There's joy, joy in my heart

Before the sun rose this morning I was awaked by a song, a joyful, delightfully captivating tune with simple repetitive lyrics. It has been years since I have sung the happy tune.
The windows of heaven are open,
The blessings are falling tonight;
There's joy, joy, joy in my heart,
Since Jesus made everything right;
I gave Him my old tattered garment,
He gave me a robe of pure white;
I'm feasting on manna from heaven
And that's why I'm happy tonight.
Remembered songs have a context. Where did we learn the tune? What were the circumstances? Why do we recall quaint and apparently long-forgotten lyrics? In my case it’s been 50 years or more since I sang the words of testimony throbbing with rhythmic truth, "There's joy, joy, joy in my heart, since Jesus made everything right."

As I recall, "The windows of heaven are open" was a "Sunday night song," usually inserted between "testimonies," the impromptu reports of simple saints reporting Jesus’ work in daily life. The "testimony service" was always risky. Some people spoke up far too frequently, some didn’t speak loudly enough to be heard, and a few went on, and on, and on! But, during those evenings of story telling, the testimonies added layers of support to our scaffold of faith.

Testimonies reinforced the idea that God answers prayer. Simple folk without formal theological training taught profoundly important truths as they reported how God was at work in the rough and tumble of life. One good brother, Kurt Nierhause, a German immigrant, would become animated and weep while reporting the goodness of God in testimony and prayer. I can still see him mopping his brow while passionately telling of the goodness of the Lord. Faith grew! Hope shoved fears and doubts aside. New evidence of God had been presented.

The testimony service experience reminded us that there is a great God in heaven who cares about what is happening here on earth. Jehovah is still acting on behalf of His people! The mid-fifties was a difficult era for the industrial North. Auto makers closed plants for months at a time. Unemployment numbers soared, homeowners defaulted on mortgages and despair was common. Invariably someone would speak of a special provision from the hand of the Lord. Another might urge us to trust the Lord. And, the tune would begin,
Got any rivers you think are impossible?
Got any mountains you cannot tunnel through?
God specializes in things thought impossible
And he can do what no other God can do.
I can hear the tune now! I am encouraged now! New faith is bubbling up!


Testimonies multiplied joy! A faithful sister might report that her agnostic and abusive husband had begun to listen to a radio preacher, or had been seen reading the Pentecostal Evangel. The room filled with celebrating praise. Parents fearing the worst for their wayward child heard the report and laid hold of the possibility of the miraculous happening in their family. In our church a retired immigrant barber played his clarinet on the front pew. Spontaneously, without pastoral permission or allotted time on the printed spreadsheet for evening worship, Brother Kaiser would excite us into singing, "I’m so happy, here’s the reason why; Jesus took my burdens all away!" The music was amateurish, but the joy was authentic. Our surrounding were unsophisticated but our experiences with God were deeply meaningful, heart-felt and lasting. The experience was so effective that I awakened to one of the songs this morning.

For old times’ sake, could we gather somewhere, quietly, without alarming church leaders or appearing rebellious. We could tell our stories and sing, "I gave Him my old tattered garment, He gave me a robe of pure white; I'm feasting on manna from heaven; And that's why I'm happy tonight." There is joy, joy, joy in my heart" because "Jesus made everything right!"

Worship and Hymn Books

Many years ago a friend mentioned that his spiritual disciplines included memorizing and singing hymns. Daily he read scripture, sang hymns and prayed. In luncheon conversation Dave would quote verses from hymns, lyrical truth imbedded in his mind and spirit by conscious memory and living, dynamic work of the Holy Spirit.

Recently I received a copy of an article written by Jack Hayford, an esteemed pastor/leader within the Church of the Foursquare Gospel.¹ The item reinforces my friend’s discipline in a context of corporate worship and teaching. Dr. Hayford’s appeal to worship leaders is that hymns, modern and ancient, be employed to instruct and bring unity to essential Gospel truths.

Hymn books fill several inches on my book shelves. After reading the Hayford article I reached for, Melodies of Praise, the book from which we sang at my boyhood church. The page one hymn is "All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name." As I opened the book the tune and truth leaped from deep within my spirit. Something intensely important in my spiritual development leaped forward affecting both intellect and emotion. Memories were awakened from slumber and I heard Mom and Dad singing. Neither had particularly good voices, but they knew Jesus and their affirmations of faith in "All Hail the Power," and the Gospel truth set to music was riveted to my spirit week after week, month after month and year after year. The fasteners of the Spirit have made the truth of Jesus’ Name an immovable anchor in my soul!

