That’s God!

“Did you ever think, That’s God eating my soup?” Max Lucado asks Mary in his book God Came Near.

It’s an awesome question… and not for Mary alone. Although we tend to think of Mary’s experience as unique (she rubbed shoulders with the Creator, the Almighty, the I AM!), it’s our experience, too, as certainly as it was hers. It’s just that He is within as Spirit, and therefore less obvious. He’s easy to overlook, easy to neglect, even easy to conveniently forget…

Yet Jesus told His disciples, just before He left them,“If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching. My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him” (John 14:23 NIV). And I can say,

That’s God living under my roof.

That’s God watching my television.

That’s God riding in my car.

What’s more, Jesus says to each of us, “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me” (Rev. 3:20 NIV). In a spiritual sense, then:

That’s God sitting at my heart-table.

That’s God breaking the Word of Life to me.

That’s God feasting with me

Talking with me

Laughing with me.

To be honest, I don’t think I’d want to trade places with Mary. She had Jesus at her table; I have Him in my heart. She fed Him; He feeds me. She watched Him walk off toward Jerusalem; He has come to me to stay. But I do want to share her response to the Christ - to treasure up all these things and ponder them in my heart,

until I begin to see as clearly as if the Christ-child played in my doorway…

That’s God eating my soup.

How Far?

“The journey from heaven to earth is the longest journey anyone has ever taken,” Pastor Rick said in his sermon on Sunday. Have you ever tried to grasp just how far Jesus had to come?

How many miles is it, after all, from the throneroom of heaven to a cave in Bethlehem? From total sovereignty to absolute dependence? From incredible glory to almost complete obscurity? From intimate fellowship with the Father and the Son to the peculiar barriers of flesh - an infant mind that cannot even comprehend its surroundings, eyes that cannot focus, lips that cannot yet form words?

How long is the journey from unending perfection to the decay of this sordid earth? From dazzling light and splendor to a globe that spends half its time in darkness? From complete wholeness and sufficiency to poverty and hunger? From omnipotent power to weakness and weariness? From myriads of angels in instant attendance to a mom and dad trying their imperfect best to understand the incoherent expressions of their infant Son?

How far, how really, really far, is it from superintending the creation of the universe to taking the form of the created being? From infinite knowledge to the barely conscious mind of an infant? From answering to the Father to taking orders from a carpenter and his wife?

How far did Jesus come, when He allowed Himself to be contracted from the infinite corners of His existence, into a microscopic embryo inside of Mary… utterly oblivious to existence, completely dependent on His Father and those entrusted with His care?

How far He came… for me and you! Truly He “made Himself nothing” for our sakes, joining us here so that we can someday join Him in all that He left. Standing beside the manger this Christmas season, we can only shake our heads in amazement, and whisper the words of the psalmist David,

Surely, You stooped down to make us great.* And we are eternally grateful.

*Psalm 18:35b NIV

A Smile for Eeyore

I hung up my favorite Christmas decoration last week. I’d forgotten about him, so I smiled when I pulled back the tissue paper and there lay Eeyore, hand-stitched onto a cheerful Christmas stocking made by my mom last year.

Are you familiar with Eeyore , the old grey donkey and pal of Winnie-the-Pooh in the Hundred Acre Wood? If you are, you might wonder why I said the stocking was cheerful. Poor gloomy Eeyore is stuck on looking on the dark side of things, often mourning what’s been lost (his tail), or forgotten (his birthday). Unlike the irrepressible Tigger, Eeyore’s most exuberant display of excitement is a flat, almost cynical “Hooray. How wonderful.”

Maybe you’re a bouncy free spirit like Tigger, or a fearful soul like Piglet… but of all of A.A. Milne’s characters, I’ve resonated most with Eeyore. By nature – the old, not the new - what an unnecessary weight I carried around. What a sad old heart beat inside. Like him, I often celebrated my blessings while waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But this stocking is cheerful, genuinely cheerful. Eeyore’s ears are droopy as ever, but there’s a festive hat on his head and a genuine smile on his face. And if you follow his gaze, you see the reason for that smile – a little tree topped with a large, bright yellow Christmas star.

Eeyore and I have both found that by looking at the reason for Christmas, and for life, we don’t have to operate by the old nature anymore. We don’t have to exude gloom or cynicism or despair or negativity. The secret lies in what we’re looking at.

If Eeyore ever becomes distracted and decides to trot off my Christmas stocking, he’ll likely trot right back to his old gloomy point of view. The same goes for me, too. So I’d best hold my position, with my eyes fixed on Jesus, convinced that no matter what else is happening in my Hundred Acre Woods, Christmas is to be celebrated… Life is to be celebrated… because of Jesus.

Hooray!

How really, really wonderful!



(www.disneyclips.com)

The Spirit of the Age

My boys used to have a football video game complete with “trash talk” – competitive taunts the players hurled at each other as they butted helmets or stiff-armed opponents: “That’s MY turf!”… “You goin’ DOWN, man!”…

I don’t suppose you or I have ever talked that way to people in our path… but sometimes our attitude on the inside isn’t much better. Did you catch it Sunday? “The spirit of the age is the advancement of self – concentrating on my personal happiness and on meeting my needs.” That spirit, though, is dead wrong: it sends us running for the opposite end zone, directly away from happiness.

C&MA founder A.B. Simpson, who was a keen observer of both God and men, said “Many of our griefs and heartbreaks spring from the purest selfishness, wounded pride, ambition, self-love, or the loss of something which we should not have called our own. The death of self blots out a universe of wretchedness and brings a heaven of joy.”

Simpson developed these thoughts in a curious little booklet titled “31 KINGS or Victory over Self” (available at rarechrisianbooks.com). The title is taken from the number of rulers Joshua and the children of Israel had to defeat in order to possess Canaanland west of the Jordan. Simpson lists 31 self-sins (the Self Dynasty) that must be overcome - some obvious, like self-glorifying and self-importance; others more subtle, such as self-consciousness and selfish sorrow.

They all fit right in with the spirit of the age… the spirit that promises so much but delivers so little, the spirit we are not to be conformed to, but transformed from: “[Christ] died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves, but for him who died for them and was raised again” (2 Cor. 5:15 NIV).

So are we transformed? When we believers say we have “given our life to Christ”… have we? Individualism and independence are so ingrained in us that it is hard to truly give up our life and our right to our own way, to literally trade the rest of our days and dreams for Someone else’s agenda.

But if we just keep saying yes to Him and allowing His Spirit to claim all our territory, spiritual transformation will eventually bring us to this: everything we were and ever would be on our own is dead, gone, a thing of the past. The final whistle has been blown; that game is over. The life we now live is Christ’s life through us …

…until on a heavenly turf our life is returned to us – full, perfect, and unending.

God-in-a-Minute

It sounds like a convenience food, doesn’t it? Like something you can pick up at the supermarket in aisle 17, next to the minute rice and the instant mashed potatoes. This past Sunday, I appreciated Pastor Keith’s emphasis on spending time with God. While there’s a place for fast food and a place for brief devotionals and short prayers, we need to understand something:

When we pick up the box of instant potatoes, we’ve decided that the nearly half-hour required to make homemade mashed potatoes can be better spent elsewhere. And when we opt for the short form of communication with God, we’ve again said that the time is better spent elsewhere.

