Reminiscing

 May 17, 2023

Sometimes the well is a bit dry. Today is one of those times, so here is a blast from the past, from May 17, 2020.

The Gospel is not given to us to hoard for ourselves so we can bask in its wonder and grace. It was given for the purpose of passing it on to others. In doing so, we often forget its scope. If we only tell other people what God has done for them through the sacrifice and ultimate glorification of Jesus Christ, we fall short—far short of completing the job. Ephesians 3:2, 8-10, Paul expands our understanding of what God is up to. In v. 2, he lays out the part we usually understand: “to me, for you.” Those four words are our marching orders. But in v. 10, he says the ultimate goal is that God’s wisdom and power be proclaimed by the Church “to the principalities and powers;” those spiritual entities lying behind the rulers of this world (6:12), putting them on notice that their authority is broken. 

This is tough and dangerous warfare, requiring that we be well-armed (6:10-18), and ready to fight the battle on our knees. Prayer is where the fighting is hottest. Preaching to people is powerless unless we have first spoken truth to the (spiritual) power behind the people. A prisoner cannot be set free until the warden is compelled to do so by the pardon of the governor. Any other attempt to free the prisoner will result in the prisoner remaining jailed and the erstwhile liberator being frustrated at best, and imprisoned himself at the least.

So when we preach, we first pray. And when we pray, we not only seek God, but we also proclaim to the spiritual powers of this world their doom. This is why Jesus sweat blood in the Garden of Gethsemane; prayer was not a casual and pleasant stroll in verdant pastures with sweet breezes gently blowing and the fragrance of flowers in the air. No, his prayer was a strenuous, agonizing confrontation with Satan and all his demonic powers, stripping them of their authority, tricking them into nailing him to a cross. When our prayer is less than this, it falls far short of its purpose and potential, and our preaching lacks the power needed to break the spiritual bonds blinding minds and binding souls to their sins. 

By all means, speak to people of their need of a Savior (“to me, for you”), but not before reminding the powers of darkness that their power is broken and their protection is gone. The “strong man” is bound, and his kingdom spoiled by the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and we have the privilege and responsibility of taking this message to all creation!

Seasons

 May 16, 2023

Life has its seasons, and for me, one of them has been drawing to a close for some time now. It’s springtime dates way back to my high school years when I played tenor sax in the band. I practiced every day, but no matter how hard I worked, I was never able to wiggle my fingers the way others could. Though I owned a 1965 Selmer Mark VI, which was and still is, top of the line, the Rolls Royce of saxophones, I couldn’t do it justice, and got bumped and ended up playing baritone sax in the jazz band.

It was even worse in the concert band. I was in danger of losing my seat entirely until it was suggested to me that I play the bassoon. There’s not much high school competition for bassoonists. I enjoyed the instrument’s unusual sound, and played it until graduation, at which time, my formal musical training came to summer’s end and a long autumn began.

Then a few years ago, I was introduced to the New Horizons band, mostly senior citizens who rehearse two days a week at our local college, putting on a concert in the fall and spring. I bought an old very outdated bassoon and was off to the races again. It was as thoroughly enjoyable as is possible when playing a finicky double-reed instrument. In addition to the band was the woodwind ensemble that to me was even more enjoyable. The bassoon shines in such intimate settings.

Then came jazz band, and the opportunity to play the bass. Starting out on electric bass which I had been playing in our worship team for years, I had the opportunity to try out the string, or upright bass, and was fully hooked. 

Then came the pandemic, and it all shut down. Last fall, the band started up again, but I feel the cold winds of winter setting in on my bassooning. I still take great pleasure in the string bass, but with the aging process comes an increased realization that less time lies ahead of me than is behind me, and that there are other projects and interests demanding my attention at a time when it takes longer to accomplish things than it once did.

Solomon said it better than anyone:

“To everything there is a season, 

A time for every purpose under heaven…

—Ecclesiastes 3:1

He adds, [there is] a time to keep, And a time to throw away.” My bassoon season has come to an end; it’s time to let it go. But for everything we release, we open our hands and hearts to something new to be received. As this old season dies, a new season dawns, and I am eager to see what it brings.

Keys

 May 15, 2023

I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.”” —Matthew 16:19 

Jesus makes an extraordinary statement here; the authority he gives us is almost beyond belief. There is an underlying presupposition we must understand before this makes any sense: There are things going on behind the scenes; powerful things that control people’s lives, but things over which we are given control. Keys open places that have imprisoned people, and they hold in confinement people and beings destructive to individuals and society.

Some years ago, I had breakfast on Tuesday mornings with Willie. Willie was a probation officer, and he said to me one morning, “I am glad we have prisons. There are some people who shouldn’t be out in society.” Prisons only function with keys. 

Some people are bound by their own sins; some are held captive by addiction, by negativity, Many are controlled by powerful people and systems, by their beliefs. Try as they might, they are no more able to break free than escaping from a maximum security prison. 

