How important is this day?

Do you ever wonder how much our parents understood or appreciated the events through which they lived while they were occurring? While my parents joined millions of Americans in flattening tin cans, patching threadbare tires and rationing sugar to help fund a war on another continent, how much did they comprehend of what was happening? Was what we call "The Marshall Plan" just another piece of post war legislation which their tax dollars funded? Were our parents and grandparents too busy working, building homes, rearing children and funding retirement accounts to notice the great strides being made in industry, technology and knowledge? Did they ever reflect on the impact their lives were having on us, their grandchildren and great-grandchildren?

Alliances formed 60 years ago remain. Little fragments of order and peace known to our war-torn world are a result of eye-to-eye negotiations. Stalwart leaders stared down the pesky anti-christs of the 50's, 60's and 70's. While a parade of dictators threatened the extermination of Capitalism, pounded on a desk at the United Nations with a shoe and pointed missiles toward our shores, presidents refused to blink and expanded the "Arsenal of Democracy." But, I was busy attending classes, falling in love, building a family and scurrying about doing really significant things! How important is a guy named Castro? The names of Russian leaders were impossible to spell and pronounce. It was easy to ignore them while we pursued our own agendas.

I thought about these things as I awakened this morning. I thought about it because my sister, Gloria . . . the one who remembers praying for me with my Mom and Dad before I was born . . . my only sister, the one who helped me pay my college bills and sent me care packages . . . the one who helped me in more ways that I can ever remember or will ever repay . . . is having surgery today. Doctors say it is routine, just cataract removal. But, we three siblings have been so healthy that "routine" isn’t routine! The ophthalmologist who last looked into my eyes said that it wouldn’t be too long before I will share Gloria’s experience. In light of where we are in life, are we observing what is happening around us? Are we applying ourselves to the really important issues and sounding the appropriate warning?

Where we stand in national history is worth thinking about today, before the opportunity to appreciate its importance escapes. Consider that our President, in an inaugural speech no less, promoted the rights of those who live a lifestyle which God made a capital offense. The torturous events within the Boy Scouts of America put us at risk of God’s judgment while we listen to threats of "extreme wind chill indexes" and "accumulating slush on the roadways." Most children now grow up in a single parent home, most often with just the mother. Our President, who was reared in a single-parent home, is part of the new single-parent home majority. How has his journey through life colored his decisions? How are the realities of today impacting our future?

Some hear, observe, and have chosen to come out swinging. My e-mail "Inbox" is stuffed with challenges to activism. Some spend time angrily castigating everyone with whom they disagree. Others cower in fear, wringing their hands with a moribund view of the future. Some merely listen for the "wind chill index," dress appropriately and forfeit the opportunity to influence others. Could we ask ourselves, "Whom may I influence for Jesus’ sake by the way I pray, the way I live, and the words that I share?" Is it too simple, or is it audacious to assume that we are this generation’s equivalent to Ezekiel’s "watchman?" I intend to send a card to a friend’s daughter who is undergoing another round of chemotherapy. I’ll try to call someone I missed in church Sunday, do my best to make the Spirit of Jesus know with whomever I meet today and attend prayer meeting tonight. I sense an urgency to make today count.

The church that God assigned to form me during childhood, the years filled with pesky anti-christs, consistently preached, prayed, hoped and sang about holy living and Jesus’ return. We knew Jesus as our "Blessed Hope!" So, while I was musing long before daylight this morning, I sang!

It may be at morn, when the day is awaking,
When sunlight through darkness and shadow is breaking
That Jesus will come in the fullness of glory
To receive from the world "His own."

It may be at midday, it may be at twilight,
It may be, perchance, that the blackness of midnight
Will burst into light in the blaze of His glory,
When Jesus receives "His own."

While its hosts cry Hosanna, from heaven descending,
With glorified saints and the angels attending,
With grace on His brow, like a halo of glory,
Will Jesus receive "His own."

Oh, joy! oh, delight! should we go without dying,
No sickness, no sadness, no dread and no crying.
Caught up through the clouds with our Lord into glory,
When Jesus receives "His own."