Both decisions could be the right ones, under certain circumstances. But we could take a timely object lesson from the Mayflower pilgrims. That autumn feast in 1621 was long on preparation, from lessons in planting to prayers in waiting to celebration in harvest. It seems safe to say that at that first feast, NOTHING was instant. No Thanksgiving-in-a-bag. No meal-in-a-minute. So it’s appropriate that the meal you’ll eat this Thursday won’t showcase quick-order burgers and fries either.

Like the Thanksgiving feast we’ll enjoy this week, God Himself has prepared a spiritual banquet, and spared no time and expense in doing it. He calls us every day to a table loaded with promises and blessings. He sits at the head of the table, waiting for us to join Him… but too often He watches us race past the table, grabbing a leg-of-promise to carry off into our busy day. What’s that He’s saying as we rush past our empty chair?

“I am the Lord your God, who brought you up out of Egypt. Open wide your mouth and I will fill it… If you would but listen to me, you would be fed with the finest of wheat; with honey from the rock I would satisfy you” (from Ps. 81:10-16 NIV).

This week, let’s enjoy a feast for the soul as well as for the stomach. Let’s sit down with God in prayer and worship and fellowship, go for that stuffed-to-the-gills feeling of utter contentment in the spirit as well as the stomach... and accept His invitation to keep coming back to the table every day!

The Nearest Exit

“God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it” (1 Cor. 10:13 NIV, emphasis added).

As I sat in the sanctuary Sunday and heard these words, my eyes were drawn to the EXIT sign above the platform doors. I thought about how every tempting situation has one of those EXIT signs somewhere – a way of escape. (How hard it is to remember that in the time of temptation!)

And I couldn’t help but recall, too, the story made popular many years ago by Wendell “Wendy” Bagwell, a Christian singer and comedian, southern-style.

It seems he was once the guest of a congregation which, after the concert, proceeded to bring out a half-dozen rattlesnakes to handle as evidence of their faith. Apparently in their maneuvers with the serpents, they blocked the entrance door of the church. Wendy was more than a little nervous at that point, and asked someone nearby where the back door was. “They don’t have a back door,” he was told.

To which he replied, “Where do you reckon they want one?”

We're in Wendy's shoes more often than we realize. The Bible calls Satan a serpent. A tempter. Temptation is a sort of being "shut up in a room with him," a situation that sometimes becomes more drawn-out and dangerous than necessary. Maybe we're not nervous enough to have the sense to leave, or we feel that we haven’t conquered temptation unless we can be near it without succumbing, so we “keep the liquor in the house.” We sidle up to the snake.

Part of the battle is knowing when to run. We don't flee when when Satan comes to attack our faith or hinder our progress or hamper our witness or bury us under a landslide of discouragement or fear. That's the time to stand firm (James 4:7 – notice that Satan is the one who will be doing the fleeing!). But in the time of temptation, there’s no need to stick around and court disaster. God has given us a will and a pair of feet –

We don’t even have to create our own back door.

Sizing Up Sin

"He who has been forgiven much loves much” (Luke 7:47).

I’ve been thinking about this line from Sunday’s sermon, about what it means for me. Of course I came to Christ as a sinner - but not a particularly remarkable one, as we think of sinners. I did not come as a serial killer or a Mafia member or a former Nazi prison guard, and I’d never contemplated becoming a suicide bomber. I’m guessing you might not fall into any of those categories, either. Does that mean we can’t love Jesus as much as those who have been forgiven for grandiose crimes?

I see that Jesus spoke those words to Simon the Pharisee, at whose home he was dining. Simon had objected when a sinful woman anointed Jesus feet, but Jesus rebuked him:

“You didn’t give me water for my feet, but she has washed them with her tears. You didn’t anoint my head but she anointed my feet with costly perfume. She has been forgiven much, and she loves much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little.”

I don’t know if Simon got the message that day. But maybe the light began to dawn, some months later, when a cross stood against a darkened sky and Jesus groaned, “Father, forgive them for they don’t know what they are doing,” and a nearby centurion breathed in awe, “Surely this was the Son of God.”

Because it’s Jesus’ death that puts sin into proportion, isn’t it? At the foot of the cross, I see that no matter how little – or much – wrong I have done, Jesus had to die. Just my being born made it necessary for Him to die, because my innate, inherited sinful nature needed atoned for, before I ever told a lie or threw a tantrum or kicked the cat. Simon’s did, too. If he was forgiven little, it wasn’t because of the size of his sin, but because he hadn’t asked for forgiveness.

I think that one good way to experience God’s grace at the gut-level is to just sit down at the foot of the cross awhile. To take the time to consider what it cost Jesus and where I would be without His self-sacrifice. To realize that my sin was evil enough to bring the Lord of Glory to earth, sharp enough to pierce and scar Him, heavy enough to make Him gasp, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Big enough to make me love Him much, for He has forgiven me so much.

Modus Operandi

Have you ever taken umbrage?

Umbrage??

No, I’m not asking whether you ever stole something from the produce department at Wegman’s (although it does sound like something brought in from the garden). Or whether you cheated on a table game or slipped some foreign coins into your pocket… To take umbrage means to take offense to something. To become resentful, hurt, angered by someone’s words or by what they did – or didn’t – do.

“Umbrage” comes from the Latin umbra – a shade, shadow. It gives us our word “umbrella” – a shade from the sun. Umbrage, however, is a darker kind of shade, a shadow that blocks the light of joy and freedom and communion with people and with God.

You’ve seen umbrage in the resentful glower of a child who has been reprimanded. You’ve heard it in the cold silence of a friend. You’ve tasted it in your caustic response to a perceived insult… A shadow that can be seen and heard and tasted is a powerful thing, isn’t it?

Pastor Mearl Bradley, a wise and godly man, once commented on his pro-active approach to umbrage: “I have made a vow to the Lord – I refuse to be offended.” Regardless of what somebody said or did, he had determined that umbrage was not an option for him.

Pastor Mearl wasn’t naïve enough to believe that he could humanly meet every offense with a gracious spirit. But he believed that he could make a decision. He could establish a modus operandi, a pre-determined method of operating. And he could do it before the wrong was done and the pain had pierced and the hurt had risen… before he ended up sitting in the dark, shaded by resentment, struggling with his response.

I don’t mean to downplay the challenges of such a vow, and he didn’t, either. It can only be kept by the grace of God, and sometimes only after long struggle and dogged perseverance. But maybe if Mearl’s formal vow is more than we feel able to commit to, we might consider this prayer:

“Lord, by Your grace, no matter what You allow to come my way, I intend to forgive. I do not intend to replay the offense, nor give it any of my time and energy, but instead refer it to You and continue walking in step with the Spirit.

“I cannot do this, but I can choose it – and trust You to make me able to do it by Your grace. When I struggle, may Calvary be my example. And when I fail, rescue me from the shadow and bring me into Your light again, in the strong name of Jesus.

“Amen.”

Praying Man

I heard a new southern gospel song this week. The tune of Ronnie Hinson’s “Praying Man” was catchy, the beat was lively, but it was this line that really got my attention:

“Never throw a hungry lion in a den with a praying man.”

We know what happens when you throw a praying man in a den with hungry lions! In Daniel 6:22, the prophet Daniel reported (after a night in close quarters with the king of beasts): “My God sent His angel, and he shut the mouths of the lions. They have not hurt me, because I was found innocent in his sight!”

