Education is an immeasurable benefit. During one of my Saturday morning garage sale forays I picked up a 50-cent treasure, Dr. Criswell Freeman’s The Teachers’ Book of Wisdom. The one-liners of people from many walks of life are each worthy of more than the pittance I paid for the volume.
My favorite humorist, Mark Twain, spoofed, "Training is everything. The peach was once a bitter almond; cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college education." Every vocation, all who thrive in life have had the privilege of being trained, taught and formed.
Consider an experience many of us have known. Click, click, click . . . the sound of a buzz or bell, and everything in "Computerland" is as it ought to be! Bill, the local computer tech who sits across the aisle from us in church, recently untangled the computer equivalent of the Gordian Knot for me. Otis, my son-in-law, is of equal skill. Because of training, education and persistent application of skills Bill and Otis can restore my computer wastelands into beautiful gardens of digital data.
I am an unqualified layperson, not a professional educator, but I believe that one of the most important dimensions in the formation of a youth’s life is an assessment of aptitude. I am convinced that the difference between technical people and me is aptitude! If I gave the rest of my life to honing computer skills, I would certainly fall short of their expertise. I am simply short of raw material when it comes to understanding digital systems and organizing minutia.
Parents, teachers, mentors, or any adult committed to forming young people in Christian character and life skills must accept the daunting responsibility of bringing others face-to-face with how God has created them. Not too many people play professional basketball who are less than 6 feet tall. While I am 6 feet tall, I have so little athletic skill that I played on an intermural team named the "Klunkers." (We never won a game.) I simply didn’t have enough raw material for any coach to develop. One naturally gifted to work with his hands ought not be forced to sit at a desk writing technical journals.
Manoah, Samson’s father, asked the angel of the Lord, "When your words are fulfilled, what is to be the rule for the boy's life and work?" (Judges 13:12) The happy, expectant father was wise in inquiring about the unborn boy’s life purpose and vocation. I wonder how many boys and girls would grow to be better adjusted, happy with their lives, if their parents had been as Manoah. You and I have both noticed "cabbages with a college education," those unhappy, poorly adjusted adults struggling to do something for which they are ill suited.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Simple Pleasures
Occasionally one ought to shake good humor into oneself. Too often we take ourselves too seriously, frown ponderously and pretend to be solving apocalyptic codes. Come on! Let us give one another permission to enjoy the simple things of life.
I will illustrate. The tomatoes in my garden are ripening beautifully! The dark green to light green, transformation from pink to bright red ought to be celebrated as one of the wonders of life! Picking tomatoes after months of urging the plants through chilly nights and monsoon like rains is success with a capital "S." A fresh tomato and crisp bacon between two slices of buttered toast is breakfast to the max! (I also think that the person who invented "fully cooked bacon" in vacuum sealed packages ought to be considered for a Nobel Prize!) A bacon and fresh tomato sandwich on buttered toast has a tradition for at least 60 years among Wegners.
Yesterday, today, tomorrow – the Lord willing -- I delight in the simplicity of fresh tomatoes. Don’t forget a sprinkle of salt when you choose to join me. Let others blast away with cannons because of a newborn prince. I will delight, briefly but thoroughly, in one of the simple pleasures of life.
Did you say, "I didn’t plant any tomatoes?" Stop over at about 7:00 AM! Bring a loaf of Cracker Barrel sour dough bread with you!
I will illustrate. The tomatoes in my garden are ripening beautifully! The dark green to light green, transformation from pink to bright red ought to be celebrated as one of the wonders of life! Picking tomatoes after months of urging the plants through chilly nights and monsoon like rains is success with a capital "S." A fresh tomato and crisp bacon between two slices of buttered toast is breakfast to the max! (I also think that the person who invented "fully cooked bacon" in vacuum sealed packages ought to be considered for a Nobel Prize!) A bacon and fresh tomato sandwich on buttered toast has a tradition for at least 60 years among Wegners.
Yesterday, today, tomorrow – the Lord willing -- I delight in the simplicity of fresh tomatoes. Don’t forget a sprinkle of salt when you choose to join me. Let others blast away with cannons because of a newborn prince. I will delight, briefly but thoroughly, in one of the simple pleasures of life.
Did you say, "I didn’t plant any tomatoes?" Stop over at about 7:00 AM! Bring a loaf of Cracker Barrel sour dough bread with you!
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
New songs are often great songs
Am I regaining my youth? Or am I entering my second childhood? For several years I have awakened with hymns and anthems of worship echoing in the deepest chambers of my spirit. I have shared the impact of several of the songs in previous posts.
But this morning I awakened with a song quite unlike any which have awakened me in the past. The song is just too new, too fresh. It was written for a contemporary band, not for those who remember the Eisenhower administration or the Kennedy assassinations. It has to be very new because I remember dedicating the lyricist, Jon Egan, and his identical twin. The boys’ parents had started attending Bethany Church while expecting the boys and it seems as if it were yesterday.
Seated above, enthroned in the Father's love
Destined to die, poured out for all mankind
God's only son perfect and spotless one
He never sinned but suffered as if He did
All authority, every victory is Yours
All authority, every victory is Yours
Savior, worthy of honor and glory
Worthy of all our praise, You overcame
Jesus, awesome in power forever
Awesome and great is Your name, You overcame
Power in hand
Speaking the Father's plan
You're sending us out
Light in this broken land
We will overcome
By the blood of the Lamb
And the word of our testimony
Everyone overcome.
The lyrics aren’t embedded as deeply into my spirit as a Wesleyan hymn or Fannie Crosby song of invitation, but they are making their way, inch by memorable inch. Our pastor led us in singing "Overcome" last Sunday. As I sang Sunday, I remembered Jon as an infant and as a little boy scooting between pews and running down hallways. I nudged Pat and said, "Do you remember Jon?" (His name was among the fine print in the corner of the screen.)
We moved on, and Jon is now a worship pastor and leader of Desperation Band. After a few more revolutions around the sun, I’ll move from time into eternity. Jon will too. But, I predict his music will live a lot longer than either of us!
But this morning I awakened with a song quite unlike any which have awakened me in the past. The song is just too new, too fresh. It was written for a contemporary band, not for those who remember the Eisenhower administration or the Kennedy assassinations. It has to be very new because I remember dedicating the lyricist, Jon Egan, and his identical twin. The boys’ parents had started attending Bethany Church while expecting the boys and it seems as if it were yesterday.
Destined to die, poured out for all mankind
God's only son perfect and spotless one
He never sinned but suffered as if He did
All authority, every victory is Yours
All authority, every victory is Yours
Savior, worthy of honor and glory
Worthy of all our praise, You overcame
Jesus, awesome in power forever
Awesome and great is Your name, You overcame
Power in hand
Speaking the Father's plan
You're sending us out
Light in this broken land
We will overcome
By the blood of the Lamb
And the word of our testimony
Everyone overcome.