As I opened the book this morning I heard the unique sound of the Revivaltime Choir under the direction of Cyril McClellan. As a college student I occasionally attended a broadcast origination of Revivaltime and the trademark sound of every program pierced the din of airways on 100's of stations weekly. I can hear it now as I type!
All hail the power of Jesus’ Name! Let angels prostrate fall;
Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown Him Lord of all.
Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown Him Lord of all.
The author of the lyrics which first appeared in print in 1779, Edward Perronet, had no idea that his Spirit-inspired work would live on in millions of people’s hearts for more than two centuries.

I know my children know both the lyric and its truth. And, I am thrilled that contemporary musical arrangements continue to emerge as skillful artists apply their God-given talent to help another generation worship in quiet places and in mass meetings of saints. While some decry the influence of social media, we might celebrate its power as a tool which many use to keep ancient truth alive! (Check out YouTube!)



　

Repetition as Testimony

Most agree that repetition is the foundation for learning. Many remember all the way back to elementary school and our set of homemade 3" x 5" flash cards with the times tables . . . 2x2, 2x3, 2x4 all the way up to 12x12. Parents or siblings would "flash" the card with the multiplication equation toward the student and the answer on the opposite side. The repetitions continued until each answer was etched into the student’s brain for life.

Reggie Jackson said of batting, "A baseball swing is a very finely tuned instrument. It is repetition, and more repetition, then a little more after that." Elizabeth Arden who built a financial empire marketing women’s cosmetics said, "Repetition makes reputation and reputation makes customers." Athletes who perform at a professional or Olympic level of any sport hone their abilities with repetition. Skills, reputation and character are crafted by time-consuming repetitions.



The Prophet Amos is the master of repetition. At least seven times in the first two chapters of his recorded work the farmer-prophet says, "For three sins of Israel, even for four, I will not turn back . . ." The sins of Israel included cruelties, injustices, "stifling all compassion" (1:11) and other abuses of people. "Human trafficking," the contemporary synonym for "slavery," and abortion are singled out as especially heinous. Amos reminds us that God hates brutality and violence, expressions of unchecked anger but loves compassion.

The efforts of relief agencies like Convoy of Hope, Samaritans’ Purse, the Salvation Army and others ought to be applauded by every American. Better yet, their efforts ought to be supported with dollars and prayers. Every attempt to ease human suffering is a worthy endeavor, and charitable compassion of Christian people is a testimony to a world without faith and without God.

Before repairs to the present devastation in the Philippines are finished the United States will probably lead the world in restoring another nation. Memories rooted in spiritual awakenings and Biblical truth still propel us toward scenes of despair and devastation. I offer a few words of caution. First, the typhoon which apparently killed more than 10,000 people occurred only fine days ago and the needs and cries for help were moved to page "A6" in this morning’s "Philadelphia Inquirer," displaced by the signing of a 36-year-old free agent by the hometown Phillies, an opinion about the Pope by the local arch bishop and the merger of two airlines. The value of human life was deemed of less and importance than sports, religious opinion and business.

The repetition of "For three sins . . . even for four" ought to thump away in the human breast like the rhythms of the human heart. If I was an 81-year-old woman whose home was swept away by a 40' wave and if I hadn’t had a meal for days, I would certainly be praying that my plight hadn’t been moved to page "A6." May I suggest, maybe three or four times, that we do everything in our power to alleviate suffering as a testimony to those who are looking on?

Veteran's Day 2013

Veteran’s Day, a too often overlooked date on the American’s calendar was intended to honor those who have served our nation’s military. I confess to having ignored the day’s significance. But this year is different. Three men I love and respect deeply are veterans. Two served in World War Two, another is my peer who served in peacetime.

