At least, that's how it has been for me, and from numerous conversations with other pastors, I don't think I'm a special case. I illustrate the general rule.
For instance, I was recently unable to figure out how to replace paper towels on a state of the art paper towel holder/dispenser. I finally wanted to pitch it into the trash, but I have dim memories of paying a high price for it. I have done the replacement chore before, and I recall that the process was simple. Now I'm simple and the blasted kitchen accessory seems complex.
"Get 'er done" is no longer a matter of adequate motivation and initiative. It has become a constant problem of "how?" and I often don't remember how. Read the manual, you might say. I would, if I could remember where I put the "easy steps" pages of information.
Okay—such problems can be shrugged off as "no big deal."What I cannot shrug off as a pastor is the emotional burden of my inability to help people because my resources of time, energy, money and problem-solving-intelligence are almost daily dwindling. I see the wounds and feel the pains of needy persons, but there just isn't enough of me or mine left that can be put into operation to meet those needs.
I can laugh at some of the crazy things I think or say or do because of creeping dementia, but I can't laugh at the deep and wide gap between what I want to do and what I can do. The fact that people are kind, that they understand, does not ameliorate my heartache when I yearn to be of use to them and cannot.
This frank confession, this baring of my soul probably doesn't help you or me. I'll hush now and have another go at that recalcitrant paper towel holder.
My older brother died this week. I had not seen him in years. Our paths diverged when I began to follow Christ and they seldom crossed again. Phone calls and e-mails were our infrequent contacts.
Trying to defuse the incident I cracked a joke—a poor one. The others laughed. My assailant didn't. He said, "I resent that," and walked over to me, still astride his bike. When he got close he struck me with a hard fist. The blow landed on my cheekbone with force enough to snap my head back and leave a bruise for days.
As soon as he landed that blow my older brother was on him like a duck on a June bug. He flung that guy, bicycle and all, out of the street and into some palmettos. I thought, "Wow! It's nice to have a big brother in a time like this," as the bully pedaled off crying.
I now have no siblings, but I still have a big brother. My elder brother is Jesus, and He is a gracious, mighty deliverer. I seem to be too small and too stupid to stay out of trouble. I'm glad He names me as part of His family, and stands by me in every situation I can't handle. Forces of evil can dwarf me by their size and strength, but they can't keep me imprisoned by fear. I have someone who is always present with power to sustain and deliver.
Just today my devotions took me through Psalm 31. There I read, "My times are in your hands." I can't control my times, but I am not abandoned to them. The Lord is in charge, not the times. It's comforting to have a big brother in times like these!
SPRING IS HERE!
Spring is here!
My nose is running. My eyes are itching. My skin is itching. My sinuses are swollen. Spring is here!
In spite of my physical system going haywire, my heart rejoices when Spring recurs each year. I love to see the blossoms, in their gorgeous variety of sizes, shapes and colors that festoon the trees and shrubs. I delight in the green of Spring. Winter blacks and whites make interesting postcards, but they can't hold a pistil or stamen to the polychromatic exuberance of Spring.
There is a different lilt to birdsong that even my musically-challenged ears can discern. The raccoon that visits our place looks happier. His mask makes him look less the burglar and more the reveler. The wild turkey that occasionally struts across our yards has a gobble that rivals a giggle.
Frankly, I don't know why nature produces so much pollen. My car, carport floor and driveway are covered with it. I'm sure there is a carpet of it on the yards and cascades of it being swept by rain from the rooftop. I do believe there is enough pollen in my one place of residence to furnish an entire small town with a surplus. .
Notwithstanding the yellow attack, I love the Spring.
I can feel the sap rising, even in my ancient, creaking mind and body.
I want to sing. I want to
dance. I want to dine on food with
color and zest. (I'm not talking
about fiery foods, spiced with stuff that spells
Some people tell me that year-round Spring would be
monotonous. I'd like to risk it.
They tell me that we need frigid winters and broiling summers, but I'm
not convinced. If God had willed it,
if my income had allowed it, if my family had been there, I would have retired
in
Out of every window, in every yard and along every highway I see the beauty of Spring on display. My heart cries, "Hallelujah!"
Got to run—I'll finish this tomorrow.
Oops! An electrical storm is brewing and we are under a tornado watch.
I still love Spring!
THANK YOU ALL FOR ALL YOU'VE
DONE
Recently we moved. No sooner than we began to unpack, arrange, and get squared
away Doris had total knee-replacement surgery. Then came holidays and visitors
and happy times with folks we cherish. They were fun times but busy, busy, busy.
Rehab personnel were in and out several times a week. Three days after the last
rehab session Doris fell and fractured her other knee. Now she is trying to
figure out how to limp on both legs at once. She's in a brace and I'm on the
gallop.
During all these emergency situations and throughout the holiday season you were
gracious and generous. Cards, flowers, gifts, checks and services flowed in—a
flowing stream of one kindness after another. It has been a parade of good
people doing good things for us.
We are deeply grateful, but—to my shame—I have been remiss about thank-you
notes. I haven't found the time to get them written, and—I painfully confess—I
can't always remember who did what, who gave what. That was a list Doris always
kept, and she was out of action.
I have been in a confused state. I'd rather be in the state of Georgia with a
clear mind and steel-trap memory. But my days of daze and haze took advantage of
my age and infirmities, and my struggles to create the record and recall each
incident of kindness have failed. As a consequence, I am resorting to this means
of expressing our gratitude. We sincerely thank all of you for all you have
done. You have lighted dark days and Doris and I have felt so loved and so
appreciated through all that has occurred.
I need one more gift—the gift of your forgiveness. My breach of common etiquette
was as unintentional as it is embarrassing. I can't undo my failure; I can only
ask for your understanding and your pardon. There are times when it's hard for
me to like me, and this has been such a time. I'm genuinely sorry. Forgive me.
Did you think I was dead? It has been a while since a new item appeared from my pen.
I'm very much alive. Well, I am alive. Let's leave it at that. My silence has had nothing to do with my health, but quite a lot to do with my wife's health. She has been going through some rough patches.
On November 14 she had a total right knee replacement. After some bad moments resulting from an unsuspected allergy to certain anesthetics and/or medicines she got along well.
On the third day after she completed her rehab sessions, January 4, she fell and fractured her left knee. Her knees are now healing from surgery and a fracture. This has caused her lots of pain and called for lots of patience.
Her misfortune has kept me pretty much confined to our house. I have made some hospital calls, have kept some doctors' appointments, have done some grocery shopping, and have continued to preach on Sundays and share the Word with my wonderful congregation on Wednesday nights. Fortunately, I have an adequately equipped study/office at home, so I could devote early morning and late night hours to preparing messages. However, an unusual amount of my time has been given to household chores and to practical nursing. My writing has been neglected. (Of course, if I knew how few persons missed that or mourned that, my fragile ego would never allow me to wield a pen or pound a keyboard again!)
This is a report and not a complaint. Long years ago Doris had already passed the point at which she had fully earned everything I could do for her until the end of our lives. Helping her through these rough patches of accidents, surgeries and recovery is a privilege, not a burden. Her wit and wisdom continue to scatter sunlight over my life on the darkest days.
Keep us in your prayers and we will return the favor. "This too shall pass." The only constants in our lives are changing circumstances and the unchanging love of our covenant-keeping God.
