the Anah who found the water in the wilderness as he pastured the donkeys of his father Zibeon.” —Genesis 36:24 

These words intrigued me this morning as I was reading my Bible. What could possibly have been so significant about finding water in the wilderness while pasturing some donkeys? I get it that this was originally written to desert people, and that finding an oasis in the wilderness was no small matter, and I could maybe understand if this were included in the genealogy of Israel, but this is in the genealogical record of Esau. Why have it recorded in Scripture? 

I don’t know the answer, but I can say this: if something so insignificant in world history as finding water while pasturing donkeys is worthy of record, even the insignificant parts of my life matter to God. So today, while talking with my friend Chuck, or when bottling honey from my bees may not seem important, who knows? As a preacher once said, “Little things can mean a lot.” I am counting on that!

Limping through Life

 August 5, 2022

When Jacob knew his estranged brother had formed a welcoming committee of 400 men to greet him as he returned to Canaan, he was justifiably afraid. Twenty years earlier, he hadn’t left on the best of terms, having swindled his brother out of his inheritance and incurring Esau’s wrathful vow to kill him. Like so many of us when we get into a jam, he prayed as he had never prayed before. He was used to deal-making to his own favor, but this time, he was reduced to groveling, with just a hint of bargaining thrown in for good measure.

“Then Jacob said, “O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac, the Lord who said to me, ‘Return to your country and to your family, and I will deal well with you’: I am not worthy of the least of all the mercies and of all the truth which You have shown Your servant; for I crossed over this Jordan with my staff, and now I have become two companies. Deliver me, I pray, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau; for I fear him, lest he come and attack me and the mother with the children. For You said, ‘I will surely treat you well, and make your descendants as the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude.’ ”” —Genesis 32:9-12 

So Jacob prayed. But before he prayed, he prepared. He divided his goods and family into two groups, thinking that whichever one Esau attacked, the other could escape. It’s always good to have a plan when you have a problem.

Finally, Jacob prevailed. 

“Then Jacob was left alone; and a Man wrestled with him until the breaking of day. Now when He saw that He did not prevail against him, He touched the socket of his hip; and the socket of Jacob’s hip was out of joint as He wrestled with him. And He said, “Let Me go, for the day breaks.” But he said, “I will not let You go unless You bless me!” So He said to him, “What is your name?” He said, “Jacob.” And He said, “Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel; for you have struggled with God and with men, and have prevailed.”” —Genesis 32:24-28 

He prevailed…with God himself! In his wrestling with God, he went from schemer to saint, a new man inside and out. THIS was the heart-change, the transformation he needed to accomplish what God had in store for him.No amount of prayer or preparation could replace the inner transformation he needed.

Jacob would ever afterwards walk with a limp, displaying a weakness everyone could see, a weakness that was necessary if God were to use him. He had wasted too many years walking with the swagger of self-confidence, making his way on his own terms. Now, he limped along, reminded by his wounded hip of his need for God’s continual blessing.

The world is filled with wounded people like Jacob, who limp their way through life, swaggering on the outside, but hiding their weakness and vulnerability and like Jacob, making a mess of everything they touch. Successful by all appearances, they don’t want anyone to know how badly it hurts to merely put one foot in front of the other. The successful businessman who commits suicide, and no one saw it coming, the gang-banger shooting into a crowd to secure his status, the teenage girl making herself available to all the boys, the kid drifting through the day in a drugged or alcoholic haze—they are limping on the inside, but dare not show it. 

Only the touch of God can expose that inner limp, getting it out where it is seen. It hurts, and only happens if we wrestle and refuse to quit. Once there, it loses its power to wound the soul, and we begin, like Jacob, to become Israel—the princes and princesses we were intended to be. It’s worth walking with a noticeable limp if it means the limping soul walks tall and straight.

Prepare, Pray, Prevail. Not a bad response to a crisis.

Rest

 August 4, 2022

“Blessed is the man whom you instruct, O LORD, and teach out of your law, that you may give him rest from the days of adversity.” —Psalm 94:12-13

I wonder how many times I’ll have to relearn the wisdom and peace contained in these words? The author looked around him and saw only injustice and despair until he turned to the Law, the Word of God. Things haven’t changed much in the 3,000 years between him and me. The proud and powerful still oppress the vulnerable, justifying their actions with doublespeak. If our attention is taken up by these people, with all their lofty words and lousy performance, we too, will end up in despair. 