Chorus:
O Lord Jesus, how long, how long
Ere we shout the glad song,
Christ returneth! Hallelujah!
Hallelujah! Amen. Hallelujah! Amen. Lyrics: H. L. Turner
Music: James McGranahan

　

Books as Gifts

A good book is a great gift! I love giving them. This morning I sent off a copy of V. Raymond Edman’s, The Disciplines of Life to a new friend. Dr. Edman’s book is a condensation of a series of chapel sermons he presented to the student body at Wheaton College during his presidency. Each reading is a reminder to acquire wisdom, or how to apply knowledge.

I am sending another book to a friend of more than 50 years, a book on preaching. Bob is already a fine preacher, solid teacher and a thoughtful communicator, the kind of person who will continue to learn. The book will encourage him, I hope. The "I hope," is an indicator of the anxiety factor in book giving. What if the one to whom I send the book hates it and thinks I am a Neanderthal? It does happen on occasion!

The "I hope," factor is a worthy risk to take, especially if the book is a classic like Dr. Edman’s. The Disciplines of Life was copyrighted in 1948 and has gone through more publications that some author’s books have sold. The wisdom of truth and life application is timeless. It is more contemporary than today’s headlines.

Receiving books is a second love. Friend Bob, the old college friend who has been preaching for nearly half a century, sent me an Alan Redpath title, Victorious Christian Living. The book is a series of deeper life studies from Joshua preached while Redpath was a pastor of Moody Church in Chicago in 1953. The call to personal holiness is timeless and reminiscent of pulpit themes from my childhood. Redpath’s knack for quoting poetry and hymn lyrics enriches the text. Bob sent me a book he described as "thrift store salvage" that is priceless.

Ah, books! They are wonderful gifts.

Burden Bearers

As I read through the older King James Version of the Bible earlier this year, I stumbled over vocabulary that was more familiar in my youth. Have you ever wondered why the Kohathites important? For instance, in the King James Version Numbers 4:19 says, ". . . when they approach unto the most holy things: Aaron and his sons shall go in, and appoint them everyone to his service and to his burden." The language arrested my thoughts for a moment with, "What burden?"

The language of The New International Version says, ". . . when they come near the most holy things, do this for them: Aaron and his sons are to go into the sanctuary and assign to each man his work and what he is to carry." Aha! Everyone has an assigned piece of the Tabernacle to carry. No one is exempt from sharing responsibility. A whole clan of Kohathites was available to the larger priesthood. The Lord says, "Don’t overlook the help you have, and don’t deny them the opportunity to share in the blessing of service."

Every pastor has known the blessing of the Kohathites, the people who work behind the scenes, experts at carrying and moving. Ernie and Betty were treasurers who made the work of the pastor pure joy. Don and Sam were skilled differently, but each loved to keep God’s house looking beautiful. A roster of secretaries, Nancy, Marilyn, Arlena, Rachel, Emily and Becky have made life better and everything run more smoothly. (I know "administrative assistant" is the more culturally correct, but I am writing with retro language running around in my head.) I am a little skittish about mentioning my son-in-law, Otis, because of nepotism’s stigma. But, few have carried more assignments with so little recognition. Hundreds of others enjoyed attention to details which allowed me to dream and define the huge sweeping pictures the Lord had shown me. On many occasions someone would ask about a detail in the church kitchen, a line item in the budget, or a detail that only a Kohathite could answer. Small group leaders, nameless Kohathites, and I shared pastoral ministry and we all grew together.

"Burden" surfaces again in Numbers 11:16-17, "The LORD said to Moses: ‘Bring me seventy of Israel’s elders who are known to you as leaders and officials among the people. Have them come to the Tent of Meeting, that they may stand there with you. I will come down and speak with you there, and I will take of the Spirit that is on you and put the Spirit on them. They will help you carry the burden of the people so that you will not have to carry it alone.’" (Emphasis mine) The same Spirit that equipped and qualified Moses was upon the rank and file, people like the Kohathites. The Spirit breathes on those whom He wills for the purposes that suit the One who made us.

If you are a leader, ask the Lord to show you those with whom you can share the burden. You will then join me in celebrating the Kohathites which make life better than we could have ever known it doing everything ourselves!

How many times?

How many times . . . ? Questions beginning with those three words are loaded! How many times have you idled, fingers drumming on the steering wheel as the signal lights cycle through an endless menu of lights allowing left, right and straight ahead options? How many times do you arrive for a doctor’s appointment and wait, and wait, and . . . ? How many times have you circled the maze of roadways tangled around airport terminals as your loved one waits for a bag tangled in an out-of-sight contraption? "How many times?" tends to lean toward impatience, frustrations even anger. How many times . . .?