Well, we moved. We had the usual amounts and degrees of order and chaos. We had marked boxes and mystery boxes. We had light stuff—which I handled—and heavy stuff which younger and stronger men handled. We had things we needed and things we didn't need. We have moved about thirty times in our lives, and this one—THE LAST ONE—was much like the others. I strongly dislike moving. I abhor clutter. But we moved, and that's that.
We had help, good help, good-natured help. No one was angry. No one swore. No one got drunk. No one entertained dark and violent thoughts of murder. Family members pitched in with muscles and minds. Church members added their brawn and brains. A four-man crew of professional movers took care of the bulkiest, heaviest stuff. They were the best movers we have ever engaged. The volunteer help was efficient and gracious. To everybody who got involved we say a hearty "THANKS!!!" You made moving a time of enriching fellowship. That's a miracle.
I have signed a life-lease on the house we moved into. We are here until the Lord calls us home. We have the dearest landlord on earth. We have met our neighbors and they are class A. We are conveniently located—close to the mall, close to the church and close to the funeral home. We are even close to West Virginia's finest—the Poffs. Who could ask for anything more? The Lord and His people are so good to us that I fumble for words to describe their constant kindness.
We moved on Doris' birthday, and two days before mine. The church surprised us with a wonderful birthday present: They paid the moving bill. Not only do goodness and mercy follow us all the days of our lives, they made moving day a grace-filled experience. I am more deeply indebted to the Lord and the church than ever before. My best service falls pitifully short of meeting that debt, but the debt inspires and challenges me to serve them better. Thanks, everyone who so lovingly invested in our lives.
October 7, 2007 was a happy day for me. Doris and I worshipped with our Suwannee River church, located in a crossroads community in northern Florida. I was privileged to preach for their seventy-fifth anniversary celebration.
Doris' father served this church as pastor three times. Our mothers were part of the congregation until their deaths. We were members of this country church in the 1940s. Most of the folks I worshipped with and preached to back then are now in heaven. Some of their children and grandchildren remain in the area but many have moved away, a familiar scenario with rural churches.
Three of our oldest, dearest friends attended the service, driving up from distant cities. Three of our children were present. Relatives from my father's side of the family formed a large part of the crowd. The song leader was a man I met when he was a lad living and working on a farm. Present, too, were a retired couple for whom I "tied the knot" when they were young. Some retired preachers whom I have known for years added to the intriguing mix of people who sang, prayed and listened to God's word on this occasion.
Following the happy and challenging service was "dinner on the grounds," one of the choicest traditions of American Christianity. Country cooking down South is not calculated to keep folks slim, but it sure makes the bulges a tribute to some of the tastiest food to ever travel alimentary canals.
All in all the day was glorious. No two of us present had traveled identical paths, but each of us could bear witness to the faithfulness of God. The fidelity of God to His people was my overwhelming impression as I looked at, preached to, and dined with the Suwannee River church. They could tell of good times and bad, of feasting and fasting, of joy and pain, of blessings and affliction, of fulfillments and disappointments, of happiness and sorrow as God patiently and graciously wove the variegated threads of human experiences into a meaningful pattern.
Every church's anniversaries underscore the words of Jesus: "Upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it." Angry demons and wicked persons have fought hard and long against the church, but victory has always been reserved for those who have linked their lives to the risen and reigning Lord. Church anniversaries are chapter headings or chapter summaries in the story of faith's triumph over tribulation. Suwannee River's seventy-fifth was a thrilling experience.
A PRAYER WARRIOR HAS BEEN PROMOTED
"We hardly got to know you," was a writer's lament when John F. Kennedy was cut
down in youth by an assassin's bullet.
That's what I thought and said inwardly as I looked at Helen Allums' body in a
casket. She did not die in youth, but she died soon after the Allums began to
attend our church. My contacts with her were infrequent and brief, but they were
meaningful to me.
The first time she came to our church, she shook hands with me after the service
and said, "I 'm going to pray much for you. You may be old, but we need you."
And pray for me she did, as some of the family have told me. When I last visited
her in the hospital she said, "I've been praying for you every day." She had a
clear line to God, the kind of person we used to call "a prayer warrior." Her
prayer life reflected a strong personal trust in the Savior and a deep concern
for the ministry of God's word.
I shall miss her, for people who pray daily for me, if brought together in one
place, would not make a multitude. However, it is the quality—the integrity—of
intercessors that matters most, not their quantity. Helen prayed as she lived,
with a radiant and joyful trust in the trustworthiness of the Lord. She is now
in the presence of the Christ "who ever lives to make intercession" for His
people.
Helen requested me to say "a few words" at her funeral. Fulfilling that request
was a privilege and an honor. A few words sufficed, given our brief
acquaintance, but her long life of fidelity to Jesus was a continuous testimony,
speaking loudly and clearly of Him as the priority of her life.
One of our early leaders was asked, "How much religion does it take to get to
heaven." His thoughtful reply was, "Enough to make you comfortable in the
presence of Jesus." Helen is with Him, and she is comfortable in His presence.
We will pray much for Jack. That his loss is heaven's gain will be great comfort
to him, and he will rejoice in her "promotion to glory," but he will also
experience a deep grief as he continues his own journey of faith without her
inspiring companionship. She is with the Lord, and the Lord is with her family.
That will be their strength and peace.
Thanks, Helen, for your prayers. I'll see you in the morning.
Almost forty years ago I toured an open-air
market in a Central American city. The market was flanked on one side by a
river. As I watched, parts of animals and fish were tossed into the river.
Suddenly the water would become extremely agitated as a shoal of piranhas
feasted on the dumped flesh. They were a kind of animated garbage disposal. In
seconds the orgy ended and the water calmed as the piranhas awaited their next
meal.
To me, those piranhas were scary. They seemed to be so savage, so vicious, and
so lethal. I shuddered to think of falling into that river. I could be reduced
to a skeleton in moments, moments that began with horrible pain.
To my surprise I read a recent article, a Reuters' dispatch, in which the
piranhas were described as fearful, not fearless. They congregate in big numbers
to protect themselves from such predators as caiman—first cousins to
crocodiles—and dolphins and other large fish. I thought their instincts taught
them to live by the rule, "The larger the hunting party, the larger the prey
discovered and devoured." In reality, says a professor at the University of St.
Andrews, piranhas are "wimps." They forage in huge numbers in order to avoid
becoming the menu and not the diners.
That got me to thinking back on my life. Most of my fears turned out to be
groundless. Most of the forces that I regarded as enemies proved to be less
powerful than I had supposed. The threats I faced were not unreal, but they had
been exaggerated in my mind.
As a Christian you can't run with the pack. A Christian is necessarily in
conflict with prevailing culture. To be a friend of the world, we are warned in
Scripture, is to become an enemy of God. And God, not the human piranhas of this
world, is the one to be feared. If He is your friend, the forces of evil can
only attack as He allows. Just as Satan had to get a permit to test Job, so God
remains sovereign over all who oppose, malign and seek to destroy His people.
"There is strength in numbers." So reads an ancient and frequently quoted
proverb. The one and only God has greater strength than all the powers of
darkness combined. If they wound, He can heal. If they kill, He can resurrect.
Neither demons, nor disease nor death can prevail against the purpose of God.
"If God be for us," Paul exclaimed, "who can be against us?" Compared to the
omnipotent God, the piranhas of evil become wimps.
A few days ago I was looking at my PDF files and noticed one labeled "Droughts and Floods." It carried a 2004 date as a Word Document. I could not remember any such document so my curiosity was jostled. I tried to open the file and was told that it no longer existed in the PDF files and might have been moved or renamed. I proceeded to conduct a search of all files which yielded no results.