The lyrics aren’t embedded as deeply into my spirit as a Wesleyan hymn or Fannie Crosby song of invitation, but they are making their way, inch by memorable inch. Our pastor led us in singing "Overcome" last Sunday. As I sang Sunday, I remembered Jon as an infant and as a little boy scooting between pews and running down hallways. I nudged Pat and said, "Do you remember Jon?" (His name was among the fine print in the corner of the screen.)
We moved on, and Jon is now a worship pastor and leader of Desperation Band. After a few more revolutions around the sun, I’ll move from time into eternity. Jon will too. But, I predict his music will live a lot longer than either of us!
Monday, July 22, 2013
Alert while living in difficult times
Recent reading has led me through my teens, college and young adult years as recorded by my contemporaries with very different recollections. The times were tumultuous and complicated. I look back and ask, "Why didn’t I know what was happening?" And, "What was I doing that was so important?"
As a teen I was privileged to attend a highly regarded, fully racially integrated high school, oblivious to the fact that my peers in other places were denied the privilege of a first-class public education. As a college student I was isolated, unaware of the painful injustices being inflicted on people only a few miles away. Within 150 miles of my college campus U.S. citizens who tried to register to vote were harassed and several were killed in adjoining states.
Interactions between the US Supreme Court, several Presidents, a deeply divided-Congress and governors were complicated and hostile, but I didn’t know. My peers, college students spent summer months in the 60's sitting in segregated snack bars, insisting that every citizen could sit where they pleased at a concert or ride in an integrated bus or taxi while I was ensconced in a religious cocoon, unaware, unmoved and inert.
Years later, I found my attempts at communicating the Good News to be more complicated than I had anticipated. People who had grown up at the same time had a very different world view. I befriended a man who shined shoes near our church building in Newark, N.J. He became my primary informant as he gleaned neighborhood news while polishing the shoes of older men. (Young men had taken to wearing sneakers.) I learned why many neighbors were distrustful of me. Many concluded that I was a "cracker" and was using the church as a cover while spying for various police agencies. Young people thought that I was an undercover narcotic agent. It took much longer than I had thought in order to be trusted.
My friend who brought me up to speed with community news was a native of Jackson, MS. Medgar Evers’ widow, Myrlie, became his biographer and I read of the Evers’ hardships and his ultimate death in the front yard of the family home. Born in July 1925, Evers walked twelve miles to school to earn his high-school diploma. From 1943 to 1945 Evers’ fought in the Battle of Normandy during World War II and was discharged honorably as an Army sergeant. But, Evers was not allowed to enroll in an all-white state university and was blocked from voting. I didn’t know that sort of thing existed. I was isolated and naive.
The day after I finished reading the biography I visited my friend in front of the church. I asked, "This is a long shot, but, did you happen to know Medgar Evers in Jackson before moving to Newark?" My friend suddenly stopped his work, looked up as tears began flowing down his cheeks and said, "He was my neighbor." I suddenly was confronted with my ignorance of the deep pain others had experienced while I attended wonderful chapel services, made my first attempts at preaching and started a family. Most easy replies to complex problems were stripped away. Ideally, they would all be gone now, but I lapse back into carelessness, forgetting that there is only One who knows all that is needed to bring sanity out of craziness, peace out of turmoil and compassion away from bigotry.
Our nation again is in the throes of revisiting perceived and real inequities. Our President is weighing in on the results of a recent trial. Activists are demanding all sorts of responses. Political and financial dynamics are in play as much today as when I slept through challenges processed decades several ago. As events unfold this time, I am a more attentive observer. I cringe as I hear echos of past angers and divisive threats. My prayers are more humble than ever as I express my lack of understanding and plead for God to do something by His Spirit in me and in the unseen realm that will rescue us from another season of chaos and inertia.
As a teen I was privileged to attend a highly regarded, fully racially integrated high school, oblivious to the fact that my peers in other places were denied the privilege of a first-class public education. As a college student I was isolated, unaware of the painful injustices being inflicted on people only a few miles away. Within 150 miles of my college campus U.S. citizens who tried to register to vote were harassed and several were killed in adjoining states.
Interactions between the US Supreme Court, several Presidents, a deeply divided-Congress and governors were complicated and hostile, but I didn’t know. My peers, college students spent summer months in the 60's sitting in segregated snack bars, insisting that every citizen could sit where they pleased at a concert or ride in an integrated bus or taxi while I was ensconced in a religious cocoon, unaware, unmoved and inert.
Years later, I found my attempts at communicating the Good News to be more complicated than I had anticipated. People who had grown up at the same time had a very different world view. I befriended a man who shined shoes near our church building in Newark, N.J. He became my primary informant as he gleaned neighborhood news while polishing the shoes of older men. (Young men had taken to wearing sneakers.) I learned why many neighbors were distrustful of me. Many concluded that I was a "cracker" and was using the church as a cover while spying for various police agencies. Young people thought that I was an undercover narcotic agent. It took much longer than I had thought in order to be trusted.
My friend who brought me up to speed with community news was a native of Jackson, MS. Medgar Evers’ widow, Myrlie, became his biographer and I read of the Evers’ hardships and his ultimate death in the front yard of the family home. Born in July 1925, Evers walked twelve miles to school to earn his high-school diploma. From 1943 to 1945 Evers’ fought in the Battle of Normandy during World War II and was discharged honorably as an Army sergeant. But, Evers was not allowed to enroll in an all-white state university and was blocked from voting. I didn’t know that sort of thing existed. I was isolated and naive.
The day after I finished reading the biography I visited my friend in front of the church. I asked, "This is a long shot, but, did you happen to know Medgar Evers in Jackson before moving to Newark?" My friend suddenly stopped his work, looked up as tears began flowing down his cheeks and said, "He was my neighbor." I suddenly was confronted with my ignorance of the deep pain others had experienced while I attended wonderful chapel services, made my first attempts at preaching and started a family. Most easy replies to complex problems were stripped away. Ideally, they would all be gone now, but I lapse back into carelessness, forgetting that there is only One who knows all that is needed to bring sanity out of craziness, peace out of turmoil and compassion away from bigotry.
Our nation again is in the throes of revisiting perceived and real inequities. Our President is weighing in on the results of a recent trial. Activists are demanding all sorts of responses. Political and financial dynamics are in play as much today as when I slept through challenges processed decades several ago. As events unfold this time, I am a more attentive observer. I cringe as I hear echos of past angers and divisive threats. My prayers are more humble than ever as I express my lack of understanding and plead for God to do something by His Spirit in me and in the unseen realm that will rescue us from another season of chaos and inertia.
Friday, July 19, 2013
The Power of Joy
Who said, "Confession is good for the soul?" It isn’t in the Bible. James, however, recommends confession of sins as a preparation for answered prayers and healing. "Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective" (James 5:16).