But if you stand back and look at the whole story, the real lions were the jealous governors who roared and prowled and plotted to devour the despised Daniel. The real den was Rock to which Daniel had fled through prayer. And when Daniel was finally “lifted from the den, no wound was found on him, because he had trusted in his God.” But “the men who had falsely accused Daniel were brought in and thrown into the lion’s den…and before they reached the floor of the den, the lions overpowered them and crushed all their bones” (vv.23-24). So much for the enemies of God.

The stories of the Bible are told as examples to us. And the lesson I learn from Daniel’s deliverance is this: Satan still goes about as an envious governor, blind with jealousy, a prowling lion looking for someone to devour (1 Peter 5:8)…yet I don’t have to cower in fear. No, I don’t mean to downplay our spiritual enemy. I am no match for Satan and his forces. You, too, are unbelievably defenseless, incredibly vulnerable – but Jesus has invited, “Abide in me.” Jesus offers to be our den of safety.

The enemy may intimidate, the situation might go from bad to worse, the hands of others who wish they could help may be tied, the night might be long and dark and unsettling… but ultimately, the enemy can’t survive on God’s turf, nor devour the godly man or woman who, through Jesus’ name, calls and counts on Him.

Satan just can’t survive in the den of a praying man.

In Whose Shoes?

Pittsburgh Steelers fans are hardcore. I knew that, but I really realized it after my son moved to Pittsburgh. People would come into the Lowe’s store where he worked, sporting permanent tattoos of a favorite Steelers player. Jamie noticed the #7 emblazoned on the arm of one diehard fan. “What will you do if Roethlisberger gets traded?” Jamie asked curiously. I guess it would then become a piece of memorabilia.

More recently, into the Firestone at which Jamie now works rolled a unique car... half of it was painted gold, and the other half was painted black. On one side was painted the word “Steelers,” on the other, “Pirates,” and on the roof, “Penguins.” The interior sported black and gold seatcovers and floormats. Somebody’s passion for Pittsburgh sports had surely become a moving landmark around the city, and created somewhat of an identity for its owner.

People get their identities from other areas besides sports. We find our identities in actors and actresses, music idols, the wealthy, the successful, the famous, the beautiful. We watch their movies, buy their CD’s, wear their T-shirts, read their books, support their causes, defend their lifestyles and excesses, and too often adopt their viewpoints. What’s with this hunger we have to live in somebody else’s shoes?

I think it’s because we know, instinctively, that ours don’t make big enough footprints. But it takes awhile to realize that nobody else’s does, either. The only person really worth identifying with, in the end, is Jesus Christ.

The apostle Paul discovered this, and wrote, “I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus, for whose sake I have lost all things...I want to know Christ, and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death...” In fact, Paul went so far as to say that, “For to me, to live is Christ.”

Now that’s identifying – and with someone who won’t ever have a losing season or be traded to another franchise. Someone Who won’t let us down, set a bad example, disappoint, embarrass, or reject His “fans.” In fact, He invites us to follow Him. To be like Him.

And the curious thing is, we are never more uniquely ourselves than when we identify with the right Person.

Got Splanch?

Turning points.

If you’ve been alive very long, you’ve had a few. Maybe you’ve even participated in helping someone else experience a turning point. Perhaps you led them to the Lord, assisted them during a financial setback, launched them on a new career, prayed for their physical healing, or counseled them through a rough spot in their marriage.

Do you know where turning points often come from? From splanchnizomai. Really.

The Jericho Road traveler, who was beaten, robbed, and left half-dead, experienced (thankfully) a turning point. It didn’t come about through those who preached compassion. It didn’t come from those who administered the purse-strings of public charity. It didn’t come from a victim’s advocacy group or local law enforcement, as helpful as these all can be. It came from splanchnizomai, the Greek word for pity and compassion. Splanch, if I may.

Splanch is that gut-wrenching emotion, that pity so strong that it moves one to action. The Good Samaritan was so moved by splanch that he would have had a difficult time not responding. And what a Christ-like reaction! Jesus had an identical response to the leper who begged Him for healing (Mark 1:40-42), and to the crowds who milled about Him like sheep without a shepherd (Mt. 9:33-38). He wove it into His parables – into the heart of the king who canceled his servant’s unpayable debt, and the father who welcomed the prodigal home. All had splanch.

The neat thing about splanch is that, as The Expository Dictionary of Bible Words points out, it often brings about a turning point in someone’s life. Think about it. The half-dead man, rescued. The leper, healed. The prodigal, welcomed with celebration. The servant’s debt cancelled. And Jesus’ response to the helpless crowds? He immediately gave His disciples authority to heal and drive out evil spirits, and sent them on their first “missionary journey.” The Dictionary notes, “The loving compassion of one person literally changed the life of another, for the person who cared was moved to act and so set the needy person on a new course in life.”

I’ve been the recipient of splanch, too. And I’m eternally grateful that somebody was moved to reach out to me in a way that set me on a new course in life. I’d love to be God’s channel for bringing turning points into the lives of others... but I think I’m a bit shallow in the compassion department. If I’m going to love my neighbor as myself, I need to allow God to make me like Jesus. To open my eyes to that neighbor. To break my heart for their condition. To send me into action that can, by His power, bring them to a turning point in their life.

How about you? Got splanch?

Professional Listeners

In his Saturday afternoon workshop on spiritual warfare, speaker Dave Butts shared what is, in his opinion, the greatest deception in the church: hearing instead of doing the Word of God.

When we sit under an inspiring speaker, Dave said, we want to hear them again. When we read a powerful book, we want to go out and buy more that the author has written. Too often, that’s as far as it goes. Instead of being moved to action, we want to hear more. As a result, we become Professional Listeners.

“To suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear,” writes Paul in 2 Tim. 4:3. Yes, he’s speaking of those who enjoy a watered-down version of the truth, one that sounds soothing and requires no response. But am I much better when I thrill to a challenging Sunday morning sermon or a stimulating Community Life discussion... and walk out having already filed it away as a great experience, looking forward to the next time that my itching ears will be scratched once again?

James 1:22-25 challenges me:

“Do not merely listen to the word and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in the mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it – he will be blessed in what he does” (NIV).

We need to spend time with truth we’ve heard. To begin a habit of studying Sunday morning’s sermon notes (perhaps on a quiet Sunday afternoon) and Bible study insights, asking the Spirit to show us practical steps to applying it to our lives.

For instance, we were challenged Sunday morning to boldness in prayer. To paying attention to Who we’re talking to when we pray, and to our surroundings in the throneroom of heaven. We were encouraged to pray the Word, using the avenue of prayer to discover and request what God wants, not what we selfishly desire. We were challenged to pray big prayers, prayers that will impact eternity, instead of little ones that have to do only with our protection, our health, our earthly life.

I was offered a glimpse of myself during that sermon... and I don’t want to forget what I saw in that mirror. Rather than looking forward to the next great spiritual truth that comes my way, I need to spend some time with what I heard. I need to let God make some permanent changes in the way I pray, and in why I pray. I need to follow the example of the crowd who listened to the Apostle Peter’s powerful post-Pentecost message: “They were cut to the heart and said to Peter and the other apostles, ‘Brothers, what shall we do?” ((Acts 2:37 NIV).

We’ve been given some powerful truth regarding boldness in prayer.

What shall we do?

“No.”

I once heard theologian David Ashton speak on the topic, “Reasons Why God Says No to Prayers.” May I share from my notes?

Sometimes God answers with a “No”...