That set me to thinking. Droughts and floods are natural disasters. They destroy crops and buildings and lives. People sometimes ask, "If God is, and He is love, why does He allow these disasters to occur." Nobody can supply a complete and satisfying answer to any question that begins, "Why does God" or "Why doesn't God." God tells us, in Isaiah 55:9, "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." There are mysterious heights and depths in God's thinking and doing that we cannot fathom, much less explain to others. Only God can fully understand God.
But the Bible points us forward to "a new heaven and a new earth" where natural disasters will not occur and injuries and deaths will be unknown, perhaps even unremembered. No search for them would be rewarded. A delete key will have been tapped by "the finger of God," erasing all that would bring pain, grief or misery to human experience.
According to the Scriptures, natural disasters are sometimes a form of divine judgment upon human rebellion. Sometimes these judgments have the effect of increasing the sins of men. They demand explanations from God, as though they could put Him on trial. Failing to get their demands they sometimes make these judgments an excuse for denying God's existence. Such denials are a species of arrogance. God's existence does not depend upon our approval of His ways. Abraham trusted that "the judge of all the earth" would do what is "right."
Trust in God when disasters strike. He has a future planned for us that will reduce all disasters to missing files.
A BITTER PILL
Years ago I read about two lads who were fighting. The bigger one had the other
flattened and was punching him mercilessly. A man passing by stopped the
one-sided battle and asked why they were scrapping. The bigger kid replied, "He
called me a liar." "Well," the man asked, "are you a liar?" "Yeah," the boy
replied, "but I got a right to be sensitive about it."
There's something better than being sensitive, resentful and belligerent about
the exposure of our wrongs. It's called repentance, and it can be a bitter pill
to swallow. Followed by trust in our Father's forgiveness, however, repentance
is the first step toward transformed living. The apostle Paul furnished us with
a remedy for sin: "I have declared to both Jews and Greeks that they must turn
to God in repentance and have faith in our Lord Jesus" (Acts 2O:21).
The Hebrew word translated repentance means a turning. The Greek word means a
change of mind that leads to a change of behavior. Both Testaments make it clear
that repenting is more than feeling sorry; it is being sorry enough for our
wrongdoing that we execute a U-turn. I saw a sign the other day that read, "God
Allows U-Turns." He not only allows them, He demands them, enables them and
rewards them. He grants a free and full forgiveness to those who truly repent.
Repentance is an unpleasant experience. It compels us to face the truth about
who we are and what we have done that displeased God and damaged others. It
strips away masks and facades, those protective and deceptive fronts we display
to hide the truth about our defective characters and behaviors. The person who
denies his or her illness will not seek help or find healing. We have to admit
the ugly truth about our sins or continue unsaved.
Because this pill is bitter, we won't want to swallow it again. Repentance,
therefore, is both an entrance into spiritual health and a deterrent against
relapsing into sin. Jesus preached repentance. His apostles preached repentance.
Any preacher who doesn't include repentance in his sermon menu is a quack, not a
healer. You can't evade it, you can't fake it, and find peace with God and peace
within yourself. As Jesus so emphatically stated, "Unless you repent, you...will
all perish" (Luke 13:5).
Over the paragraph of Scripture that contains that statement, my Bible has an
editorial caption: "Repent or Perish." Given the option, take the pill.
DAMAGED HEART, UNDAMAGED FAITH
I preach good news, but my doctors don't have that privilege. Now they have
discovered that I have an atrial fibrillation. With their penchant for
abbreviation they call it an "A Fib." I call it an "Oh, Oh."
I did not relish learning this. I think there are times when ignorance is bliss.
However, the doctors feel that patients will not take necessary steps to protect
their hearts and extend their lives unless they know the condition of their
hearts.
These doctors told me that a normal human heart ejects seventy percent of its
blood with each pumping action. Thirty percent remains in the heart. Mine, they
say, retains seventy percent and only pumps out thirty percent. The blood that
remains in the heart constitutes a danger. Clots may form and travel from the
heart to other parts of the body. At special risk is the brain, for clots that
journey to the brain cause strokes. This heart condition is treated by
prescribed medicines and proper rest.
On February 22, 2000 my heart was in the hands of a skilled physician doing
bypass surgery. Since then I thought I was doing well until this condition "A
Fib" was discovered. Now I know why I often feel "done in" when I haven't done
much. I also know that I live with a sort of time bomb within my chest.
My options are limited and challenging. I can live in fear, withdrawing from
activities that could trigger trouble, and try to hang on by suspended effort.
Or I can live hopefully and helpfully, continuing to serve the Lord and His
people with what strength and sense are yet mine. I had no promise of tomorrow
when I was young; I sure don't have such a promise now that I am an
octogenarian.
A friend of mine use to say, "What is to be will be if something worse doesn't
happen in the meantime." I am not that fatalistic. I choose to regard each day
as a gift from God and use it to honor Him and to help others. "My times are in
your hands," the Psalmist said to God. My heart is in His hands. My prayer is,
"Your will be done." How one lives is always more important than how long one
lives.
GOD ALLOWS WHAT HE DOESN'T APPROVE
God hates sin, but He permits human beings to indulge every sin their
morally warped minds can imagine. He dislikes illness, as the healing ministry
of Jesus amply illustrates, but He allows people, even the best of people, to
become victims of disease. He disapproves of crime but He does not intervene to
halt the robberies, murders and rapes that are the stuff of headlines in daily
newscasts.
The fact that God allows what He doesn't approve has been used by unbelieving
men to argue that He doesn't exist, or that if He does exist He is deficient in
love or power. Those who devise and distribute such arguments seem to overlook
the obvious fact that if God prevented all evil by removing all evildoers, none
of them would have lived long enough to frame and broadcast their arguments.
As the Bible says, "All have sinned." That includes all the men and women
who seize upon the corruption and crime that bloodies human relationships as
justification for maligning and denying God.
It's easy to look with horror upon the madness of society and conclude that a
loving and almighty God would never allow such evil to exist with its apparently
endless repetitions. It's easy to read the newspaper and feel, "If I were God
this would never be permitted." All wrongs, however, are rooted in human
freedom, not in divine indifference. God could eliminate evil only by destroying
our freedom to choose our behavior. The evils that are used to undergird
atheistic arguments infect also the minds of those who argue. True, some have
never acted out all that is in their hearts, chiefly because they lacked
opportunity or feared consequences. Nevertheless, all human minds have been
polluted and all human behavior has been tainted. With the single exception of
God's "one and only Son," Jesus, all have sinned—inwardly and outwardly.
God, whose character is maligned by these easy arguments, "so loved the world"
that He sent His Son to be its savior. Jesus died to atone for our sins, to make
it possible for God to be just and yet the justifier of the ungodly. Through
Jesus, the worst of sinners can be freely and fully forgiven. They can become "a
new creation" destined to inherit "a better country" where holiness and
happiness will be unmarred forever.
Instead of denying the God they do not want, people should repent of their sins,
trust in divine mercy, and experience deliverance and transformation. The
arguments that deny God are as old as sin and rooted in sin. And sin is what God
does not approve but does allow, and in that allowance He grants us time and
space to be saved before He brings final judgment upon sin and sinners.
A BITTER PILL; A BETTER PERSON
I have just lived through three months of illness. My problem was pneumonia
and bronchial infection which triggered frequent and violent coughing spells.