As I edge toward a confession, I am thinking of how many times I should have had an encouraging word instead of tightly argued answers. Over the years I have discovered that people often wanted to be heard and comforted, given a measure of hope and assurance while I was giving answers and offering cures. My good friends, Bob and Judy Neuman, print an occasional publication titled, "An Encouraging Word." The page is full of material about events most of us have had and to which we can readily relate (Except for their cat stories. I have been attacked by more cats than dogs! Their outlook is upbeat! Their counsel is consistently positive and faith building.
I have heard and sung songs about the love of God ad infinitum. Certainly God is love! May I simply interject that the fruit of the Spirit is also joy? Our world spills out dour news of financial collapse and political insurrection. Whether casters simply cannot report, "It is 92 degrees outside today," but, must ratchet up the obvious, "With the humidity it feels more like 102 degrees!"
This week Pat and I heard a little girl, about five years-old, scream as if she was witnessing a capital crime. Our response mechanisms were jolted into action. We searched for the perpetrators and were about to take our umbrella and attack the no-goods hurting the little girl. We discovered that outburst was because the sand was hot on the beach! We were up close with a budding drama queen and an eyewitness to a mother whose child had inflicted enough hearing loss that Mom could ignore her offspring.
My confession? I have missed opportunities to add joy! People around me wanted hope and assurance that everything would be all right. Because joy is of the Spirit, it is part of the Spirit’s arsenal of power. Joy can extinguish the flames of doubt and wash away the stains of tears. It is sad that the world knows more about what Evangelicals are against than the source of our joy! An old church song, one usually sung at Sunday evening meetings, allowed congregations to reinforce and renew joy. Maybe you used to sing the song as well.
Has anyone been confounded lately because of our joyful demeanor? Are we balancing out the sadness and pain of our world with the "joy unspeakable" that splashes out when we move about? Are we inoculating anyone with a contagious joy that is other worldly? Is anyone encouraged with our laughter? Is anyone convinced to go forward when they are hitting the wall because of a joyous, encouraging word?
I suggest we all sing the song and then go have a cup of coffee with my friends Bob and Judy!
As I edge toward a confession, I am thinking of how many times I should have had an encouraging word instead of tightly argued answers. Over the years I have discovered that people often wanted to be heard and comforted, given a measure of hope and assurance while I was giving answers and offering cures. My good friends, Bob and Judy Neuman, print an occasional publication titled, "An Encouraging Word." The page is full of material about events most of us have had and to which we can readily relate (Except for their cat stories. I have been attacked by more cats than dogs! Their outlook is upbeat! Their counsel is consistently positive and faith building.
I have heard and sung songs about the love of God ad infinitum. Certainly God is love! May I simply interject that the fruit of the Spirit is also joy? Our world spills out dour news of financial collapse and political insurrection. Whether casters simply cannot report, "It is 92 degrees outside today," but, must ratchet up the obvious, "With the humidity it feels more like 102 degrees!"
This week Pat and I heard a little girl, about five years-old, scream as if she was witnessing a capital crime. Our response mechanisms were jolted into action. We searched for the perpetrators and were about to take our umbrella and attack the no-goods hurting the little girl. We discovered that outburst was because the sand was hot on the beach! We were up close with a budding drama queen and an eyewitness to a mother whose child had inflicted enough hearing loss that Mom could ignore her offspring.
My confession? I have missed opportunities to add joy! People around me wanted hope and assurance that everything would be all right. Because joy is of the Spirit, it is part of the Spirit’s arsenal of power. Joy can extinguish the flames of doubt and wash away the stains of tears. It is sad that the world knows more about what Evangelicals are against than the source of our joy! An old church song, one usually sung at Sunday evening meetings, allowed congregations to reinforce and renew joy. Maybe you used to sing the song as well.
I have found His grace is all complete,
He supplieth ev'ry need;
While I sit and learn at Jesus' feet,
I am free, yes, free indeed.
He supplieth ev'ry need;
While I sit and learn at Jesus' feet,
I am free, yes, free indeed.
Refrain
It is joy unspeakable and full of glory,
Full of glory, full of glory,
It is joy unspeakable and full of glory,
Oh, the half has never yet been told.
Full of glory, full of glory,
It is joy unspeakable and full of glory,
Oh, the half has never yet been told.
I have found the pleasure I once craved,
It is joy and peace within;
What a wondrous blessing! I am saved
From the awful gulf of sin.
It is joy and peace within;
What a wondrous blessing! I am saved
From the awful gulf of sin.
Refrain
I have found that hope so bright and clear,
Living in the realm of grace;
Oh, the Savior's presence is so near,
I can see His smiling face.
Living in the realm of grace;
Oh, the Savior's presence is so near,
I can see His smiling face.
Refrain
I have found the joy no tongue can tell,
How its waves of glory roll!
It is like a great o'erflowing well,
Springing up within my soul.
How its waves of glory roll!
It is like a great o'erflowing well,
Springing up within my soul.
Refrain
Has anyone been confounded lately because of our joyful demeanor? Are we balancing out the sadness and pain of our world with the "joy unspeakable" that splashes out when we move about? Are we inoculating anyone with a contagious joy that is other worldly? Is anyone encouraged with our laughter? Is anyone convinced to go forward when they are hitting the wall because of a joyous, encouraging word?
I suggest we all sing the song and then go have a cup of coffee with my friends Bob and Judy!
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
"The pause that refreshes" and "Diamonds are forever"
Coca Cola had a winning ad campaign in the late 1940's. Ads were built around the theme, "The pause that refreshes." CNBC’s website includes the campaign on its list of most influential ads ever created. You can compare it with Volkswagen’s "Lemon", McDonald’s "You deserve a break today," and "A diamond is forever" at http://www.cnbc.com/id/43673665.
In Esther chapter four, Queen Esther paused, not for a chilled cola, but to consider options when making an historic decision. Haman, an ugly-spirited anti-Semite, had connived and convinced the king to deputize Haman to do what he wanted with the Jews. Adolf Hitler wasn’t the first Jew-hater. The complete story unfolds in just 10 chapters and leaves an indelible impression on readers. It is between verses 14 and 15 that Esther paused to consider.
In verse 13 and 14, Esther’s cousin Mordecai defined the challenge. "He (Mordecai) sent back this answer: ‘Do not think that because you are in the king's house you alone of all the Jews will escape. For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father's family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?’" Mordecai put it the most simple terms, "Speak up! It is our only chance at survival!" Esther had to hesitate, weigh her options, consider the consequences of going before the king. Wouldn’t you pause?
The pause had to seem very long to Mordecai as he awaited his fate and all of Israel. He was not disappointed. Verses 15 and 16 are the record of Esther’s response to a challenge of a lifetime. "Then Esther sent this reply to Mordecai: ‘Go, gather together all the Jews who are in Susa, and fast for me. Do not eat or drink for three days, night or day. I and my maids will fast as you do. When this is done, I will go to the king, even though it is against the law. And if I perish, I perish.’" I cannot image the queen laying casually on a satin-covered sofa or propped up in bed with a dozen silk pillows. No, I envision Esther pacing the royal mansion’s marble floors. I think her attendants were sent away so she could be alone with her thoughts.