1. Although He’d rather say yes, but there’s sin in my life. (Ps. 66:18).
2. Because God is God. He has a mind and a game plan of His own. He knows what is best.
3. Because I do not persist in praying. In Mt. 8:7, the Greek actually means, “Ask and keep on asking... seek and keep on seeking... knock and keep on knocking... Why might He want me to persist?
.....my greatest need is for fellowship with God Himself
.....my desire for the answer will be increased and I’ll appreciate it more
.....my patience and frustration tolerance will be developed
4. God says no because my prayers collide with each other. In these cases, God wants to say yes to my greatest prayers. Ex: “Help me start attending Bible Study each Sunday night” and “Help me be picked for the skydiving team” (that practices Sunday evenings).
5. He may say no because I haven’t prayed about it with other people. Why might He want me to pray with others?
.....sometimes it’s hard to pray alone. When I’m dry or discouraged, I need the prayers of my own life primed by the prayer of others.
.....sometimes I can see the problem more objectively when I share it with another
.....they might be part of the answer to those prayers
.....I might learn how to pray better. “I love to eavesdrop to learn how saints pray,” says Ashton.
.....I am part of the Body of Christ, not a Lone Ranger
.....God is there in a special way when two or more agree (Mt. 18:19,20). Prayer unites us at the subterranean levels of our lives.
6. God only answers real prayers – prayers that are meant, not my lips saying one thing, my heart another.
7. God may say no to my prayers because they interfere with the freedom of my neighbor (their free will). Still, I should intercede because God wants me to be a participant in the salvation of the world.
8. God may say no because I have not prayed in the right way. There is a healthy way to pray [desiring His will alone], and an unhealthy way [my way].

My notes are incomplete, but one more point catches my eye:

It is not bad, Ashton asserted, to live with mystery. Many times I just don’t know what God is doing, or why He is saying “No” or “Not now.” I’m thinking that those are the times when it’s important, as Pastor Rick reminded us Sunday, to bank on God’s character or, as the Babbie Mason song says, “When you can’t trace his hand, trust His heart.” And His Word:

This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. And if we know that he hears us – whatever we ask – we know that we have what we asked of him. – 1 John 5:14,15 NIV, emphasis mine.

The Complete Works of Harry L. Girts

Following my stepfather’s funeral two years ago, my mom gave me a box containing an assortment of files and packets of sermon notes. The Reverend Harry L. Girts had served as pastor and traveling evangelist for over 60 years. In his painstaking style he’d carefully and prayerfully prepared and typed uncounted messages, delivering them at camp meetings, pastorates, revival meetings, interim pastoral assignments, Bible studies, and wherever else he had opportunity to preach.

As I stood looking down at The Complete Works of Harry L. Girts (give or take any missing files and folders), I could have thought, “So a lifetime of preaching, from age 20 to age 86, boils down to this - a relatively small pile of notes stored away in someone’s basement.” But it seemed, instead, something far more than that. Something that should be handled with reverence. An almost holy body of work. That box represented years of study, decades of prayer, repeated listenings for the still small voice of the Spirit, and then hours and hours behind, as he called it, “the sacred desk,” expounding what he’d heard in secret to anyone who would listen.

I was reminded of all this after reading something written by Franky Schaeffer in Addicted to Mediocrity. It applies to all of us who are carrying out Christ’s call – as pastor or Sunday School teacher or musician or discipler or daycare worker or whatever we are doing for Him. It especially applies to those who file away last week’s teaching notes with a tinge of disappointment in the lack of results. Who mail yet another seemingly insignificant card of encouragement, or explain a vital truth – again – to one who is struggling, or contribute a mere drop in the bucket toward a financial need. To such, Franky’s words are heartening:

“You cannot expect too much too soon. It is the lifelong body of work that counts. It is that body of work whose expression means something and changes cultures in which we live in terms of bearing fruit. One individual work cannot say everything.”

One individual work... like a single sheet of type-written paper in Harry’s files. It’s incomplete. It’s a part of something larger – a body of work. And so is the lesson and the song and the sermon and the little piece of ministry that we do this very day. For in the end, what we’ll present to God won’t just be our best effort, our finest moment, our most productive event, but the whole of all we did for Him.

That prospect encourages me to heed Franky’s conclusion: “Produce, produce, produce. Create, create, create. Work, work, work. That is what we must do as Christians... exercise our God-given talent, praise him through it, enjoy it, bear fruit in the age in which we live.”

And I think that in the age to come, when the veil is lifted to reveal our body of work, God will have added all the ripple effect, every speck of difference it made to someone else, and every way He used us when we had no clue it was happening... and we will stand amazed at all He accomplished through us.

To Dance in a Cave

It’s amazing what can be done to spruce up a cave, isn’t it?

For instance, in the Luray Caverns of Virginia you will find the world’s largest musical instrument – the Great Stalacpipe Organ, invented by Mr. LeIand Sprinkle, a mathematician and electronic scientist at the Pentagon. Stalactites covering 3 1/2 acres strike up a symphony when electronically tapped by rubber-tipped mallets.

Kentucky’s Mammoth Cave website advertises Diamond Caverns, where you’ll enjoy a “state-of-the-art lighting system with modern concrete trails and safety hand railings throughout.” Or you can take an underground boat tour of Lost River Cave, where a subterranean Nite Club operated until the 1960’s (the dance floor has been restored!). Or visit Outlaw Cave where, legend has it, famous outlaw Jesse James hid out. Join his memory for a “35-minute non-strenuous, guided tour filled with beautiful stalactites, stalagmites, flowstones and other breath taking formations.”

Or perhaps you would prefer Onyx Cave, billed as “a colorful cave... a cool, comfortable 60 degree temperature, year-round. Beautiful onyx formations can be seen throughout. Tours of Onyx Cave are not strenuous and may be enjoyed by young and old alike.”

I am ready to go. Seriously, sign me up for those cave experiences... they sound like great adventure.

But having already visited a few, I’ve noticed that people enter a cave in groups, with a leader and plenty of lighting and “modern trails and safety hand railings throughout.” Someone has already been hard at work to change the former look of the place. Take away the group and the guide and the light and the safety measures and the music, and where am I? Lost and alone in a claustrophobic maze, petrified by the blackness, praying for rescue.

When Pastor Rick spoke of the spiritual cave-dweller’s experience Sunday, he wasn’t talking about "something that can be enjoyed by young and old alike." No one calls ahead to book seasons in the cave of cancer or divorce or emotional illness or financial reversal, and there’s precious little inherent beauty in those circumstances...

And yet, thankfully, Somebody did brave the darkness and danger to bring music and lighting and safety and joy and, yes, even dancing into the lonely silence of those caves. Into my cave, and yours. Jesus went through death and hell to become Light in those places. He gave His Spirit to be a constant Guide. He makes His childrens’ steps firm (Ps. 37:23) and turns mourning to dancing (Ps. 30:11) -simply by bringing His Presence into it.

So sometimes, when all goes black, I have to sit down in the silence and let my eyes adjust to the Light... maybe you’ve found it so, too. Only then can I see that I’m not alone. Only then do I hear a faint melody of joy coming from deeper places...

Only then do I discover that His Presence has changed the look of the place forever.

Grape Arbor Theology

While visiting relatives a couple years ago, I fell in love with their grape arbor. Sturdy vines, like little tree trunks, grew up each side of the wooden structure, massed at the top, and spilled down over the sides in leafy abandon. Under this shady cave, a swing hung from a rustic log frame - clearly an invitation to while away a fall afternoon with a good book and a cup of tea...