There were two or three days when I thought I might cough myself into the next
world.
Nothing seemed to relieve the coughing. I had prescriptions from the doctors and
home remedies from my past. We have a detective in our church, Margaret Dawson.
She told me to get Fisherman's Friend, a cough remedy that has been around since
1865. It's even older than I am. She warned that it would taste bad but insisted
that these particular cough drops had helped her more than anything else when
she had a problem similar to mine.
So, that very night, on the way home from church I purchased a box of
Fisherman's Friend. I popped one into my mouth, and my mouth said, "Don't you
like me any more?" It tasted awful, unlike anything I've ever sucked on, chewed
on or gagged on before. But it helped. It did more to put my throat at ease than
any medication I was taking.
At a funeral home where I was to conduct a service, one of the morticians saw me
take the box from my pocket and slip a Fisherman's Friend into my mouth. He
said, "You are the first person I've seen who uses the same cough remedy that I
have used for years." He said the same things about it that Margaret had
said—bad taste, good effect.
Why am I telling you this? To push this brand of cough drops? No. I wanted to
remind you that sometimes it takes a bitter pill to produce a better person.
John the Baptist hit the scene preaching, "Repent." Jesus followed him,
preaching, "Repent." All who have repented know that repentance is a bitter
pill. To confess and forsake one's sins, even the most darling of those sins, is
never easy. However, repentance leads to faith in Jesus for the pardon of our
sins and the transformation of our hearts and lives. Repentance is a preface to
peace with God and to healthier and happier relationships with people. As Simon
Peter could tell you, Jesus was a fisherman's friend and proved to be the one
and only remedy for the lethal malady of sin.
I'm not a salesman for Fisherman's Friend. I am a witness for Jesus Christ. I
know that He is the answer to your deepest needs and your direst threats. "Taste
and see that the Lord is good."
WHAT'S AHEAD? GOD ONLY KNOWS
I used to travel weekly in a state that made "Better dead than red" a
slogan. The motto expressed abhorrence for communism and implied that democracy
was worth dying for.
As an individual credo that may be commendable. On the other hand, the dead
can't change the red.
Good government is rare, partly because good governors are scarce. Too many
politicians have a personal agenda that fuels a driving ambition for power and /
or wealth. Good government is worth preserving at the cost of lives spent in its
preservation.
Bad government can be overthrown or reformed. For that reason it beats no
government. Anarchy is the ultimate expression of human rebellion against God,
for the Bible affirms that God maintains order through human rulers. Anarchy
puts us all at the mercy of the lunatic fringe of society.
Within recent decades we have witnessed the fall of communism in huge and
powerful nations. There is still enough "red" in the world, however, to badly
stain human society. Given time, it too will crumble, for all who oppose God
taste defeat sooner or later—sooner than we think it will happen and later than
we wish it would happen. God's timing doesn't always coincide with our desires.
To swap a brutal dictatorship for a crooked democracy is not a solution to the
misery inflicted by that dictatorship, but a crooked democracy can be
straightened easier than a brutal dictatorship can be gentled. The worst
democracy beats the best dictatorship.
Cruel rulers have spread more death than the most virulent plagues that ever
decimated a population. The depths of evil to which many rulers, ancient and
modern, have sunk are terrifying and dizzying. It is hard for the average
citizen to realize how and why men would bathe the earth in the blood of
millions to further their own ambitions. Nonetheless, it has happened, is
happening and will happen. Murderous cruelty is the stuff of history and will be
until God brings the curtain down.
What's ahead? God only knows. The One who knows has given his people a glimpse
of the ultimate future: "The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our
Lord and of his Christ, and he will reign for ever and ever" (Revelation 11:15).
That is the hope which springs eternal from the word of God and from the hearts
of His redeemed people.
"I RESOLVE" (AGAIN)
The world is edging through tinsel, wrapping paper and multi-colored lights
toward a new year. 2007 is short days ahead. Very soon we will stop saying "I
got..." and start saying (if only to ourselves) "I resolve..."
Whatever happens in any given year, we close it with some sense of personal
dissatisfaction and think about (however briefly) changes we need to make in our
personalities, behaviors and situations. Every success is shadowed by some sense
of failure. We are not all that we wish, in our honest moments, to be. We have
not done all that, in the light of conscience and consequences, we should have
done. So we resolve to make certain changes, resolutions to which we can often
add "again."
"That's not all bad," to borrow a comment frequently made by one of my seminary
professors when he had summarized a viewpoint or activity he was preparing to
critique. It would be bad if we were fully content with who we now are and what
we have already achieved. The room for improvement is still the largest room any
of us occupy, and the person content with himself or herself is too easily
satisfied.
Doing springs from being. We live from the inside out. Our resolutions to
change, therefore, should focus more on who we are than what we do, on attitudes
more than actions, on spiritual health more than physical strength,
We need a measuring stick with which to compare ourselves. For earnest
Christians that must be Christ. Likeness to Him is our goal, and we should
consent to the death within us of anything unlike Him. We should respect human
leaders and human heroes, but our ultimate target is not likeness to them but to
the One who is, as Scripture says, "above all." To love as Jesus loved, to live
as Jesus lived must ever challenge us to renewed efforts to meet daily life in
His spirit and to comport ourselves by His teachings.
The day is coming when His followers "shall be like him." That day, the New
Testament teaches, will come when He returns. We evidence the fact that we
"belong to the day" by living every day in earnest efforts to reflect His
disposition, His demeanor and His decisions. We should be alarmed, disappointed
and challenged by every failure to be Jesus-like in our relationships and
circumstances, whoever and whatever these involve.
We cannot afford to think or say, "Oh, well. No one is perfect. One day He will
change me completely, so I'll just wait for that to occur." We are responsible
for becoming as much like Him as we possibly can here and now, not just there
and then.
Low Budget Space Travel
Within recent days American and Russian spacecrafts have journeyed to the
International Space Station with a minimum of publicity. Soyuz TMA-9, on its
mission, included the first female space tourist along with
its astronauts. Space tourists thus far have reportedly paid twenty million
dollars for the round trip flight.
I could not qualify physically for travel in outer space, and I sure could not
qualify financially. Like all but a rare and privileged few mortals, my space
travel must be done at ground level on Mother Earth. That can be exciting for
it's certainly dangerous. Fewer people die in outer space or in the air than on
the ground.
As I get older my ground-level space travel is reduced in the number and length
of trips made. There was a period in my life when I averaged more than thirty
flights a year on commercial jets. I spent huge amounts of time sitting in
airports and on airplanes. Frankly, I don't miss that, but I do miss the human
connections that flying allowed me to make.
My happiest trips now are thrice-weekly drives to church for worship services. I
live eleven miles from the church building. Covering the space between my back
door and the church's side door brings me to the fullest measure of social
pleasure I experience. I do love to be in God's house with some of God's people.
I have friends who can no longer make such trips, and I hurt for them. I don't
know which is sadder, the few who want to attend church services and cannot, or
the many who could attend them but do not. I do know that "I envy not in any
mood" those who deliberately absent themselves from gatherings of the Lord's
people. My friends in Christ are loving and loyal.
They add riches of laughter and tears to my limited existence.
We share our church building with Hispanic believers. I enjoy greeting them
as we Anglos are exiting the sanctuary and they are entering it for their
services. I cannot speak or understand their beautiful language, but their
"faith, hope and love" resonates with mine, and their smiles are to my heart
what sunshine is to my aging carcass.