The effect of one terrified young Israeli woman’s consideration of God’s call on her nation, her acceptance of her critical role, and her bold decision changed the world. If Haman had his way, there would be no Christmas. We would never know the meaning of Good Friday and Easter, and no Pentecost. In a world of sloganeering ad campaigns hawking refreshing pauses and when we are tempted to succumb to the luring jingles telling us we deserve a break today, we ought to think of Esther nightly pacing the floor and then boldly join her in affirming the call of God. The CNBC website includes the "Diamonds are forever" ads in its list of bests. When I saw it in the context of this essay I remembered Saint Peter’s urging, "Therefore, my brothers, be all the more eager to make your calling and election sure. For if you do these things, you will never fall." 2 Peter 1:10 (NIV) We should carefully weigh, pause and consider, Saint Paul’s sober statement, "For the gifts and calling of God are without repentance." Romans 11:29 (KJV) It's not diamonds, but our calling to follow Jesus, that is forever!
In Esther chapter four, Queen Esther paused, not for a chilled cola, but to consider options when making an historic decision. Haman, an ugly-spirited anti-Semite, had connived and convinced the king to deputize Haman to do what he wanted with the Jews. Adolf Hitler wasn’t the first Jew-hater. The complete story unfolds in just 10 chapters and leaves an indelible impression on readers. It is between verses 14 and 15 that Esther paused to consider.
In verse 13 and 14, Esther’s cousin Mordecai defined the challenge. "He (Mordecai) sent back this answer: ‘Do not think that because you are in the king's house you alone of all the Jews will escape. For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father's family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?’" Mordecai put it the most simple terms, "Speak up! It is our only chance at survival!" Esther had to hesitate, weigh her options, consider the consequences of going before the king. Wouldn’t you pause?
The pause had to seem very long to Mordecai as he awaited his fate and all of Israel. He was not disappointed. Verses 15 and 16 are the record of Esther’s response to a challenge of a lifetime. "Then Esther sent this reply to Mordecai: ‘Go, gather together all the Jews who are in Susa, and fast for me. Do not eat or drink for three days, night or day. I and my maids will fast as you do. When this is done, I will go to the king, even though it is against the law. And if I perish, I perish.’" I cannot image the queen laying casually on a satin-covered sofa or propped up in bed with a dozen silk pillows. No, I envision Esther pacing the royal mansion’s marble floors. I think her attendants were sent away so she could be alone with her thoughts.
The effect of one terrified young Israeli woman’s consideration of God’s call on her nation, her acceptance of her critical role, and her bold decision changed the world. If Haman had his way, there would be no Christmas. We would never know the meaning of Good Friday and Easter, and no Pentecost. In a world of sloganeering ad campaigns hawking refreshing pauses and when we are tempted to succumb to the luring jingles telling us we deserve a break today, we ought to think of Esther nightly pacing the floor and then boldly join her in affirming the call of God. The CNBC website includes the "Diamonds are forever" ads in its list of bests. When I saw it in the context of this essay I remembered Saint Peter’s urging, "Therefore, my brothers, be all the more eager to make your calling and election sure. For if you do these things, you will never fall." 2 Peter 1:10 (NIV) We should carefully weigh, pause and consider, Saint Paul’s sober statement, "For the gifts and calling of God are without repentance." Romans 11:29 (KJV) It's not diamonds, but our calling to follow Jesus, that is forever!
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Jesus: Master of Space
Space is important to us! If people invade "my space" they get too close and violate my sense of shalom (That’s the Hebrew word for "peace.". I get nervous! It has probably happened to you too. Having lived most of my life in or near a major city I know the feeling when someone parks too close to my car, crowds the driveway where my car is parked or simply discards their Styrofoam Chinese take-out carton on my stoop. On too many occasions for me to number my space was violated by entering my home or church property without permission. How dare they? This is my space and it is upsetting.
Theodore Roosevelt, Roughrider and President of the United States, was a bold and daring visionary leader. Most of us are familiar with images of the youthful military man, complete with rearing horse and thick spectacles, leading a charge up San Juan Hill. Stories of Roosevelt’s safaris have made him a legend among outdoors men. But many overlook the fact that as President the Roosevelt of "speak softly and carry a big stick" fame, almost singlehandedly set aside massive tracts of land, millions of acres for recreation and the enjoyment of Americans. More than 100 years later, we enjoy a National Park system that is envied by most nations who lacked a leader of equal vision. Roosevelt gave us space!
In my recent reading I learned of General Dwight D. Eisenhower’s commitment to securing a different kind of space for people living in Europe and Asia. General Eisenhower wrote to his brother Milton, "Hitler should beware the fury of an aroused democracy."1 American and Allied troops liberated Europeans from the suffocating racism of Nazi Germany which had left them hollow-eyed and hopeless. I heard a few immigrants from that era, some of whom are personal friends, speak with misty eyed gratitude of the new ideological space afforded by democracies. This morning, desperate and disillusioned Egyptians chant, hurl incendiaries and pray for freedom. Egyptians, like all people, long for space to be . . . for venues to freely express their own ideas and for physical safety as they stare down tyrants.
You may have shared moments when you were uncertain that you had permission to express your mind. We may have asked ourselves, "Am I going too far?" We wondered, "Will I create a larger problem than the one being discussed if I say what I want to say?" "Will others laugh at me?" "Is it worth the risk?" We must be honest in those situations. We may cross the invisible boundary and invade other people’s space. Occasionally that is exactly what needs to happen, and in other circumstances we must honor the idea of space.
Jesus mastered the idea of space. He offered a woman caught in adultery to establish a new space by which she could experience a new life (John 8). The radical literalists were poised with rocks, ready to apply their understanding of the circumstances in which they found the woman. Jesus opened a whole new world to the guilty woman. He still does the same for all who will accept His offer. "As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins . . . made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions--it is by grace you have been saved" (Ephesians 2:1,5). The image is profound, in high-definition, in color! Satan is poised with rocks, towering over me, ready to snuff out my life, destroy all living space. I deserve the punishment. But, I am alive! Grace trumps rocks! Grace secures living space.
One last image – one last truth – comes into view. Jesus promised, "In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am" (John 14:2-3). Jesus is willing to share space with people like you and me! Bob, my editor friend suggests that when God spends time with us it is a time share that is out of this world!
Today, if someone takes a shortcut across our lawn, or puts our car’s paint job at risk, or stands so close we can smell their breath, they will simply be invading our space. We have to decide what our attitude will be. I discovered that rocks are heavy and hard to throw.
Theodore Roosevelt, Roughrider and President of the United States, was a bold and daring visionary leader. Most of us are familiar with images of the youthful military man, complete with rearing horse and thick spectacles, leading a charge up San Juan Hill. Stories of Roosevelt’s safaris have made him a legend among outdoors men. But many overlook the fact that as President the Roosevelt of "speak softly and carry a big stick" fame, almost singlehandedly set aside massive tracts of land, millions of acres for recreation and the enjoyment of Americans. More than 100 years later, we enjoy a National Park system that is envied by most nations who lacked a leader of equal vision. Roosevelt gave us space!