My ooohs and aaahs were heard; my son came home and built me an arbor of my own. I immediately planted grapevines and began the slow quest for that shady cave. If leaf growth stays ahead of Japanese Beetle intake, in a couple years I hope to have my own hidden getaway!

Maybe that’s one reason I’ve been thinking a lot this summer about Jesus’ words: “I am the vine; you are the branches” (John 15:5). About what it means to be a branch – a good branch that produces the fruit He’s looking for. And I’ve come to this conclusion: The only thing I’m supposed to do is stay in connection with the Vine. Jesus’ exact words were “Abide in Me.” Remain. Stay. (v. 4). That’s where my time and my energy and my passion need to focus.

I’ve logged a fair amount of time on my arbor swing this summer, and I’ve witnessed what it means to "abide.” Without exception the branches have been rather low-key. They haven’t raised a sweat about anything. No whining if their clusters of grapes compared poorly with other’s, no fussing for a better place in the sun, no moaning or groaning in an effort to produce the yellow seedless grapes prophesied by the white plastic tag at planting time.

All they’ve done – ALL they’ve done – is hang onto that vine. Whatever happened as a result, happened. It was not their business. Frankly, some were pulled away from neighboring branches (tendrils ripping despite my care) and tied alone along bare beams. Some were bent at new angles as I trained them in different directions. Some lost their first precious clusters of grapes as they withered and fell off during the dry spell. And yes, the leaves of many were riddled by destructive beetles.

But they’re all still clinging to that vine, every last branch. And I’m tempted to write a lot more but I’ll resist. Instead, I’ll invite you to find a hidden getaway, open the good Book to John 15, and think about the Vine, the branch, and the only thing we need to do.

More Crumpets, Anyone?

I had a little tea party
This afternoon at three.
'Twas very small-
Three guests in all-
Just I, myself and me.
Myself ate all the sandwiches,
While I drank up the tea;
'Twas also I who ate the pie
And passed the cake to me.
(The Tea Party, Jessica Nelson North)

“Small.” I think that is the operative word in this little scenario – a small party, a small guest list, a small heart, a small world.

Been there. I’ve grown quite a few soul sizes since then, but... I wonder what would happen if we really threw the “tea party” of our lives open to everyone? If every person we met in the course of a day truly was received by us as Christ Himself? Is that a scary thought? (What if I run out of sandwiches? Out of conversation? Out of time? Out of resources? What if just anyone sits down next to me? What if it grows to be a very large party indeed, and I lose control of it? What if... what if...?)

Jesus answered all our what-ifs, leaving no excuse for sitting alone at the little table of our lives, munching crumpets and sipping tea in self-satisfied silence. “For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you (Luke 6:38). Give generously of your time and attention and compassion and energy, and the response will be generous – from people, and from Me.” In fact, Paul’s message to the Corinthians (2 Cor. 9:6-15) might be paraphrased this way:

Remember this: whoever invites only a few to his tea party will have fellowship with only a few. Whoever throws the party open to everyone will have a happy crowd! But God will not force you to broaden your world – He loves it when you willingly share the wideness of His heart. If you choose to do so, He’s well able to supply you with enough “tea in the teapot and crumpets on the plate” and grace and opportunity to bless others, so that you can always honor your guests like they were Christ Himself.

So set out some extra chairs. Pile the crumpets high in preparation. Today’s tea party is by open invitation, and every lonely, hungry person who stops by will be Christ Himself...

How to Paint a Fence

Privileged and honored. That’s the only logical response to the news we heard in Sunday’s sermon: God has made each of us ambassadors for His Kingdom, and through us He makes His appeal to those dwelling in a realm of fear and death. I’m afraid we don’t always embrace it for the privilege it is, though. It reminds me of a devotional given by Tom Anderson at a Bible quiz meet some years ago, with the help of Mark Twain...

Do you remember Twain’s Tom Sawyer? It seems that one perfectly delightful Saturday morning when “all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life,” Tom appeared on the sidewalk, a paintbrush in one hand and a bucket of whitewash in the other. The morning would be spent whitewashing the fence – Aunt Polly’s orders. Tom “surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank... compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged.”

By midafternoon, though, a succession of friends had swapped prized possessions (twelve marbles, a one-eyed kitten, six firecrackers...) for the opportunity to paint a section of that fence. After all, it was an exclusive job (Aunt Polly had insisted on Tom’s doing it!) and not just anyone could pull it off - but they could be a part of it! Tom had managed to make the job so appealing that they eagerly traded hours of personal freedom for the privilege of sweating and laboring with a paintbrush and a bucket of whitewash.

Sometimes when I’m doing something for the Lord, I remember those boys at the fence. One had a deep aura of gloom and looked for any way out of it... the others enthusiastically gave away a personal treasure for the privilege of doing exactly the same thing. One envied his friends’ carefree existence, while others willingly gave up their leisure. One was finally content to loll about, collecting trinkets, while the others actually accomplished something.

The difference, of course, is that when I work for the Lord I’m not just doing somebody else’s work for them; I’m carrying out God’s assignment to me. I’m not just joining a lesser cause that has been inflated to sound grand and glorious... there is no greater cause! And I’m not working for someone who didn’t want the job himself; I’m working with Jesus in a quest for souls that means everything to Him. I’m trading a brief “day” of leisure for an eternal Day of reward. I’m trading personal trinkets for treasure in heaven that will last a lot longer than the pop and fizzle of a half-dozen firecrackers.

Makes me feel honored to stand at His fence today...

The Christian Community Association

Community association rules are intriguing.

Having been rural-raised among the Allegheny foothills of Warren County, I never knew that home ownership could be contingent upon painting the house a pre-approved color, choosing a pet of a particular breed and size, having the garage door open only 15 minutes at a time, or limiting the number of guests at tomorrow’s dinner party.

I understand the logic, to a point. Settling a lot of people into a little space requires some order. And I suppose the simple solution is, if you don’t like the rules, don’t buy into that kind of a community. Go live in the country and make yourself happy.

The problem comes when the community association mindset permeates the church, until the acceptability of an individual depends upon their conformity to inconsequential (and often unwritten) practices and preferences. Christ’s Body cannot adopt the mindset that works in the subdivision: “Like it or leave it.” It’s just not an option.

Why? Because it’s not God’s standard of living. Because, in fact, He doesn’t look on the outside; He looks on the heart. The apostle Paul likewise declared that he no longer regarded anyone from worldly standards (2 Cor. 5:16), but sought to be “all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some” (1 Cor. 9:22 NIV).

After all, he knew what it was like to be held at arm’s length by those he had moved close to. He knew how it felt to incur the displeasure of the association, and to plead, “We have spoken freely to you, Corinthians, and opened wide our hearts to you. We are not withholding our affection from you, but you are withholding yours from us. As a fair exchange... Make room for us in your hearts. We have wronged no one, we have corrupted no one, we have exploited no one” (2 Cor. 6:11-7:2).

Has anyone within our church echoed Paul, crying out to a circle of friends or an ABF class or a small group, “Make room in your hearts for us”? Christian community is about opening wide our hearts to people, even as Christ did. It’s about accepting all whom God accepts (as wholeheartedly as He does), and requiring only what He requires.

