Life lessons are often learned in unexpected places and at surprising times. While our children were in elementary school, we established a tradition. One day between Thanksgiving and Christmas, we took them out of school and spent the day in New York City. The enchanting scenes, smells and spirit of the city are unlike any other. Those school-skipping days are in a portfolio of memories that is more important to us than a perfect attendance certificate!
We walked the streets and avenues of the city absorbing as much as we could! While others sing about "chestnuts roasting on an open fire," we know the aroma and have tasted them! "Jack Frost nipping at your nose" is a silly lyric for some, but we know the cold of New York City where the winds whine and weave through narrow streets. Brrr, I feel the chill as I write!
We oohed and aahed at the soaring twin spires of St. Patrick’s Cathedral before walking through its cavernous interior. Absorbing its beautiful antique art and feeling the stillness and sacredness of a place which is surrounded by merchants, moneychangers and modern icons on the outside is a memory worthy of a special section in our album of memories. Warmed, we walked through Rockefeller Plaza with its iconic lighted angels blowing trumpets, skaters twirling and tumbling on the ice rink and the TREE! Seeing the TREE in person should be on everyone’s "bucket list!"
Our walking tour was only a few hundred yards long. BRRRR, it’s very cold after a few paces outdoors. The wind injects needle-like doses of winter through one’s skin. Candace, Jonathan and Joanna’s eyes always danced with excitement at the Sak’s Fifth Avenue windows. (Malls don’t have "windows," just a few square yards of glass for posting sales and discounts. Fifth Avenue stores have "WINDOWS," places of fantasy and fun. Mechanized models of make-believe, Bob Cratchit and Scrooge, and boys and girls romping, sliding and skating, elves and reindeer filled each window. Thousands of people exhaled clouds of vapor as they paced in zigzagging lines to get up front and close to enchantment.
Revolving doors with tons of shining brass framing thick glass twirl customers into the warm sanctuary of retail! Pages of print are needed to describe the experience. Why don’t we go together next year and you can see for yourself? We were soon warmed and ready for another bolt of icy air to penetrate the layers of shirts, sweaters, scarves and made-for-the-arctic outerwear.
A few blocks south on Fifth Avenue Macy’s windows and Toyland are awaiting boys and girls with awe-filled eyes and jittery joy on their faces. One can watch Thanksgiving Day parades on television, but one must do Toyland in person! It is spectacular! An inventory of a child’s wish list is easily assembled in Toyland. Toys, games, dolls, trucks and cars are everywhere . . . and sales associates dressed to enhance the fantasy are ready to help.
Lord and Taylor is just North of Macy’s. Retailers compete with windows. The wind shifted, coming from the West. Our young family had moved to the leeward side of Fifth Avenue skyscrapers. Everything was calm. The thermometer registered the same temperature, but we had crossed the street. A mere 100 feet from the place we stomped warmth into numb feet and wrapped scarves across freezing faces, we were warm. At that moment Jonathan looked up at me and said, "Dad, it is so peaceful here!"
What a memory, and what an observation! Just move across the street! Many at this season are close to the truth, familiar with the story of Jesus, but "across the street" and away from the warmth of being next to Him, in close relationship with the Prince of Peace. We trust that you will know the warmth of Jesus, the Christ and Prince of Peace today and always!
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Mary's Song
Last night our pastor led us in an exploration of special challenges faced by the people in the Nativity. On occasion I have considered the complexities of circumstances faced by one or two, like Mary and Joseph, but last night we were asked us to consider the difficulties faced by Elizabeth and Zechariah, the Magi, shepherds, Herod and others. Everyone in the nativity story was confronted with unique challenges. Life wasn’t easy for anyone!
Life is challenging! A pastor friend, Bob, learned that a key member of his congregation passed away unexpectedly yesterday and the funeral will two days before Christmas. The brother who passed away was a church musician and board member, among the best qualified leaders in the church. Negotiating the mix of emotions, reminding the congregation of the blessing of the Incarnation while leading the same people in properly grieving the loss of a key member is challenging.
Life is challenging! Another pastor friend, Abe, began radiation treatments and chemotherapy this week, right in the middle of Advent. Everyone is waiting to learn how my friend’s body will respond. If this were going to happen, couldn’t this have waited until summer when church attendance is usually down and the church calendar is a bit more simple?
Life is challenging! Another friend and former co-worker, Marvin, is losing strength as the effects of Lou Gehrig’s Disease takes its toll. I call and talk with my pastor-teacher friend, but only after praying because I have many questions and find the challenges Marvin and his family face frustratingly complex. Sometimes I think it would be easier if they weren’t such good, devoted and dedicated followers of Jesus. I just don’t understand.
Life is challenging! Victor’s wife passed away a few days ago. How does one sing joyous carols while the strains of favorite songs sung at a memorial services are still echoing in one’s soul? What is the appropriate way to remember a spouse and move forward? I just don’t understand!
If I were preaching this Sunday, I would use Mary’s song as my text, a song which exposes insights into how she negotiated imponderable and inscrutable circumstances of life. Mary’s song is profoundly important. Answers to Mary’s prayers become lyrical as she moves through a divinely designed path for her life. Mary sang:
"My soul glorifies the Lord
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
for the Mighty One has done great things for me-- holy is his name.
His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation.
He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful
to Abraham and his descendants forever, even as he said to our fathers.
Luke 1:46-55
Mary’s conversations with the angel, followed by prayerful pondering, resulted in worship. We often commit energy and resources on arranging an environment for worship that includes sound, lighting, seating arrangement and special effects. From deep within Mary’s spirit sprang upward in worship. While face-to-face with God she learned, "He has been mindful of the humble state of his servant." I have noticed that in positive circumstances and carefully-arranged environments some remain lethargic and disinterested. In contrast, when one wrestles with complexities and prayerfully ponders challenges at hand, he discovers "God my Savior!" As Samuel Shoemaker taught, "Prayer is intended not to change God’s mind, but to find it."1 Mary found God’s mind and worshiped!
As a result of prayerful pondering Mary was able to sing, "From now on . . ." Mary’s song is an affirmation, a statement of assurance and anticipation. I have a future! Others will "call me blessed!" Mary’s role was unique, and so is each of ours. The One with whom we converse in prayerful pondering is fully qualified to orchestrate our lives to bless others. We begin to live when we pray, "Lord, help me to bless those who you arrange for me to meet today." Let us live as Mary sang, with anticipation and assurance of God’s blessing.
Mary’s song is a record of the long track record of God’s interventions. The language is brilliant. Vocabulary throbs with strength. "Mercy extends!" He "performs, scatters and brings down." The "hungry are filled with good things," and he "has sent the rich away hungry." The Lord’s activity will continue toward "Abraham and his descendants forever!" Children of Abraham, let’s sing!
Prayerful pondering energizes while the challenges are still present. Mary sang her song well before all the angel’s promises were fulfilled. A long list of questions remained when Mary broke out singing, "For the Mighty One has done great things for me!" Townspeople still chattered away in idle gossip. Joseph’s family and friends may not have been convinced about the angel’s message. The Word had not yet become flesh. Little proof of the information to which Mary was privy could be validated. But, Mary knew!
It is reported that Winston Churchill convened a meeting of his cabinet the evening it appeared that England would be invaded. German bombs had pelted London, port cities and strategic industrial sites throughout the nation. Churchill withheld no facts. The cabinet listened to the grim report, and then, he leaned back in his chair and said, "And you know, I find it all quite inspiring!" That is the kind of faith that triumphs in times of confusion and complicated challenges.
Life is challenging! Let us ponder prayerfully. Let us engage the Almighty in conversation. By His Spirit we will learn His mind and face challenges confidently. Then we will sing! We will worship! The songs we sing will be enduring, as memorable as Mary’s song!
Life is challenging! A pastor friend, Bob, learned that a key member of his congregation passed away unexpectedly yesterday and the funeral will two days before Christmas. The brother who passed away was a church musician and board member, among the best qualified leaders in the church. Negotiating the mix of emotions, reminding the congregation of the blessing of the Incarnation while leading the same people in properly grieving the loss of a key member is challenging.
Life is challenging! Another pastor friend, Abe, began radiation treatments and chemotherapy this week, right in the middle of Advent. Everyone is waiting to learn how my friend’s body will respond. If this were going to happen, couldn’t this have waited until summer when church attendance is usually down and the church calendar is a bit more simple?
Life is challenging! Another friend and former co-worker, Marvin, is losing strength as the effects of Lou Gehrig’s Disease takes its toll. I call and talk with my pastor-teacher friend, but only after praying because I have many questions and find the challenges Marvin and his family face frustratingly complex. Sometimes I think it would be easier if they weren’t such good, devoted and dedicated followers of Jesus. I just don’t understand.
Life is challenging! Victor’s wife passed away a few days ago. How does one sing joyous carols while the strains of favorite songs sung at a memorial services are still echoing in one’s soul? What is the appropriate way to remember a spouse and move forward? I just don’t understand!
If I were preaching this Sunday, I would use Mary’s song as my text, a song which exposes insights into how she negotiated imponderable and inscrutable circumstances of life. Mary’s song is profoundly important. Answers to Mary’s prayers become lyrical as she moves through a divinely designed path for her life. Mary sang:
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
for the Mighty One has done great things for me-- holy is his name.
His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation.
He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful
to Abraham and his descendants forever, even as he said to our fathers.
Luke 1:46-55
Mary’s conversations with the angel, followed by prayerful pondering, resulted in worship. We often commit energy and resources on arranging an environment for worship that includes sound, lighting, seating arrangement and special effects. From deep within Mary’s spirit sprang upward in worship. While face-to-face with God she learned, "He has been mindful of the humble state of his servant." I have noticed that in positive circumstances and carefully-arranged environments some remain lethargic and disinterested. In contrast, when one wrestles with complexities and prayerfully ponders challenges at hand, he discovers "God my Savior!" As Samuel Shoemaker taught, "Prayer is intended not to change God’s mind, but to find it."1 Mary found God’s mind and worshiped!
As a result of prayerful pondering Mary was able to sing, "From now on . . ." Mary’s song is an affirmation, a statement of assurance and anticipation. I have a future! Others will "call me blessed!" Mary’s role was unique, and so is each of ours. The One with whom we converse in prayerful pondering is fully qualified to orchestrate our lives to bless others. We begin to live when we pray, "Lord, help me to bless those who you arrange for me to meet today." Let us live as Mary sang, with anticipation and assurance of God’s blessing.
Mary’s song is a record of the long track record of God’s interventions. The language is brilliant. Vocabulary throbs with strength. "Mercy extends!" He "performs, scatters and brings down." The "hungry are filled with good things," and he "has sent the rich away hungry." The Lord’s activity will continue toward "Abraham and his descendants forever!" Children of Abraham, let’s sing!
Prayerful pondering energizes while the challenges are still present. Mary sang her song well before all the angel’s promises were fulfilled. A long list of questions remained when Mary broke out singing, "For the Mighty One has done great things for me!" Townspeople still chattered away in idle gossip. Joseph’s family and friends may not have been convinced about the angel’s message. The Word had not yet become flesh. Little proof of the information to which Mary was privy could be validated. But, Mary knew!
It is reported that Winston Churchill convened a meeting of his cabinet the evening it appeared that England would be invaded. German bombs had pelted London, port cities and strategic industrial sites throughout the nation. Churchill withheld no facts. The cabinet listened to the grim report, and then, he leaned back in his chair and said, "And you know, I find it all quite inspiring!" That is the kind of faith that triumphs in times of confusion and complicated challenges.
Life is challenging! Let us ponder prayerfully. Let us engage the Almighty in conversation. By His Spirit we will learn His mind and face challenges confidently. Then we will sing! We will worship! The songs we sing will be enduring, as memorable as Mary’s song!
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Small stage, huge play!
Phillips Brooks, rector of Church of the Holy Trinity1, in Philadelphia’s Rittenhouse Square, wrote "O Little Town of Bethlehem" more than 100 years ago. He was inspired to write the lyrics one evening while visiting the Holy Land and viewing Bethlehem from a distant hilltop. Brooks originally thought that the song would be sung by a children’s choir at Holy Trinity, but it quickly caught on among people of all ages.
Micah’s prophecy defined Bethlehem as "little": "But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times." (Micah 5:2) We Americans are "big" people. Small things are most frequently viewed as "anemic" or "ill," something needing a remedy. We tend to tolerate small more than embrace little with respect for its intrinsic value.
But, we are inconsistent. We are drawn to babies and are willing to make foolish looking faces and strange sounds in order to get an infant to smile. Model railroads are an irresistible attraction for others. Miniatures are big business. But the footprint of "big box" stores trample small businesses to death. Mom and Pop merchants roll up their awnings and sell the last remnants of inventory as the heavy tromp of the big boxes smash the remaining life of village downtowns into shards of memories.
Consider Bethlehem. It is no small wonder that Bethlehem survived at all. Bethlehem was one of twelve towns inherited by Zebulon’s family when the Promised Land was divvied up. Eleven other surrounding towns included Kattath, Nahalal, Shimron and Idalah. (Joshua 19:15). "Bethlehem" ends the list. Bethlehem almost looks like an afterthought. It doesn’t seem like there ever was a real estate boom. But the town survived!
Ibzan, hardly a household word, one of the judges of Israel hailed from Bethlehem. He may have gathered more ink in the Jerusalem papers if he had plied his craft in a major market. His claim to fame was that he fathered 60 children and ruled Israel for seven years. None of the kids married in the tribe. Poor Bethlehem! Chamber of commerce members had to be frustrated.
There is a story in Judges 19 about a young Levite, a native of Bethlehem, who went house-hunting. He found lodging with Micah, not the prophet, but a man who made shrines to gods from his mother’s silver. It is unclear to me if the story of a Bethlehem Levite in chapter 19 is the same. But the poor fellow got caught up an event reminiscent of Sodom and Gomorrah. Apparently Bethlehem’s stigma followed her youth, even when they left home!
Small town economies are fragile. A famine came into the area. People were hungry! Elimelech, his wife Naomi, and their sons and daughters-in-law left Bethlehem for Moab in search of food. People still do that. They move from place to place in search of work. Hunger drove the family from tiny Bethlehem. The rest of the story is in the Book of Ruth. The story of Ebimelech’s family is too important to the salvation story to overlook. When reviewing it, remember, the plot includes a small village and her citizens.