Peter asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?" (Matthew 18:21) Jesus, is once a day for a week enough? How will I know the one who has wronged me really means it? When is enough, enough? When will we ever be able to move on?

Jesus’ response is demanding. He said, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy times seven." You and I hear sermons on the theme and usually respond with a shrug of the shoulders and, "Well the preacher doesn’t know about my case! If he could just be the fly on the wall and see what is really happening . . ." Do you know what they did? Nothing like that has ever happened to you!

Well, let’s not forget who said, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy times seven." Nor, let’s not overlook how He continues to model His instructions by forgiving us. As disciples of Jesus, we learn to think like Him, behave like Him. Like Him we learn to pray for those who slander and attack us. I can find no evidence that Jesus ever stopped praying as He did on the cross, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." Yes! He prayed, and kept on praying that way while some gambled for His clothes . . . right there in front of Him!

If the seventy times seven is daunting, consider John who wrote, "Herein is our love made perfect, that we may have boldness in the day of judgment: because as he is, so are we in this world." A chorus from my childhood says:
To be like Jesus
To be like Jesus
All I ask, to be like Him
All through life's journey
From earth to glory
All I ask, to be like Him.
Seventy times seven is an order, a clearly-defined expectation for us who follow Him who models forgiveness for us.

Old men dreaming, young men seeing visions

Some folk just see life differently. They dream! Their drummer’s cadence is off-meter. What consumes the interest, energy and time of the majority seems to be of little interest to dreamers. Western industrialized cultures have little time for dreams. Hard data, provable theorems and observable phenomena are the currency of Western decision making. Dreams are eerie, spooky, too weird for serious consideration in a society that interprets life with numbers.

Joseph’s brothers, eleven of them, said, "‘Here comes that dreamer!’ . . . Come now, let’s kill him and throw him into one of these cisterns and say that a ferocious animal devoured him. Then we’ll see what comes of his dreams.’" (Genesis 37:19) The envious siblings discarded their meal ticket! If it hadn’t been for a trading company passing by, Joseph would have starved to death and they would have also.

The Patriarchs and prophets were familiar with dreams. It is what makes Daniel, Ezekiel and others so interesting! When Peter stood to explain the phenomenon of Pentecost he quoted Joel, "‘In the last days,’ God says, ‘I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams.’" (Acts 2:17) As we live the "last days" we ought to be comfortable with dreams and visions.

We "older men" ought to expect dreams as normal, as much as Pentecostals profit from speaking in tongues. Younger men should expect to experience God-inspired visions, an escape from committee-driven strategy, and a holy interruption to business as usual. Dreams and visions facilitate a divine freedom from institutional goals and measurements. By the Spirit, in dream or vision, David Wilkerson saw young people more than 150 miles away whom others were walking past without notice. Loren Cunningham received a Spirit vision, the mobilization of 100 thousands of young people in missionary service. Dreams and visions change the world!

Dreams and vision bring glory to God. They outlive the dreamers and visionaries. The fruit of what is born of the Spirit makes Jesus known. Public recognition is almost inevitable. We still talk about Joseph. Daniel is a major hero of the faith. But everyone who understands their stories stand in awe of the power and mercies of God. Decades before it was fulfilled Joseph dreamed the dream that saved a nation from starvation and gave us Moses and the Exodus story as a building block for our faith. His siblings didn’t sit in a committee session and develop a clandestine strategy to get "that dreamer" into Pharaoh’s inner circle.

National and international conditions require another generation of Spirit-dreamers. The church thrives when dreams and visions accompany other manifestations. If you see or hear of a quirky person, one who marches to a different cadence, hears a voice that others cannot, sees what is invisible to the masses, listen to him! Watch him! Ask the Spirit to give you discernment. "That dreamer" may the be one who God uses to save a generation!

A cool, refreshing song quenches ones thirst

Occasionally, nothing helps! Have you ever needed a "pick-me-up" and a "down-in-the-dumper" calls to remind you that things have been worse and moans about what they see on the horizon?