In my recent reading I learned of General Dwight D. Eisenhower’s commitment to securing a different kind of space for people living in Europe and Asia. General Eisenhower wrote to his brother Milton, "Hitler should beware the fury of an aroused democracy."1 American and Allied troops liberated Europeans from the suffocating racism of Nazi Germany which had left them hollow-eyed and hopeless. I heard a few immigrants from that era, some of whom are personal friends, speak with misty eyed gratitude of the new ideological space afforded by democracies. This morning, desperate and disillusioned Egyptians chant, hurl incendiaries and pray for freedom. Egyptians, like all people, long for space to be . . . for venues to freely express their own ideas and for physical safety as they stare down tyrants.
You may have shared moments when you were uncertain that you had permission to express your mind. We may have asked ourselves, "Am I going too far?" We wondered, "Will I create a larger problem than the one being discussed if I say what I want to say?" "Will others laugh at me?" "Is it worth the risk?" We must be honest in those situations. We may cross the invisible boundary and invade other people’s space. Occasionally that is exactly what needs to happen, and in other circumstances we must honor the idea of space.
Jesus mastered the idea of space. He offered a woman caught in adultery to establish a new space by which she could experience a new life (John 8). The radical literalists were poised with rocks, ready to apply their understanding of the circumstances in which they found the woman. Jesus opened a whole new world to the guilty woman. He still does the same for all who will accept His offer. "As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins . . . made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions--it is by grace you have been saved" (Ephesians 2:1,5). The image is profound, in high-definition, in color! Satan is poised with rocks, towering over me, ready to snuff out my life, destroy all living space. I deserve the punishment. But, I am alive! Grace trumps rocks! Grace secures living space.
One last image – one last truth – comes into view. Jesus promised, "In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am" (John 14:2-3). Jesus is willing to share space with people like you and me! Bob, my editor friend suggests that when God spends time with us it is a time share that is out of this world!
Today, if someone takes a shortcut across our lawn, or puts our car’s paint job at risk, or stands so close we can smell their breath, they will simply be invading our space. We have to decide what our attitude will be. I discovered that rocks are heavy and hard to throw.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
The Lord Knows the Way Through the Wilderness
Reflections, reveries and remembrances are among the contents in life’s treasure chest of luxuries. What I am finding most surprising is that my fondest memories are of simple, inexpensive things. In the mid 70's a vacation trip to Florida was a major undertaking on my marginal income. But, we had three children and Disney World was calling!
I was certain that our Oldsmobile would make the trip with ease, but a church member had a brand new Oldsmobile station wagon and insisted we travel in land yacht style! So we did! Our food budget was $15 per day. Pat brought along individual serving boxes of cereal to which we added milk. One meal down! Near noon we watched for Holiday Inns that featured a smorgasbord for $3.99 and "kids eat free." Eat up kids! And evening meals were cold sandwiches and popcorn. Inexpensive, but FUN!
A kiddie pool was a requisite amenity for serious consideration of motel accommodations. My reverie includes wading through a kiddie pool holding Jonathan’s hand while he sang loudly, "Here comes Jesus, walking on the water." Don’t you envy me? A memory like that is priceless and costs nothing!
Pat and I were college students when the Vietnam War was costing American families their sons and daughters. We read about Agent Orange and napalm while our peers were ingesting it, burning scar tissue into their lungs and twisting their immune systems into defenselessness. Chemicals distorted their genes until a long list of birth defects put their post-war born children on critical care lists nationwide. Added to the already too heavy load of nightmares, empty sleeves or pant legs, marriages teetered on the brink of ruin. Too many children were left without a father in the house, a silent casualty statistic of an ugly war. Presidents Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Humphrey and Nixon all dealt with the military-political quagmire and surely wish their biographers could have omitted paragraphs about Viet Nam. Stateside, college students who were still teens were shot dead by National Guardsmen who were also too young to vote.
More than one young married couple wondered, "Is it safe to bring a child into this world?" and "What will happen to this nation?" The Cold War was being executed with threats and counter threats. A Russian premier pounded his shoe on a desk in the United Nations Assembly. Gary Powers was shot down over the USSR and held in prison. Kennedy was assassinated. Johnson refused to run for a second term. Agnew resigned in shame. Nixon was forced out. Ford failed to be reelected after doing his best to heal a nation wounded by too many assaults on her spirit.
I have been remembering, reflecting on those days. And I remember singing a simple chorus.
The tune was catchy and easy to sing. We didn’t always have the best musicians, but they could play this one. So we sang! We clapped and sang the song when interest rates soared into double digits and the world economy looked like a chapter out of the Apocalypse!
But, we quit doing the simple, inexpensive things like taking trips to Florida on the cheap and singing simple songs of assurance. Too often we mobilize to resist decisions we don’t like as if we were college students angry with a war fought on the other side of the world. Instead of long hair, tie-dyed tees, sandals and sit-ins, we petition, parade and protest. A good long road trip with overnight stays at an inexpensive motel and some sing-along music affirming the sovereignty and wisdom of an almighty and gracious God is what we really need. We have survived a lot with the simple and inexpensive. Maybe we could sing "The Lord knows the way through the wilderness" one more time, or twice!
Thank God. The lyrics are true!
I was certain that our Oldsmobile would make the trip with ease, but a church member had a brand new Oldsmobile station wagon and insisted we travel in land yacht style! So we did! Our food budget was $15 per day. Pat brought along individual serving boxes of cereal to which we added milk. One meal down! Near noon we watched for Holiday Inns that featured a smorgasbord for $3.99 and "kids eat free." Eat up kids! And evening meals were cold sandwiches and popcorn. Inexpensive, but FUN!
A kiddie pool was a requisite amenity for serious consideration of motel accommodations. My reverie includes wading through a kiddie pool holding Jonathan’s hand while he sang loudly, "Here comes Jesus, walking on the water." Don’t you envy me? A memory like that is priceless and costs nothing!
Pat and I were college students when the Vietnam War was costing American families their sons and daughters. We read about Agent Orange and napalm while our peers were ingesting it, burning scar tissue into their lungs and twisting their immune systems into defenselessness. Chemicals distorted their genes until a long list of birth defects put their post-war born children on critical care lists nationwide. Added to the already too heavy load of nightmares, empty sleeves or pant legs, marriages teetered on the brink of ruin. Too many children were left without a father in the house, a silent casualty statistic of an ugly war. Presidents Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Humphrey and Nixon all dealt with the military-political quagmire and surely wish their biographers could have omitted paragraphs about Viet Nam. Stateside, college students who were still teens were shot dead by National Guardsmen who were also too young to vote.