But even the most depressed of villages may experience a change of fortunes. Tourism is big there nowadays! Good things began to happen. David was anointed King of Israel in Bethlehem (1 Samuel 16), one of the first positive events the Bethlehem Historical Society was able to record. It was followed by the account of David’s mighty men who risked their lives to fetch a flask of water from Bethlehem’s well. Some entrepreneur ought to start bottling "Agua Beth!" I may share my idea with Restoration Hardware! They are into stuff like that. There is a dollar to be made!
I think the storyline of Bethlehem has potential for some mini-series. Philistines occupied the town for a while during one of the many skirmishes with Israel. The cemetery at the edge of town has some notorious people, and heroes, buried there. The townspeople were patriotic too. When Ezra was enlisting workers to rebuild the walls and Temple in Jerusalem, Bethlehemites responded.
There is much more to Bethlehem’s story. But, the one event that changed the little village forever was the one Phillips Brooks had in mind when he wrote the Christmas Carol. Micah’s prediction came to pass and from that tiny epicenter of salvation the Savior of the whole world was carried in Mary’s arms into the center stage of history. The events of the night Pastor Brooks memorialized changed the world’s calendars. Note "BC: before Christ," and "AD: anno Domini" or, "year of our Lord," is a watershed of history, one greater than any other. Those who belittle things deemed too small ought to remember that Bethlehem’s stage was small, but the play was huge!
Micah’s prophecy defined Bethlehem as "little": "But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times." (Micah 5:2) We Americans are "big" people. Small things are most frequently viewed as "anemic" or "ill," something needing a remedy. We tend to tolerate small more than embrace little with respect for its intrinsic value.
But, we are inconsistent. We are drawn to babies and are willing to make foolish looking faces and strange sounds in order to get an infant to smile. Model railroads are an irresistible attraction for others. Miniatures are big business. But the footprint of "big box" stores trample small businesses to death. Mom and Pop merchants roll up their awnings and sell the last remnants of inventory as the heavy tromp of the big boxes smash the remaining life of village downtowns into shards of memories.
Consider Bethlehem. It is no small wonder that Bethlehem survived at all. Bethlehem was one of twelve towns inherited by Zebulon’s family when the Promised Land was divvied up. Eleven other surrounding towns included Kattath, Nahalal, Shimron and Idalah. (Joshua 19:15). "Bethlehem" ends the list. Bethlehem almost looks like an afterthought. It doesn’t seem like there ever was a real estate boom. But the town survived!
Ibzan, hardly a household word, one of the judges of Israel hailed from Bethlehem. He may have gathered more ink in the Jerusalem papers if he had plied his craft in a major market. His claim to fame was that he fathered 60 children and ruled Israel for seven years. None of the kids married in the tribe. Poor Bethlehem! Chamber of commerce members had to be frustrated.
There is a story in Judges 19 about a young Levite, a native of Bethlehem, who went house-hunting. He found lodging with Micah, not the prophet, but a man who made shrines to gods from his mother’s silver. It is unclear to me if the story of a Bethlehem Levite in chapter 19 is the same. But the poor fellow got caught up an event reminiscent of Sodom and Gomorrah. Apparently Bethlehem’s stigma followed her youth, even when they left home!
Small town economies are fragile. A famine came into the area. People were hungry! Elimelech, his wife Naomi, and their sons and daughters-in-law left Bethlehem for Moab in search of food. People still do that. They move from place to place in search of work. Hunger drove the family from tiny Bethlehem. The rest of the story is in the Book of Ruth. The story of Ebimelech’s family is too important to the salvation story to overlook. When reviewing it, remember, the plot includes a small village and her citizens.
But even the most depressed of villages may experience a change of fortunes. Tourism is big there nowadays! Good things began to happen. David was anointed King of Israel in Bethlehem (1 Samuel 16), one of the first positive events the Bethlehem Historical Society was able to record. It was followed by the account of David’s mighty men who risked their lives to fetch a flask of water from Bethlehem’s well. Some entrepreneur ought to start bottling "Agua Beth!" I may share my idea with Restoration Hardware! They are into stuff like that. There is a dollar to be made!
I think the storyline of Bethlehem has potential for some mini-series. Philistines occupied the town for a while during one of the many skirmishes with Israel. The cemetery at the edge of town has some notorious people, and heroes, buried there. The townspeople were patriotic too. When Ezra was enlisting workers to rebuild the walls and Temple in Jerusalem, Bethlehemites responded.
There is much more to Bethlehem’s story. But, the one event that changed the little village forever was the one Phillips Brooks had in mind when he wrote the Christmas Carol. Micah’s prediction came to pass and from that tiny epicenter of salvation the Savior of the whole world was carried in Mary’s arms into the center stage of history. The events of the night Pastor Brooks memorialized changed the world’s calendars. Note "BC: before Christ," and "AD: anno Domini" or, "year of our Lord," is a watershed of history, one greater than any other. Those who belittle things deemed too small ought to remember that Bethlehem’s stage was small, but the play was huge!
Monday, December 9, 2013
Family, Tradition and Gospel"
Growing older isn’t too bad, especially if your children know how to give gifts you can never forget. Are you like Pat and I who often searched for something to give our parents when our parents already had everything? The chest that holds my sweaters is full. If I received a new one in that chest would have to go! Tools? Well, there are never enough tools! But, we don’t need anything for the house. (The attic has more pictures than will ever be hung on our downsized walls.) But, we have children who give us memories!
Last year one of our Christmas presents was a gospel concert with some of our favorite artists, a delightful meal and hotel room near the concert site. This year Candace, Otis and Alison took us to a performance of Handel’s Messiah at the Church of the Holy Trinity on Philadelphia’s Rittenhouse Square. How could one ever forget an evening like that? The pre-performance meal was authentic Italian and the short walk to the church in driving rain, added to the winter ambience. The highlight was hearing the text, The Bible, set to Baroque music. Ah, life is wonderful!
Soprano, alto, tenor, bass, chorus and symphony converged to present Good News! At times musicians painted scenes of slowly-lapping waters at the edge of a calm lake and moments later one might imagine mighty tides of torrential truth probing the spirit like wind-driven rainy sleet. We were moved from the Tenor’s tender "Comfort ye, comfort ye," to the chorus’ rousing answer, "And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed."
Life is richer when one listens, absorbs and mediates while soprano and alto voices mingle, reminding us that "He shall feed his flock," and "Come unto Him, all ye that labor . . . " The chorus immediately follows with "His yoke is easy and his burden is light!" Ah, that truth is redeeming, refreshing and reason for rejoicing.
The message throughout Messiah is powerful because it is God’s Word set to music. The lyrics melt into melody and then flow like relaxing rivulets and roaring rivers . . . As I type away now I am listening to The London Symphony Orchestra present "For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given." Isaiah is alive and well in my spirit! Isaiah 6 just may be my text when I preach Sunday!
Ah, what an evening! Our granddaughter Alison was easily the youngest person in the building. She is only ten years old but she has already been introduced to a wonderful family tradition. To view the Church of the Holy Trinity is worth a trip to Philadelphia, and spending several hours in its sanctuary listening to the Gospel is heavenly! Nothing can be better than spending several hours reveling in salvation truth! Ah, growing older with children who delight us with profoundly rich experiences has to be what God Himself had in mind for family!
Last year one of our Christmas presents was a gospel concert with some of our favorite artists, a delightful meal and hotel room near the concert site. This year Candace, Otis and Alison took us to a performance of Handel’s Messiah at the Church of the Holy Trinity on Philadelphia’s Rittenhouse Square. How could one ever forget an evening like that? The pre-performance meal was authentic Italian and the short walk to the church in driving rain, added to the winter ambience. The highlight was hearing the text, The Bible, set to Baroque music. Ah, life is wonderful!
Soprano, alto, tenor, bass, chorus and symphony converged to present Good News! At times musicians painted scenes of slowly-lapping waters at the edge of a calm lake and moments later one might imagine mighty tides of torrential truth probing the spirit like wind-driven rainy sleet. We were moved from the Tenor’s tender "Comfort ye, comfort ye," to the chorus’ rousing answer, "And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed."
Life is richer when one listens, absorbs and mediates while soprano and alto voices mingle, reminding us that "He shall feed his flock," and "Come unto Him, all ye that labor . . . " The chorus immediately follows with "His yoke is easy and his burden is light!" Ah, that truth is redeeming, refreshing and reason for rejoicing.
The message throughout Messiah is powerful because it is God’s Word set to music. The lyrics melt into melody and then flow like relaxing rivulets and roaring rivers . . . As I type away now I am listening to The London Symphony Orchestra present "For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given." Isaiah is alive and well in my spirit! Isaiah 6 just may be my text when I preach Sunday!
Ah, what an evening! Our granddaughter Alison was easily the youngest person in the building. She is only ten years old but she has already been introduced to a wonderful family tradition. To view the Church of the Holy Trinity is worth a trip to Philadelphia, and spending several hours in its sanctuary listening to the Gospel is heavenly! Nothing can be better than spending several hours reveling in salvation truth! Ah, growing older with children who delight us with profoundly rich experiences has to be what God Himself had in mind for family!
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Immanuel: A Name for all seasons
Stuff piles up! Unlike financial savings, unopened junk mail, e-mail spam, laundry, emotional baggage, distresses of life and bad news all seem to multiply without any special effort. The evening news spews the latest evidence of a culture going wild, a society writhing with dysfunctional systems and inadequate solutions. Murders and mayhem, robberies and riots, falsehoods and furies all pour through stoic news readers’ lips as high-definition video support the latest societal troubles, amassing in our thinking and dulling our spirits and suggest all is lost.
Pat and I, like many of you, are processing the "pile up" of unwanted news. A dear friend has esophageal cancer, another longtime friend recently passed away as a result of cancer, Pat’s father is battling cancer, other long time friends have two daughters receiving treatment for cancer and still another friend has been diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), often referred to as "Lou Gehrig's Disease. Grim and gloom pile up without apparent help!
Some casually suggest that we are simply experiencing what happens to everyone as we age. That observation may have more than a little bit of truth in it, but how can we cope, what counsel can we share with those in the throes of sickness and sorrow? How do we keep our equilibrium? What words of comfort will ring true and go beyond shallow assurances?
Isaiah’s prophecy excites me! The descriptions of Isaiah’s world reported in the first seven chapters of the book are as menacing as the long list of piled-up troubles already mentioned. The Deliverer had freed their fathers from Egypt’s Pharaohs, had miraculously provided shelter and food in the dessert and had given the nation lien-free ownership of a land filled with "milk and honey." That Deliverer was being treated with contempt. Injustice, immorality, and ingratitude ruled the day. If one didn’t know better, he could mistake the circumstances in Jerusalem as that of any American city.
Isaiah was assigned the burden of announcing the destruction of the nation as Israel hurled headlong in arrogance and stubborn refusal to serve God. The first pages of Isaiah are filled with tension. God is good, but people are bad in return. God is patient, but the people are smug and unresponsive to overtures of forgiveness in return for loyalty. Prophets contemporary to Isaiah, Amos, Micah and Hosea reinforce how systemic and universal were the sins of the nation.
And then, in the deepest darkness a ray of brilliant hope emerges. A promise cuts through piled up despair of a society whipped into servitude by ungodly rulers. The promise is announced by the Spirit! "Then Isaiah said, ‘Hear now, you house of David! Is it not enough to try the patience of men? Will you try the patience of my God also? Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.’" (7:13-14)
We often make the promise of Immanuel a seasonal emphasis. Immanuel, the "One with us" will appear miraculously, wondrously and powerfully. Today, He is Immanuel! He is everywhere present, residing with his people. He is the same as he always has been. He has promised to never leave us! Immanuel is the Name to remember when things are piling up, when the bad news seems to snuff out the light of all God’s good. Immanuel! God is with us at this Advent season and always!
Pat and I, like many of you, are processing the "pile up" of unwanted news. A dear friend has esophageal cancer, another longtime friend recently passed away as a result of cancer, Pat’s father is battling cancer, other long time friends have two daughters receiving treatment for cancer and still another friend has been diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), often referred to as "Lou Gehrig's Disease. Grim and gloom pile up without apparent help!
Some casually suggest that we are simply experiencing what happens to everyone as we age. That observation may have more than a little bit of truth in it, but how can we cope, what counsel can we share with those in the throes of sickness and sorrow? How do we keep our equilibrium? What words of comfort will ring true and go beyond shallow assurances?
Isaiah’s prophecy excites me! The descriptions of Isaiah’s world reported in the first seven chapters of the book are as menacing as the long list of piled-up troubles already mentioned. The Deliverer had freed their fathers from Egypt’s Pharaohs, had miraculously provided shelter and food in the dessert and had given the nation lien-free ownership of a land filled with "milk and honey." That Deliverer was being treated with contempt. Injustice, immorality, and ingratitude ruled the day. If one didn’t know better, he could mistake the circumstances in Jerusalem as that of any American city.
Isaiah was assigned the burden of announcing the destruction of the nation as Israel hurled headlong in arrogance and stubborn refusal to serve God. The first pages of Isaiah are filled with tension. God is good, but people are bad in return. God is patient, but the people are smug and unresponsive to overtures of forgiveness in return for loyalty. Prophets contemporary to Isaiah, Amos, Micah and Hosea reinforce how systemic and universal were the sins of the nation.
And then, in the deepest darkness a ray of brilliant hope emerges. A promise cuts through piled up despair of a society whipped into servitude by ungodly rulers. The promise is announced by the Spirit! "Then Isaiah said, ‘Hear now, you house of David! Is it not enough to try the patience of men? Will you try the patience of my God also? Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.’" (7:13-14)
We often make the promise of Immanuel a seasonal emphasis. Immanuel, the "One with us" will appear miraculously, wondrously and powerfully. Today, He is Immanuel! He is everywhere present, residing with his people. He is the same as he always has been. He has promised to never leave us! Immanuel is the Name to remember when things are piling up, when the bad news seems to snuff out the light of all God’s good. Immanuel! God is with us at this Advent season and always!