The Good News is that there is rest from adversity. The God who created the vastness of space with a mere word, who sees us and knows us—in spite of our insignificance in the universe, who loves us in spite of our sins, and has provided a way of redemption and life through the death and resurrection of his Son—this same God through his Son uttered these words to all who are weighed down with life:

“Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart, and you shall find rest unto your souls, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” —Matthew 11:28-30

Notice that the rest comes when we come. Keeping our distance from Jesus robs us of our rest. When we neglect the reading of the Scriptures and skimp on prayer, when we neglect worship and eschew service, we keep him at arm’s length. When we shoulder his yoke, ie, when we are attached to him, is when we learn what peace and rest is all about.

Worthless Things

 August 3, 2022

“Turn my eyes away from looking at worthless things, and revive me in your way.” —Ps. 119:37

We live in a world filled with worthless things. As a friend and I were talking this morning, the topic drifted to the impending dissolution of the United Methodist Church. A couple years ago, an agreement was hammered out for an “amicable separation,” whereby the conservatives could leave without penalty. Then Covid struck, and our General Conference couldn’t meet. It was rescheduled, only to be postponed for another year. By the time things began to settle out, some of the liberals who had supported the agreement reneged, and we were back to square one.

As it stands now, congregations that want to leave the denomination have to fork over approximately two years’ worth of apportionments, (that amount we are required to send to the denomination each year). In addition, we (appropriately) must pay a percentage of the unfunded pension liability for retired pastors. Some conferences are laying even heavier burdens upon their people, with the result that many congregations will either be buried by these requirements, or will remain in a denomination that is increasingly hostile to their beliefs. My friend said it bluntly: “So you’re being held hostage.”

So what about those “worthless things?” I suspect many congregations will ante up and leave, but the cost will so weigh them down that effective ministry becomes almost impossible. They will retain their property, but won’t be able to afford ministry. Our church recently built a $2 million facility. I began to wonder if we would be willing to walk away from it if it became clear that the cost outweighs the benefits of paying the ransom. We have sunk time and resources into providing a place for a vibrant ministry that is being carried out within these walls. It would be heartbreaking to step away from it all, but I have to ask myself which do I value more—a building, or the people God has called us to love and reach?

Forty years ago, we left a congregation that was filled with young adults and thriving. When we were appointed to Sinclairville, we learned who would be following us in our then present appointment, and we knew it wasn’t going to be pretty. It wasn’t. Inside of six months, the church went from about $6,000 in the black to $1500 in the red (remember, this was a small church forty years ago—these were significant dollars back then), before the congregation imploded. People scattered to other area churches, and a new Full Gospel congregation was formed by some of the disaffected former United Methodists. That church has never recovered. 

But what was eternal endured. Faithful believers continued to worship and serve; only it was in other places. One of those young adults became a Baptist pastor in Texas; another father and son have led the Full Gospel church for these past 40 years. The value wasn’t in the building; for all intents and purposes, it was a worthless thing, like the magnificent temple Jesus predicted would be left with not “one stone upon another.” God values the people, not the place.

I don’t know how all this denominational kerfuffle will play out. I don’t like being held hostage for ransom, and it’s possible that much of what we’ve worked for over the past forty years will simply slip out of our grasp. If so, it’s just worthless stuff. The precious stuff, the valuable stuff isn’t stuff at all; it’s the men and women, girls and boys for whom Christ died and for whose salvation we have labored. It’s just possible that God is giving us an opportunity to turn away our eyes from worthless things. If so, according to this morning’s psalm, revival won’t be far behind.

Space and Sin

 August 2, 2022

Inflation is up at least 9%, crime of all sorts is increasing, trust in our government, media, and public educational system is plummeting, and all this is just on the domestic scene. The war in Ukraine, China’s saber-rattling, Iran’s threats of nuclear war, and the continuing Palestinian-Israeli conflict; add it all up, and there is evil and trouble everywhere you look. We look for the good, but it always seem overwhelmed by the evil all around us.