My father in-law, Roy Kolas, has influenced me more than any other man with the exception of my own father. Roy served as a machinist in the "Great War" and traveled across Europe repairing equipment while his first-born daughter, my wife Pat, was an infant. He told us that when he received word that Pat was born while he was training in the deep South, the only quiet place he could find to be alone with God was in the company latrine. Roy went into the latrine and dedicated Pat to Jesus there. He also refused to allow the Army to deduct insurance premiums from his pay because he had the Lord’s assurance that he would return from war alive. Now, that is faith in action! Roy is completing his 92^nd revolution around the sun and has been diagnosed with cancer. It is time to have him stand and for us all to salute him. He has been a faithful member of one church his entire life, has been a deacon and elder most of those years, and at one time attended Sunday School without missing a single Sunday for more than 25 years!

The second man from whom I have learned much and deeply admire is Ralph Crites. Ralph and Louise began offering their services to our church-planting efforts in 1991. Since then I estimate that they have given more than four years of their lives in behind-the-scenes work advancing the Kingdom of God. Their accomplishments are too numerous to list, but I mention the "big ones!" Ralph, a pipe fitter by trade with more than 40 years experience with General Motors, has installed four heating-air conditioning systems in three churches and a six-family apartment building. He installed new plumbing in at least 16 new restrooms, a shower room, three commercial kitchens, and two residential kitchens. (In between these projects, Ralph handily offered his experience in other trades. I will never forget the day when I tried to thank him for being an example to me on how to grow older gracefully and unselfishly. Ralph shrugged and said, "I am only doing what I thought everyone ought to do." Tears come to my eyes every time I think our conversation!

The third veteran is slightly younger than I. While I was studying in college, Abe Oliver was in the US Army stationed in England. He and his young bride made the most of their military years by participating in a Pentecostal church. He has told me many stories of the lessons learned under the tutelage of an older minister. Upon discharge, Abe attended Bible college and began his vocation as a pastor. In one life season he served as chaplain in a large Philadelphia company that hired hundreds of immigrants. Abe arranged for pastoral leadership and helped start several Pentecostal churches among the ethnic groups in the company.

And then while in their mid-fifties the Olivers began the crowning work. Starting with their two daughters and son-in-law they began building a ministry with Sunday morning prayer meetings and outreaches on the sidewalks of North Kensington, Philadelphia’s "Badlands." That work has grown into Lighthouse Family Community Church on North Front Street. I preached there yesterday because Abe has been diagnosed with cancer of the esophagus and was too weak to attend service. Lighthouse is alive, energetic and thoroughly Pentecostal. Every seat was full. The pre-service prayer time was powerful. The church orchestrates health-care ministries for the neighborhood, has a vibrant youth outreach, and has helped their youth with college tuition. If I had more space, I’d write about the Oliver children and grandchildren!

I ask you to join me in honoring the veterans I mentioned, and those close to you. Please include them in your prayers. Two, Pastor Abe Oliver, and my father-in-law, Roy Kolas, are battling cancer. Ralph Crites has had both knees replaced and still lives with pain. I offer that we ought to include the families of veterans when we pray as well. Our lives are better because of the way others have lived!

Life is Good!

"Life is good!" That’s the slogan that popped up on several hotel television screens where we stayed during extensive recent travels. The LG brand has cleverly employed its initials with an upbeat segue between a matte finished black screen and the latest health scare or political faux pas. Personally, "Life is good," relates to having a faithful, and frugal, friend who shops for books at thrift stores and yard sales . . . and then passes on his finds to me! Ah, Bob, you breathe excitement into the good life!

One of Bob’s recent purchases was, A Martyr’s Grace, by Marvin J. Newell. Dr. Newell has served as a missionary for more than two decades, is a former professor at Moody Graduate School and executive director of International Foreign Missions Association. Newell’s book is an anthology of stories about Moody Bible Institute alumni who were martyred for their faith.

Moody has never been a huge school. Present undergraduate enrollment is 1620 on the Chicago campus. The school’s web site reports, "Since our founding by D.L. Moody in 1886, Moody Bible Institute has been committed to helping people across the globe, cultures and generations to take the next step toward spiritual maturity. For more than 125 years, Christ-followers have come to Moody to be richly equipped in God's Word to impact the world for Christ." Between 1900 and 2002 21 young men and women heroically laid down their lives while serving as missionaries. Some witnessed their spouse’s execution moments before they were executed. Their children were sometimes slaughtered with their parents. In more than one circumstance, Moody alumni were martyred alongside missionaries who were graduates of other fine colleges and seminaries.