Monday, November 25, 2013
There's joy, joy in my heart
Before the sun rose this morning I was awaked by a song, a joyful, delightfully captivating tune with simple repetitive lyrics. It has been years since I have sung the happy tune.
The windows of heaven are open,
The blessings are falling tonight;
There's joy, joy, joy in my heart,
Since Jesus made everything right;
I gave Him my old tattered garment,
He gave me a robe of pure white;
I'm feasting on manna from heaven
And that's why I'm happy tonight.
Remembered songs have a context. Where did we learn the tune? What were the circumstances? Why do we recall quaint and apparently long-forgotten lyrics? In my case it’s been 50 years or more since I sang the words of testimony throbbing with rhythmic truth, "There's joy, joy, joy in my heart, since Jesus made everything right."
As I recall, "The windows of heaven are open" was a "Sunday night song," usually inserted between "testimonies," the impromptu reports of simple saints reporting Jesus’ work in daily life. The "testimony service" was always risky. Some people spoke up far too frequently, some didn’t speak loudly enough to be heard, and a few went on, and on, and on! But, during those evenings of story telling, the testimonies added layers of support to our scaffold of faith.
Testimonies reinforced the idea that God answers prayer. Simple folk without formal theological training taught profoundly important truths as they reported how God was at work in the rough and tumble of life. One good brother, Kurt Nierhause, a German immigrant, would become animated and weep while reporting the goodness of God in testimony and prayer. I can still see him mopping his brow while passionately telling of the goodness of the Lord. Faith grew! Hope shoved fears and doubts aside. New evidence of God had been presented.
The testimony service experience reminded us that there is a great God in heaven who cares about what is happening here on earth. Jehovah is still acting on behalf of His people! The mid-fifties was a difficult era for the industrial North. Auto makers closed plants for months at a time. Unemployment numbers soared, homeowners defaulted on mortgages and despair was common. Invariably someone would speak of a special provision from the hand of the Lord. Another might urge us to trust the Lord. And, the tune would begin,
Got any rivers you think are impossible?
Got any mountains you cannot tunnel through?
God specializes in things thought impossible
And he can do what no other God can do.
I can hear the tune now! I am encouraged now! New faith is bubbling up!
Testimonies multiplied joy! A faithful sister might report that her agnostic and abusive husband had begun to listen to a radio preacher, or had been seen reading the Pentecostal Evangel. The room filled with celebrating praise. Parents fearing the worst for their wayward child heard the report and laid hold of the possibility of the miraculous happening in their family. In our church a retired immigrant barber played his clarinet on the front pew. Spontaneously, without pastoral permission or allotted time on the printed spreadsheet for evening worship, Brother Kaiser would excite us into singing, "I’m so happy, here’s the reason why; Jesus took my burdens all away!" The music was amateurish, but the joy was authentic. Our surrounding were unsophisticated but our experiences with God were deeply meaningful, heart-felt and lasting. The experience was so effective that I awakened to one of the songs this morning.
For old times’ sake, could we gather somewhere, quietly, without alarming church leaders or appearing rebellious. We could tell our stories and sing, "I gave Him my old tattered garment, He gave me a robe of pure white; I'm feasting on manna from heaven; And that's why I'm happy tonight." There is joy, joy, joy in my heart" because "Jesus made everything right!"
The blessings are falling tonight;
There's joy, joy, joy in my heart,
Since Jesus made everything right;
I gave Him my old tattered garment,
He gave me a robe of pure white;
I'm feasting on manna from heaven
And that's why I'm happy tonight.
Remembered songs have a context. Where did we learn the tune? What were the circumstances? Why do we recall quaint and apparently long-forgotten lyrics? In my case it’s been 50 years or more since I sang the words of testimony throbbing with rhythmic truth, "There's joy, joy, joy in my heart, since Jesus made everything right."
As I recall, "The windows of heaven are open" was a "Sunday night song," usually inserted between "testimonies," the impromptu reports of simple saints reporting Jesus’ work in daily life. The "testimony service" was always risky. Some people spoke up far too frequently, some didn’t speak loudly enough to be heard, and a few went on, and on, and on! But, during those evenings of story telling, the testimonies added layers of support to our scaffold of faith.
Testimonies reinforced the idea that God answers prayer. Simple folk without formal theological training taught profoundly important truths as they reported how God was at work in the rough and tumble of life. One good brother, Kurt Nierhause, a German immigrant, would become animated and weep while reporting the goodness of God in testimony and prayer. I can still see him mopping his brow while passionately telling of the goodness of the Lord. Faith grew! Hope shoved fears and doubts aside. New evidence of God had been presented.
The testimony service experience reminded us that there is a great God in heaven who cares about what is happening here on earth. Jehovah is still acting on behalf of His people! The mid-fifties was a difficult era for the industrial North. Auto makers closed plants for months at a time. Unemployment numbers soared, homeowners defaulted on mortgages and despair was common. Invariably someone would speak of a special provision from the hand of the Lord. Another might urge us to trust the Lord. And, the tune would begin,
Got any rivers you think are impossible?
Got any mountains you cannot tunnel through?
God specializes in things thought impossible
And he can do what no other God can do.
I can hear the tune now! I am encouraged now! New faith is bubbling up!
Testimonies multiplied joy! A faithful sister might report that her agnostic and abusive husband had begun to listen to a radio preacher, or had been seen reading the Pentecostal Evangel. The room filled with celebrating praise. Parents fearing the worst for their wayward child heard the report and laid hold of the possibility of the miraculous happening in their family. In our church a retired immigrant barber played his clarinet on the front pew. Spontaneously, without pastoral permission or allotted time on the printed spreadsheet for evening worship, Brother Kaiser would excite us into singing, "I’m so happy, here’s the reason why; Jesus took my burdens all away!" The music was amateurish, but the joy was authentic. Our surrounding were unsophisticated but our experiences with God were deeply meaningful, heart-felt and lasting. The experience was so effective that I awakened to one of the songs this morning.
For old times’ sake, could we gather somewhere, quietly, without alarming church leaders or appearing rebellious. We could tell our stories and sing, "I gave Him my old tattered garment, He gave me a robe of pure white; I'm feasting on manna from heaven; And that's why I'm happy tonight." There is joy, joy, joy in my heart" because "Jesus made everything right!"
Friday, November 22, 2013
Worship and Hymn Books
Many years ago a friend mentioned that his spiritual disciplines included memorizing and singing hymns. Daily he read scripture, sang hymns and prayed. In luncheon conversation Dave would quote verses from hymns, lyrical truth imbedded in his mind and spirit by conscious memory and living, dynamic work of the Holy Spirit.
Recently I received a copy of an article written by Jack Hayford, an esteemed pastor/leader within the Church of the Foursquare Gospel.1 The item reinforces my friend’s discipline in a context of corporate worship and teaching. Dr. Hayford’s appeal to worship leaders is that hymns, modern and ancient, be employed to instruct and bring unity to essential Gospel truths.
Hymn books fill several inches on my book shelves. After reading the Hayford article I reached for, Melodies of Praise, the book from which we sang at my boyhood church. The page one hymn is "All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name." As I opened the book the tune and truth leaped from deep within my spirit. Something intensely important in my spiritual development leaped forward affecting both intellect and emotion. Memories were awakened from slumber and I heard Mom and Dad singing. Neither had particularly good voices, but they knew Jesus and their affirmations of faith in "All Hail the Power," and the Gospel truth set to music was riveted to my spirit week after week, month after month and year after year. The fasteners of the Spirit have made the truth of Jesus’ Name an immovable anchor in my soul!
As I opened the book this morning I heard the unique sound of the Revivaltime Choir under the direction of Cyril McClellan. As a college student I occasionally attended a broadcast origination of Revivaltime and the trademark sound of every program pierced the din of airways on 100's of stations weekly. I can hear it now as I type!
All hail the power of Jesus’ Name! Let angels prostrate fall;
Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown Him Lord of all.
Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown Him Lord of all.
The author of the lyrics which first appeared in print in 1779, Edward Perronet, had no idea that his Spirit-inspired work would live on in millions of people’s hearts for more than two centuries.
I know my children know both the lyric and its truth. And, I am thrilled that contemporary musical arrangements continue to emerge as skillful artists apply their God-given talent to help another generation worship in quiet places and in mass meetings of saints. While some decry the influence of social media, we might celebrate its power as a tool which many use to keep ancient truth alive! (Check out YouTube!)
Recently I received a copy of an article written by Jack Hayford, an esteemed pastor/leader within the Church of the Foursquare Gospel.1 The item reinforces my friend’s discipline in a context of corporate worship and teaching. Dr. Hayford’s appeal to worship leaders is that hymns, modern and ancient, be employed to instruct and bring unity to essential Gospel truths.
Hymn books fill several inches on my book shelves. After reading the Hayford article I reached for, Melodies of Praise, the book from which we sang at my boyhood church. The page one hymn is "All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name." As I opened the book the tune and truth leaped from deep within my spirit. Something intensely important in my spiritual development leaped forward affecting both intellect and emotion. Memories were awakened from slumber and I heard Mom and Dad singing. Neither had particularly good voices, but they knew Jesus and their affirmations of faith in "All Hail the Power," and the Gospel truth set to music was riveted to my spirit week after week, month after month and year after year. The fasteners of the Spirit have made the truth of Jesus’ Name an immovable anchor in my soul!
As I opened the book this morning I heard the unique sound of the Revivaltime Choir under the direction of Cyril McClellan. As a college student I occasionally attended a broadcast origination of Revivaltime and the trademark sound of every program pierced the din of airways on 100's of stations weekly. I can hear it now as I type!
Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown Him Lord of all.
Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown Him Lord of all.
The author of the lyrics which first appeared in print in 1779, Edward Perronet, had no idea that his Spirit-inspired work would live on in millions of people’s hearts for more than two centuries.
I know my children know both the lyric and its truth. And, I am thrilled that contemporary musical arrangements continue to emerge as skillful artists apply their God-given talent to help another generation worship in quiet places and in mass meetings of saints. While some decry the influence of social media, we might celebrate its power as a tool which many use to keep ancient truth alive! (Check out YouTube!)
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Repetition as Testimony
Most agree that repetition is the foundation for learning. Many remember all the way back to elementary school and our set of homemade 3" x 5" flash cards with the times tables . . . 2x2, 2x3, 2x4 all the way up to 12x12. Parents or siblings would "flash" the card with the multiplication equation toward the student and the answer on the opposite side. The repetitions continued until each answer was etched into the student’s brain for life.
Reggie Jackson said of batting, "A baseball swing is a very finely tuned instrument. It is repetition, and more repetition, then a little more after that." Elizabeth Arden who built a financial empire marketing women’s cosmetics said, "Repetition makes reputation and reputation makes customers." Athletes who perform at a professional or Olympic level of any sport hone their abilities with repetition. Skills, reputation and character are crafted by time-consuming repetitions.
The Prophet Amos is the master of repetition. At least seven times in the first two chapters of his recorded work the farmer-prophet says, "For three sins of Israel, even for four, I will not turn back . . ." The sins of Israel included cruelties, injustices, "stifling all compassion" (1:11) and other abuses of people. "Human trafficking," the contemporary synonym for "slavery," and abortion are singled out as especially heinous. Amos reminds us that God hates brutality and violence, expressions of unchecked anger but loves compassion.
The efforts of relief agencies like Convoy of Hope, Samaritans’ Purse, the Salvation Army and others ought to be applauded by every American. Better yet, their efforts ought to be supported with dollars and prayers. Every attempt to ease human suffering is a worthy endeavor, and charitable compassion of Christian people is a testimony to a world without faith and without God.
Before repairs to the present devastation in the Philippines are finished the United States will probably lead the world in restoring another nation. Memories rooted in spiritual awakenings and Biblical truth still propel us toward scenes of despair and devastation. I offer a few words of caution. First, the typhoon which apparently killed more than 10,000 people occurred only fine days ago and the needs and cries for help were moved to page "A6" in this morning’s "Philadelphia Inquirer," displaced by the signing of a 36-year-old free agent by the hometown Phillies, an opinion about the Pope by the local arch bishop and the merger of two airlines. The value of human life was deemed of less and importance than sports, religious opinion and business.
The repetition of "For three sins . . . even for four" ought to thump away in the human breast like the rhythms of the human heart. If I was an 81-year-old woman whose home was swept away by a 40' wave and if I hadn’t had a meal for days, I would certainly be praying that my plight hadn’t been moved to page "A6." May I suggest, maybe three or four times, that we do everything in our power to alleviate suffering as a testimony to those who are looking on?
Reggie Jackson said of batting, "A baseball swing is a very finely tuned instrument. It is repetition, and more repetition, then a little more after that." Elizabeth Arden who built a financial empire marketing women’s cosmetics said, "Repetition makes reputation and reputation makes customers." Athletes who perform at a professional or Olympic level of any sport hone their abilities with repetition. Skills, reputation and character are crafted by time-consuming repetitions.
The Prophet Amos is the master of repetition. At least seven times in the first two chapters of his recorded work the farmer-prophet says, "For three sins of Israel, even for four, I will not turn back . . ." The sins of Israel included cruelties, injustices, "stifling all compassion" (1:11) and other abuses of people. "Human trafficking," the contemporary synonym for "slavery," and abortion are singled out as especially heinous. Amos reminds us that God hates brutality and violence, expressions of unchecked anger but loves compassion.
The efforts of relief agencies like Convoy of Hope, Samaritans’ Purse, the Salvation Army and others ought to be applauded by every American. Better yet, their efforts ought to be supported with dollars and prayers. Every attempt to ease human suffering is a worthy endeavor, and charitable compassion of Christian people is a testimony to a world without faith and without God.
Before repairs to the present devastation in the Philippines are finished the United States will probably lead the world in restoring another nation. Memories rooted in spiritual awakenings and Biblical truth still propel us toward scenes of despair and devastation. I offer a few words of caution. First, the typhoon which apparently killed more than 10,000 people occurred only fine days ago and the needs and cries for help were moved to page "A6" in this morning’s "Philadelphia Inquirer," displaced by the signing of a 36-year-old free agent by the hometown Phillies, an opinion about the Pope by the local arch bishop and the merger of two airlines. The value of human life was deemed of less and importance than sports, religious opinion and business.