I don’t think it comes particularly easy to any of us, myself included. But since it’s the association rules of the Kingdom, and since I’m planning a long-term stay in that neighborhood ....

At the Board

Our youngest son has ruled that “school” is a taboo subject during summer vacation, but since back-to-school sales are now in full swing, I feel justified...

At an FAC concert a few years ago, singer Annie Chapman reminisced about her school days… “I always had problems with arithmetic – simple, basic math. The very worst for me were the word problems: ‘A bus is traveling 60 miles an hour. It is headed for a city 120 miles away. How long will it take to get there?’ I had a terrible time with those problems… until someone would go to the board and work it out. Then I would understand it.” Then Annie talked about people God had put in her life to “go to the board” and work out their knotty problems in a way that gave Annie understanding.

That illustration has stuck with me, for a couple reasons. First, it made me appreciative of the people in my life that God has sent to the board with their problems. I watched how they worked them out as He stood nearby. And I learned.

Second, it made me aware that when I’m sent to the board with my own problem, someone is watching. They will be affected by what I do there. Will they see an example that leads them into deeper confusion and wrong answers, or one that demonstrates in practice what they’ve read in the Textbook?

It’s not that a Christian should always be able to rush to the board and dash off the right answer. We’re all learners, and sometimes there are long pauses, and standing back to survey the problem, and looking longingly at the clock for rescue (isn’t it time for the rapture?). Sometimes there’s even agonizing struggle (and it’s comforting to know that even Jesus agonized at the board in Gethsemane)... but maybe that’s when our example matters most of all.

Because that’s when we decide whether to throw the Book out the window and wing it, or open it and dig in. That’s when we refuse or accept the assistance offered by an “upperclassman” in the faith. That’s when we choose whether to throw down the chalk in angry protest or to slink back to our seats in tearful humiliation – or to turn to the Teacher who’s been standing alongside all along, just waiting to help.

Word problems. There's a reason they're called "examples." There are people just waiting to find out how you get your answers. It's the method they'll use to find theirs.

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.

On Empty

That’s just about where the gas gauge in my sons’ car is right now – a fact which made me a little nervous as I drove it this morning. I’ve decided that I will visit the nearby gas station before heading out to do errands this afternoon. Unless, that is, habit kicks in and I’m in Peach Jam, engine sputtering, before I remember my resolve...

Empty is scary. Not just in cars, but in everything from careers and finances to families and friendships – right down to the heart and soul. It puts us in situations we hadn’t anticipated and can’t control. Empty is needy – it doesn’t command the respect of others; rather, it puts us at their mercy. Empty is accusing – “Why didn’t I plan ahead?” It’s defeating – “Look around. No one else is sidelined like this.” And just unnerving: “You’ve got miles to go yet – and you’ve got nothing.”

It’s scary, that is, unless you do what Pastor Rick urged us to this past Sunday... bring the empty bucket to Jesus. And even then, we’re afraid of empty. Even with Jesus. It feels better to be busy with a ministry or planning a vacation or contemplating a job change – something to fill the void. Something we can hold up to Jesus and plead, “Lord, won’t You work with me on this?”

The woman who touched the hem of Jesus’ garment had an empty bucket. She’d spent all she had on physicians, and was still not healed. She had no more resources, likely no more alternatives. In the crowd surrounding the Master, she was the sputtering engine, the one sidelined, empty, frightened.

And she was the one who got the miracle.

Empty is no shame. After all, God can’t pour His riches into full hands! So let’s not try to deny it or hide it or substitute something – anything – to fill the void. Let’s let empty be a starting-place for Jesus, and for one long-awaited bucketful of miracle.

When Life Snarls

I was thinking, as I was praying one morning this week, about tangles. (Sounds like my mind was wandering a bit, doesn’t it!) I’ve had some experience with tangled things, and you have, too. Trying to run a hairbrush through a child’s long hair. Staring helplessly at the hopelessly intertwined strings of two downed kites. Sitting on the riverbank with two fishing poles - and one mass of snarled line...

But I was thinking of other kinds of tangles... the kind you really pray about. The sticky situation confronting your child, the strained relationship between two people you love very much, the decision that needs made when none of the options look promising - those kinds of tangles.

Does your life have any? I think most of ours do. In fact, sometimes the various tangles seem to pile up until we’ve got quite a collection going. And the question is, “What do we do with them?”

When I get to that point, I often do what any child would do... I picture myself picking up all the unsolvable conundrums and carrying them to my Father’s lap (I had a pretty good pile of them this week):

“I can’t fix these. I’m giving them to You. Can You take care of them, please?” He’s never been too busy. Never thought such work was beneath Him. He’s untangled everything I’ve ever brought Him.

Sometimes it takes awhile. In fact, He’s pleased when I go off and trust him to work on those problems, knowing He’ll call me back as He eventually works each one out. Not always the way I thought. Not always the way I’d hoped. But always for good.

We often hear Christians say, “I don’t know what I’d do without Jesus. I don’t know what other people do who don’t have Him.”

I think I can make one pretty good guess... without a Father’s lap nearby and a Father’s experienced hands reaching out, I’d say they spend a lot of time sitting among snarled things, picking helplessly at solutions, or trying to ignore the tangles altogether.

Makes you glad you have a Father, doesn’t it? You might want to recommend Him today to someone who doesn’t.

It Is What It Is

“It is what it is.”

That phrase has been popping up in recent weeks – during a phone conversation with my son, and in a committee meeting, and from another place or two I can’t remember... until my curiosity was piqued. Where was this new cliché coming from? Was it a line from a sitcom? A hit song? A celebrity one-liner?

I asked the internet. On USA Today’s website, writer Gary Mihoces, called it “The Sports Quote of 2004,” used “to sum up troubles of all sorts and send an instant message that it’s time to move on.” He says the origin of the phrase is uncertain, but it’s been around for years: John Barlow, former lyricist for the Grateful Dead, wrote a song by that title, and President Bush quoted it in response to discouraging early exit polls on the day he was re-elected. And it has been used to explain various losses and sudden reversals and even unexpected successes in the world of sports. “It is what it is.”

A Christian blog by Doy Moyer points out the wisdom in that phrase. “The solution is not denial. We should learn to admit reality, then work with it as it is.” I agree. The daydreaming I did as a kid didn’t change anything. Better to learn to work with reality, even when, as Pastor Ben said Sunday, the phone call comes from the doctor or the spouse leaves or the son looks you in the eye and rejects everything he has been taught. Best to say, “It is what it is”...

...as long as we truly recognize “what it is” (because reality for the Christian is far different than for the unbeliever): It’s something God’s got under control. Something He has a plan for. Something He’ll walk us through, offering us what we need when we need it. Something that won’t last forever. And something He’ll make more than worth our while.

Factor God into the biggest challenge facing you today. Recognize Him for Who He is and look long and hard at His power and His faithfulness and His grasp of every detail and His persistent love and His inexplicable mercy. When you sit down to worry about your problem, factor Him in. When you have a decision to make about it, factor Him in. When you’re talking to others about it, factor Him in. Make Him the biggest part of the reality you are struggling with (because He really is greater than it is). Factor Him in...

Then say, “It is what it is.”

Perfect Timing

Hmmm... What was that game... where you turned the crank that hit the shoe that kicked the bucket, sending a little metal ball rolling down rickety stairs and continuing down a curvy chute, to finally hit a spring that popped a yellow ball through a bathtub drain and onto a diving board, launching a poised plastic diver into a little tub and jarring the cage into a slow descent on your opponent’s little rodent?