One of the missionaries martyred with Moody alumni was J. W. Tucker. He and I were classmates in 1963. Reverend Tucker was 48 years-old and completing work he had begun years before at another school which did not offer the needed degree to continue missionary service. I sat directly behind "J. W." in a science class at Central Bible College. We science students loved J. W. because he would interrupt the drab routines of class lectures by bringing specimens of bugs and plants in sealed jars. We gladly gathered around for a closer look and listened to the four-term veteran missionary’s stories. The freshman level class was otherwise very forgettable!

The school year ended, J. W. Tucker received his degree and returned to the Congo with his wife Angela and their three children. Thanksgiving Day I awoke to the sweet aromas of a turkey baking in the oven and an array of foods prepared for the family feast later in the day. My father and mother were listening to the old Crosley radio on the kitchen table. (Our family was the last clan in the City of Detroit to own a television.) The news reported read, "American Assemblies of God missionary J. W. Tucker has been killed in Pauli, Belgian Congo." Reverend Tucker remains the only Assemblies of God missionary to die on the field as a martyr.

Moody Bible Institute is similar, older and somewhat larger than my alma mater. Yet Moody seems to have a disproportionate number of its alumni lay down their lives for the sake of the Gospel. A more thorough study may reveal causes for the disparity between the schools. For me, the sobering lessons of Dr. Newell’s, A Martyr’s Grace, and my brief encounter with J. W. include the following. The lesson is followed by a simple, but important prayer.

Martyrdom may be the end to any person who speaks a continual "Yes!" to the Lord of Harvest. "Lord, I really will do everything you ask of me."
Great men and women are about us and we often do not appreciate them until they are gone. "Lord, open my eyes and allow me to learn from them."
The chapels at Moody Bible Institute and Central Bible College were formative and dynamic places of preparation in the lives of martyrs. (CBC called chapel "the classroom of the Holy Spirit.") "Lord, may I grow in your presence when worshiping and learn with others."
Every generation experiences martyrdom. People are dying today because of their faith. The church is being persecuted today. And in our lifetime, martyrdom may become a reality in North America. "Lord, may my family, friends and I be prepared for every challenge to our faith."

If you "Google" "J. W. Tucker," ample material is within reach on several web sites. I would give you Bob’s address and phone number, but then I would run the risk of losing my source of great reading material!

Remember, "Life is good!" And it is also unpredictable.

Ach Gott!

The English politician, philosopher and writer Thomas Carlyle and his wife received an unexpected visitor – an American, Ralph Waldo Emerson. The much younger Emerson arrived at the Carlyle’s doorstep unannounced and that encounter led to a lifelong friendship. Thomas Carlyle later wrote to a friend, "I love Emerson’s book, not for its detached opinions, not even for the scheme of the general world he has framed for himself, or any eminence of talent he has expressed . . . but simply because it is his own book."¹ I relate! We suffer from a spate of "copycats," writing without creativity or originality. Literature that reflects deep thought and emits the pure aroma of originality is in short supply. Does anyone dare to communicate lifting thought above function, or the "what" above the "how," and idealism above utility? In my opinion, the "How to . . . " book sections in my favorite stores represent a literary ghetto.

To illustrate my agreement with Thomas Carlyle I offer the following anecdote. I enrolled in a seminary class a couple of decades ago and in the first session was stunned by one of the professor’s opening statements. It was an intellectual sucker punch! I haven’t fully recovered. The professor announced, "I will be sharing with this class the best current ideas and practices of church growth specialists in America." He went on to add, "Contemporary church growth practitioners uniformly embrace pragmatism, commonly stated as, ‘If the ends do not justify the means, what does justify the means?’ In other words, "Do this! It works!"

I believe numerical measurement is shallow, ill-conceived, and unworthy of serious consideration as assessment of one’s life work. Celebrating numerical growth is not difficult, pursuing, developing and affirming faithfulness, integrity, truthfulness, and other expressions of the fruit of the Spirit are exponentially more difficult and time consuming. These are far more worthy measurements of one’s life and vocation.

Fresh, insightful authors occasionally arrive in the literary cosmos. We read, we learn, we share our appreciation and recommendations and the work rises to the thin air of "best sellerism." The book finds wide acceptance because the author’s work is needed and the appetite of the reading public recognizes quality. And then, the cacophony of noisy echoes hits the booksellers’ shelves. Copy cats steal the premise and echo the original material. A few personal anecdotes are added, and we have another "must read!" The second and third generation works come close to plagiarism, outright theft. In Christian publications original writers often share a truth or an account of a God-man encounter that is intimately personal. Alas, copy cats seem to say, "Hey, that’s really good!" and proceed to write as if they received the same truth or enjoyed the same encounter.