The repetition of "For three sins . . . even for four" ought to thump away in the human breast like the rhythms of the human heart. If I was an 81-year-old woman whose home was swept away by a 40' wave and if I hadn’t had a meal for days, I would certainly be praying that my plight hadn’t been moved to page "A6." May I suggest, maybe three or four times, that we do everything in our power to alleviate suffering as a testimony to those who are looking on?
Monday, November 11, 2013
Veteran's Day 2013
Veteran’s Day, a too often overlooked date on the American’s calendar was intended to honor those who have served our nation’s military. I confess to having ignored the day’s significance. But this year is different. Three men I love and respect deeply are veterans. Two served in World War Two, another is my peer who served in peacetime.
My father in-law, Roy Kolas, has influenced me more than any other man with the exception of my own father. Roy served as a machinist in the "Great War" and traveled across Europe repairing equipment while his first-born daughter, my wife Pat, was an infant. He told us that when he received word that Pat was born while he was training in the deep South, the only quiet place he could find to be alone with God was in the company latrine. Roy went into the latrine and dedicated Pat to Jesus there. He also refused to allow the Army to deduct insurance premiums from his pay because he had the Lord’s assurance that he would return from war alive. Now, that is faith in action! Roy is completing his 92nd revolution around the sun and has been diagnosed with cancer. It is time to have him stand and for us all to salute him. He has been a faithful member of one church his entire life, has been a deacon and elder most of those years, and at one time attended Sunday School without missing a single Sunday for more than 25 years!
The second man from whom I have learned much and deeply admire is Ralph Crites. Ralph and Louise began offering their services to our church-planting efforts in 1991. Since then I estimate that they have given more than four years of their lives in behind-the-scenes work advancing the Kingdom of God. Their accomplishments are too numerous to list, but I mention the "big ones!" Ralph, a pipe fitter by trade with more than 40 years experience with General Motors, has installed four heating-air conditioning systems in three churches and a six-family apartment building. He installed new plumbing in at least 16 new restrooms, a shower room, three commercial kitchens, and two residential kitchens. (In between these projects, Ralph handily offered his experience in other trades. I will never forget the day when I tried to thank him for being an example to me on how to grow older gracefully and unselfishly. Ralph shrugged and said, "I am only doing what I thought everyone ought to do." Tears come to my eyes every time I think our conversation!
The third veteran is slightly younger than I. While I was studying in college, Abe Oliver was in the US Army stationed in England. He and his young bride made the most of their military years by participating in a Pentecostal church. He has told me many stories of the lessons learned under the tutelage of an older minister. Upon discharge, Abe attended Bible college and began his vocation as a pastor. In one life season he served as chaplain in a large Philadelphia company that hired hundreds of immigrants. Abe arranged for pastoral leadership and helped start several Pentecostal churches among the ethnic groups in the company.
And then while in their mid-fifties the Olivers began the crowning work. Starting with their two daughters and son-in-law they began building a ministry with Sunday morning prayer meetings and outreaches on the sidewalks of North Kensington, Philadelphia’s "Badlands." That work has grown into Lighthouse Family Community Church on North Front Street. I preached there yesterday because Abe has been diagnosed with cancer of the esophagus and was too weak to attend service. Lighthouse is alive, energetic and thoroughly Pentecostal. Every seat was full. The pre-service prayer time was powerful. The church orchestrates health-care ministries for the neighborhood, has a vibrant youth outreach, and has helped their youth with college tuition. If I had more space, I’d write about the Oliver children and grandchildren!
I ask you to join me in honoring the veterans I mentioned, and those close to you. Please include them in your prayers. Two, Pastor Abe Oliver, and my father-in-law, Roy Kolas, are battling cancer. Ralph Crites has had both knees replaced and still lives with pain. I offer that we ought to include the families of veterans when we pray as well. Our lives are better because of the way others have lived!
My father in-law, Roy Kolas, has influenced me more than any other man with the exception of my own father. Roy served as a machinist in the "Great War" and traveled across Europe repairing equipment while his first-born daughter, my wife Pat, was an infant. He told us that when he received word that Pat was born while he was training in the deep South, the only quiet place he could find to be alone with God was in the company latrine. Roy went into the latrine and dedicated Pat to Jesus there. He also refused to allow the Army to deduct insurance premiums from his pay because he had the Lord’s assurance that he would return from war alive. Now, that is faith in action! Roy is completing his 92nd revolution around the sun and has been diagnosed with cancer. It is time to have him stand and for us all to salute him. He has been a faithful member of one church his entire life, has been a deacon and elder most of those years, and at one time attended Sunday School without missing a single Sunday for more than 25 years!
The second man from whom I have learned much and deeply admire is Ralph Crites. Ralph and Louise began offering their services to our church-planting efforts in 1991. Since then I estimate that they have given more than four years of their lives in behind-the-scenes work advancing the Kingdom of God. Their accomplishments are too numerous to list, but I mention the "big ones!" Ralph, a pipe fitter by trade with more than 40 years experience with General Motors, has installed four heating-air conditioning systems in three churches and a six-family apartment building. He installed new plumbing in at least 16 new restrooms, a shower room, three commercial kitchens, and two residential kitchens. (In between these projects, Ralph handily offered his experience in other trades. I will never forget the day when I tried to thank him for being an example to me on how to grow older gracefully and unselfishly. Ralph shrugged and said, "I am only doing what I thought everyone ought to do." Tears come to my eyes every time I think our conversation!
The third veteran is slightly younger than I. While I was studying in college, Abe Oliver was in the US Army stationed in England. He and his young bride made the most of their military years by participating in a Pentecostal church. He has told me many stories of the lessons learned under the tutelage of an older minister. Upon discharge, Abe attended Bible college and began his vocation as a pastor. In one life season he served as chaplain in a large Philadelphia company that hired hundreds of immigrants. Abe arranged for pastoral leadership and helped start several Pentecostal churches among the ethnic groups in the company.
And then while in their mid-fifties the Olivers began the crowning work. Starting with their two daughters and son-in-law they began building a ministry with Sunday morning prayer meetings and outreaches on the sidewalks of North Kensington, Philadelphia’s "Badlands." That work has grown into Lighthouse Family Community Church on North Front Street. I preached there yesterday because Abe has been diagnosed with cancer of the esophagus and was too weak to attend service. Lighthouse is alive, energetic and thoroughly Pentecostal. Every seat was full. The pre-service prayer time was powerful. The church orchestrates health-care ministries for the neighborhood, has a vibrant youth outreach, and has helped their youth with college tuition. If I had more space, I’d write about the Oliver children and grandchildren!
I ask you to join me in honoring the veterans I mentioned, and those close to you. Please include them in your prayers. Two, Pastor Abe Oliver, and my father-in-law, Roy Kolas, are battling cancer. Ralph Crites has had both knees replaced and still lives with pain. I offer that we ought to include the families of veterans when we pray as well. Our lives are better because of the way others have lived!
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Life is Good!
"Life is good!" That’s the slogan that popped up on several hotel television screens where we stayed during extensive recent travels. The LG brand has cleverly employed its initials with an upbeat segue between a matte finished black screen and the latest health scare or political faux pas. Personally, "Life is good," relates to having a faithful, and frugal, friend who shops for books at thrift stores and yard sales . . . and then passes on his finds to me! Ah, Bob, you breathe excitement into the good life!
One of Bob’s recent purchases was, A Martyr’s Grace, by Marvin J. Newell. Dr. Newell has served as a missionary for more than two decades, is a former professor at Moody Graduate School and executive director of International Foreign Missions Association. Newell’s book is an anthology of stories about Moody Bible Institute alumni who were martyred for their faith.
Moody has never been a huge school. Present undergraduate enrollment is 1620 on the Chicago campus. The school’s web site reports, "Since our founding by D.L. Moody in 1886, Moody Bible Institute has been committed to helping people across the globe, cultures and generations to take the next step toward spiritual maturity. For more than 125 years, Christ-followers have come to Moody to be richly equipped in God's Word to impact the world for Christ." Between 1900 and 2002 21 young men and women heroically laid down their lives while serving as missionaries. Some witnessed their spouse’s execution moments before they were executed. Their children were sometimes slaughtered with their parents. In more than one circumstance, Moody alumni were martyred alongside missionaries who were graduates of other fine colleges and seminaries.
One of the missionaries martyred with Moody alumni was J. W. Tucker. He and I were classmates in 1963. Reverend Tucker was 48 years-old and completing work he had begun years before at another school which did not offer the needed degree to continue missionary service. I sat directly behind "J. W." in a science class at Central Bible College. We science students loved J. W. because he would interrupt the drab routines of class lectures by bringing specimens of bugs and plants in sealed jars. We gladly gathered around for a closer look and listened to the four-term veteran missionary’s stories. The freshman level class was otherwise very forgettable!
The school year ended, J. W. Tucker received his degree and returned to the Congo with his wife Angela and their three children. Thanksgiving Day I awoke to the sweet aromas of a turkey baking in the oven and an array of foods prepared for the family feast later in the day. My father and mother were listening to the old Crosley radio on the kitchen table. (Our family was the last clan in the City of Detroit to own a television.) The news reported read, "American Assemblies of God missionary J. W. Tucker has been killed in Pauli, Belgian Congo." Reverend Tucker remains the only Assemblies of God missionary to die on the field as a martyr.
Moody Bible Institute is similar, older and somewhat larger than my alma mater. Yet Moody seems to have a disproportionate number of its alumni lay down their lives for the sake of the Gospel. A more thorough study may reveal causes for the disparity between the schools. For me, the sobering lessons of Dr. Newell’s, A Martyr’s Grace, and my brief encounter with J. W. include the following. The lesson is followed by a simple, but important prayer.
Martyrdom may be the end to any person who speaks a continual "Yes!" to the Lord of Harvest. "Lord, I really will do everything you ask of me."
Great men and women are about us and we often do not appreciate them until they are gone. "Lord, open my eyes and allow me to learn from them."
The chapels at Moody Bible Institute and Central Bible College were formative and dynamic places of preparation in the lives of martyrs. (CBC called chapel "the classroom of the Holy Spirit.") "Lord, may I grow in your presence when worshiping and learn with others."
Every generation experiences martyrdom. People are dying today because of their faith. The church is being persecuted today. And in our lifetime, martyrdom may become a reality in North America. "Lord, may my family, friends and I be prepared for every challenge to our faith."
If you "Google" "J. W. Tucker," ample material is within reach on several web sites. I would give you Bob’s address and phone number, but then I would run the risk of losing my source of great reading material!
Remember, "Life is good!" And it is also unpredictable.
One of Bob’s recent purchases was, A Martyr’s Grace, by Marvin J. Newell. Dr. Newell has served as a missionary for more than two decades, is a former professor at Moody Graduate School and executive director of International Foreign Missions Association. Newell’s book is an anthology of stories about Moody Bible Institute alumni who were martyred for their faith.
Moody has never been a huge school. Present undergraduate enrollment is 1620 on the Chicago campus. The school’s web site reports, "Since our founding by D.L. Moody in 1886, Moody Bible Institute has been committed to helping people across the globe, cultures and generations to take the next step toward spiritual maturity. For more than 125 years, Christ-followers have come to Moody to be richly equipped in God's Word to impact the world for Christ." Between 1900 and 2002 21 young men and women heroically laid down their lives while serving as missionaries. Some witnessed their spouse’s execution moments before they were executed. Their children were sometimes slaughtered with their parents. In more than one circumstance, Moody alumni were martyred alongside missionaries who were graduates of other fine colleges and seminaries.
One of the missionaries martyred with Moody alumni was J. W. Tucker. He and I were classmates in 1963. Reverend Tucker was 48 years-old and completing work he had begun years before at another school which did not offer the needed degree to continue missionary service. I sat directly behind "J. W." in a science class at Central Bible College. We science students loved J. W. because he would interrupt the drab routines of class lectures by bringing specimens of bugs and plants in sealed jars. We gladly gathered around for a closer look and listened to the four-term veteran missionary’s stories. The freshman level class was otherwise very forgettable!
The school year ended, J. W. Tucker received his degree and returned to the Congo with his wife Angela and their three children. Thanksgiving Day I awoke to the sweet aromas of a turkey baking in the oven and an array of foods prepared for the family feast later in the day. My father and mother were listening to the old Crosley radio on the kitchen table. (Our family was the last clan in the City of Detroit to own a television.) The news reported read, "American Assemblies of God missionary J. W. Tucker has been killed in Pauli, Belgian Congo." Reverend Tucker remains the only Assemblies of God missionary to die on the field as a martyr.
Moody Bible Institute is similar, older and somewhat larger than my alma mater. Yet Moody seems to have a disproportionate number of its alumni lay down their lives for the sake of the Gospel. A more thorough study may reveal causes for the disparity between the schools. For me, the sobering lessons of Dr. Newell’s, A Martyr’s Grace, and my brief encounter with J. W. include the following. The lesson is followed by a simple, but important prayer.
Great men and women are about us and we often do not appreciate them until they are gone. "Lord, open my eyes and allow me to learn from them."
The chapels at Moody Bible Institute and Central Bible College were formative and dynamic places of preparation in the lives of martyrs. (CBC called chapel "the classroom of the Holy Spirit.") "Lord, may I grow in your presence when worshiping and learn with others."
Every generation experiences martyrdom. People are dying today because of their faith. The church is being persecuted today. And in our lifetime, martyrdom may become a reality in North America. "Lord, may my family, friends and I be prepared for every challenge to our faith."
If you "Google" "J. W. Tucker," ample material is within reach on several web sites. I would give you Bob’s address and phone number, but then I would run the risk of losing my source of great reading material!
Remember, "Life is good!" And it is also unpredictable.
Friday, October 18, 2013
Ach Gott!
The English politician, philosopher and writer Thomas Carlyle and his wife received an unexpected visitor – an American, Ralph Waldo Emerson. The much younger Emerson arrived at the Carlyle’s doorstep unannounced and that encounter led to a lifelong friendship. Thomas Carlyle later wrote to a friend, "I love Emerson’s book, not for its detached opinions, not even for the scheme of the general world he has framed for himself, or any eminence of talent he has expressed . . . but simply because it is his own book."1 I relate! We suffer from a spate of "copycats," writing without creativity or originality. Literature that reflects deep thought and emits the pure aroma of originality is in short supply. Does anyone dare to communicate lifting thought above function, or the "what" above the "how," and idealism above utility? In my opinion, the "How to . . . " book sections in my favorite stores represent a literary ghetto.