Have you been thirsty and have nothing to quench the thirst or hungry and have nothing in the refrigerator that looks good enough to eat? Have you made plans that have all fallen apart at the last minute? You are all dressed up and have nowhere to go?

The "Old Philosopher Eddie Lawrence" says it humourously! Listen in on the Internet at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pOhKqWMhVVI. Your problems will not go away, but you will probably laugh!

And then, a song races into your spirit, a song of confidence and rejoicing, a song of victory and celebration. That wonderful phenomenon happened to me again recently. The lyric came and stayed! The truth echoed around as long as I needed the "pick-me-up!" The lyrics caromed around inside for as long as it took for its truth to refocus my fearful frets into excited expectation. If you know the tune, sing along!

All praise to Him Who reigns above
In majesty supreme,
Who gave His Son for man to die,
That He might man redeem!

Refrain

Blessèd be the Name! Blessèd be the Name!
Blessèd be the Name of the Lord!
Blessèd be the Name! Blessèd be the Name!
Blessèd be the Name of the Lord!

His Name above all names shall stand,
Exalted more and more,
At God the Father’s own right hand,
Where angel hosts adore.

Refrain

Redeemer, Savior, Friend of man
Once ruined by the fall,
Thou hast devised salvation’s plan,
For Thou hast died for all.

Refrain

His Name shall be the Counselor,
The mighty Prince of Peace,Of all earth’s kingdoms Conqueror,
Whose reign shall never cease.

Refrain

Ah, that truth is like a cool 16-ounce glass of my favorite, sweet tea! Sing it again! Refreshing, isn’t it?

Laugh a Little

While a senior in college I appeared before the Michigan District Presbytery to answer questions about my calling to preach and how I prepared for a life in ministry. My pastor arranged for me to attend the District’s annual council at the church’s expense and at that meeting I was immersed into the new world of my future vocation.

At that event I discovered that preachers often tell stories and yarns that only preachers can fully appreciate. Sitting in a corner booth at East Lansing’s Elias Brothers Big Boy, four pastors and their spouses shared events and observations about church life until near midnight. I listened and wondered why "men of God" bantered, teased and laughed when surrounded with serious troubles, trauma, and troubles.

That night one of the stories I heard for the first time was about a group of pastors who told about their favorite preacher. (Variations on the story are still repeated when preachers get together.) In the story each explained why they preferred their favorite and supported their opinion with anecdotes and quotations from sermons. Finally, the last of the men of the cloth was urged to tell what preacher he enjoyed most. With some hesitation he said, "Well, when I am really anointed, there is no one I would rather hear than myself!"

A few days ago I was introduced to the sermons of Fred B. Craddock. I have never heard the native of rural Tennessee. He was ordained by the Christian Church and is professor emeritus at Candler School of Theology. Dr. Craddock has become one of my favorite preachers of all time. Craddock’s word picture of John the Baptist follows.
"He was no beautiful candle burning softly in a sanctuary. He was a prairie fire, the very fire of God scorching the earth. He was no diplomat trying to make yes sound like no and no sound like yes to please everybody. He just said, ‘The Judge is coming and I’m here to serve subpoenas.’ And still the people came." (The Collected Sermons of Fred B. Craddock, page 151)
After reading just a few sentences it is easy to see that Fred Craddock is a master of the pulpit and highly qualified to teach fledgling preachers.

The evening I spent in East Lansing, May 1966, I began to learn the importance of wholesome laughter. The pivotal story told by a preacher about preachers in the corner booth at Big Boy I have used to spur myself toward becoming a good preacher. Over the years many would have been blessed if I had been introduced to Dr. Craddock much earlier in my vocation. Some day I will get the hang of it. Some day I may become the one whom I enjoy hearing most!

To see ourselves

Robert Burns’ humorous poem, "To a Louse" c.1786, teaches enduring lessons. The closing stanza is the one frequently recited.
"O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
It wad frae mony a blunder free us,
An' foolish notion:
What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
An' ev'n devotion!"
Burns’ Jenny, a well-dressed young lady, presented herself with graceful gait, glamorous grooming and smug self-assurance. Jenny dined elegantly and with flawless manners. But, a louse, an ordinary bug was moving about in her hat! While Jenny thought about her careful preparation of herself to society, society was captivated by an ordinary bug!