Sequels, author’s second, third or fourth works are too often stale restatements of superlative originals. At least it seems that way to me! An author’s second, third, or fourth books too often are akin to watching Mickey Mantle play a game on his last road trip to Detroit’s Tiger Stadium. I was there and watched a most gifted athlete limp around the bases after hitting a towering home run. "The Mick" hit another ball that could have easily been a triple or an inside-the-park home run in his youth. But the legs were gone. He was lifted for a pinch runner. A Baseball Hall of Fame athlete played one too many games for this fan. I loved the original, but . . .

In his letter to a friend, Thomas Carlyle contrasted the ordinariness of English literature with the fresh and thoughtful writing of Emerson, "Ach Gott!² It is frightful to live among echoes." I know a young minister who is less than half my age in Philadelphia’s Port Richmond neighborhood. He is carving out a chain of churches which meet in homes. He is multiplying the number of preachers who share life and Word with groups of 20 or less. No one is paid a salary. My young friend works in a hospital to support his family and models dedication to his team of emerging pastors. Another pastor I know lives above a thrift shop operated by his church and encounters and shares the Good News with the most needy and disenfranchised people of his community. The work of these creative young pastors is slow and often tedious. But, Ach Gott! I am spared the fright of living among echoes. These young men are creative, full of fresh ideas, daring and courageous!

　

　

Surprised

As I have grown older, it seems as if I am less frequently surprised. As children we are filled with the spirit of curiosity, wonder and surprise. Life experience turns "first-time-ever" explorations and discoveries into routines. Many of us tend to allow the sense of awe to quietly melt away. Life grows dull.

During a recent morning reverie spent with my friend the Prophet Habakkuk, I was suddenly filled with wonder. By the Spirit Habakkuk was entrusted with a special prophetic promise, "For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the LORD, as the waters cover the sea." (Habakkuk 2:14) As I spent time musing over that promise I could come up with no definitive explanation of what the promise meant.

How much knowledge does it take to cover the earth as waters cover the sea? I simply don’t know the answer. And, worse than that, I am not sure the question is appropriate. The promise is set in a context of judgments, woes and disgrace assigned to those who flaunt their personal privileges and abuse others with their power. The assurance of God’s glory being evident as described by my friend Habakkuk is surprising to the max because of its setting.

Have you discovered that God inserts surprises into the dullness of our routines? He is a specialist at interrupting "hum drum." I hear the Almighty saying, "Let me show you something!" In the middle of political bickering, name calling and petty displays of selfish snit, the Eternal One says, "The promise is still in effect!" Economies have come and gone, but I am the Eternal One who is prepared to stand routines on their heads!

I had one of those moments when the glory of the Lord dawned on me. The duration of the dawning wasn’t long but the impact was more memorable as a Detroit Tiger comeback in a must-win playoff game. Pat and I were traveling from the Midwest to my preaching point last Saturday. We had awakened in Western Pennsylvania to a hazy, dreary sky with visibility of a few hundred yards. F. Frank Baum’s, The Wizard of Oz was entertaining us, the audio book, not the movie! And then, suddenly and without warning, as we crossed over one of Pennsylvania’s mountains to witness the sunless dreariness of the morning wonderfully interrupted with the light of an unseasonably warm sun. It seemed as if the sun declared, "No clouds today!" Sunlight focused on the mountain sides lining the otherwise boring Route 80. The colors blazed intensely . . . reds, yellows and oranges were contrasted with splashes of dark evergreens. Wonder filled us! We were surprised at each turn of the road which has become our personal metaphor for monotony. Colors! Colors everywhere, as the waters cover the sea!

For a while I felt half my age, invigorated with a robust appetite for another challenge, another daring moment when trusting God for something new bubbled warmly way down deep. "Habakkuk," I thought, "When will this happen in the dimensions of your word?" Remember, when I am with the prophet alone I call him "Hab." "Hab, tell me again that the promise will be part of all mankind’s experience! I am still uncertain about the when and how, but I have a new visual image to carry with me when the clouds close in and the sun is hidden from view.