To illustrate my agreement with Thomas Carlyle I offer the following anecdote. I enrolled in a seminary class a couple of decades ago and in the first session was stunned by one of the professor’s opening statements. It was an intellectual sucker punch! I haven’t fully recovered. The professor announced, "I will be sharing with this class the best current ideas and practices of church growth specialists in America." He went on to add, "Contemporary church growth practitioners uniformly embrace pragmatism, commonly stated as, ‘If the ends do not justify the means, what does justify the means?’ In other words, "Do this! It works!"
I believe numerical measurement is shallow, ill-conceived, and unworthy of serious consideration as assessment of one’s life work. Celebrating numerical growth is not difficult, pursuing, developing and affirming faithfulness, integrity, truthfulness, and other expressions of the fruit of the Spirit are exponentially more difficult and time consuming. These are far more worthy measurements of one’s life and vocation.
Fresh, insightful authors occasionally arrive in the literary cosmos. We read, we learn, we share our appreciation and recommendations and the work rises to the thin air of "best sellerism." The book finds wide acceptance because the author’s work is needed and the appetite of the reading public recognizes quality. And then, the cacophony of noisy echoes hits the booksellers’ shelves. Copy cats steal the premise and echo the original material. A few personal anecdotes are added, and we have another "must read!" The second and third generation works come close to plagiarism, outright theft. In Christian publications original writers often share a truth or an account of a God-man encounter that is intimately personal. Alas, copy cats seem to say, "Hey, that’s really good!" and proceed to write as if they received the same truth or enjoyed the same encounter.
Sequels, author’s second, third or fourth works are too often stale restatements of superlative originals. At least it seems that way to me! An author’s second, third, or fourth books too often are akin to watching Mickey Mantle play a game on his last road trip to Detroit’s Tiger Stadium. I was there and watched a most gifted athlete limp around the bases after hitting a towering home run. "The Mick" hit another ball that could have easily been a triple or an inside-the-park home run in his youth. But the legs were gone. He was lifted for a pinch runner. A Baseball Hall of Fame athlete played one too many games for this fan. I loved the original, but . . .
In his letter to a friend, Thomas Carlyle contrasted the ordinariness of English literature with the fresh and thoughtful writing of Emerson, "Ach Gott!2 It is frightful to live among echoes." I know a young minister who is less than half my age in Philadelphia’s Port Richmond neighborhood. He is carving out a chain of churches which meet in homes. He is multiplying the number of preachers who share life and Word with groups of 20 or less. No one is paid a salary. My young friend works in a hospital to support his family and models dedication to his team of emerging pastors. Another pastor I know lives above a thrift shop operated by his church and encounters and shares the Good News with the most needy and disenfranchised people of his community. The work of these creative young pastors is slow and often tedious. But, Ach Gott! I am spared the fright of living among echoes. These young men are creative, full of fresh ideas, daring and courageous!
To illustrate my agreement with Thomas Carlyle I offer the following anecdote. I enrolled in a seminary class a couple of decades ago and in the first session was stunned by one of the professor’s opening statements. It was an intellectual sucker punch! I haven’t fully recovered. The professor announced, "I will be sharing with this class the best current ideas and practices of church growth specialists in America." He went on to add, "Contemporary church growth practitioners uniformly embrace pragmatism, commonly stated as, ‘If the ends do not justify the means, what does justify the means?’ In other words, "Do this! It works!"
I believe numerical measurement is shallow, ill-conceived, and unworthy of serious consideration as assessment of one’s life work. Celebrating numerical growth is not difficult, pursuing, developing and affirming faithfulness, integrity, truthfulness, and other expressions of the fruit of the Spirit are exponentially more difficult and time consuming. These are far more worthy measurements of one’s life and vocation.
Fresh, insightful authors occasionally arrive in the literary cosmos. We read, we learn, we share our appreciation and recommendations and the work rises to the thin air of "best sellerism." The book finds wide acceptance because the author’s work is needed and the appetite of the reading public recognizes quality. And then, the cacophony of noisy echoes hits the booksellers’ shelves. Copy cats steal the premise and echo the original material. A few personal anecdotes are added, and we have another "must read!" The second and third generation works come close to plagiarism, outright theft. In Christian publications original writers often share a truth or an account of a God-man encounter that is intimately personal. Alas, copy cats seem to say, "Hey, that’s really good!" and proceed to write as if they received the same truth or enjoyed the same encounter.
Sequels, author’s second, third or fourth works are too often stale restatements of superlative originals. At least it seems that way to me! An author’s second, third, or fourth books too often are akin to watching Mickey Mantle play a game on his last road trip to Detroit’s Tiger Stadium. I was there and watched a most gifted athlete limp around the bases after hitting a towering home run. "The Mick" hit another ball that could have easily been a triple or an inside-the-park home run in his youth. But the legs were gone. He was lifted for a pinch runner. A Baseball Hall of Fame athlete played one too many games for this fan. I loved the original, but . . .
In his letter to a friend, Thomas Carlyle contrasted the ordinariness of English literature with the fresh and thoughtful writing of Emerson, "Ach Gott!2 It is frightful to live among echoes." I know a young minister who is less than half my age in Philadelphia’s Port Richmond neighborhood. He is carving out a chain of churches which meet in homes. He is multiplying the number of preachers who share life and Word with groups of 20 or less. No one is paid a salary. My young friend works in a hospital to support his family and models dedication to his team of emerging pastors. Another pastor I know lives above a thrift shop operated by his church and encounters and shares the Good News with the most needy and disenfranchised people of his community. The work of these creative young pastors is slow and often tedious. But, Ach Gott! I am spared the fright of living among echoes. These young men are creative, full of fresh ideas, daring and courageous!
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Surprised
As I have grown older, it seems as if I am less frequently surprised. As children we are filled with the spirit of curiosity, wonder and surprise. Life experience turns "first-time-ever" explorations and discoveries into routines. Many of us tend to allow the sense of awe to quietly melt away. Life grows dull.
During a recent morning reverie spent with my friend the Prophet Habakkuk, I was suddenly filled with wonder. By the Spirit Habakkuk was entrusted with a special prophetic promise, "For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the LORD, as the waters cover the sea." (Habakkuk 2:14) As I spent time musing over that promise I could come up with no definitive explanation of what the promise meant.
How much knowledge does it take to cover the earth as waters cover the sea? I simply don’t know the answer. And, worse than that, I am not sure the question is appropriate. The promise is set in a context of judgments, woes and disgrace assigned to those who flaunt their personal privileges and abuse others with their power. The assurance of God’s glory being evident as described by my friend Habakkuk is surprising to the max because of its setting.
Have you discovered that God inserts surprises into the dullness of our routines? He is a specialist at interrupting "hum drum." I hear the Almighty saying, "Let me show you something!" In the middle of political bickering, name calling and petty displays of selfish snit, the Eternal One says, "The promise is still in effect!" Economies have come and gone, but I am the Eternal One who is prepared to stand routines on their heads!
I had one of those moments when the glory of the Lord dawned on me. The duration of the dawning wasn’t long but the impact was more memorable as a Detroit Tiger comeback in a must-win playoff game. Pat and I were traveling from the Midwest to my preaching point last Saturday. We had awakened in Western Pennsylvania to a hazy, dreary sky with visibility of a few hundred yards. F. Frank Baum’s, The Wizard of Oz was entertaining us, the audio book, not the movie! And then, suddenly and without warning, as we crossed over one of Pennsylvania’s mountains to witness the sunless dreariness of the morning wonderfully interrupted with the light of an unseasonably warm sun. It seemed as if the sun declared, "No clouds today!" Sunlight focused on the mountain sides lining the otherwise boring Route 80. The colors blazed intensely . . . reds, yellows and oranges were contrasted with splashes of dark evergreens. Wonder filled us! We were surprised at each turn of the road which has become our personal metaphor for monotony. Colors! Colors everywhere, as the waters cover the sea!
For a while I felt half my age, invigorated with a robust appetite for another challenge, another daring moment when trusting God for something new bubbled warmly way down deep. "Habakkuk," I thought, "When will this happen in the dimensions of your word?" Remember, when I am with the prophet alone I call him "Hab." "Hab, tell me again that the promise will be part of all mankind’s experience! I am still uncertain about the when and how, but I have a new visual image to carry with me when the clouds close in and the sun is hidden from view.
During a recent morning reverie spent with my friend the Prophet Habakkuk, I was suddenly filled with wonder. By the Spirit Habakkuk was entrusted with a special prophetic promise, "For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the LORD, as the waters cover the sea." (Habakkuk 2:14) As I spent time musing over that promise I could come up with no definitive explanation of what the promise meant.
How much knowledge does it take to cover the earth as waters cover the sea? I simply don’t know the answer. And, worse than that, I am not sure the question is appropriate. The promise is set in a context of judgments, woes and disgrace assigned to those who flaunt their personal privileges and abuse others with their power. The assurance of God’s glory being evident as described by my friend Habakkuk is surprising to the max because of its setting.
Have you discovered that God inserts surprises into the dullness of our routines? He is a specialist at interrupting "hum drum." I hear the Almighty saying, "Let me show you something!" In the middle of political bickering, name calling and petty displays of selfish snit, the Eternal One says, "The promise is still in effect!" Economies have come and gone, but I am the Eternal One who is prepared to stand routines on their heads!
I had one of those moments when the glory of the Lord dawned on me. The duration of the dawning wasn’t long but the impact was more memorable as a Detroit Tiger comeback in a must-win playoff game. Pat and I were traveling from the Midwest to my preaching point last Saturday. We had awakened in Western Pennsylvania to a hazy, dreary sky with visibility of a few hundred yards. F. Frank Baum’s, The Wizard of Oz was entertaining us, the audio book, not the movie! And then, suddenly and without warning, as we crossed over one of Pennsylvania’s mountains to witness the sunless dreariness of the morning wonderfully interrupted with the light of an unseasonably warm sun. It seemed as if the sun declared, "No clouds today!" Sunlight focused on the mountain sides lining the otherwise boring Route 80. The colors blazed intensely . . . reds, yellows and oranges were contrasted with splashes of dark evergreens. Wonder filled us! We were surprised at each turn of the road which has become our personal metaphor for monotony. Colors! Colors everywhere, as the waters cover the sea!
For a while I felt half my age, invigorated with a robust appetite for another challenge, another daring moment when trusting God for something new bubbled warmly way down deep. "Habakkuk," I thought, "When will this happen in the dimensions of your word?" Remember, when I am with the prophet alone I call him "Hab." "Hab, tell me again that the promise will be part of all mankind’s experience! I am still uncertain about the when and how, but I have a new visual image to carry with me when the clouds close in and the sun is hidden from view.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Standing still and listening
Some of my prayers have not amounted to much more than the polite "Good mornings," I say to neighbors. In our neighborhood most people nod in my general direction and keep walking. Eye contact is not on the menu of appropriate greetings here. To make eye contact and speak we would have to slow down. People are busy and have things to do and places to go. When we communicate with God that way we lose the sense of His Presence and reduce Him to another interruption to our pace of achievement-oriented living.
While meeting with Habakkuk, I discovered a facet of the good prophet’s life worthy of copying. He was still reeling from the unwanted message about Babylon that God had deposited in his spirit. Holy Spirit to human spirit communication tends to leave one stunned, sometimes disoriented. My friend "Hab" decided, "I will stand at my watch and station myself on the ramparts; I will look to see what he will say to me, and what answer I am to give to this complaint." (Habakkuk 2:1 NIV) In short, Hab said, "I won’t rush it!"
Standing still is difficult. Pacing helps time pass more quickly and makes waiting more tolerable. I am convinced that doing something, anything, is easier than standing. I observe the phenomenon when I take Pat shopping. Other men stand about shifting their weight from leg to leg like nervous whooping cranes – standing, waiting for the two guys sitting on two old chairs to move on. The pecking order among shopping husbands is well defined. There is little hope that it will happen anytime soon. Each wife took seven, eight or more pieces of clothing into the little rooms dedicated for the serious business of "trying on." Habakkuk stood attentively, expectantly, waiting for the Lord to reveal something that would clear the air of the heavy fog of national chaos and spiritual collapse.
Friend Hab stood in full view, "on the ramparts." His patience could be measured and those who hurried below could easily count the hours, days, weeks, months . . . Hab waited. The bright digital billboards across the street from the ramparts flashed political solutions, media evangelists rented space for their promises (supported by Scriptures taken from out of context), and pharmaceutical manufacturers’ models smiled down with assurances that their brand would turn back the clock and youthful vigor would soon seep from every pore. People think nothing of waiting overnight in the rain for the newest smart phone, but standing in prayer, even in the safe and friendly environs of the church altar is an unacceptable hardship.
And, last (for today at least), Hab reminded me that when one waits, one can hear God say something so distinctly, so easy to understand, so powerfully important, that it is worth the wait! While we sipped our Starbucks bold this morning, Hab said, "Otto, ‘Then the LORD replied: "Write down the revelation and make it plain on tablets so that a herald may run with it. For the revelation awaits an appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it lingers, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay.’" (Habakkuk 2:2-3 NIV) I have had those moments when God spoke to me like He did to Hab, but there would have been more of them if I had stood still more often?
My pastor ended last Sunday morning’s service with Charles A. Miles 100 year-old song. One verse and chorus strongly reinforce the need for hyperactive people like me to stand still and listen to what the Lord is saying. Miles changed the image from rampart to garden, but the imbedded truth remains the same.
He speaks, and the sound of His voice
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing.
Refrain:
And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.
There are mornings when I chafe, sprint mentally and pace physically. I look for a place. I want a project, an agenda . . . something to do, something to accomplish. The friendly prophet reminds that I may want activity but I need to stand still and listen. God will speak and what He says will be so clear it ought to be written and spread everywhere! (2:3) It is embarrassing to admit to hyperactivity at my age. I am wired for action. Working, doing, going, and coming are all fun for the hyperactive.
Excuse me, I need to get away from this keyboard, climb a little higher, then stand and listen. Those around me may need to hear words of consolation, promises of healing, and reasons for hope. Assuring words and redemptive, helpful actions come to us when we climb to a place, stand and listen.