Jesus says here that we have the keys, ie. the power to set people free. It begins with what Peter had said about Jesus just prior to Jesus’ words about keys. Only if I believe Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God; only if I live out the implications of such belief, does Jesus give these keys to me. One of those keys is Truth. Jesus told us that “the Truth will set you free.” People are bound by the lies they believe. We have the key they need. Another key is prayer. Prayer has the power to break through resistance that is impenetrable to logic and reason. It is through prayer that we bind, or lock up the demonic powers that hold people in those lies. I’ve seen people who wanted to change, but were unable to break free until the powers that held them captive were themselves bound by prayer.

Tonight in our men’s Bible study, pastor Roy said that often he himself was the one who needed the keys to unlock himself from his hesitation to share the Gospel with others. Jesus gives them to us, but we must choose to use them. We will never use them if we don’t believe we have them and that they really work.

One of the reasons the Church appears so weak today is our failure to really believe we possess what Jesus says he has given us. He told Peter that the gates of hell would not be able to prevail against the Church. When he said this, there were only twelve disciples. When he said this, they were in foreign territory, surrounded by pagan gods. Can you imagine the audacity of his saying that this little ragtag group of men were going to be on the offensive, successfully assaulting the powers of this world? What if we truly believed we are on the winning side? 

You have the keys. Start looking for locks and keep trying those keys till you hear the sound of the tumblers dropping into place and the doors to people’s hearts opening to the Gospel and freedom.

Mother’s Day

 May 14, 2023

Days like today make me glad I’m retired and not preaching regularly anymore. The “special” days like Mother’s Day were always difficult for me, not because of anything my own mother did or didn’t do, but because these celebrations stir up so many different emotions. Honoring mothers and motherhood is a good and honorable thing, but the day can be very difficult for some. 

Being up on stage playing bass for our worship team gives me a bird’s-eye view of the congregation gathered. I noticed tears as well as nods of affirmation, and know that today is not all joy and happiness. Preaching, it’s hard to minister to the wide variety of emotions elicited by Mother’s Day. I always came away feeling that no matter what I said, someone was missed, sitting alone in her grief or regret, or that there were people whose mothers fell so far short of the ideal that every year the wound was opened once more.

I am grateful that the responsibility of bringing the Word of God to bear on such varying situations falls on someone else’s shoulders. A woman in our church posted something this afternoon that says what I have felt, but which is hard to preach effectively:

“Sending love to everyone on Mother’s Day: Moms. Moms to be. Moms trying to conceive. Those who have lost their moms. Step moms. Moms who have lost a child. Those who stand in as moms. For those with painful mom relationships. Those with two moms. Those learning to forgive their moms. For those with loving mom relationships. Those waiting to be forgiven by a mom.” I would add, “Moms living with regret.”

Each different scenario is in need of a special grace, a different touch of God’s love, a unique word or touch. As I write, there are moms living on the streets, weary with addiction, moms living in fear of an abusive spouse or boyfriend, moms weeping in prison, hoping against hope for that visit or phone call that never comes.

I was blessed with a wonderful mom. I am married to a wonderful mom. My daughter is a wonderful mom, as are my daughters-in-law. My life is richer because of the women in my life, but I know not everyone can say this. So instead of preaching on Mother’s Day, I get to offer my prayers for those who celebrate with joy, and for those who weep quietly in the night. May God fill you with peace and joy in believing; May Jesus Christ be to you both Savior and Comforter, One who rejoices when you rejoice, but who also weeps when you weep.

Desperate

 May 13, 2023

The cold cut through me like a knife as I lay in my sleeping bag trying to get warm. An insulated pad was beneath me, I was wearing sweatshirt, jeans, and socks; but the cold was unrelenting, seeping through the layers as I shivered through the night. Sleep came fitfully, and each time I woke, I stared into the darkness, desperately praying that this time I would see the first hints of dawn.

It was more than thirty years ago. My sons and I were canoeing in Algonquin Park four hours north of Toronto. September in Algonquin can surprise you, and though we expected things to be a bit frosty, we hadn’t counted on overnight snow. Never have I been so glad to see morning finally dawn.

“My soul waits for the LORD more than those who watch for the morning.”       

—Psalm 130:6 

I know what it’s like to watch for the morning. I’m ashamed to admit that I can’t say the same about watching for the Lord. Other than the night I learned my son Nathan had a bleed and tumors in his brain, I can’t remember the last time sleep refused to come because I was so desperate for God. 

In 2003, I met Tsogoo, a young man from Mongolia who headed up the work of Every Home for Christ in his country. Twice I had the privilege of accompanying him and his team as they went our onto the steppes to bring the Gospel to their nomadic countrymen. Shortly after my second trip to Mongolia, Tsogoo decided to come to the USA to attend seminary. While here, he began working with the ex-pat Mongolians in California, and confided in me how much harder it was to evangelize here than back home. I wasn’t surprised. Here in the States, we have everything we need; we don’t lack for food, transportation, medicines, or even the luxuries of this world. He would talk with people about Jesus, and their response was, “We have everything we need; why would we want Jesus?” One of his co-workers who stayed behind is still traveling the country telling people about Jesus, with great success. When even the necessities are lacking, the Gospel is good news, indeed, especially when accompanied with tangibles like food, clothing, and medical help.