The lessons prompted by the Scottish poet’s verse ought to be seriously considered. If one fails to think through Robert Burns’ premise, one may fail to achieve his best work or reach his full potential. Jenny would have been served well by a friend who was bold enough to share what was amusing others, a bug in the hat!

I am reminded of a lesson a college professor taught. (It was one of those "not-in-the-syllabus, off-the-cuff" lessons that prove invaluable and enduring.) The good teacher said, "Adversaries will often dare to tell you the truth about yourself. Friends are often too polite!" Solomon wrote, "Wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses." – Proverbs 27:6 The key is found in true friendship. Real friends give one another permission to be honest, to lovingly confront.

Those who aspire to be their best and to achieve superior work might find a few ancillary lessons worthy of consideration.

• Do I carelessly or unintentionally minimize others, or their achievements because of my own insecurities? Am I knock kneed because others are smiling about the bug in my hat and I think less of myself than I ought? Insecure people can be reckless critics.
• Am I threatened or intimidated by those with whom I have legitimate reasons for disagreement? Do others have to be "wrong" because I am convinced of a truth, a doctrine or a commitment to an opinion? Am I bugged by others in the body of Christ who accomplish what I cannot and am not called to do? Are "different people" forced to the margins of my definitions of "faith" and "faithfulness" because of their persuasion or ministry?
• Do I make decisions based on what I think others may think about me, decisions about my wardrobe, choice of car, or ministry style? John the Baptist ate bugs and is an interesting person to seriously study when considering an answer to the question.
• Does being the "only one" bug me? Is "only one" position intolerable for me? Ahab and Jehoshaphat’s encounter with Micaiah has been a help to me. (1 Kings 22) If we are the only one going East on a westward bound one way highway, we are in serious trouble. But, there are occasions when an absolute principle or redeeming truth is at risk, a moment when only "Thus saith the Lord" ought to be spoken. Are we confident that we have heard the Sovereign Lord’s counsel and are properly anointed by the Spirit?
• Do I embrace others with whom I disagree, or do not understand, as quickly and as sincerely those with whom I easily fit? How sincerely do I celebrate the achievements of others who are not the same "brand" or doctrine? If not, why? What really bugs me?

The ever-present foibles spoofed by Robert Burns are difficult to correct. We are all bugged and no one knows himself perfectly. Saint Paul’s counsel is appropriate for us all who tend to be too parochial, insecure and dogmatic. The lengthy passage is reprinted for your ease of access.
"The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts. Though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ. For us were all baptized by one Spirit into one body—whether Jews or Greeks, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink.
Now the body is not made up of one part but of many. If the foot should say, "Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body," it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. And if the ear should say, "Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body," it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body.
"The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I don’t need you!’ And the head cannot say to the feet, ‘I don’t need you!’ On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it." – 1 Corinthians 12:12-26
While I seldom wear hats, if you see a louse crawling around me, please let me know! I trust my friends!

　

A Word Alive: A Song Worth Singing

Comparing the sheer joy of reading God’s Word to anything else might be sacrilege. But, I have the urge! Some days while quietly reading, the words on the page take life! The Holy Spirit causes the truth on the page to vibrate into the most remote vault in my soul. While impossible to explain, the experiences are so deep, so real, so pleasantly life-changing that I long for the next moment of wonder in the Word.

It happened again today! While reading the account of frogs and flies sent by God to Egypt, sharing pages with the lice and ice falling from the sky before Pharaoh’s hard heart allowed the Exodus, the Spirit reminded me of a saving truth . . . a truth I first learned as a boy. "The blood will be a sign for you on the houses where you are; and when I see the blood, I will pass over you." (Exodus 12:13) The theme was reinforced frequently during Communion services and sung by blue collar labor class Detroiters with ordinary voices.
Christ our Redeemer died on the cross,
Died for the sinner, paid all his due;
All who receive Him need never fear,
Yes, He will pass, will pass over you.

Refrain:
When I see the blood, when I see the blood,
When I see the blood, I will pass, I will pass over you.

Chiefest of sinners, Jesus will save;
As He has promised, so He will do;
Oh, sinner, hear Him, trust in His Word,
Then He will pass, will pass over you.

Judgment is coming, all will be there.
Who have rejected, who have refused?
Oh, sinner, hasten, let Jesus in,
Oh, He will pass, will pass over you.