Let us try praying together and begin with, "Good morning God. I am here to listen."
While meeting with Habakkuk, I discovered a facet of the good prophet’s life worthy of copying. He was still reeling from the unwanted message about Babylon that God had deposited in his spirit. Holy Spirit to human spirit communication tends to leave one stunned, sometimes disoriented. My friend "Hab" decided, "I will stand at my watch and station myself on the ramparts; I will look to see what he will say to me, and what answer I am to give to this complaint." (Habakkuk 2:1 NIV) In short, Hab said, "I won’t rush it!"
Standing still is difficult. Pacing helps time pass more quickly and makes waiting more tolerable. I am convinced that doing something, anything, is easier than standing. I observe the phenomenon when I take Pat shopping. Other men stand about shifting their weight from leg to leg like nervous whooping cranes – standing, waiting for the two guys sitting on two old chairs to move on. The pecking order among shopping husbands is well defined. There is little hope that it will happen anytime soon. Each wife took seven, eight or more pieces of clothing into the little rooms dedicated for the serious business of "trying on." Habakkuk stood attentively, expectantly, waiting for the Lord to reveal something that would clear the air of the heavy fog of national chaos and spiritual collapse.
Friend Hab stood in full view, "on the ramparts." His patience could be measured and those who hurried below could easily count the hours, days, weeks, months . . . Hab waited. The bright digital billboards across the street from the ramparts flashed political solutions, media evangelists rented space for their promises (supported by Scriptures taken from out of context), and pharmaceutical manufacturers’ models smiled down with assurances that their brand would turn back the clock and youthful vigor would soon seep from every pore. People think nothing of waiting overnight in the rain for the newest smart phone, but standing in prayer, even in the safe and friendly environs of the church altar is an unacceptable hardship.
And, last (for today at least), Hab reminded me that when one waits, one can hear God say something so distinctly, so easy to understand, so powerfully important, that it is worth the wait! While we sipped our Starbucks bold this morning, Hab said, "Otto, ‘Then the LORD replied: "Write down the revelation and make it plain on tablets so that a herald may run with it. For the revelation awaits an appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it lingers, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay.’" (Habakkuk 2:2-3 NIV) I have had those moments when God spoke to me like He did to Hab, but there would have been more of them if I had stood still more often?
My pastor ended last Sunday morning’s service with Charles A. Miles 100 year-old song. One verse and chorus strongly reinforce the need for hyperactive people like me to stand still and listen to what the Lord is saying. Miles changed the image from rampart to garden, but the imbedded truth remains the same.
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing.
Refrain:
And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.
There are mornings when I chafe, sprint mentally and pace physically. I look for a place. I want a project, an agenda . . . something to do, something to accomplish. The friendly prophet reminds that I may want activity but I need to stand still and listen. God will speak and what He says will be so clear it ought to be written and spread everywhere! (2:3) It is embarrassing to admit to hyperactivity at my age. I am wired for action. Working, doing, going, and coming are all fun for the hyperactive.
Excuse me, I need to get away from this keyboard, climb a little higher, then stand and listen. Those around me may need to hear words of consolation, promises of healing, and reasons for hope. Assuring words and redemptive, helpful actions come to us when we climb to a place, stand and listen.
Let us try praying together and begin with, "Good morning God. I am here to listen."
Monday, September 23, 2013
Why does God keep hitting foul balls?
While preparing for an activity-filled day, I quieted myself, meditating on a truth too complex and far-reaching. Most of the time I am certain that God is good, powerful and all-knowing, But occasionally I am confused with how an all-wise God acts as He does. For instance, I think that God could arrange one day each week when there is nothing but good news to report, a kind of Sabbath rest from the grimy and grizzly gore of gratuitous evil. Wouldn’t you love to open a newspaper and read about how neighbors rallied around the noble causes of the community’s non-profits and fully funded each of the charities for the next three months? I would!
In my musing moments Habakkuk visited as he has done recently, early in the morning. Over a cup of Starbucks medium house blend the prophet and I considered the perplexing questions, "How long . . . must I call for help?" and, "Why do you make me look . . . ?" "Hab," my nickname for my prophet friend, asked the questions almost 3000 years ago. People like me, Evangelicals, believe that Hab’s questions were inserted into the Bible by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, God Himself! Since God allowed Habakkuk to meander and muse over the imponderables, I thought that He would be patient with me too!
While Hab and I slowly and silently sipped away at the morning joe, I heard the voice of the One who speaks in silence, the One who probes and promises with awe-inspiring answers. Habakkuk, a preacher who was intrusted with knowledge about the future, heard Him in the silence and wrote, "Look at the nations and watch-- and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told." (Habakkuk 1:5 NIV) Yea God! You are going to hit a home run and I will be talking about it for at least 50 years! Just a minute, give me a few minutes to gather my friends to watch you work!
I immediately believe that God will prompt a rich person to donate enough millions to fund important ministries I embrace passionately and I will rest peaceably squandering time reading air head novels and using my Social Security check to buy some toys pictured in woodworking magazines. If God hits the home run my friend Marvin will not die of Lou Gehrig’s disease Have you ever thought like that? Most have! That is why television preachers promise to share spiritual secrets in their latest book or DVD. (They are almost always free, for a gift of $20 or more.) Sure, I’d rather be the head than the tail! Instinctively, from deep within the core of my original greediness, I begin to celebrate the divine home run! God is coming through! It’s so good I won’t be able to believe it!
And then, the prophet continues his recollection of what God said to him in the silence, "I am raising up the Babylonians, that ruthless and impetuous people, who sweep across the whole earth to seize dwelling places not their own." (1:6) What kind of home run is that? It seems a lot more like "Casey at the Bat!" There will be no joy in Mudville tonight!1
But understanding isn’t a requirement when musing with the Eternal God who made all, knows all, is present always, and is forever loving and redemptive. The legacy of Babylon continues to hold sway over the whole of creation. Babylonian rashness, rudeness, riotousness and ruination are still known and documented. CNN, ABC, CBC, NBC, FOX and others all send convoys of cameras. Investigative reporters drop into chaotic scenes. Experts on social pathology gather in studios to explain what happened and why. You see, it keeps happening! God is at work but because we prefer home runs to foul balls, we lament. But, the Eternal One is employing the mischief of Babylon to His own purposes.
As I mused with Hab this morning I was comforted with the knowledge that God never wastes time. He is the epitome of efficiency, always making everything work out for good – always has, always will. (Reading all of Romans 8 helps one come to that conclusion.)
I believe God’s purpose in turning the Babylonian spirit loose in the world ought to remind us to look up. Look for the fulfillment of His eternal plans and purposes. Be bold and expect the promise. Serious followers of Jesus read the Revelation and wonder about images, sequences and meanings. We are also convinced that the Spirit is delivering good news! Great news! While some argue about fine points and remote inferences my pulse quickens when I hear the New Testament prophet, John. Babylon is there, acting up, acting up throughout history. In the middle of all the chaos John comforts Habakkuk and me with a powerful promise, "Then a mighty angel picked up a boulder the size of a large millstone and threw it into the sea, and said: "With such violence the great city of Babylon will be thrown down, never to be found again." (Revelation 18:21 NIV) I don’t need to know the name of the angel or the symbolism of the boulder. I need to remember that my God knows how to handle Babylon!
In my musing moments Habakkuk visited as he has done recently, early in the morning. Over a cup of Starbucks medium house blend the prophet and I considered the perplexing questions, "How long . . . must I call for help?" and, "Why do you make me look . . . ?" "Hab," my nickname for my prophet friend, asked the questions almost 3000 years ago. People like me, Evangelicals, believe that Hab’s questions were inserted into the Bible by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, God Himself! Since God allowed Habakkuk to meander and muse over the imponderables, I thought that He would be patient with me too!
While Hab and I slowly and silently sipped away at the morning joe, I heard the voice of the One who speaks in silence, the One who probes and promises with awe-inspiring answers. Habakkuk, a preacher who was intrusted with knowledge about the future, heard Him in the silence and wrote, "Look at the nations and watch-- and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told." (Habakkuk 1:5 NIV) Yea God! You are going to hit a home run and I will be talking about it for at least 50 years! Just a minute, give me a few minutes to gather my friends to watch you work!
I immediately believe that God will prompt a rich person to donate enough millions to fund important ministries I embrace passionately and I will rest peaceably squandering time reading air head novels and using my Social Security check to buy some toys pictured in woodworking magazines. If God hits the home run my friend Marvin will not die of Lou Gehrig’s disease Have you ever thought like that? Most have! That is why television preachers promise to share spiritual secrets in their latest book or DVD. (They are almost always free, for a gift of $20 or more.) Sure, I’d rather be the head than the tail! Instinctively, from deep within the core of my original greediness, I begin to celebrate the divine home run! God is coming through! It’s so good I won’t be able to believe it!
And then, the prophet continues his recollection of what God said to him in the silence, "I am raising up the Babylonians, that ruthless and impetuous people, who sweep across the whole earth to seize dwelling places not their own." (1:6) What kind of home run is that? It seems a lot more like "Casey at the Bat!" There will be no joy in Mudville tonight!1
But understanding isn’t a requirement when musing with the Eternal God who made all, knows all, is present always, and is forever loving and redemptive. The legacy of Babylon continues to hold sway over the whole of creation. Babylonian rashness, rudeness, riotousness and ruination are still known and documented. CNN, ABC, CBC, NBC, FOX and others all send convoys of cameras. Investigative reporters drop into chaotic scenes. Experts on social pathology gather in studios to explain what happened and why. You see, it keeps happening! God is at work but because we prefer home runs to foul balls, we lament. But, the Eternal One is employing the mischief of Babylon to His own purposes.
As I mused with Hab this morning I was comforted with the knowledge that God never wastes time. He is the epitome of efficiency, always making everything work out for good – always has, always will. (Reading all of Romans 8 helps one come to that conclusion.)
I believe God’s purpose in turning the Babylonian spirit loose in the world ought to remind us to look up. Look for the fulfillment of His eternal plans and purposes. Be bold and expect the promise. Serious followers of Jesus read the Revelation and wonder about images, sequences and meanings. We are also convinced that the Spirit is delivering good news! Great news! While some argue about fine points and remote inferences my pulse quickens when I hear the New Testament prophet, John. Babylon is there, acting up, acting up throughout history. In the middle of all the chaos John comforts Habakkuk and me with a powerful promise, "Then a mighty angel picked up a boulder the size of a large millstone and threw it into the sea, and said: "With such violence the great city of Babylon will be thrown down, never to be found again." (Revelation 18:21 NIV) I don’t need to know the name of the angel or the symbolism of the boulder. I need to remember that my God knows how to handle Babylon!
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Wait! God is batting with a three and two count!
After making almost 70 hurried revolutions around the sun I have concluded that I was born in a hurry and have never recovered. When Pat and I window shop on the quaint streets of our hometown or enjoy an evening on the ocean boardwalk Pat must hold on or we are each walking alone. It has always been hard for me to move slowly, though newly-discovered balky joints and achy parts have sent a different series of messages about my movements.
Have you ever noticed how many times in baseball the count on a batter goes to three and two? People born in a hurry notice things like that! Miguel Cabrera often runs the count to three and two, especially if the bases are loaded with two outs and the game is tied. When that happens the opposing team sends out for sandwiches and their manager begins writing out his lineup card for the next game. A "W" is about to be entered in the Tigers’ win column, but not for another 20 minutes! The triple-crown winner will foul off eight, nine or more pitches waiting for the pitch to be in his sweet spot!
Ashamedly wearing the crown of "Mr. Impatient," when Cabrera is batting and the count reaches three and two, I leave the room, get a dish of ice cream and mosey back to my seat awaiting the inevitable triumph of my beloved Tigers. The three-two count is too painfully slow for me to watch. Ball after ball being sprayed in every direction except where it will do some good is a delay I never have appreciated.
When I met with my friend Habakkuk this morning, "Hab" for short, he and I admitted our tendency to being in a hurry. In a newer version, Hab acknowledged, "How long, O Lord, must I call for help?"1 There is a little of the Hab trait in all of us. "Come on God, how long are going to keep me waiting?" Is it far-fetched to accuse God of fouling off too many pitches when it is in His power to satisfy our time line? Have you ever felt like saying, "I know you will do the right thing God, so, just do it?" I have come close. No, I’ve done it! (Telling the truth feels better.)
Waiting isn’t so bad when the outcomes are of little consequence, like the outcome of a ball game. But, Habakkuk and I have agreed that unresolved violence, unfairness, and injustice are worthy of calls for God to hurry up! Sin and misery ought not be taken lightly. Street fighting and endless arguments wear one down and chip away at the morale of communities. I know. I lived in Philadelphia where the whole traffic court system is being dismantled by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania because of blatant corruption and flagrant injustice.
Mr. Impatient here wonders, "How many more men will plead guilty to a crime they didn’t do in order to avoid a longer sentence for another crime they also didn‘t do?" Too often bribes and trickery rule the day.2 If one can afford an expensive lawyer, penalties are seldom more than a slap on the wrist. Some court-appointed attorneys have been known to appear in court unprepared, indifferent and eager to settle a case quickly in order to collect fees and recover costs. The urge is to scream, "UNFAIR!" But, no one is listening!
Have you prayed for a resolution to a problem, the salvation of a lost friend or child for what seems like an eternity? Are you held captive in a cave of ambiguity, in a place of hopelessness? Is God fouling off balls on a three-two count when He could just as easily hit one out of the park for us? Habakkuk dared to write it down first. I’m a mimic. I told my friend Hab this morning, "Thank you for saying it first." The next time Hab and I meet, I’ll ask the timeless prophet to share how he coped with late-inning delays.3
Have you ever noticed how many times in baseball the count on a batter goes to three and two? People born in a hurry notice things like that! Miguel Cabrera often runs the count to three and two, especially if the bases are loaded with two outs and the game is tied. When that happens the opposing team sends out for sandwiches and their manager begins writing out his lineup card for the next game. A "W" is about to be entered in the Tigers’ win column, but not for another 20 minutes! The triple-crown winner will foul off eight, nine or more pitches waiting for the pitch to be in his sweet spot!