Next to traversing the space between home and church, I enjoy covering the space
between my bedroom and my study. I am often making this trip by three or four
o'clock in the morning, and I can devote hours to the study of God's word,
scarcely aware of the time that is passing. I also have friends who are no
longer capable of this short trip. I value the privilege immensely.
Closing the space between any room and the dining room still blesses me, also.
This is an even shorter trip but it's so rewarding! Good appetite and good food
to satisfy it are among life's choicest blessings. When people ask me the
time-worn question, "Do you eat to live or live to eat," I answer "Yes." I also
have friends who can no longer enjoy meals, and that is a sad situation for
anyone to endure. The Gospels indicate that table fellowship was one of Jesus'
favorite experiences. I want to be like Jesus.
Yes, my life is quite restricted now, compared to earlier years, but every day
is good and filled with beneficial activities. I have one long trip ahead
through totally uncharted territory. Sometimes I feel a bit of dread when I
think about it, but I will have the grandest companion on that last journey that
anyone can have on any trip. He assures me, "I will never leave you. I will
never forsake you."
INKING MY THINKING
At the recent district assembly, Dr. Roy Rogers kindly plugged my new book,
Come In, The Door's Open,. When doing so, he referred to me as an "asset" to the
Georgia district.
I was glad to be called an asset, and appreciated especially the last two
letters of the word he used, for some people have used only the first three
letters in describing me. To be sure that I understood the term "asset" I
consulted my Webster's dictionary. Therein "asset" is defined as "1. A thing
owned that has exchange value 2. a valuable or desirable thing to have."
I don't think the district superintendent had 1 in mind, for what could the
district possibly exchange me for? I assume, therefore, that his referent was 2,
and I am certainly pleased that he would regard me as valuable to the district.
Before I go any farther with this, let me say that I don't want to receive any
e-mail or snail mail contradicting his opinion.
When leaders place value upon me, I resolve to both sustain and improve my
service. Whenever my father used to compliment my work I would increase my
efforts to please him by trying to enhance the quality of what I was doing. Now
and then my kid brother, eager to express sibling rivalry by deflating my
pleasure, would tell me, "He's just bragging on you to get you to do more." I
would reply, "Well, if that's true, it's working."
At trail's end, Jesus will confront me and say, "Give an account of your
stewardship." When that account has been rendered, if He says to me, "Well done,
good and faithful servant," you may be sure that I will strive to give Him much
better service in the next world.
In the meanwhile, as long as I am a pastor on the Georgia district--and at my
age that can't be much longer--I will try harder than ever to be an asset to the
district and to the local church that I am serving. Knowing that my efforts,
however sincere and strenuous, will be marred by blunders I will solicit the
continued patience and forgiveness of both the Lord and His people.
If I outlive my usefulness and no longer can be an asset, I don't want family or
church to waste their money or energy on me. Just bury me, brush the soil from
your hands, and place your sympathy and support solidly behind whoever next
shoulders the responsibilities I once labored to discharge.
PRAISE THE LORD, O MY SOUL!
I feel a testimony coming on.
William Tyndale, who gave his life to give England a Bible in its own language,
translated one sentence in Genesis to read, "Joseph was a lucky fellow." I am
one of the luckiest fellows who ever lived.
I have a Savior who loves me, who leads me, and who never lets me down. He is
faithful to His covenant of salvation and faithful to His promises of blessing.
He forgives me freely and showers me daily with mercies.
I have a wife who is lover, friend, counselor and burden-sharer at all times.
She reinforces my courage, strengthens my faith, enhances my joy and makes every
day worth whatever it gives or takes.
I have children who love me, respect me, comfort me and exercise great
kindness in their efforts to keep me from dwelling too much in the past or too
much for the future. They return unused advice to me without ridicule or
contempt. Their affection is evident and their banter is delightful.
I have friends who pray for me, who mentor me, who share meals and memories,
ideas and interests with me. They keep me from becoming too insular in my
thinking, too isolated in my living. They offer advice and impart wisdom and
provide correction that makes me a more sociable and helpful person.
I serve a church that is patient with my blunders, generous in their support,
loyal to their pledges and much swifter to boost than to knock. They are
brothers and sisters in Christ who make it far easier for me to serve Him by
their constant encouragement.
I cannot think of anything necessary to happiness or to usefulness that is not
poured into my life from an intriguing variety of sources. And besides all these
enriching and challenging blessings I can say with Paul, "Although I am less
than the least of all God's people, this grace was given me: to preach to the
Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ."
All that pains and grieves me is temporary; all that blesses and fulfills me is
eternal. Truly God has "clothed me with joy" and my heart cries, "Give thanks to
the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever."
2 PETER 3--A REFLECTION
"The day of the Lord shall come."
Nothing can prevent it. The opposition of demons and the cynicism of scoffers
are powerless to erase the day of the Lord from the calendar of the future. Not
anything, not anyone, can keep that day from its destined place and function in
the purpose of God.
Jesus Christ, the crucified and resurrected Son of God, is coming again. He will
judge the world in righteousness and in truth. He will gather His people--a holy
and happy society of redeemed sinners--to their everlasting home. His coming is
as certain as the veracity of God. The "promise of His coming" will have its
glorious fulfillment, the history of
mankind its God-ordained outcome. Count on it! "The day of the Lord shall
come."
Has that day been delayed? If so, that delay is the triumph of God's patient
mercy over the world's rampant sin. Unwilling that any should perish, God has
extended the opportunity for their repentance.
Can that day be hastened? If so, only by that activity of the Church which
accords with God's reason for delay. In other words, only by the Church boldly
engaged in intense evangelism, calling sinners to repentance and proclaiming the
saving mercy of God.
"The day of the Lord is a transitional cataclysm. It drops the curtain on the
present order, but it raises the curtain upon a new heaven and a new earth in
which holiness finds at last its permanent residence.
The sure coming of that day imposes upon the Church obligations of character and
conduct. We are to be zealous for holiness of heart and life. We are to confront
the world with the claims of Christ as Savior and Lord. A worldly church, an
apathetic church, serves only to deepen the skepticism of sinners. A church
fervently pursuing its witness to Christ in the power of the Spirit is God's
chosen instrument for the last days, which will culminate in the day of the
Lord.
We used to sing, "Are you ready for that day to come?" Ready or not, it is
coming. "His promise" gives meaning and excitement to every passing day. Each
page pulled from the daily calendar brings us that much closer to the greatest
day in the history of salvation.
A LIFE OF MY OWN
I have always been willing to live parts of my life vicariously. For
example:
I've always wanted to wrap Doris in a blanket and hand her a cup of hot, freshly
brewed coffee when she descended from the frigid heights of Mt. Everest to the
base camp where I waited to congratulate her on a brave and torturous climb.
I've often day-dreamed of cheering for Doris as I helped her out of the scarred
barrel in which she went over Niagara Falls and bobbed around in the
mist-shrouded waters below that thunderous cascade.
I've always wished to hear the roar of an admiring crowd as Doris, holding a
glowing torch in each hand, did a free fall from a red-white-and blue airplane
and parachuted into a fan-packed stadium, landing with stunning precision on the
fifty-yard line--then changed uniforms and scored the winning touchdown in the
final seconds of the Georgia vs. Florida game.