Yep – has to be Mousetrap! And if you played Milton Bradley’s classic very many times, you soon discovered that all too often, something went wrong. You forgot to set the spring (a fact your opponent noted in silent glee), or the shoe kicked the bucket with such force that the metal ball jumped the stairs, or the diver somehow listed to the left and failed to jar the cage... and you could only vow through clenched teeth to set up a no-fail run at your next opportunity.

God never plays Mousetrap with His children. That is, He never sets things in motion and hopes they come out all right. He never sits with us beside the game board of life and wonders whether the timing will be right, whether a blessing will come too late to be of benefit, or a trial too early to be handled correctly.

At the age of twenty-eight, missionary Jim Elliot was murdered by the Auca Indians as he tried to bring them the gospel. From all appearances, something had gone terribly wrong. But that was first appearances. Jim’s wife, Elizabeth, returned to take the gospel to the Aucas, and many have since believed. In addition, many thousands, it is said, have gone to the mission fields as a result of Jim’s sacrificial example.

Somehow I think Jim would be pleased, but not shocked. He had already declared, “I am particularly conscious of the Christian’s right to expect events to be exactly timed for good” (Shadow of the Almighty).

That’s a comfort to me. I don’t have to worry about the timing of seemingly random happenings. Jesus was four days late at Lazarus’ tomb – but right on time for what He wanted to do. What He launches – or allows - in my life will be exactly timed for my good and His good purposes, too:

“We know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28 NKJV). It’s not just a cliché – it’s the truth.

Heart-Hospitality

Since our recent observance of Pentecost Sunday, I’ve been thinking about the Holy Spirit... I hope you have been, too.

I had a conversation with two Jehovah’s Witnesses some years ago, and of all their comments, the saddest I recall was their assertion that the Holy Spirit is a vague “force” emanating from the Father. Not a “He” but an “it.” Not a Person but an ethereal presence of some kind... How glad I am for the Christian theology written into the hymn “Holy, Holy, Holy” (sing it with special gusto next time!): “God in three Persons, blessed Trinity.” I am blessed when I think about the Person of the Holy Spirit.

This puts some responsibility on me, though. If God’s Spirit were just a nebulous force of some sort, I assume I wouldn’t need to worry about how to relate to “it.” But the fact that He is a Person makes it a whole different matter. For one thing, how must He feel about living inside of me? I’m sure I haven’t always made it a pleasant experience for Him. He’s seen more than enough of my doubts. He’s been ignored and manipulated and argued with and taken for granted. He’s lived with the garbage of my life (when I haven’t bothered to “take out the trash”) and been subjected to my choices of input – what I read, watch, hear...

After reading C&MA founder A.B. Simpson’s book, The Gentle Love of the Holy Spirit, some years ago, I’ve come to think of life with the Spirit in terms of hospitality - and Simpson writes some convicting things about heart-hospitality. Here are a few excerpts:

“This is the only way that we can receive a person – by treating him with confidence, believing that he comes to us in sincerity and, opening the door to him at once, recognize him as a friend and treat him as a welcome guest. So let us treat the Holy Spirit.”

“The Holy Spirit is especially sensitive to the reception He finds in the human heart; never intruding as an unwelcome guest, but gladly entering every open door...”

“The heart in which He loves to dwell is a quiet one, where the voice of [selfish desires] and the world’s loud tumult is stilled, and His whisper is watched for with delight and attention.”

Simpson was intimately acquainted with the Person of the Holy Spirit – because he cultivated a heart in which the Spirit loved to dwell. What about me? Am I a suspicious and controlling host – or a sensitive and attentive one? What living conditions do I offer Him? How do my choices affect Him?

Matters of heart-hospitality...worth thinking about.

I Do NOT Forget

In a few days we’ll observe Memorial Day – a day to remember those who have died in the service of our country. It’s all too easy to forget them and their sacrifice, which is what led Sylvia Mohr to write to www.usmemorialday.org:

“This weekend I am going to do something different. I am going to buy some carnations each day and go to one of the nearby cemeteries and walk through the sections for soldiers. When I find a grave that has no flowers, I'll leave one and say a prayer for the family of that person, who for some reason could not bring their soldier flowers. I will pray for our country and all who serve or have served. For their families, who also serve by losing precious days, weeks and months spent with their loved ones who are off serving, preserving peace and the freedom we have in this country. I'll pray for the families who paid the ultimate price, whose loved ones died, or were taken captive and never returned. I'll pray for anyone who may still be held in captivity and thinks perhaps they are forgotten. I do NOT forget...”

There’s another group of veterans who sacrificed their lives in the service of a country they had not yet seen. Hebrews 11 lists many heroes of the faith – Abraham, who, like a good soldier, “when called to go... obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going.” And after him came an innumerable host who “through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice...escaped the edge of the sword;
whose weakness was turned to strength; and who became powerful in battle and routed foreign armies.” Other heroes were tortured and refused to be released... faced jeers and flogging...were chained and put in prison...went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated – the world was not worthy of them.”

No, the world was not worthy of them. So on Memorial Day, remember not only the heroes of America, but the heroes of our faith. We can’t plant flowers on their graves or visit a memorial in their honor...but we can revisit Hebrews 11 and think about their vital contribution to our spiritual heritage. We can find a few quiet moments to spend in prayer, thanking God for the faith and courageous example of these men and women. We can pick up a biography of a Christian martyr or begin a Bible study on one of Hebrews’ heroes.

How blessed we are to be surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses! How privileged to have the opportunity to follow in the footsteps of these who lived and died for a better country – a heavenly one - so that it can be said of us, too, “Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.”

This Memorial Day, “I do NOT forget.”

This Isn't Goodbye

May 20, Ascension Sunday, is the day on which many Christians observe Christ’s ascension into heaven following His death, burial, and resurrection.

What must the disciples have thought? One moment Jesus was speaking to them, and the next He was being taken up into heaven, enveloped by a cloud, and gone from their view. While the men struggled to process what was happening, two angels appeared beside them, asking, “Why do you stand here looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven” (Acts 1:11 NIV).

Ah, yes. “I go to prepare a place for you... I will come back and take you to be where I am...”

So it’s not over.
This isn’t goodbye.
And the best is yet to come.

I think it must have gone a little like Sheldon Vanauken recorded in A Severe Mercy, of meeting with C.S. Lewis:

“On that last day I met C.S. Lewis at the Eastgate for lunch. We talked, I recall, about death or, rather, awakening after death... I said it would be a sort of coming home, and he agreed. Lewis said that he hoped Davy and I would be coming back to England soon, for we mustn’t get out of touch. ‘At all events,’ he said with a cheerful grin, “We’ll certainly meet again, here – or there.’ Then it was time to go...

When we emerged onto the busy High with the traffic streaming past, we shook hands, and he said, ‘I shan’t say goodbye. We’ll meet again.’ Then he plunged into the traffic. I stood there watching him. When he reached the pavement on the other side, he turned round as though he knew somehow that I would still be there in front of the Eastgate. Then he raised his voice in a great roar that easily overcame the noise of the cars and buses. Heads turned and at least one car swerved. ‘Besides,’ he bellowed with a great grin, ‘Christians NEVER say goodbye!’