My Cuban friends understand this very well. Christians there regularly pray long into the night, accompanied by fasting, as they seek the face of Christ in the midst of hyper-inflation, shortages of basic necessities, and an infrastructure teetering on collapse. 

“My soul waits for the LORD more than those who watch for the morning.” I remember anxiously watching for the morning those years ago. May we learn the power of desperate  watching prayer for ourselves, our families, our neighbors, our churches, and our country, that the Lord would visit us with salvation and healing to the glory of his name.

Mission Station Open

May 12, 2023

When the pandemic was at its height, our village followed the mandates laid down by New York State, shutting down the park with its playground and basketball courts for the summer. So instead of hanging out at the park, the neighborhood teenagers flocked to the swimming hole in the creek on our property. Any day it wasn’t raining, we could count on up to a dozen kids lounging in our yard and swimming in the creek.

When God brings the mission field to your door, it’s not a good idea to ignore it, so we would go down, learn their names,  make sure they knew the ground rules, and talk to them about Jesus. I can’t say we had any great success other than getting to know them. 

Then last summer, the crew was gathered outside the park when a disagreement turned into a fight and one of them pulled a pistol from a backpack, shot and killed one of the others. The circle of friends blew apart like a ripe dandelion on a breezy day. One teenager dead, and another’s life down the drain in a moment. When I talked with one of the leaders of the gang, he told me their entire group of friends had fallen apart. They were as Jesus said, “like sheep without a shepherd.”

About a week ago, I ran into one of them at the gas station. He told me he’s starting up a landscaping business. He has almost no equipment, but plenty of enthusiasm and a willingness to work hard. Since our tractor is in the shop for its annual maintenance, I tried to hire him for some lawn mowing. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a mower big enough for what we need done, but I’ll find something he can do.

Apparently God isn’t finished with our mission to these kids. This afternoon as I was working on a small project among the spruce in our front yard, I looked up just in time to see one of the gang sliding across the lawn alongside his dirt bike. He rolled across the gravel driveway before skidding to a stop on the other side. He was wearing shorts and slides, no helmet, but sustained surprisingly little road rash. The grass was his friend. As I went over to check on him, his buddies came boiling out of the pickup truck they were riding in as lookout. 

He was more shook up than hurt, which is more than I can say for the bike which shed various parts on its trip across our lawn. His friends and I loaded the bike into the back of the truck, and they left,  politely apologizing for the damage to the grass. I am just glad my young friend is OK. I’ll check up on him tomorrow. Maybe it’s time to put up a shingle: “Creekside Mission is Open for Business.” These kids have been on my heart and in my prayers for two years. This is my invitation: Join me in prayer, claiming them for Jesus.

Ten Years

 May 11, 2023

Time has a way of sneaking up from behind and giving you a nip in the posterior when you aren’t paying attention. Even when you’re aware of its passing, it surprises you when you realize how many years are behind you. Of course, I’m talking like the old man I am. I remember in the ‘50s my father talking about living in the ‘30s, and thinking to myself, “Wow! That was a long time ago!” To think that it was more than twenty years ago that we turned into a new Millenium! The muscle cars I grew up with are now fifty to sixty years old. 

Today holds special meaning for me, for ten years ago today, we moved into our present (and hopefully, last) home. I had thought our last home (the first we had ever owned) would also be our forever home, but I hadn’t counted on Linda’s desire to live in Sinclairville. The home we lived in for 13 years, the home in which I had remodeled two bathrooms, added an entry room, tore down two supporting walls to enlarge the kitchen (which I also remodeled), and open up the dining and living room, turned out not to be the one where they would carry me out feet first.

This is, Lord willing, that home. We bought it, completely gutted and remodeled it, and over the course of these ten years, added a master bedroom, a laundry room, and a third bay in the garage. Linda keeps talking about adding a Great Room, but I’m getting to the age where about all I can muster enthusiasm for is a not-so-great room.  I even bought our grave plots so they would be the last ones overlooking our home from the cemetery above the bank across the road. I’ve threatened to install a periscope in mine to keep an eye on the place when I’m gone.

Some people like to move around a lot. I don’t mind traveling, but settling a house is not my idea of fun. There’s something within me that is at odds with the Biblical notion of being merely pilgrims in this world. That being said, I know the dangers of getting too comfortable in this life. If there isn’t within me a longing for something this world cannot provide, I would be unable to distance myself from it enough to obtain an eternal perspective on life, and without that, I know  I would find myself in a death spiral of depression. The more I see of this life, the more I long for that to come, and the more the ancient Christian cry appeals to me: “Maranatha”—Come, Lord Jesus!