Anchored in Jesus

This week Pat and I were confronted with news that seems to be totally bad . . . the kind of message that has a dark cloud reaching in every direction from horizon to horizon. A former intern called to ask for a letter of recommendation. His career as a missionary has been put on hold. His nation where he and his young family are laying down their lives is so sensitive I have been asked to not mention the name of the nation in print.

My fiend did nothing wrong, but a family member has and a missionary is suddenly lifted across the world to help untangle the effects of sin. We have friends who have lost a child because of a drunk driver. Wrong! Many of my readers have ministered to children whose parent died prematurely because of destructive habits or stood by helplessly as we watch self-destructive behaviors.

While leading teams of ministerial interns in the 80's and 90's I discovered that responsible growth invariably followed a pattern, it is "RESPONSIBILITY + ACCOUNTABILITY = MATURITY." Parents begin with simple, attainable tasks like, "It is your job to take out the garbage," and follow up with, "Have you done what I have asked you?" Simple tasks become weightier responsibilities. Eventually a child is prepared to face life as an adult.

All sin, it seems to me, is the avoidance of properly facing personal responsibility. The fool thinks that his own reason is sufficient and lurches head-long into life, ill-prepared for the inevitable black clouds of the unexpected. Isaiah’s counsel is Gibraltar like, mammoth, immoveable, constant and reliable, "Seek the LORD while he may be found; call on him while he is near." (Isaiah 55:6) Yes, the dark clouds come . . . often too frequently. And sometimes the clouds creeping up over the horizon appear in spite of one living a well-disciplined and Godly life. A career is put on hold. Plans are moth balled. Hopes are quietly stowed away awaiting fulfillment.

The best we can do today is to heed Isaiah’s advice and "seek the Lord while He may be found." When the dark and dreaded news arrives we can know the truth of a gospel song penned by Lewes E. Jones.
Upon life’s boundless ocean where mighty billows roll,
I’ve fixed my hope in Jesus, blest anchor of my soul;
When trials fierce assail me as storms are gath’ring o’er,
I rest upon His mercy and trust Him more.
　

Refrain:
I’ve anchored in Jesus, the storms of life I’ll brave,
I’ve anchored in Jesus, I fear no wind or wave;
I’ve anchored in Jesus, for He hath pow’r to save,
I’ve anchored to the Rock of Ages.

He keeps my soul from evil and gives me blessed peace,
His voice hath stilled the waters and bid their tumult cease;
My Pilot and Deliv’rer, to Him I all confide,
For always when I need Him, He’s at my side.

He is my Friend and Savior, in Him my anchor’s cast,
He drives away my sorrows and shields me from the blast;
By faith I’m looking upward beyond life’s troubled sea,
There I behold a haven prepared for me.
The pianist has finished the prelude, come along and sing!

God's Unchanging Hand

When you read this post Pat and I will be en route to Orlando, Florida for The Assemblies of God General Council. We have been privileged to attend every biannual meeting since 1969. The delight of each council includes business sessions, usually with lively debate. Sitting with friends, listening to the fine points of doctrine, tedious financial reports, motions to include or excise various practices, etc. Meal events allow us to honor great leaders retiring from office, learning about new opportunities for ministries, listening to great music and eating average food! The incentive to visit the exhibits isn’t as intense as when we were looking for products to help us in ministry. Stationers are down the road from us and they sell the paper, pens, and stamps we need to keep a home office going.

One evening, following a worship service, Pat and I will meet with college alumni in a large convention hotel ballroom. I will shake my head in wonderment, "How did all those people age like that?" "What happened to his hair?" Pat will invariably comment, "Life has a way of evening the playing field. The stunning ‘lookers’ now seem so average!" The hallways will fill with animated conversation. Our granddaughter will compete in the Fine Arts competition, and win! All this makes driving 2000 miles round trip worthwhile.

Sometime, in one of the worship services, at a meal function or conversation I expect to hear the voice of the Spirit. I cannot remember the exact instance from everyone of the 22 previous councils, but I will always remember our former General Superintendent, Thomas F. Zimmerman leading a song I had never previously heard.
Time is filled with swift transition,
Naught of earth unmoved can stand,
Build your hopes on things eternal,
Hold to God’s unchanging hand.

Refrain:
Hold to God’s unchanging hand,
Hold to God’s unchanging hand;
Build your hopes on things eternal,
Hold to God’s unchanging hand.
Trust in Him who will not leave you,
Whatsoever years may bring,

If by earthly friends forsaken
Still more closely to Him cling.
Covet not this world’s vain riches
That so rapidly decay,
Seek to gain the heav’nly treasures,
They will never pass away.
When your journey is completed,
If to God you have been true,
Fair and bright the home in glory
Your enraptured soul will view.

I was a rookie preacher. The ink on my diploma was still damp. My credentials were authentic but untested. I secretly prayed, "I hope we will make it!" The years have slipped by. The diploma has yellowed. The credentials were upgrade to "ordained," way back in 1968. Pat and I are still singing and still holding to God’s unchanging hand!

Ah, General Council," I wouldn’t miss it. Who knows, this may be the last one we will be able to attend. But then, there is always heaven! I really don’t want to miss that!

Training for Vocation and Life Work

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.

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!

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!

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.

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.

　

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!