I've imagined the thrill of being confronted by an angry, hungry bear, a huge
grizzly with fire-lit eyes fixed in envy upon the bacon I had fried at
our campsite. As it rears up, lifts its powerful claws, and growls my
obituary, Doris steps between us, slaps its jaws and sends it shambling away to
its cave, whining an apology and thinking, " What a wallop!" In admiration and
with gratitude I then hand her a plate of bacon, eggs and grits cooked just the
way she most enjoys them.
Never, never, never do I want my service to Jesus Christ to be vicarious,
however. I want a very personal fellowship with the Savior. I want to hear Him
say to me, "Your sins are forgiven." I want to offer Him the best and truest
service I can in grateful response to His amazing grace. I want to pour out my
soul to Him in prayer as I face the successive waves of challenging
circumstances that comprise the Christian journey in a non-Christian world. I
don't want to know about Him; I want to know Him.
I thrill to the testimonies of others who have found Him. I rejoice with them in
the spiritual victories they have scored. Their companionship, their trials and
triumphs, often brace me for the hard places on my own upward climb. I am helped
enormously by their prayers, their friendship and their encouragement. But I
must have my own answers to prayer, my own spurts of growth, my own explorations
of His words, my own expressions of praise, my own submissions to His lordship,
my own service ventures--however awkwardly rendered--for His kingdom.
I don't want to just watch others do and dare for Him. I don't want to just hear
others preach or praise Him. I cannot be content to say, "the God of my
fathers." I want to say, "My God," as well. My own life, captive to Christ and
spent for Christ--that is the cry of my heart that I seek to translate daily
into the stuff of my thinking, feeling and doing. I wish to say with Paul, but
not simply quoting Paul, "To live is Christ."
ABSOLUTES? ABSOLUTELY!
Two brilliant young men were team-teaching a class in philosophy. I was
present as a student auditing the course. One of them stated, “There are no
absolutes.” Turning to his colleague, he asked, “Do you agree with that?” The
other teacher replied, “Absolutely.”
They never raised a question about, or supplied an answer to, the obvious
self-contradictions in their decisively-aired opinions.
“No one is perfect.” I’ve heard that said frequently and emphatically. Even more
frequently, however, I've heard “perfect” used as an adjective to describe what
someone had done, had said, or was wearing. “Absolutely” and “perfect” seem to
be favorite terms with sportscasters and newscasters. Notice this the next time
you hear some of them describing and commenting upon a baseball game or fashion
show.
Ralph Waldo Emerson called consistency "the hobgoblin of little minds.” By that
definition we may safely conclude that there are few small minds in our world,
for only the dead are fully consistent, as Aldous Huxley said.
Gray is the color of moral codes in our day. That is true in part, perhaps
in large part, because we treat the absolute as relative and the relative as
absolute. The frequent statement, "There are no moral absolutes," is either
denial or defiance of the Bible. When God says something is wrong, it's wrong
though millions do it. When God says a thing is right, it' right though no one
does it.
Twist and turn as we may, rationalize and justify as we may, we will at last be
judged by the only One whose life was absolutely holy and whose words were
absolutely true. We will be judged by Jesus, who alone could say, "I do nothing
on my own but speak just what the Father has taught me. The one who sent me is
with me; he has not left me alone, for I always do what pleases him" (John 8:28,
29). To Him all judgment has been assigned, and He cannot be mistaken, deceived
or bribed. The only escape from our just deserts for living as though God's
commands were relative and our desires were absolute is offered prior to meeting
Him at final judgment. That one possible escape is His free and full forgiveness
of the sins we confess and forsake.
God is absolute. His commands are moral absolutes. His promises are merciful
absolutes. They will stand when the heavens collapse and the earth is bathed in
flames. By them we will be forgiven and sustained. By them we will be judged and
acquitted. By them we will conquer death and inherit heaven. "Heaven and earth
will pass away," said Jesus, "but my words will never pass away" (Matthew
24:31). His absolute truth is our absolute hope.
AMONG WOLVES
Jesus said to His disciples, "I send you forth as sheep in the midst of
wolves" (Matthew 10:16).
I can understand why a lad in Sunday school, on hearing this text, blurted out,
"Wow! Those guys didn't have a chance!" Compared to wolves, sheep are
defenseless.
But the sheep are never sent without the Shepherd. In this same Gospel the Lord
promised, "I am with you always" (28:20). As a shepherd, David slew a lion and a
bear in defense of his flock. Our Great Shepherd can handle the wolves.
However, His unfailing Presence does not exempt us from conflict and
suffering. His very next words were, "Beware of men" (10:17)--and He spoke of
imprisonment, betrayal and death as the lot of His followers. He reminded them
that "the disciple is not above his master, nor the servant above his lord" (v.
24). The Shepherd was persecuted and crucified; the sheep will not be spared
from suffering.
The security He pledges is not shelter from the wrath of men but shelter from
the wrath of God. Only sin arouses God's wrath, while men vent theirs upon good,
right and truth. He may allow evil men to strip His people of earthly goods and
mortal life, but He gives eternal life and promises "a better country"--and no
one can deprive them of these.
The afflictions endured by the flock are more than compensated by the presence
of the Shepherd. To be with Him in raging conflicts is better than comfort and
pleasure without Him. The followers of Jesus have always found a greater joy in
the midst of suffering than His enemies find when surrounded by ease.
The wolf is a savage fighting machine, and sheep are passive and gentle.
Nonetheless, the feeblest sheep endure the strongest wolves, thanks to the
Shepherd's care. Don't expect an easy way when you serve Christ, but count on
His unfailing love and your inevitable victory.
The battle is not always to the strong or the race to the swift. The Lord has
promised eternal triumph to those who follow Him, and His word will not fail.
Sheep are ultimate winners, wolves are ultimate losers.
BREAD FOR LIFE
Few persons bake bread in American homes. For years "store-bought" bread
has adorned our tables and appeased our appetites. At first we bought whole
loaves, but now even the slicing is done at bakeries before the bread is wrapped
and distributed. For these reasons, we know less about bread, though we consume
more of it, than did our ancestors.
When Jesus said, "I am the bread of life," He connected with those who heard
Him. Certain facts were immediately apparent.
For one, bread is basic to life. True, Jesus echoed the words of Moses, "Man
does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of
God" (Matt. 4:4). The manna that sustained Israel during the "wilderness period"
was a symbol of the true bread from heaven, the word of God. While the spiritual
bread exceeds in value the material bread, both are necessary to life, as the
word "alone" implies. Quit eating and you will quit living. That's true
physically and spiritually.
Jesus is basic to life. He gives life to those who trust in Him. He gives
spiritual life, eternal life to His followers. He is God's way of bringing to
life and continuing in life those who "were dead in transgressions" (Eph. 2:4).
Apart from Him, eternal life is not available to us.
Bread is made from grain that sprang from seed, seed that died in the ground and
arose to reproduce itself many times over (John 12:23, 24).
Jesus is the grain who, in the words of the Apostles' Creed, "was crucified,
dead, and buried" and "rose again from the dead." He reproduces himself in the
lives of all who follow Him.
Grain is crushed to make bread, and bread is broken by those who eat it. We
don't swallow whole loaves. The breaking of bread became a ritual that
symbolized the death of Jesus on the cross. His death was an atoning sacrifice.
God accepted and honored the sacrifice by raising Jesus from the dead. By that
death for sins, Jesus reconciles us to God and God forgives and adopts us as His
children and heirs.
