The Road to Capa City

A pastor friend of mine grew up near railroad tracks, and as a youngster he used to watch the trains roll by. Day after day, freight cars flashed past to the rhythm of clacking wheels, bearing the names of distant places stenciled large: “LACKAWANNA... SUSQUEHANNA... UNION PACIFIC... and one he puzzled at: CAPA CITY. That was a place he’d never heard of. Then one day he realized that the configuration of the car had distorted the painting, and it was actually one word, not two: CAPACITY - followed by an estimate of how much the car could carry.

Well, the rest of us stumble over this thing called capacity, too. Spiritual capacity. First we don’t realize we have any, and once we do, we still haven’t a clue how much we could really hold of God. And too often, we’re not curious enough to try to find out.

I want to cultivate a curiosity that keeps inviting more and more of the kabod of God, the weight of His glory, as Pastor Rick taught us on Sunday - for I’m sure He’s designed me to carry a much heavier imprint of Himself than I’m currently bearing. And if ever I should reach the kabod-bearing limit I’m designed for, I want to have the attitude that Daniel Henderson speaks of:

“Recently I heard the story of a young boy who fell into a barrel of molasses. As he tasted the sweet substance, he prayed, ‘Lord, please increase my capacity... to match my opportunity.”’

Really, every time I come to the Word, I’m falling into a barrel of molasses. Every time I meet God in prayer, I’m plunged into His sweet presence – whether I realize it or not. Every time I come to Sunday worship, there I am again. In fact, maybe the boy’s molasses prayer would make a great heart-preparation “habit” on Saturday evening - just a few minutes to recognize Sunday's approaching opportunity and to pray for a matching capacity.

If we’d each come prepared in that way, anticipating the heavy kabod of God, Capa City might not be such an unknown place, after all.

What Goes Up...

A group of FAC post-highers left for Cedar Point early this morning. I have a feeling most of them will experience the “Power Tower” – a 300-foot ascent/descent thrill ride billed as an adrenaline factory that launches riders up and blasts them down, at speeds up to 60 miles per hour!

I gave up those kinds of rides long ago. I don’t need to be a physics expert to see that what goes up must come down, and those who are physics experts have devised some torturous ways to make that happen. But the Tower is a great visual illustration of both the law of gravity (on steroids), and the law of grace that Pastor Rick spoke of Sunday morning.

When a sinner accepts Christ and is welcomed into His kingdom, he or she is vaulted (faster than the Tower’s acclaimed zero to 50 in 3 seconds), from the pit of condemnation to heaven itself, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. It’s not just a neat-sounding concept... it really happens. Spiritually, we’re there - instantly. The problem is, we too seldom realize it. We don’t live like it. I guess that’s why Paul had to urge the believers at Colosse to peer out over rail of heaven and see just how high up they were!

“Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then will you also appear with him in glory” (Col. 3:1-4).

In other words, we’ve been lifted to the top – let’s let it captivate our hearts and minds! And let’s look forward to the day when faith becomes sight, and what has already happened spiritually is tangible reality...

Because the best thing about the law of grace is, what goes up needn’t ever come back down!

The End of the Rope

Sandy Taylor recently received a ministry email from Wycliffe missionaries to Papua New Guinea, Jim and Cindi Farr. They ended with these thoughts written by Carol Jean Gallagher:

"I have always been one who could do almost anything I put my mind to
(except maybe sports). I got good grades, made it through SIL school, did
POC with a 4-month-old baby, learned a language, (helped) set up a
preschool curriculum for the Bariai people, did Scripture Use activities
for the Bariai and the PNG Branch, home schooled our kids at various times,kept our finances and life organized and made sure we had what we needed every time we traveled to the village. I was able to do it all.

"For the past few years, though, I have been finding it harder and harder to do it all - at least with peace and joy. Dealing with or avoiding stress
has been a big part of life. A few weeks ago (while on furlough, after a
move, but before I got sick with malaria and appendicitis), I cried out to God, 'I'm at the end of my rope.' Almost immediately I sensed God saying,
'You're not at the end of your rope. I'm your rope, and I have no end.' It
didn't change circumstances, but it gave me hope. I kept pondering that
thought over the next weeks.

"Then God built on it with the following thought, "If you're at the end of
your rope, you’re hanging onto the wrong rope." There really are two ropes. For years, I’ve been hanging onto the rope of "self." Being at the end of my rope is exactly where God wants me. I need to let go of that rope and hang onto God. I have the choice. I can either keep hanging onto my own efforts, or I can let go and hang onto God.