O great compassion! O boundless love!
Jesus hath power, Jesus is true;
All who believe are safe from the storm,
Oh, He will pass, will pass over you.

From among the common people, there was no operatic polish or symphonic accompaniment, the Spirit inspired the church to declare extraordinary truth. That truth bore down into our souls. As I read this morning, I was alerted to a new appreciation for the sustaining power of a song, a song which declares Gospel truth. I have little influence nowadays over what is sung in church, but I recommend that we sing the truth that saves in as many ways as we can!

Dreamers: Can't live with them, can't live without them!

Joseph’s brothers nearly killed their lifeline! Their kid brother annoyed them. Some would argue that Joseph deserved his siblings’ scorn. At their first opportunity they said to each other, "Here comes that dreamer!" "Come now, let’s kill him and throw him into one of these cisterns and say that a ferocious animal devoured him. Then we’ll see what comes of his dreams." (Genesis 37)

Like Joseph’s brothers, Moses’ contemporaries had a hard time embracing the captain of their deliverance. The Book of Hebrews says, "Moses persevered because he saw him who is invisible." (11:27) Moses was anything but a consensus gatherer. He was captivated by scenes hidden to all his peers. (Somehow, somewhere on the journey, he convinced us that he really did see a burning bush!)

Dreamers make people uncomfortable! Pharaoh detested Moses. The Israelis complained endlessly about his game plans. Moses faced the political equivalent of football’s fourth and long too often to sleep well. Joseph threw a "hail Mary" pass to save the Middle East from starvation. The baker and wine steward treated Joseph like a linebacker grabbing a running back’s face mask. Potiphar’s wife loathed Joseph as much as his brothers did.

Those who know the story of Ignaz Philipp Semmelweis’ contribution to public health have a hard time mocking dreamers. A little known Hungarian doctor is rightly credited with rescuing millions of women who probably would have died while bearing children. Dr. Semmelweis connected the death of women who had recently delivered a baby in a hospital to doctors moving between autopsy labs and delivery rooms without washing their hands. But he was mocked! How stupid! The band of "Joseph’s brothers," medical professionals, shoved Semmelweis to the margins of medicine. He did not live long enough to see the full effect of his dream.

Dreamers are easy targets for crowds who amuse themselves poking fun, and mocking others. They are pooh-poohed with rhythmic regularity. But dreamers dare to be inserted into life-changing circumstances. Visionaries will not knuckle under an "It can’t be done!" crowd content with mediocrity. I have had the privilege of knowing a few dreamers. Dreamers see the invisible so clearly they often wonder, "Why others cannot enjoy the view?" A visionary "imagineers" with Walt Disney. While scoffers are asking, "Why?" dreamers are already answering, "Why not!" Dreamers also look better in history books!

Two young men are dead. Who cares?

Most mornings I thumb through the electronic edition of The Philadelphia Inquirer. The paper is a connecting link to the city Pat and I love. The paper documents the grizzly fact that a young man was murdered minutes into the new year less than 75 yards from the Spring Garden Academy playground. To see “North 17^th and Venango” in print yesterday stirred our pulse and created a sharper image than usual. I still am wondering if the man was one of those who walked by the building and with whom we spoke a few months ago. Is he one of those who asked for a job? Did we treat him as respectfully as he deserved?

This morning’s edition of The Inquirer reported the death of a major league franchise owner’s 32-year-old son by a drug overdose. The last lines of the story read, “The death at a beachfront apartment building on the Pacific Coast Highway was discovered after a friend of Scott Sterling’s called police after not hearing from him for several days, according to a statement from the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department. Deputies found the body and paramedics pronounced him dead.”  The news was tucked away on page “D4" of the sports section and was less than 100 words.

The man in our old neighborhood was poorer. He lived near the economic margins of society. The son of the multimillionaire sports franchise owner died in luxury. Both poor parents and wealthy parents will grieve and agonize. Neither man made the midpoint of life expectancy. Neither fulfilled his potential. But one was more privileged than the other. Most likely, neighbors will collect money for our neighbor’s burial. The other will be buried in the best coffin available. The pall bearers in Philadelphia will likely wear sweatshirts, baggy jeans and tan boots. California bearers will likely wear handmade suits fashioned from imported wools. I looked for our neighbor’s death notice but couldn’t find it. It may be because survivors don’t have enough money. He is simply, gone. I haven’t been there yet, but at the corner of 17^th and Venango a sign, graffiti-like, made with spray paint and a weathered gray piece of plywood will urge “R. I. P.”