Ashamedly wearing the crown of "Mr. Impatient," when Cabrera is batting and the count reaches three and two, I leave the room, get a dish of ice cream and mosey back to my seat awaiting the inevitable triumph of my beloved Tigers. The three-two count is too painfully slow for me to watch. Ball after ball being sprayed in every direction except where it will do some good is a delay I never have appreciated.
When I met with my friend Habakkuk this morning, "Hab" for short, he and I admitted our tendency to being in a hurry. In a newer version, Hab acknowledged, "How long, O Lord, must I call for help?"1 There is a little of the Hab trait in all of us. "Come on God, how long are going to keep me waiting?" Is it far-fetched to accuse God of fouling off too many pitches when it is in His power to satisfy our time line? Have you ever felt like saying, "I know you will do the right thing God, so, just do it?" I have come close. No, I’ve done it! (Telling the truth feels better.)
Waiting isn’t so bad when the outcomes are of little consequence, like the outcome of a ball game. But, Habakkuk and I have agreed that unresolved violence, unfairness, and injustice are worthy of calls for God to hurry up! Sin and misery ought not be taken lightly. Street fighting and endless arguments wear one down and chip away at the morale of communities. I know. I lived in Philadelphia where the whole traffic court system is being dismantled by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania because of blatant corruption and flagrant injustice.
Mr. Impatient here wonders, "How many more men will plead guilty to a crime they didn’t do in order to avoid a longer sentence for another crime they also didn‘t do?" Too often bribes and trickery rule the day.2 If one can afford an expensive lawyer, penalties are seldom more than a slap on the wrist. Some court-appointed attorneys have been known to appear in court unprepared, indifferent and eager to settle a case quickly in order to collect fees and recover costs. The urge is to scream, "UNFAIR!" But, no one is listening!
Have you prayed for a resolution to a problem, the salvation of a lost friend or child for what seems like an eternity? Are you held captive in a cave of ambiguity, in a place of hopelessness? Is God fouling off balls on a three-two count when He could just as easily hit one out of the park for us? Habakkuk dared to write it down first. I’m a mimic. I told my friend Hab this morning, "Thank you for saying it first." The next time Hab and I meet, I’ll ask the timeless prophet to share how he coped with late-inning delays.3
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Morning coffee with my friend Hab
Joanna, our younger daughter, plans to arrive here this morning with her four children. They are hoping for one last Summer-like day at a Delaware Beach before frosty Fall weather roars in. Our youngest grandchild, Lila, is a curly-headed four-year-old who bounces about on the balls of her feet, and is blessed with an extra measure of the Wegner gene. Lila is the early riser of the clan.
On a visit last year, when she was still three years-old, Lila came into my study while Mom and siblings were asleep and with eyes flashing with excitement asked, "Well, how are you big guy?" No one knows where Lila learned the term, or why she applied it to me, but it is the cause for frequent laughter.
I have recently been reading Habakkuk, a prophet, counselor and poet in Judah. After reading, and re-reading the condensation of Habakkuk’s body of work, I would like to look him up and ask, "Hey, ‘big guy,’ do you have time for a cup of coffee?" It is sheer fantasy, but I would like to believe we would become very good friends. I have already nicknamed him "Hab." Habakkuk’s body of work as a temple prophet is reduced to only three chapters, or 56 verses. What we have bound into our Bibles is a sample of a lifetime of a ministry as resident temple prophet, writer, counselor and worship leader. Consider a temple prophet’s responsibility included listening to temple worshipers’ questions as they pondered why bad things were happening to good people. Prayer had to consume a major segment of Habakkuk’s time because he was expected to announce why injustices were rampant in Judah.
Hab and I would have a good time at Starbucks. Before our cups were emptied, I would ask, "Tell me, honestly now, what do you tell people when God doesn’t give you a clue?" Wouldn’t you like to be sitting at the next table listening in when I asked, "What was going on in Judah the day the Spirit said, ‘The just live by faith?’" Barbara Walters interviews Presidents and Morey Safer is assigned to converse with princes and Middle Eastern potentates, but I want an hour with Habakkuk.
I hope you don’t condemn me for sacrilege. (I didn’t take offense at Lila calling me "big guy!") In the next few essays I hope to record a few insights Hab shared with me in confidence during a few early morning meetings we had. He was more comfortable with meeting in my study than at Starbucks. (His sense of justice and concern for the oppressed makes Starbucks a poor fit for Hab.) We found early mornings, usually before dawn, the best time to meet without interruptions. I brewed a pot of Eight O’clock brand coffee. He came to our back door and knocked softly so that he wouldn’t awaken Pat with the sound of the doorbell.
It may be next week before I write again. I am sure that for grandchildren ages four through eight will love to meet Hab someday. But, they are not concerned with difficult issues of justice and ruthlessness yet.
On a visit last year, when she was still three years-old, Lila came into my study while Mom and siblings were asleep and with eyes flashing with excitement asked, "Well, how are you big guy?" No one knows where Lila learned the term, or why she applied it to me, but it is the cause for frequent laughter.
I have recently been reading Habakkuk, a prophet, counselor and poet in Judah. After reading, and re-reading the condensation of Habakkuk’s body of work, I would like to look him up and ask, "Hey, ‘big guy,’ do you have time for a cup of coffee?" It is sheer fantasy, but I would like to believe we would become very good friends. I have already nicknamed him "Hab." Habakkuk’s body of work as a temple prophet is reduced to only three chapters, or 56 verses. What we have bound into our Bibles is a sample of a lifetime of a ministry as resident temple prophet, writer, counselor and worship leader. Consider a temple prophet’s responsibility included listening to temple worshipers’ questions as they pondered why bad things were happening to good people. Prayer had to consume a major segment of Habakkuk’s time because he was expected to announce why injustices were rampant in Judah.
Hab and I would have a good time at Starbucks. Before our cups were emptied, I would ask, "Tell me, honestly now, what do you tell people when God doesn’t give you a clue?" Wouldn’t you like to be sitting at the next table listening in when I asked, "What was going on in Judah the day the Spirit said, ‘The just live by faith?’" Barbara Walters interviews Presidents and Morey Safer is assigned to converse with princes and Middle Eastern potentates, but I want an hour with Habakkuk.
I hope you don’t condemn me for sacrilege. (I didn’t take offense at Lila calling me "big guy!") In the next few essays I hope to record a few insights Hab shared with me in confidence during a few early morning meetings we had. He was more comfortable with meeting in my study than at Starbucks. (His sense of justice and concern for the oppressed makes Starbucks a poor fit for Hab.) We found early mornings, usually before dawn, the best time to meet without interruptions. I brewed a pot of Eight O’clock brand coffee. He came to our back door and knocked softly so that he wouldn’t awaken Pat with the sound of the doorbell.
It may be next week before I write again. I am sure that for grandchildren ages four through eight will love to meet Hab someday. But, they are not concerned with difficult issues of justice and ruthlessness yet.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Singing songs, making intercession in noisy places
Man-made noises, clamor, cacophonous sounds fill our lives. The inane sounds of morning television magazine programing set my teeth on edge! Our nation is about to go to war while 100,000 screaming visitors in Manhattan egg on a boy band with shrill screams. The sound threatens to peel the skin off people like me who fail to appreciate the expenditure of emotion and energy, especially in light of looming war clouds.
I am listening for the voice of intercessors, a call for a call to prayer, a plea for wisdom and a spirit of restraint on those who carry the weight of decision making. In an arena where decisions are made that are too heavy and too complicated for mere mortals, must we be content with the voices of political operatives arguing for a single, often self-serving, point of view? Is there a voice of reason that can be heard above the screams of power brokers?
Our President promises to make a series of appearances today at which he will explain some of his rationale for threats and retaliation. Tomorrow night he will address us on national television, presumably to inform us why we will initiate another war. Syrian leaders likewise counter with arguments in support of their sovereignty and denial of heinous acts which has exterminated political adversaries – as well as innocent women and children. Are you like me? Do you find it impossible to know whose word is trustworthy? Can we be sure that any world leader is not as Thomas Carlyle describes as "spectacles behind which there is no eye?"1
David’s song of ascent, Psalm 121, begins with a question, "I lift up my eyes to the hills – where does my help come from?" The scene evoked by David’s question is strikingly akin to today’s genuine Christian Americans. Psalm 121 was penned as a song of ascent, a song sung by people on pilgrimage toward Jerusalem, devoted worshipers en route to worship. As the crowd builds with citizens from villages converging into a crowd of 1000's, the worship leader calls out, "Psalm 121!" Worshipers look at the hills laden with Baal shrines. Sex-trade religious leaders had built images and sacristies into the hillsides. Each holy place celebrated a distortion of the true God’s intentions and creation. The hills were littered with moral debris as unsightly as the burned and rotting housing carcasses lining Detroit’s streets today. There was no help in the hills . . . and there was none of the horizon.
As we go to worship the blaring sounds of human reason, anthems of human triumph blare, butting into the air as a mean-spirited goat. The spiritually astute, God listeners, hear the sounds of the hills, the sounds of irreverence, the cacophony of what Eugene Peterson call "no-gods."2 The air is filled with human reason without reverence, without awareness of the Holy, the Omniscient or the Omnipresent One.
The song goes on, the people continue the rhythmic chant, the volume builds as pilgrims to the Holy Place join in the procession and convictions about the True God are rehearsed in song. Ah, listen, one can hear the eternal truth above shrill screams of mere human reason. A song, an eternal melody is piercing the wet blankets of man’s stubbornness and human ignorance.
My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip-- he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD watches over you – the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all harm -- he will watch over your life; the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.
Join in the song! Be refreshed with the eternal truth! Carry the melody to the place of prayer and appeal to the One who never slumbers or sleeps!
I am listening for the voice of intercessors, a call for a call to prayer, a plea for wisdom and a spirit of restraint on those who carry the weight of decision making. In an arena where decisions are made that are too heavy and too complicated for mere mortals, must we be content with the voices of political operatives arguing for a single, often self-serving, point of view? Is there a voice of reason that can be heard above the screams of power brokers?
Our President promises to make a series of appearances today at which he will explain some of his rationale for threats and retaliation. Tomorrow night he will address us on national television, presumably to inform us why we will initiate another war. Syrian leaders likewise counter with arguments in support of their sovereignty and denial of heinous acts which has exterminated political adversaries – as well as innocent women and children. Are you like me? Do you find it impossible to know whose word is trustworthy? Can we be sure that any world leader is not as Thomas Carlyle describes as "spectacles behind which there is no eye?"1
David’s song of ascent, Psalm 121, begins with a question, "I lift up my eyes to the hills – where does my help come from?" The scene evoked by David’s question is strikingly akin to today’s genuine Christian Americans. Psalm 121 was penned as a song of ascent, a song sung by people on pilgrimage toward Jerusalem, devoted worshipers en route to worship. As the crowd builds with citizens from villages converging into a crowd of 1000's, the worship leader calls out, "Psalm 121!" Worshipers look at the hills laden with Baal shrines. Sex-trade religious leaders had built images and sacristies into the hillsides. Each holy place celebrated a distortion of the true God’s intentions and creation. The hills were littered with moral debris as unsightly as the burned and rotting housing carcasses lining Detroit’s streets today. There was no help in the hills . . . and there was none of the horizon.
As we go to worship the blaring sounds of human reason, anthems of human triumph blare, butting into the air as a mean-spirited goat. The spiritually astute, God listeners, hear the sounds of the hills, the sounds of irreverence, the cacophony of what Eugene Peterson call "no-gods."2 The air is filled with human reason without reverence, without awareness of the Holy, the Omniscient or the Omnipresent One.
The song goes on, the people continue the rhythmic chant, the volume builds as pilgrims to the Holy Place join in the procession and convictions about the True God are rehearsed in song. Ah, listen, one can hear the eternal truth above shrill screams of mere human reason. A song, an eternal melody is piercing the wet blankets of man’s stubbornness and human ignorance.
indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD watches over you – the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all harm -- he will watch over your life; the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.
Join in the song! Be refreshed with the eternal truth! Carry the melody to the place of prayer and appeal to the One who never slumbers or sleeps!
Friday, September 6, 2013
Amos is still preaching!
D. Elton Trueblood1 remains one of my favorite authors. Trueblood oils ones mental gears and stimulates make-believe on themes of ultimate importance. A leading twentieth century thinker, Trueblood, a Quaker, called for adult education in the local church at a level considerably higher than a typical Sunday School class.
In Your Other Vocation2 Trueblood presented an argument for beginning Bible study with the Book of Amos. After recently re-reading Your Other Vocation, I began a discipline of reading Amos in as many versions as I have on hand. After the fifth or sixth reading I am moving toward agreement with my favorite Quaker!
Trueblood was persuaded that the prophets speak to every generation. Since Amos is chronologically among the earliest to speak to Israel while she flagrantly embraced national sin, Trueblood suggests, "Start there!" Amos was entrusted with defining the issues. Other prophets followed, reporting the responses of the people and the heroic exploits of men like Daniel and his companions.
Amos took on the establishment, those protecting the religious, economic and political status quo, to maintain the personal comfort of the establishment in the face of the hopeless discomfort of the disenfranchised. Inertia is the resistance of any physical object to any change its motion, including a change in direction. Israel was there! She said, "Amos, we are happy as we are! Keep quiet! Prophets who soothe us and ignore our sins are all we need."
The sins of the establishment become the ethic of the community. The poor of Amos’ era were ground down to a nub at the hands of the religious, economic and political rich. At the outset of the book Amos’ words – Holy Spirit words, prophetic words – divide between thought and intent words, sharp as razor words cut through the world of make-believe. Amos speaks on behalf of the Almighty to the arrogant elite. God, through Amos, repeatedly announces, "Israel has sinned again and again," (New Living Translation). Israel simply refused to learn from her history and continued headlong toward God’s judgment.
Near the center of the prophecy, Amos trumpets God’s Word with clarity. The judgment warnings Amos announces employ powerful figures, locusts, fire, a plumb line and baskets of ripe fruit. The contest between Amos and Amaziah is too simple and understandable for anyone to overlook or misunderstand God’s intentions. The contest between good and bad, holy and filthy, compassion and arrogance are woven into the fabric of the text.