More than one young married couple wondered, "Is it safe to bring a child into this world?" and "What will happen to this nation?" The Cold War was being executed with threats and counter threats. A Russian premier pounded his shoe on a desk in the United Nations Assembly. Gary Powers was shot down over the USSR and held in prison. Kennedy was assassinated. Johnson refused to run for a second term. Agnew resigned in shame. Nixon was forced out. Ford failed to be reelected after doing his best to heal a nation wounded by too many assaults on her spirit.
I have been remembering, reflecting on those days. And I remember singing a simple chorus.
My Lord knows the way through the wilderness
All I have to do is follow.
My Lord knows the way through the wilderness
All I have to do is follow.
Strength for today, is mine all the way
And all that I need for tomorrow.
My Lord knows the way through the wilderness
All I have to do is follow.
The tune was catchy and easy to sing. We didn’t always have the best musicians, but they could play this one. So we sang! We clapped and sang the song when interest rates soared into double digits and the world economy looked like a chapter out of the Apocalypse!
But, we quit doing the simple, inexpensive things like taking trips to Florida on the cheap and singing simple songs of assurance. Too often we mobilize to resist decisions we don’t like as if we were college students angry with a war fought on the other side of the world. Instead of long hair, tie-dyed tees, sandals and sit-ins, we petition, parade and protest. A good long road trip with overnight stays at an inexpensive motel and some sing-along music affirming the sovereignty and wisdom of an almighty and gracious God is what we really need. We have survived a lot with the simple and inexpensive. Maybe we could sing "The Lord knows the way through the wilderness" one more time, or twice!
Thank God. The lyrics are true!
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Little is Much: A Lesseon from Four Quarters
February, 1988, was one of the most challenging months of my life. After more than 20 years as a lead pastor, during which I was surrounded with a support team that many of my peers envied, I was alone. I was charged with a task – namely, to plant urban churches. The project had drawn the attention of key leaders within the region known as "Bos-Wash." One in five US citizens lived within a few miles of these five key cities: Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington, D.C.
The strategy included training interns, arranging housing and paying their stipends and planting a church. At the time Candace was a freshman at Wheaton College, Jonathan was a junior in high school and Joanna was entering high school. I was trying to be a good father, a loving husband and do something no one had ever done in the same way. Then the big shock came! I would also need to share the responsibility of raising massive amounts of money.
The first Wednesday evening as a missionary I had invited myself to speak and share our dream with Paterson Assembly of God, a newer congregation that we were partially responsible for starting. We would be on friendly turf because we had enlisted our church members to assist the new assembly at tis beginning five or six years earlier. But, I was as uncertain and cautious as if I were preaching my first sermon as a rookie with a new diploma from Bible college. Being the pastor of a church who gladly followed our lead to become a leading missionary supporting congregation is significantly different from being the missionary! I discovered quickly that giving was easier than asking!
Many details of the service are tucked into unreachable crevices of my memory. I remember that after defining the mission to the best of my ability, Pastor Capers stood and told his congregation, "People, this is an important man and I believe in his mission. I want you to give now! Give folding money, no coins, Brother Wegner deserves our full support. You come up here and put your offering in the basket and tell our brother how much we appreciate what he has done for us in the past."
The instruments began playing, the people started to clap and sway as they made their way toward the offering basket. Men, women, boys and girls hugged me, expressed gratitude, and promised to pray. The basket began filling with bills and checks. Toward the end of the line that passed by a young man, somewhere between 14 and 16 years old, stepped forward and pressed four quarters into my hand. He hugged me . . . tightly . . . for a time that seemed too long for my German comfort, and then he whispered, "Here take this. Pastor said, ‘Don’t give coins,’ but this is all I have!" Others may forget moments like that, but I will always remember! And then he added, "Pray for me because some day I want to preach just like you!" More than 25 years have passed. A new pastor leads Paterson Assembly. I haven’t been back for many years. But, I do pray that that young man is somewhere preaching because he taught me that night that I could do something that I had never done before!
Several other "I-never-have-done-it-before" challenges have come along since. That experience with an inner-city church in a difficult location blessed me with their generosity that night, and the lesson learned that night enabled me to approach new challenges with confidence. In fact, on occasion I still look for a task that I have never before attempted.
The strategy included training interns, arranging housing and paying their stipends and planting a church. At the time Candace was a freshman at Wheaton College, Jonathan was a junior in high school and Joanna was entering high school. I was trying to be a good father, a loving husband and do something no one had ever done in the same way. Then the big shock came! I would also need to share the responsibility of raising massive amounts of money.
The first Wednesday evening as a missionary I had invited myself to speak and share our dream with Paterson Assembly of God, a newer congregation that we were partially responsible for starting. We would be on friendly turf because we had enlisted our church members to assist the new assembly at tis beginning five or six years earlier. But, I was as uncertain and cautious as if I were preaching my first sermon as a rookie with a new diploma from Bible college. Being the pastor of a church who gladly followed our lead to become a leading missionary supporting congregation is significantly different from being the missionary! I discovered quickly that giving was easier than asking!
Many details of the service are tucked into unreachable crevices of my memory. I remember that after defining the mission to the best of my ability, Pastor Capers stood and told his congregation, "People, this is an important man and I believe in his mission. I want you to give now! Give folding money, no coins, Brother Wegner deserves our full support. You come up here and put your offering in the basket and tell our brother how much we appreciate what he has done for us in the past."
The instruments began playing, the people started to clap and sway as they made their way toward the offering basket. Men, women, boys and girls hugged me, expressed gratitude, and promised to pray. The basket began filling with bills and checks. Toward the end of the line that passed by a young man, somewhere between 14 and 16 years old, stepped forward and pressed four quarters into my hand. He hugged me . . . tightly . . . for a time that seemed too long for my German comfort, and then he whispered, "Here take this. Pastor said, ‘Don’t give coins,’ but this is all I have!" Others may forget moments like that, but I will always remember! And then he added, "Pray for me because some day I want to preach just like you!" More than 25 years have passed. A new pastor leads Paterson Assembly. I haven’t been back for many years. But, I do pray that that young man is somewhere preaching because he taught me that night that I could do something that I had never done before!
Several other "I-never-have-done-it-before" challenges have come along since. That experience with an inner-city church in a difficult location blessed me with their generosity that night, and the lesson learned that night enabled me to approach new challenges with confidence. In fact, on occasion I still look for a task that I have never before attempted.
Friday, July 5, 2013
The fourth of July, on the fifth
On this fourth of July holiday the United States of America observes her freedoms including freedom of speech, freedom to worship, freedom to carry guns that kill and others too numerous to list. We really are wallowing in our freedoms nowadays. Courts interpret law and culture with an eye to allowing Americans to do as we please as long as we are observing the basic boundaries established by consenting adults. Restraint of any sort has become an enemy of personal freedom. Murdering a child is an approved legal practice as long as the mother desires to do that! I think I will learn to sleep with one eye open because someone may deem my life worthless before the hour appointed in heaven.