 The electronic copy’s next line, the one ending with, “paramedics pronounced him dead,” reads, “Celtics lose fourth straight!” Someone dressed in Celtic green scored 23 points and had nine assists. A team named “Grizzlies” beat them. A man died, but we need to move on, unless you are a parent, a sibling, a son or daughter . . . unless you care. I care and am asking, “Did he play basketball in the Resurrection Life Church gym? Did he really understand the message?’ I am wondering, “Was he one of those who broke into the building to steal tools and materials?” Did I label him, “a nuisance” or could I see his potential? Did my neighbor hear the Gospel Choir from Eastern Michigan University one summer evening and eat the free hot dogs? Did he carry home bags of food from the Convoys of Hope outreaches? Could we have done more?

 The world moves on quickly, almost stepping over the newly slain, en route to the next game. But families are grieving. Neighbors are afraid, startled every time a gunshot echoes. Down the street another son or daughter with a needle is poised to puncture their skin. Money doesn’t take-away pain. Death is not an economic issue.

I am pondering the sobering truth introduced into my memory long ago, “Just as man is destined to die once, and after that to face judgment, so Christ was sacrificed once to take away the sins of many people; and he will appear a second time, not to bear sin, but to bring salvation to those who are waiting for him.” (Hebrews 9:27) I must discover how to be more effective in making this life-changing truth known.

Spending time with an old friend

God’s Word grows more precious to me as I race toward life’s finish line. We’ve been picking ‘em up and laying ‘em down for quite a while now. Our challenge is to finish strong. To stay centered on Jesus hasn’t grown easier with age. Temptations to revert to self-help and to experiment with another fail-safe remedy to human foibles continue to catch our eye. We have no more experience living in our seventh decade than we did processing life in our teens.

We desire to be forward-looking and relevant without succumbing to pop religion, the art of chasing spiritual fads. We have learned that God’s Word is the sole anchor of life. We can quote Saint Paul, "All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work." (2 Timothy 3:16-17). I must ask, "How is the inspiration, effectiveness and truth of the Bible impacting my life today?"

While preparing a plan for spiritual growth in 2013 I remembered that I haven’t consistently read the King James Version of the Bible since the great church debates of the 60's and 70's. "The ‘original King James’ was good enough for the apostles and it’s good enough for me," was the weightiest argument most of us heard. The Christian faith would result in a smashing collision if remote references in newer translations were left uncorrected. In the early 70's I started preaching from the New International Version because the language was easier to understand. The likelihood of people reading the newer translation was greater. My marked and tattered King James Bible was placed on an honored shelf until yesterday when I began reading it again. The schedule I adopted will allow me to complete the journey by March 30.

But, I may not keep the pace. The quaint "thee," "thou" and "thy" slow me down. I am stopping to muse more than I thought I would. Instead of inserting truth with hypodermic needle force, my heart is marinating truth. The truth presented used to be standard fare, but is new again. I am finding that "don’t" simply doesn’t have the same punch as "shalt not!" I slowed down to a one-word-at-a-time reading crawl in Genesis 16 this morning. I was arrested with "Abram hearkened to the voice of Sarai." My usual translation reads, "Abram agreed . . ." "Hearken" drips into my soul. "Agreed" fails to stir the same sense of loss resulting from the unholy collaboration.

The reading template calls for reading five Psalms and one chapter of Proverbs in addition to the 15 pages between Genesis and Revelation. It is a special treat to revisit Psalm One in the language of my youth, the version I memorized while an elementary school student. As I read, I heard the Psalm Two lyrics of the baritone’s aria in Handel’s Messiah. Psalm 23 is on the schedule for January 5. Life is refined as God’s Word has time to soak in, marinate, ooze thoroughly into the pores of the soul where faith matures.

I am preaching Sunday. I can’t wait! I’ll be reading Isaiah 40 in the New International Version. The hills made low and low places being lifted in the text are being evened out in my spirit as I read a version of the Bible that is as welcome as a conversation with a friend from whom I have been separated for a long time.