Jesus was a supreme teacher, but we are not saved by mental assent to His
teachings. He was a perfect example, but we are not saved by efforts to emulate
His way of life. You can't energize a corpse by reading to it or exercising
before it. The gift of eternal life is based upon the death of Jesus, the bread
that was broken in order that we might be made whole.
Jesus is "bread from heaven" for life on earth--and beyond earth. Feast on Him
by trusting in Him and you will live, not merely exist, forever. Refuse that
bread and you will die, not just bodily, but eternally.
COME, HOLY SPIRIT!
Life is amusing. Life is depressing. Sometimes the moods follow one another,
sometimes they team up and you get both at once. In any case, it isn't far from
our smiles to our tears.
We cope best when we can master our moods and not be mastered by them. When
we're up we need to realize that we are strapped to a parachute; we are not in
the pilot's seat of a space rocket. We are up but headed down. There is no
escape from bad things and sad moments. We are weeping clowns or clowning
weepers much of the time.
Psychologists tell us that our decisions and actions are usually rooted in
emotion and not in reason. How we feel determines what we think more often than
what we think determines how we feel. We can suspend the rational easier than we
can suspend the emotional, and that makes it easier to say yes to temptation
than to say no.
Reason would have dictated a stern devotion to duty when David saw Bathsheba
taking a bath. Reason would have said, "She is another man's wife--leave her
alone." Reason would have said, "As the king of Israel you are responsible for
setting a high moral example for your
subjects--don't get involved." Reason would have said, "As the servant of
God's purpose you are covenant-bound to control your impulses and honor your
commitments. So turn away and keep your distance and don't do anything foolish
and destructive."
But David wasn't listening to reason. His eyeballs were strained, his desires
were aroused, and his mind was already in bed with the beautiful bather. All
that saved him from total ruin was the mercy of a God who forgives sin when men
repent. And that is all that will save any of us, for "all have sinned" when
emotion toppled reason and morality didn't matter for the moment. All have not
sinned alike, but all alike have sinned.
David's ecstasy was soon displaced by David's regret. He later found
forgiveness, but he could never stop the churning chariot wheels of consequence.
Shame and pain followed him all the days of his life. More than ever before, his
misery clouded his joy. Who among us does not live with some permanently bitter
regrets?
The Christian's power against runaway emotion is the Holy Spirit. Only as we
live "in the Spirit" can we triumph over temptation. Jesus defeated Satan by
wielding "the sword of the Spirit" which is the written word of God. In His
victory He is our Exemplar. Sin is irrational and human beings are prone to sin.
A power greater than our own is needed if we would be true to what we know is
right. That power is available but is not coercive. We must choose to live in
the Spirit. We must welcome Him into our lives as a power for righteousness. At
the control center of our lives we need Him, not emotion and not reason but Him.
Let your prayer be daily, "Come, Holy Spirit!"
COMMON CONTAGION
Bred to battle, Ambrose Powell Hill found cowardice deplorable in any
soldier, and inexcusable in any officer. At Antietam Creek, during the Civil War
in America, General Hill found a lieutenant cowering behind a tree. The irate
general broke the man's sword over his shoulder, forcibly relieving him of
command.
When a private fled from the battle, Hill was gentler in method but as firm in
principle. The panic-stricken youth said, "I can't stand it, General, I haven't
the courage." Hill ordered, "Go to the rear, then, before you cause good men to
run."
Few things are more contagious than fear. One man's fright becomes another
man's flight--and another, and another, and another... Isolation of the fearful
is a wise military strategy.
Gideon marshaled an army of 32,000 against the Midianites. God said, "Whoever is
fearful and trembling, let him return home," and 22,000 took off. The army was
further reduced to 300 courageous and committed men, but they were worth a
hundred times more than those who were paralyzed by fright.
Some may possess exceptional courage by nature, but nearly everyone is afraid of
something. The surest remedy for fear is not a lecture to oneself but faith in
God. "When I am afraid," said the Psalmist, "I put my trust in thee"(56:3).
Some of us recall missionary Fairy Chism's story of riding her mule, Coffee,
along a lonely trail. She was being followed by a dangerous looking man. This
frightened her at first, but she called on God, and His presence and peace
enveloped her. Then, she said, "I was almost disappointed that the man didn't
try something!"
God has braced many frail believers for the shock and stress of terrible
battles. Some have come through perilous and bloody scrapes undefeated. He
allowed others to be killed in the conflict, but they died bravely and at peace,
gaining eternal life.
Fear is contagious and most of us carry the germ. The antidote to fear is faith.
Trust in God will overcome fear and issue in triumph.
DO YOU SEE?
"While I was musing," the Psalmist said, "the fire burned" (39:3). "While I
was amusing," a preacher confessed, "the fire went out."
When one reflects upon the awful plight of mankind, which is estranged from God
and enslaved by sin, his heart will burn to declare God's word. Jesus told His
disciples to lift their eyes and look upon fields "white already unto harvest."
To see the urgent need would prompt them to
pray for the sending of laborers into those fields.
While the apostle Paul was visiting Athens, his spirit was stirred as he saw the
teeming idols that held mental and moral sway over the superstitious crowds. He
burned within to proclaim the true God, Creator and Redeemer of the world. Soon
he was engaged in earnest dialogue with the leaders of the city, preaching Jesus
Christ.
If Christians really see they will care, and caring will trigger a response to
the lostness and brokenness of people around them. If we become engrossed with
pleasure, however, and if we become involved with the world's sins, our
compromise will quench the flames of indignation and compassion. Cold hearts and
dry eyes will ignore the peril of ripened fields.
Christ saw the multitudes as milling sheep without a shepherd, and He was moved
to action for their sakes. From His kindled heart flowed the activities that fed
the hungry, healed the sick and evangelized the poor.
It all began with seeing them, truly seeing them. Self-indulgence will blind us
to the plight of others, and our resources will be wasted upon life-styles that
mock human suffering. May God open our eyes! Then our hearts and purses will be
opened in compassionate ministry. We will oppose evil and offer Christ as the
only Savior, bringing hope to the hopeless.
"True humanity," said Charles Fox, "consists not in starting or shrinking at
tales of misery, but in a disposition of heart to relieve it." True Christianity
sees and cares that people are desperately hurting.
DOG FOOD
"The dogs shall eat Jezebel," exclaimed the prophet, then wisely bolted
through the door and fled to safety.
Jezebel was Queen, as vicious as she was powerful. Killing a prophet would have
been no harder for her than swatting a mosquito. She was powerful, wealthy,
crafty and cruel--a tough missionary for her pagan
gods. Her example and influence had filled Israel with Baalism, incurring
the holy wrath of Yahweh.
When you said "Jezebel" you were talking political, military and social clout
with a capital C. Yet this nameless upstart of a prophet dared to say, "The dogs
shall eat Jezebel." Preposterous! But it happened. She was pitched from a window
by servants who knew Jehu was now buttering the bread. Horses trampled her
broken body, then dogs--half wild scavengers--dined on her crumpled flesh. When
Jehu finally sent a burial squad to inter the Queen they found only her skull,
feet and palms.
What is the moral of this grisly story? That dogs will eat anything? No. The
story (in 2 Kings 9) is a gory reminder that rebellion against God always issues
in judgment. No man, no woman, sins with impunity. None are too high to be
brought crashing down. None, by reason of money, position or influence can
escape righteous retribution. Human judges may be deceived, corrupted or
intimidated but Almighty God, perfect in wisdom and holiness, cannot be
hoodwinked, bribed or cowed. His judgment upon evil is as certain as His nature
is holy.