If one has been in the church very long, he has heard misrepresentations of a solitary line by Jesus who made the statement while contesting a series of arguments by an arrogant group of hostile religious professionals, "So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed" (John 8:36 (NIV). As an aside, religious professionals can be among the most difficult people in the world.
The statement, "So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed," has been used to encourage demonstrations and to incite and satisfy rather carnal desires. I have seen out-of-control contorted bodies and enthusiastic church members sprinting about a church, expressions of "freedom in worship" when the "Spirit moved." Other excesses infringe on moral and ethical standards with which even agnostics agree. In the worst scenarios to be "free indeed" is interpreted to mean, "I have a license to do what I want," under the cover of religious jargon. Purveyors of television religion assure their constituents, "You are free to expect God to answer your demands. You are the head, not the tail!"
The vast majority of Americans understand freedom. They dutifully pay their taxes, obey government statutes and live respectfully and honestly in community. The same kind of obedience to Jesus’ teaching makes one "free indeed." The huge transformation of the new birth is the freedom from self, our own desires, standards of achievement and success imposed by peers, and an encyclopedia of fears. All tyrants to freedom come to nothing indeed as we say "YES!" to Jesus.
If one has been in the church very long, he has heard misrepresentations of a solitary line by Jesus who made the statement while contesting a series of arguments by an arrogant group of hostile religious professionals, "So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed" (John 8:36 (NIV). As an aside, religious professionals can be among the most difficult people in the world.
The statement, "So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed," has been used to encourage demonstrations and to incite and satisfy rather carnal desires. I have seen out-of-control contorted bodies and enthusiastic church members sprinting about a church, expressions of "freedom in worship" when the "Spirit moved." Other excesses infringe on moral and ethical standards with which even agnostics agree. In the worst scenarios to be "free indeed" is interpreted to mean, "I have a license to do what I want," under the cover of religious jargon. Purveyors of television religion assure their constituents, "You are free to expect God to answer your demands. You are the head, not the tail!"
The vast majority of Americans understand freedom. They dutifully pay their taxes, obey government statutes and live respectfully and honestly in community. The same kind of obedience to Jesus’ teaching makes one "free indeed." The huge transformation of the new birth is the freedom from self, our own desires, standards of achievement and success imposed by peers, and an encyclopedia of fears. All tyrants to freedom come to nothing indeed as we say "YES!" to Jesus.
Unknown people often make huge contributions
Periodically I write about people that have influenced me positively and over a long period of time. Only a few of these people have well-known names with marque value. Two men who shaped my life served as church custodians. Norman Schwartz and Sam Vallone served congregations where I was the pastor, in Michigan and New Jersey respectively.
While leading Calvary Assembly of God in Lansing, Michigan the congregation grew quickly. The membership decided to enlarge their building. I was not yet 30 years-old and had no borrowing experience beyond purchasing a second-hand car and far too little building experience. The usual challenges associated with building began to accumulate and I was feeling overwhelmed. Some of the circumstances still seem impossible. And I’ll never forget the day while chatting with Norman. I could lead you to the exact spot where Norman and I stood. In the course of speaking about building matters and a bit about gardening, I offered to take Norman out to lunch. The "Aha moment" happened, right there in the church basement.
"No thank you pastor! I am fasting and praying until we get through this time in the church." To the General Motors retiree and custodian I responded, "Well, maybe tomorrow!" The next line was more startling, "No, I don’t think I will be eating for a while because we are really up against some serious opposition and I intend to see this through with prayer and fasting." I later learned that Norman, modest, quiet, and unassuming didn’t eat or drink anything for more than three weeks! Many people thought that I was responsible for what happened in the church during my tenure, but I am very aware that a retired factory worker prayed through and the church thrived because of Norman’s prayers.
Sam Vallone is the son of Italian immigrants and retired from a major grocery store chain where he was a produce manager. Sam maintained Bethany Church as if it were his most precious possession. Everything was meticulously tended. I cannot remember ever asking Sam about a project or needed repair without hearing, "Pastor, I did it yesterday," or, "It is on my list to do as soon as I . . . !" Everything was impeccably managed. More than once I found Sam crawling on hands and knees looking for flaws in the white enameled pews. When Sam gave notice saying, "The maintenance of the building is too much for me now," Sam had tears in his eyes, and so did I! Sam was absolutely the best.
Few people know Norman and Sam. Their names have not been printed in religious journals. I am quite sure that they have never been quoted in print. They have stood on no stages receiving awards for meritorious service. But they are the "salt of the earth" people who made church life victorious and pleasant. Norman has been living in rooms Jesus prepared for him. Sam is more than 90 years old now. He cannot attend church because of his health. Many attending Bethany Church have never heard his name. But, I want to make sure that you know these men just a little bit and I assume that they will be among the elite in heaven. Jesus did say, "But many that are first shall be last; and the last shall be first," didn’t He? (Matthew 19:30)
While leading Calvary Assembly of God in Lansing, Michigan the congregation grew quickly. The membership decided to enlarge their building. I was not yet 30 years-old and had no borrowing experience beyond purchasing a second-hand car and far too little building experience. The usual challenges associated with building began to accumulate and I was feeling overwhelmed. Some of the circumstances still seem impossible. And I’ll never forget the day while chatting with Norman. I could lead you to the exact spot where Norman and I stood. In the course of speaking about building matters and a bit about gardening, I offered to take Norman out to lunch. The "Aha moment" happened, right there in the church basement.
"No thank you pastor! I am fasting and praying until we get through this time in the church." To the General Motors retiree and custodian I responded, "Well, maybe tomorrow!" The next line was more startling, "No, I don’t think I will be eating for a while because we are really up against some serious opposition and I intend to see this through with prayer and fasting." I later learned that Norman, modest, quiet, and unassuming didn’t eat or drink anything for more than three weeks! Many people thought that I was responsible for what happened in the church during my tenure, but I am very aware that a retired factory worker prayed through and the church thrived because of Norman’s prayers.
Sam Vallone is the son of Italian immigrants and retired from a major grocery store chain where he was a produce manager. Sam maintained Bethany Church as if it were his most precious possession. Everything was meticulously tended. I cannot remember ever asking Sam about a project or needed repair without hearing, "Pastor, I did it yesterday," or, "It is on my list to do as soon as I . . . !" Everything was impeccably managed. More than once I found Sam crawling on hands and knees looking for flaws in the white enameled pews. When Sam gave notice saying, "The maintenance of the building is too much for me now," Sam had tears in his eyes, and so did I! Sam was absolutely the best.