And then the compassion and perseverance of Israel’s God, and our God, is uncovered in wonderful language of promise and power. If she will repent, Israel will be restored. Crops will grow faster than they can be harvested. Exiled people will return from captivity. The people will be planted and never be uprooted again.
I have omitted lengthy quotes, details and scripture references on purpose. Reading Amos with an open heart and the anointing of the Holy Spirit is far better than reading my comments. Because of her sins Israel reached the threshold of exile, a passage into another Egypt from which they had been miraculously delivered. Those who will read Amos will be reminded why God judged His favored people. I believe we will see our nation in the reflecting pool of God declared dissatisfaction with Israel. If we will, we can learn and repent. God is longsuffering, but He is also just. Many of our national religious, economic and political leaders embrace the spirit of Amaziah. But, we desperately need to heed the voice of Amos!
Please let me know that you read, hear and respond to Amos’ Holy Spirit call from antiquity into the present!
In Your Other Vocation2 Trueblood presented an argument for beginning Bible study with the Book of Amos. After recently re-reading Your Other Vocation, I began a discipline of reading Amos in as many versions as I have on hand. After the fifth or sixth reading I am moving toward agreement with my favorite Quaker!
Trueblood was persuaded that the prophets speak to every generation. Since Amos is chronologically among the earliest to speak to Israel while she flagrantly embraced national sin, Trueblood suggests, "Start there!" Amos was entrusted with defining the issues. Other prophets followed, reporting the responses of the people and the heroic exploits of men like Daniel and his companions.
Amos took on the establishment, those protecting the religious, economic and political status quo, to maintain the personal comfort of the establishment in the face of the hopeless discomfort of the disenfranchised. Inertia is the resistance of any physical object to any change its motion, including a change in direction. Israel was there! She said, "Amos, we are happy as we are! Keep quiet! Prophets who soothe us and ignore our sins are all we need."
The sins of the establishment become the ethic of the community. The poor of Amos’ era were ground down to a nub at the hands of the religious, economic and political rich. At the outset of the book Amos’ words – Holy Spirit words, prophetic words – divide between thought and intent words, sharp as razor words cut through the world of make-believe. Amos speaks on behalf of the Almighty to the arrogant elite. God, through Amos, repeatedly announces, "Israel has sinned again and again," (New Living Translation). Israel simply refused to learn from her history and continued headlong toward God’s judgment.
Near the center of the prophecy, Amos trumpets God’s Word with clarity. The judgment warnings Amos announces employ powerful figures, locusts, fire, a plumb line and baskets of ripe fruit. The contest between Amos and Amaziah is too simple and understandable for anyone to overlook or misunderstand God’s intentions. The contest between good and bad, holy and filthy, compassion and arrogance are woven into the fabric of the text.
And then the compassion and perseverance of Israel’s God, and our God, is uncovered in wonderful language of promise and power. If she will repent, Israel will be restored. Crops will grow faster than they can be harvested. Exiled people will return from captivity. The people will be planted and never be uprooted again.
I have omitted lengthy quotes, details and scripture references on purpose. Reading Amos with an open heart and the anointing of the Holy Spirit is far better than reading my comments. Because of her sins Israel reached the threshold of exile, a passage into another Egypt from which they had been miraculously delivered. Those who will read Amos will be reminded why God judged His favored people. I believe we will see our nation in the reflecting pool of God declared dissatisfaction with Israel. If we will, we can learn and repent. God is longsuffering, but He is also just. Many of our national religious, economic and political leaders embrace the spirit of Amaziah. But, we desperately need to heed the voice of Amos!
Please let me know that you read, hear and respond to Amos’ Holy Spirit call from antiquity into the present!
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Gathering stuff for storage or investing in people?
Have you noticed the newer industry sprouting up across the American landscape? Outlets are appearing in such assorted places as the intersection of two Interstate highways in downtown Philadelphia and in remote fields along country roads. The industry is "personal storage," a service provided to average American people. We Americans buy so much that we haven’t enough room, we so highly value the stuff we have that we cannot part with it and then finally sell it for pennies on the dollar. The storage business is a living metaphor of Jesus’ teaching about deciding between laying up treasures in heaven or accumulating stuff where moths, rust and thieves ruin what man treasures (Matthew 6:19-20).
The proliferation of the new business is now so common that several television shows focus on what people store, abandon and allow to be sold at an auction. The "lockers" are full of an assortment of stuff that would be used some day, but . . . . Another indication of our American commitment to the accumulation of stuff is demonstrated on various "house hunting" television programs. Granite counter tops vie for importance with walk-in closets and storage space. I am simultaneously amused and troubled when a newlywed couple being filmed declares, "We must have a three-car garage and two master suites to complement an ‘open concept’ living area, a home office space, craft room and full basement." I thought Pat and I were very good at gathering stuff, but we are clearly minor leaguers in comparison.
How can this be happening while the percentage of people in America living below the poverty line is mushrooming, the middle class is shrinking, people are losing their jobs and foreclosures are common? Is there no better use for our excess stuff? Is the best use of unused tables, lamps, recliners, sofas, tools and clothes collecting dust in storage lockers? Why are major corporations willing to fund television shows about hoarders? Who watches?
If we are made for better than accumulating stuff, and I really believe we are, then we must do the hard work of learning how to live counter-culturally. An early indicator of God’s attitude of sharing and stopping with enough is found in Leviticus 23:22 (NIV)
"'When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Leave them for the poor and the alien. I am the LORD your God.'" Leave some behind! Make some of your bounty available, without cost, to those who are in need. The story of Ruth centers on the largess of a kinsman. Boaz simply was living out God’s command to refuse to consume everything selfishly and to live generously.
Jesus’ parables reinforced the primitive, but effective system of distribution to satisfy needs. The story Jesus told of the man overtaken by thieves strikes at the heart of selfish living (Luke 10). The lesson on unselfish living is reinforced which is tucked into the narrative of feeding the thousands. One boy shared what he had before everyone’s need was met (Luke 9). And, Jesus’ teaching about the judgment clearly reinforces the rightness of sharing, giving, holding stuff loosely (Matthew 25).
Pat and I are trying to help fund 20 elementary school-aged children attend the Christian academy Pat founded in 2001. The children’s parents are among the working poor, underemployed and living below the poverty line. Their dream for their children is as real and noble ours is for our children and grandchildren. On occasion I struggle when approaching someone who is renting a locker their stuff but are unmoved with the nobility of educating children. I wonder if the press would cover my mischief. I am thinking of mowing my lawn neatly, but leaving a one foot wide section of lawn unmowed . . . all summer . . . until people started to ask, "Why don’t you mow all the lawn?" Maybe that would be a good way to start a conversation about the things are really important!
The proliferation of the new business is now so common that several television shows focus on what people store, abandon and allow to be sold at an auction. The "lockers" are full of an assortment of stuff that would be used some day, but . . . . Another indication of our American commitment to the accumulation of stuff is demonstrated on various "house hunting" television programs. Granite counter tops vie for importance with walk-in closets and storage space. I am simultaneously amused and troubled when a newlywed couple being filmed declares, "We must have a three-car garage and two master suites to complement an ‘open concept’ living area, a home office space, craft room and full basement." I thought Pat and I were very good at gathering stuff, but we are clearly minor leaguers in comparison.
How can this be happening while the percentage of people in America living below the poverty line is mushrooming, the middle class is shrinking, people are losing their jobs and foreclosures are common? Is there no better use for our excess stuff? Is the best use of unused tables, lamps, recliners, sofas, tools and clothes collecting dust in storage lockers? Why are major corporations willing to fund television shows about hoarders? Who watches?
If we are made for better than accumulating stuff, and I really believe we are, then we must do the hard work of learning how to live counter-culturally. An early indicator of God’s attitude of sharing and stopping with enough is found in Leviticus 23:22 (NIV)
"'When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Leave them for the poor and the alien. I am the LORD your God.'" Leave some behind! Make some of your bounty available, without cost, to those who are in need. The story of Ruth centers on the largess of a kinsman. Boaz simply was living out God’s command to refuse to consume everything selfishly and to live generously.
Jesus’ parables reinforced the primitive, but effective system of distribution to satisfy needs. The story Jesus told of the man overtaken by thieves strikes at the heart of selfish living (Luke 10). The lesson on unselfish living is reinforced which is tucked into the narrative of feeding the thousands. One boy shared what he had before everyone’s need was met (Luke 9). And, Jesus’ teaching about the judgment clearly reinforces the rightness of sharing, giving, holding stuff loosely (Matthew 25).
Pat and I are trying to help fund 20 elementary school-aged children attend the Christian academy Pat founded in 2001. The children’s parents are among the working poor, underemployed and living below the poverty line. Their dream for their children is as real and noble ours is for our children and grandchildren. On occasion I struggle when approaching someone who is renting a locker their stuff but are unmoved with the nobility of educating children. I wonder if the press would cover my mischief. I am thinking of mowing my lawn neatly, but leaving a one foot wide section of lawn unmowed . . . all summer . . . until people started to ask, "Why don’t you mow all the lawn?" Maybe that would be a good way to start a conversation about the things are really important!
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Squeezing lemons or witnessing miracles?
The story has been around since I was a boy. A circus strongman entered the center ring violently squeezing a lemon and declared, "I’ll give $1000 to the person who can get another drop of juice from this lemon." At each performance in every city people would step forward and do their best to get another drop from the strongman’s lemon. Strong football players, construction workers, and overconfident men who had toned their bodies to perfection strained to gain the promised $1000.
At one evening performance a skinny older man stepped into the ring after all others had failed. The crowd hooted and laughed! How does this scrawny fellow think he can do what others stronger than he has failed to do? But, the older, physically challenged man began to carefully massage the lemon, carefully kneading the fruit apparently squeezed dry by the professional strongman. And, one, two, and then several more drops of juice spilled to the circus floor. The crowd cheered! The strongman was bewildered. The circus operators scurried about to find $1000 for the promised reward.
As the crowd sat in awed silence the strongman asked, "How did you do that? After years of challenging crowds no one has ever done what you have done tonight." The quiet lemon-squeezing gentleman said, "I have practiced for years. I am my church’s treasurer."
The first time I heard the story people laughed nervously. I thought it was funny, then, but not now. It isn’t funny for several reasons. First, the story reinforces a common opinion that church members are loath to support ministries financially. I have found the exact opposite. God’s people are the most generous people in the world. When authentic disciples of Jesus see a need, an opportunity to affect redemption, they run toward it with abandon. In my experience, shortages are experienced when the mission is presented without defining the nobility of the mission, not because of the people’s stinginess.
Second, true Jesus followers are oriented to "other-worldliness." They believe that investments in a redemptive ministry here on earth will bear dividends in heaven. We followers believe Jesus’ simple instructions and act on His truths. I know what moths, rust and thieves do. I have been victimized by them all. But Jesus followers also know that when they give, the gift returns, good measure, pressed down and running over.
Another thing I have discovered is that churches who strain forward, trying, reaching, stretching toward those who need her message most experience God’s provision. Groups that accept the limitations of what it has, in effect practically shut out God. Maintenance mode, or "We-can’t-afford-it-thinking" will grip a group around the neck and close its financial breathing tube. Opportunities come and go because, "We don’t have the money." Consider that when Jesus was confronted with feeding more than 5000 people he didn’t ask His disciples to raise a massive offering. The miracle began with gathering a few fish and loaves of bread. The rest is shouting material!
I speak as one who has led others and one who understands that I teach what I believe and reproduce who I am. In short generous churches are uniformly led by generous pastors and elders. Generosity is contagious. One of my favorite authors, D. Elton Trueblood wrote, "A religion that is not contagious is not genuine."1 Some may be comfortable with squeezing lemons, conserving hard-earned juice and saying "No" to opportunities deemed too risky, too expensive and too outrageous. Others, say, "Hey! If we obey, we’ll get to witness a miracle!"
At one evening performance a skinny older man stepped into the ring after all others had failed. The crowd hooted and laughed! How does this scrawny fellow think he can do what others stronger than he has failed to do? But, the older, physically challenged man began to carefully massage the lemon, carefully kneading the fruit apparently squeezed dry by the professional strongman. And, one, two, and then several more drops of juice spilled to the circus floor. The crowd cheered! The strongman was bewildered. The circus operators scurried about to find $1000 for the promised reward.
As the crowd sat in awed silence the strongman asked, "How did you do that? After years of challenging crowds no one has ever done what you have done tonight." The quiet lemon-squeezing gentleman said, "I have practiced for years. I am my church’s treasurer."
The first time I heard the story people laughed nervously. I thought it was funny, then, but not now. It isn’t funny for several reasons. First, the story reinforces a common opinion that church members are loath to support ministries financially. I have found the exact opposite. God’s people are the most generous people in the world. When authentic disciples of Jesus see a need, an opportunity to affect redemption, they run toward it with abandon. In my experience, shortages are experienced when the mission is presented without defining the nobility of the mission, not because of the people’s stinginess.
Second, true Jesus followers are oriented to "other-worldliness." They believe that investments in a redemptive ministry here on earth will bear dividends in heaven. We followers believe Jesus’ simple instructions and act on His truths. I know what moths, rust and thieves do. I have been victimized by them all. But Jesus followers also know that when they give, the gift returns, good measure, pressed down and running over.
Another thing I have discovered is that churches who strain forward, trying, reaching, stretching toward those who need her message most experience God’s provision. Groups that accept the limitations of what it has, in effect practically shut out God. Maintenance mode, or "We-can’t-afford-it-thinking" will grip a group around the neck and close its financial breathing tube. Opportunities come and go because, "We don’t have the money." Consider that when Jesus was confronted with feeding more than 5000 people he didn’t ask His disciples to raise a massive offering. The miracle began with gathering a few fish and loaves of bread. The rest is shouting material!
I speak as one who has led others and one who understands that I teach what I believe and reproduce who I am. In short generous churches are uniformly led by generous pastors and elders. Generosity is contagious. One of my favorite authors, D. Elton Trueblood wrote, "A religion that is not contagious is not genuine."1 Some may be comfortable with squeezing lemons, conserving hard-earned juice and saying "No" to opportunities deemed too risky, too expensive and too outrageous. Others, say, "Hey! If we obey, we’ll get to witness a miracle!"
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