If one so exalted and secure as Jezebel could not escape God's judgment, no
impenitent evildoer can. Only those who repent of their sins and trust in the
atonement made by Jesus Christ will be sheltered from divine wrath upon sin.
Arrogant men may polish their medals and rattle their swords and tyrannize the
people, but sooner or later comes the dogs. God is not mocked and evil will be
judged.
Royal dog food! It's something to think about.
DON'T BULLY
A few nights ago I left the house to attend a board meeting at the church.
Because I'm the pastor I'm also chairman of the board. (If the position were not
"ex officio" this would not be true.) Just as I was going out the door Doris
said, in her impish tone, "Don't bully the board."
That's a joke. I couldn't bully anybody about anything. I'm too easy-going for
my own good at times. Not a confrontational person, I have sometimes been run
over, stomped on and left for the buzzards.
Doris' joking remark, however, got me to thinking about bullies and bullying. No
one likes to be bullied, and bullies, for the most part, are insecure and
cowardly despite their bravado and cruelty. They never
jump on those who are a match for them in size, strength and strategy. If
they discover that they have underestimated their intended targets, they quickly
back down, cover up and seek peace.
On a few occasions I have encountered bullies on church boards, and I'm sure,
human nature being the sorry stuff it often is, there are pastors and preachers
who are bullies. A little guy, like me, tends to be defensive and belligerent,
but if wise he also tends to be diplomatic. He seeks to sell his ideas by
persuasion, not coercion; by the strength of his arguments, not by the size of
his muscles.
When I meet with any group to make decisions and formulate policies I am not
equipped to bully them. So far from preying on them, I pray not to be their
prey. I do believe, however, that whatever disparities of size exist, whatever
differences of opinion surface, a person should not submit to bullies. For the
Lord's sake, and by His grace, we should stand our ground even if it means
taking our lumps. Better to be pounded on than to weakly submit, compromising
our moral principles and abdicating our moral obligations.
I'm convinced that bullies within the church are anomalies. There should be no
such critter as a Christian bully. The disciple of Jesus, according to
Scripture, should "be peaceful and considerate, and ... show true humility
toward all men." We should be lovingly patient and patiently loving toward all
with whom we converse. We should be as willing to listen and learn as we are to
speak and teach. We should guard against elevating our personal convictions and
opinions to the status of divine revelation. None of us has a corner on truth
and right. Every discussion should include some "wiggle room," not because God's
word is negotiable but because our understanding is imperfect.
EMPTY CHURCHES
Seated on a front pew, waiting for the morning service to begin, I spotted
an interesting intrusion. A weedy vine had slipped under the rear door of the
sanctuary, penetrating the building. A closed door could not keep it out. I
thought to myself, "You could open every door to this building, invite all the
neighbors to come, and you couldn't drive most of them into church with a two by
four scantling."
Many years ago I was preaching in a home mission venture. The services were
held under a tent and only a handful of people attended them. One Sunday morning
a dog strayed in during the song service and was immediately chased by a man who
hurled stones at the dodging beast. I called to the man to stop. "There are so
few two-legged creatures coming to our services," I said, "that I don't want to
evict any four-legged ones."
Empty churches will condemn the world. In the judgment God will say, "Houses of
worship were planted in your communities to draw your thoughts to Me, to
judgment, to eternal destiny. You ignored them, clinging to your sins and
causing your ruin." Every Christian house of worship is a silent reminder of
Christ and the salvation He provided at Calvary.
But empty buildings also challenge and could condemn the Church. We who know
Christ should make Him known, bringing others to Him and to His house. Church
growth should mark our gatherings and crown our labors. Where this is not
happening we must search for the reasons and initiate changes that will produce
soul-winning churches.
Samuel Chadwick did that in one of his pastorates. As a result he was baptized
with the Spirit. Soon the Spirit came with power upon his people as they prayed.
Then they prayed for the Lord to save the worst sinner in town. He did--in one
of their services--and hundreds of curious people came to hear the man's
testimony. The church was filled and sinners were saved. This miracle of
spiritual renewal can happen to preachers and churches everywhere today.
ENCOURAGEMENT
In any sport a packed arena of noisy rooters is supposed to give an edge to
the home team. Stopping the home team's offense and scoring against their
defense often "takes the crowd out of the game." It quiets their cheering, thus
reducing the emotional intensity with which their team was playing in response
to encouragement.
Any player worth his salt does his best whatever the circumstances. To
be human and alive, though, is to respond to external stimuli. One's best is
determined in part by the measure of encouragement received from others. Whether
playing ball or serving God, it's hard to perform at peak levels of possibility
if we feel no one cares. The indifference of our friends is harder to overcome
than the antagonism of our enemies.
A great ministry, one in which all of us can be involved, is the ministry of
encouragement. For every one who failed because he attempted a task beyond his
ability, there are many who failed because others did not cheer their efforts.
Disraeli stood in Parliament to make his maiden speech. He could scarcely be
heard above the hoots, catcalls, laughter, and foot drumming that greeted his
words. Mustering courage and resolution, he closed the rejected speech with a
ringing challenge: "I sit down now, but the time must come when you will hear
me."
That time came, and Disraeli rose to the office of Prime Minister. He was as
distinguished in debate as he was for duplicity. Deeply hated by many, he could
be ignored by none. While much of his success owed to his genius, Disraeli also
had some constant friends who never ceased to encourage him in his darkest
hours.
We all need such friends. More important, we all need to be such friends. Our
love, loyalty and support can make the difference between mediocrity and
excellence--and even between defeat and victory--in someone's life and work.
Encouragement inspires our best. We rise above the levels otherwise possible
when someone cheers us on. The ministry of encouragement requires no uncommon
gift and no special training. We can all serve in this way.
FAITH AND OBEDIENCE
The Bible does not divorce the saviorhood and lordship of Jesus Christ. Either
He is "our Lord and Savior" or He is neither.
Scripture does not divorce faith and obedience. Jesus not only said, "Believe in
me," He also said, "Follow me." He who truly believes follows; he who truly
follows believes. You cannot do one without doing the other.
A false separation between saviorhood and lordship, between faith and obedience,
accounts for much of the appalling worldliness among professing Christians.
Thousands claim that Jesus is their Savior who live daily in disregard of His
teachings.
Not in ignorance of His teachings--that's another matter. Faith requires
education, and Jesus invites, "Learn of me." Faith can be real where knowledge
is small. But faith cannot be real where defiance of the word and will of Christ
continues.
Christ saves from sin, not in sin. He imposes moral demands and enables our
obedience to them. Grace does not sanction disgrace. The grace of God which
"appeared for the salvation of all men" teaches believers to renounce the world
and live "soberly, righteously, and godly." To turn back to sin, like a dog to
its vomit or a hog to its mudhole, is to insure destruction, not salvation.
The one who loves Jesus will also obey Him. "If you love me," He insists, "you
will keep my commandments." Love that does not obey is as phony as a
thirteen-dollar bill.
Those who hear and do the words of Christ are built upon rock and the storms
will not collapse them. Those who hear and do not His words are built upon sand
and the storms will tumble them down.
"Faith without works is dead," writes James. "Faith...works by love," writes
Paul. The New Testament does not countenance a profession of faith unaccompanied
by a practice of obedience.
Dead faith stinks. It disgraces the Church, dishonors the name of Christ, and
destroys the person who makes it his refuge. To believe is to obey.