Few people know Norman and Sam. Their names have not been printed in religious journals. I am quite sure that they have never been quoted in print. They have stood on no stages receiving awards for meritorious service. But they are the "salt of the earth" people who made church life victorious and pleasant. Norman has been living in rooms Jesus prepared for him. Sam is more than 90 years old now. He cannot attend church because of his health. Many attending Bethany Church have never heard his name. But, I want to make sure that you know these men just a little bit and I assume that they will be among the elite in heaven. Jesus did say, "But many that are first shall be last; and the last shall be first," didn’t He? (Matthew 19:30)
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Like Him in this world
Our pastor has completed a sermon series titled, "Like Jesus." Pastor Ross’ thesis included an appropriately reinforced challenge to move from "liking Jesus" to "being like Jesus." Each week during the series I was reminded of Saint John’s Spirit-inspired call, "In this way, love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment, because in this world we are like him." I heard Vance Havner, a Baptist itinerant preacher from another era, preached a sermon, "Why not just be Christians?" His text was 1 John 4:17 in the KJV, "As He is, so are we in this world."
Last week I offered an opinion about the church’s reaction to the Supreme Court’s ruling on DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act is the short title of a federal law of the United States passed on September 21, 1996 as Public Law No. 104-199). In that essay I wrote that I expected my e-mail box to fill with heated reactions and appeals for funds to arm good people with righteous ammunition to the fight against and defeat "bad people," commonly known as secular humanists and god-haters. And, my mail box filled as predicted!
I observe that none of those who sent me mail offered to teach me how to navigate the twisting, treacherous trails which lead to understanding, patience, forgiveness and love. There is no apparent interest in equipping me to be a "good guy" who fulfills the ministry of reconciling the "bad people" to God. But, I really want to reconcile people to God because the assignment comes from the Highest of all possible authorities. (2 Corinthians 5:18-21) Instead, the promise was to lead the way in fighting against reconciling anyone anywhere. The appeal for money was attached to the promise that the monies would be used to make sure that the "bad guys" were always unsuccessful and the "white hats" win!
I ask myself, and any who dares to read farther, "How do the ‘good people,’ or the ‘Right,’ the ‘Conservatives’ who hover just inches from Jesus Himself, think Jesus would expect us to respond to the news that ‘bad people’ won again?" How do I be as Jesus in this world? What does being "poor in spirit" look like in this situation? Is anyone mourning? Is "arming for the next great fight" meekness? For what are we hungering and thirsting? I could go on . . . and on . . . but, people who have read this far probably understand my destination.
In the first paragraph of one digital appeal for the "good guy’s" contribution for arms, the dire, dark, doom-filled threatening shadows lengthened. The possibility that churches may lose tax exemption rose from the e-pages like an atomic bomb’s mushroom cloud. That’s next! It’s coming! An attack on our God-given right to deduct our generous gifts on an obscure line on an IRS form is next! Arm for war! After that, churches will have to pay real estate taxes on their buildings! Can you believe that? What in the world will we do?
I wonder, are we really committed to not offending "bad guys" whom we want to reconcile to Jesus? Do we "like Jesus" or are we like Jesus? Peter wondered, and I wonder. Jesus answered Peter’s question, ". . . so that we may not offend them, go to the lake and throw out your line. Take the first fish you catch; open its mouth and you will find a four-drachma coin. Take it and give it to them for my tax and yours" (Matthew 17:27 NIV). If we "good people" lose that skirmish, perish that thought, we may have to go back to believing in miracles and expecting coins in fishes’ mouths!
Another question that comes to me – I promise, this is the last I will pose in this essay – "If we wind up paying taxes on the ambitious dreams built with 2 x 4's and concrete blocks, how will that effect our commitment to missionary endeavors?" Will we experience a round of "Doing Church Without Buildings" workshops and hire specially trained architects to convert altars into arcades? What will happen to the "newest" and "greatest" strategy reconciling people to Jesus since the Apostle Paul so in vogue today if funds for professional training seminars are reallocated to school tax bills? I wonder. I ponder. My children and grandchildren will deal with the nuts and bolts of the issues that are mere subjects for my wondering today. In the meantime, I want to reconcile some of the "bad guys" to Jesus! And, I want to do the reconciling by being like Him in this world!
Last week I offered an opinion about the church’s reaction to the Supreme Court’s ruling on DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act is the short title of a federal law of the United States passed on September 21, 1996 as Public Law No. 104-199). In that essay I wrote that I expected my e-mail box to fill with heated reactions and appeals for funds to arm good people with righteous ammunition to the fight against and defeat "bad people," commonly known as secular humanists and god-haters. And, my mail box filled as predicted!
I observe that none of those who sent me mail offered to teach me how to navigate the twisting, treacherous trails which lead to understanding, patience, forgiveness and love. There is no apparent interest in equipping me to be a "good guy" who fulfills the ministry of reconciling the "bad people" to God. But, I really want to reconcile people to God because the assignment comes from the Highest of all possible authorities. (2 Corinthians 5:18-21) Instead, the promise was to lead the way in fighting against reconciling anyone anywhere. The appeal for money was attached to the promise that the monies would be used to make sure that the "bad guys" were always unsuccessful and the "white hats" win!
I ask myself, and any who dares to read farther, "How do the ‘good people,’ or the ‘Right,’ the ‘Conservatives’ who hover just inches from Jesus Himself, think Jesus would expect us to respond to the news that ‘bad people’ won again?" How do I be as Jesus in this world? What does being "poor in spirit" look like in this situation? Is anyone mourning? Is "arming for the next great fight" meekness? For what are we hungering and thirsting? I could go on . . . and on . . . but, people who have read this far probably understand my destination.
In the first paragraph of one digital appeal for the "good guy’s" contribution for arms, the dire, dark, doom-filled threatening shadows lengthened. The possibility that churches may lose tax exemption rose from the e-pages like an atomic bomb’s mushroom cloud. That’s next! It’s coming! An attack on our God-given right to deduct our generous gifts on an obscure line on an IRS form is next! Arm for war! After that, churches will have to pay real estate taxes on their buildings! Can you believe that? What in the world will we do?
I wonder, are we really committed to not offending "bad guys" whom we want to reconcile to Jesus? Do we "like Jesus" or are we like Jesus? Peter wondered, and I wonder. Jesus answered Peter’s question, ". . . so that we may not offend them, go to the lake and throw out your line. Take the first fish you catch; open its mouth and you will find a four-drachma coin. Take it and give it to them for my tax and yours" (Matthew 17:27 NIV). If we "good people" lose that skirmish, perish that thought, we may have to go back to believing in miracles and expecting coins in fishes’ mouths!
Another question that comes to me – I promise, this is the last I will pose in this essay – "If we wind up paying taxes on the ambitious dreams built with 2 x 4's and concrete blocks, how will that effect our commitment to missionary endeavors?" Will we experience a round of "Doing Church Without Buildings" workshops and hire specially trained architects to convert altars into arcades? What will happen to the "newest" and "greatest" strategy reconciling people to Jesus since the Apostle Paul so in vogue today if funds for professional training seminars are reallocated to school tax bills? I wonder. I ponder. My children and grandchildren will deal with the nuts and bolts of the issues that are mere subjects for my wondering today. In the meantime, I want to reconcile some of the "bad guys" to Jesus! And, I want to do the reconciling by being like Him in this world!
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