Our Bible tells us that when God was creating the world, he regularly pronounced his blessing over it: “God saw that it was good.” Sometime later, sin entered, and all this goodness became twisted, distorted, perverted. But the creation is still good. The prophets saw something most of us miss; they were somehow able to look beyond the destruction, bloodshed, the lies and deception that was all around them to see the hand of God. It helps to expand our perspective, to get a wider view of all God is doing.

For the past few weeks, I’ve been getting photos on my newsfeed from the James Webb telescope, NASA’s newest venture that is quickly outpacing Hubble, which has served us for the past 35 years. The pictures are—to put it mildly—spectacular! We are seeing further and clearer into the expanse and magnificence of the universe that exceeds our imaginations; galaxies so distant and large that we have to invent numbers and concepts to even express its vastness.

And here we sit on earth, a minuscule speck in a small solar system in a mid-sized galaxy, so insignificant as to be almost nonexistent, both in time and space. When I consider the glorious and majestic power, the greatness of God’s love and the magnitude of the universe he created, all the sin in the world is pretty small compared to the glory of God’s handiwork. And our Gospel tells us that God invaded both time and space in this tiny place called Earth in the person and work of Jesus Christ because our sins were so heinous and destructive only a miracle could save us. The miracle is that he looked through the vast corridors of the universe, saw us, and considered us who are less than nothing worth the sacrifice of his Son for our salvation. 

Dusk

 August 1, 2022

I’m sitting in the cool of the evening under the lights on the deck behind our garden shed. Twilight is slowly fading into dusky darkness, the peepers are tuning it up, and it’s as peaceful a spot as you’ll find most anywhere. 

Sometimes I feel almost guilty over the blessings I’ve received. Why wasn’t I born into poverty, a child of abusive or neglectful parents, plagued with addiction or disability? In our part of the world, we wouldn’t be considered rich, but compared to many places I’ve been, we are wealthy beyond measure. And even here in our country, we enjoy a wealth money cannot buy. Linda and I have loved each other for over fifty years, have three children who are raising their children to be Christ-followers. We gather together for Sunday dinners, birthdays, and holidays, talking, laughing, enjoying each other’s company. 

It’s not all sweetness and light; we’ve often had to keep our mouths shut, and like any family, have had issues to work through, but we’ve done it, and continue to do it. Besides all that, we are surrounded by friends who love and support us, and know the peace of sins forgiven and the hope and purpose that is ours because Jesus Christ died for us and rose from the grave on the third day. I am tonight overwhelmed and filled with gratitude for all God has done for us.

Difficult Gifts

 July 31, 2022

Tomorrow we begin the second half of 2022. I don’t know why I said that; I don’t have any pearls of wisdom to glean from that observation…except perhaps this one: My Gratitude prompt for today is “Three difficult gifts.” Right now, that’s a hard one. I can only think of two difficult gifts: ‘04 when the church imploded, and now Nate’s cancer. To be sure, not everything else in my life has been easy; I’ve had my share of sorrow and challenges, but nothing that isn’t pretty much everyone’s lot in life.

Linda and I watched a movie about Virginia Hall, a British spy who worked in Vichy France during WWII, considered the most dangerous of spies by the Nazis. When I think of the courage of so many of these people who faced torture and death, or of Christians today in places like Afghanistan or Nigeria, or when I see people who have battled life-long disability, how can I say any of my life experiences have been difficult? Two in over 70 years of living is hardly worth mentioning. Maybe a third difficult gift will come someday, but it hasn’t yet been given.

And make no mistake; these difficult circumstances are gifts. They sound bad, but every challenge in life is a gift that offers the opportunity to grow deeper in faith and to lean harder upon God. The difficult gifts are no fun, but they are actually the best gifts we can receive, for they reveal to us our inner life—strengths and weaknesses we didn’t know we had. And if we are ready to receive it, they reveal to us the love of God in ways we cannot otherwise know. 

Difficult gifts—tonight I reflect on two of them in my experience, grateful for how they continue to shape me more in the image of Christ, the giver and object of the gift.