"Lately I'm realizing how worthless my own rope is. Who knows how many years I've been at the end of the rope and haven’t even known it. I've been counting on my grip on the knot on the end of the rope to keep me going. God has been unraveling that knot until there’s nothing to grip anymore. I'm starting to get a picture of God's rope. It's not just a rope to cling to, hoping I don't fall off. God is holding me on. Or rather, I'm actually wrapped inside the rope. It's a comforting place. I feel the rope swaying in the winds, but I don't need to fear; I'm wrapped in the rope. As I allow it, God works the fibers of the rope (himself) into my very being. I'm still learning. I know my trust in him will be tested and temptations to turn to myself will be many. There is a place for our efforts, but only through the power of Christ. Hopefully I'll put these things into practice in my life and learn to work them out in practical ways."

Hopefully, we will too.

Simpler Times

This entry is for many of us who, during Sunday's sermon, recognized the need to simplify our lives, and would like to pursue the challenge a bit further...

Suggested Scriptures for cultivating simplicity:
"Be still and know that I am God" Psalm 46:10
"Follow Me" Mark 2:14 (that cuts through the clutter, doesn't it?)
"I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation... I can do everything through him who gives me strength" Phil. 4:11-13
"The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it" Matt 13:45-46
"Do not work for food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life" John 6:27

Additional resources for cultivating simplicity:
- Simpler Times by Thomas Kinkade - highly recommended!
- Freedom of Simplicity by Richard Foster - in-depth call to simplicity
- check out this Discipleship Journal article (copy into browser): http://www.navpress.com/EPubs/DisplayArticle/1/1.112.2.1.html
- go to: www.discipleshipjournal.com, click on "online archives" on the left, and type in "simplicity" for more great online reading

Suggested "first steps" for cultivating simplicity:
- take a personal retreat (a morning, a day, a 24-hour getaway), just you and the Lord.
- if you aren't already, begin a daily quiet time with God and His Word.
- use your lunch half-hour or hour to seek God's realignment in your life
- step by step, begin to uncomplicate your lifestyle - from your menu to your schedule. Don't say it can't be done. Just do it!

And in the process may we learn the secret sung by the simple Shaker people:
"Tis a gift to be simple, tis a gift to be free
Tis a gift to come down where we ought to be
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
Twill be in the valley of love and delight..."

Scars and Stripes

“O beautiful for spacious skies,” many will sing this week, as Americans celebrate freedom, and the stars and stripes wave proudly nearby. “How beautiful is the body of Christ,” Rachel sang to us Sunday as we celebrated freedom in Jesus through the scars and stripes that He bore for us. And the bridge of that song challenged me afresh:

“And as He laid down His life, we offer this sacrifice, that we will live just as He died”

How did He die? Scarred and striped. The way His followers will live. The apostle Paul wrote, “I bear on my body the marks of Jesus” (Galatians 6:17). Because of his persistent witness to Jesus, he’d been hunted down and flogged and stoned - and he wore the evidences to prove it.

Jesus could have lived a pristine life and died a respectable death, I suppose. No blood. No violence. Nothing invasive. Just a quiet leave-taking and a returning to His Father. Paul could have retreated from persecution to a safe place, to write for future generations that might better appreciate what he had to say. But I needed the incredible plan of the Father that means my salvation. I needed Paul’s example of radical discipleship. I needed the blood and the scars and the stripes – and you do, too. They are beautiful to us, aren’t they?

Similarly, you and I could live self-contained lives and die respectably and without much mess or fuss - but would that be living “just as He died”? Might somebody near us need to see what real discipleship looks like? How will they, if we never take off the self-protective armor and embrace the specific plan that God has for our lives, however invasive and messy that might get? (There are scars and stripes that are not worn on the outside, you know). Besides, if we’ve paid no price and bear no marks, inward or outward, that identify us with Christ, might we one day hear, “Sorry, I never knew you”?

Some say that on that day Christ will bear no scars to remind us of our sin and shame. Yet in his vision of the yet-to-come, John saw a Lamb “looking like it had been slain” (Rev. 5:6). A Christ who had been crucified. I don’t want to show up on that scene looking like I’ve just come from a stroll in the park. I want to be willing to pay the price – whatever it means in my life – to join Jesus and His beautiful Body, the Church, in the Fellowship of the Scars and Stripes forever.