I like to remember that on Ascension Sunday. Jesus never said a last goodbye – because He’s coming back! Meanwhile, His Spirit waits with us for that awesome day when the shout goes out:

Behold, He comes!
Riding on the clouds,
Shining like the sun,
At the trumpet call;
Lift your voice,
It’s the Year of Jubilee,
And out of Zion’s Hill
Salvation comes!

Asking the Right Question

I returned yesterday from a trip to Alabama, where I was reminded of the Booker T. Washington biography I read recently. That famous black American came out of slavery to found Alabama’s famous Tuskegee Institute for the purpose of educating blacks and preparing them for a life of vital contribution to society.

Booker T. used to state his philosophy through a simple illustration:

“A ship lost at sea for many days suddenly sighted a friendly vessel. From the mast of the unfortunate vessel was seen a signal: “Water, water. We die of thirst.” The answer from the friendly vessel at once came back: “Cast down your bucket where you are.” A second time, the signal, “Water, send us water!” went up from the distressed vessel. And was answered: “Cast down your bucket where you are.” A third and fourth signal for water was answered: “Cast down your bucket where you are.” The captain of the distressed vessel, at last heeding the injunction, cast down his bucket and it came up full of fresh, sparkling water from the mouth of the Amazon River.”

Some years later, George Washington Carver, a teacher at Tuskegee Institute would “let down his bucket” as the Southern cotton crop lay ravaged by the boll weevil. He knew about the peanut and its suitability for Southern soil, but how could it be made a useful crop?

Paul Thigpen, in No Royal Road for Wisdom, records that:
"God's Little Workshop" was the name of George Washington Carver's busy lab, where the famous scientist pursued his quest for learning. According to his own account, it was there that he asked in prayer to discover the uses of what was then a lowly, unesteemed crop: the peanut.
Dear Mr. Creator," the humble man began, "please tell me what the universe was made for?"
"Ask for something more in keeping with that little mind of yours," God answered. So Mr. Carver tried again.
"Dear Mr. Creator, what was man made for?"
Again the Lord replied, "Little man, you ask too much. Cut down the extent of your request and improve the intent." So the scientist tried once more.
"Then Mr. Creator, will you tell me why the peanut was made?"
"That's better," the Lord said, and beginning that day Carver discovered over three hundred uses for the lowly peanut.

It’s easy, isn’t it, to believe, like those men dying of thirst, that we need to import a miracle or be transported to better accommodations - when maybe all we need is the conversation with God that Carver had. Once God gets us asking the right question, I think the answers will open up an abundance around us that is both astonishing and life-giving.

Let’s start asking!

Climb Higher

The other day I turned on the radio just in time to hear Dr. David Jeremiah illustrate his sermon on worry:

In the earlier days of aviation, a pilot had touched down at an airstrip to replenish his supplies and fuel, and then continued on his journey. Several hours into the flight, he heard a noise like that of a rat chewing on something, and surmised that during his last stop, it had somehow gotten on board. He couldn’t see it, but he could imagine it chewing on the vital wires that led to the instrument panel.

What could he do? There was no going back, because it was as far back as it was to the next airport. Then he remembered something. Rats are rodents. And rodents are ground creatures – they can’t tolerate high altitudes. With that, he immediately pointed his plane upward and began climbing higher, higher, until he was many, many thousand feet in the air... and the gnawing sound had ceased. He arrived safely at his next destination, and upon searching the plane he found, sure enough, the dead rat.

Worry is a rat. It will eat away at our insides and threaten to sever the connections of peace and trust – but it can’t stand the altitude of faith. If we determine to live our lives on a higher plane, worry will not survive.

Is there a disturbing gnawing sound in your life? Consider these Scriptures:

“You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you” (Isaiah 26:3 NIV).
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:6-7 NIV).

When His peace in you is disturbed, it’s time to suspect a rat on board. It’s time to head for higher ground.

My heart has no desire to stay
Where doubts arise and fears dismay;
While some may dwell where these abound,
My prayer, my aim is higher ground. -Johnson Oatman, Jr.

Above the Clouds

If blue skies, spring flowers, and a warm breeze put a song in your heart this week, you’re not alone:

The sun is singing, too.

Jeanna Bryner, a staff writer for space.com, writes that “astronomers have recorded heavenly music bellowed out by the Sun’s atmosphere.” (And we thought it could only shine!)

Hmmm... shades of Job 38:7, when God queries Job, “Where were you at the creation of the world, while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?” Or Psalm 19:1-2, “The heavens declare the glory of God... Day after day they pour forth speech.” Or Isaiah 44:23, “Sing for joy, O heavens, for the Lord has done this”...

At the University of Sheffield’s Solar Physics and Space Plasma Research Center, scientists Robertus von Fay-Siebenburgen and colleagues made the discovery. Explosive events on the sun’s surface appear to trigger sound waves that bounce back and forth between the Sun’s looping magnetic fields, a phenomenon known as a standing wave – similar to a simple guitar string. “These energies are plucking these magnetic strings...which set up standing waves – exactly the same waves you see on a guitar string,” says von-Fay-Siebenburgen.

But don’t pull your lawn chair out into the back yard just yet. The frequency of the sound waves is well below the human hearing threshold. We won’t likely catch any heavenly performances in this life!

It’s said, though, that just in our own Milky Way system there are billions of suns such as ours. Billions of singing stars? It appears that the music of heaven just might be backed up by a much larger orchestra than we realized! I’m sure the Creator has them each tuned in perfect harmony, and the music is out of this world. And I wonder if He might have composed a special background score for the Rapture?

I also wonder if the scientists might like to go on to investigate the rest of Isaiah’s speech... “Shout aloud, O earth beneath. Burst into song, you mountains, you forests and all your trees.”

For all we’ve yet to discover, this just might be a gloriously melodious world. As the Bible says, he who has ears to hear, let him hear. Right now, we don’t – but we can fully expect to some day.

In the meantime, remember that above the clouds, the sun is still singing!

Acts 12, updated...

And so it was that Iraq was a country of great violence, and many were kidnapped and killed. And many more stayed in their homes for fear of the insurgents. But Fadi, youth pastor of Baghdad’s Evangelical Alliance Church and known and loved by everyone in Baghdad, journeyed to Kurdistan to minister there.

Now it happened that in the fourth month, on the sixth day, as Pastor Fadi was returning from Kurdistan to his home to Baghdad, militants seized him. After kidnapping him, they held him with little water and no change of clothing, and put him up for ransom for a large sum of money.

So Fadi therefore was kept in hiding, but the church was earnestly praying to God for him. Young people prayed at Fadi’s church night and day, as did people in all the Evangelical churches of Baghdad. Indeed, word went out throughout all the world, and messages came back to Baghdad: believers were praying earnestly for the release of their brother in Christ.

And, behold, while the church prayed, the kidnappers came to Fadi with a large bag. In the bag were identification cards belonging to people they had killed. They ordered Fadi to look for his own card. “We don’t know why,” they told him, “but we will not kill you.”

And in the fourth month, on the thirteenth day, Fadi was released by his kidnappers. He went to his home, where family and church members gathered with shouts of joy to sing and praise God.

And the church throughout the world was strengthened, and gave glory to God.

Hear it again: The God of Acts has lost none of His power. He still keeps watch over His own. He still hears and answers prayer. He’s still in charge, no matter how tangled the mess our world has gotten itself into.

If He can do it in Iraq, He can do it anywhere.

Remember that when you pray today.