My Annual Christmas Post

Hey y'all:

Here is a little meditation I wrote about 5 years ago that sums up for me what is the "Mystery of Christmas." I hope you enjoy the rerun!

A little over 2000 years ago, a tiny child was born in the bleakest of conditions. Oh, he wasn’t the only one born in a bad state. In fact, in some ways, he was one of the lucky ones. He and his mother actually survived childbirth and thrived. Still, this story is unique and amazing on several levels.

First, this child would literally change the way time is reckoned in the world. His life and abilities would so impress generations of others that a brand new movement would be created, one that would radically change the very face of the earth (sometimes for good, sometimes for bad). His name would become recognized among the names of the greatest of humans, yet he never forgot his humble beginnings or lost a sense of who he was.

The second thing about this child is tied to the first in that this baby, this helpless lad full of spittle and mush, was born as the very Son of God. When Mary held his little head to her breast, he drank human milk. Yet, he was (and is) the God of the universe. Can you picture this simply ridiculous, yet somehow poetic scene? God, who calls the stars by name, pressed to the human breast for sustenance. Humble, yet almighty, is how most folks would no doubt recall this child.

A little over 2000 years ago, God proposed that the only remedy for the human condition of sin would be if he humbled himself, stepped out of eternity and into human flesh, and suckled at Mary’s breast in preparation for the greatest, most impressive conversion of all. God, in Mary’s arms, toddling around Joseph’s shop, learning to talk, learning to walk, tasting and touching things with human hands. As the Psalmist says in Psalm 139, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for us, we cannot contain it.”

God knew that the only way to redeem us was if he did it himself. Haven’t you ever had that thought? You know, the one where you say, “If I want something done right, I’ll just have to do it myself?” Imagine God having that thought about bringing us back to proper relationship with him. Imagine again that the only way he knew he could do that is if he came to earth as a baby. Think of it—-how vulnerable the almighty God was at that moment, how paradoxical that the God of all creation had to learn to walk! And why did he put himself in this situation? Out of his inexpressible love for each of us he acted in this manner.

He became insane that we may be sane. He became flesh so that we might walk in the Spirit. He became sin that we might be righteous. He became poor so that we might be rich. He became a toddling, dribbling, helpless babe so that we could become mature humans in the image of almighty God. What wondrous love! What humility and service! How then can anything he asks of us be too difficult?

Lord, in this Christmas season, remind me of your sacrifice and love so that I might be a light shining in darkness to others. May the grace of God and the peace of Christ rule in my family and my life.

Thanks for reading!

Merry Christmas!

No Reputation--A Christmas Meditation

Philippians 2:5-9 NASU

"Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross."

This passage may not usually be associated with Christmas, but for some reason that is how it comes to me this year. Look closely at the passage above, then read the quote from The Jesus Style by Gayle D. Erwin below.

“Christ Jesus . . . made himself nothing.

“He made himself nothing, he emptied himself—-the great kenosis. He made himself no reputation, no image.

“I can recall my father shaking his head and repeating over and over to himself, ‘If only I knew what this meant. There is something powerful here. If I only understood it.’ Maybe that is why this Scripture has glued itself to my mind and equally disturbs me. Reputation is so important to me. I want to be seen with the right people, remembered in the right light, advertised with my name spelled right, live in the right neighborhood, drive the right kind of car, wear the right kind of clothing. But Jesus made himself of no reputation.”

Christmas in America means lots of things to lots of different people.

For some it becomes a political event that pits “the true meaning of Christmas” against the bias of some against religion. For others Christmas is just another time to visit families and to pretend to get along with each other. For others Christmas is a season that involves incredible profits (or expenses) and lots of activities. This year some may see Christmas as a bleak season filled with bad economic news and the dread of a new year. For still others Christmas is simply a winter break, a time to regroup for a new year.

I know I’ve left a big group out! There are those who see Christmas as the celebration of the birth of the world’s Savior. But I want to twist the prism a bit and look at Christmas from a different angle.

Almost all of the views above look at Christmas from the perspective of what humans gain from the season. I wonder if we can look at the season as something we can offer to others, a gift of sorts. I wonder, can we make a gift of Christmas? Can we this year find a way to give the "spirit" of Christmas to those around us?

Hear me out . . .

This passage from Philippians reminds me that Christmas for Jesus wasn’t about what he would gain. In fact, he lost just about everything! He left the comfort of his Father’s place, he became a tottering, dribbling little baby, he had to learn to talk, to walk, to eat, he left his riches behind for the poverty of a manger, and ultimately he would even become sin, something he had never experienced. As Paul says, he made himself of no reputation.

Imagine what Christmas would be like this year if those of us who follow Jesus would do as Paul admonishes here and have this approach to the season. Imagine if we actually attempted to have the same attitude towards others that Jesus has towards us! What would Christmas look like if we didn’t care about what we got out of it but became more concerned about what we could give to others? How would our world change if we laid down our lives, our reputations, our desires in order to bless others this Christmas? What if we even went further and did it anonymously, with no expectation of reward or recognition?

Ronald Reagan is credited with the saying “There is no telling what you can accomplish if you don’t care who gets the credit.” We don’t like that approach though, do we? We kick against it! I mean, we deserve to be recognized, don’t we?

You came up with the idea that made the company money, shouldn’t you be rewarded? Maybe you found a problem and fixed it, and that fix saved someone’s job. Shouldn’t you be shown gratitude? Maybe you did some kindness for someone you knew couldn’t pay you back, shouldn’t you get credit for that? You gave that money to charity, shouldn't someone say "thank you"? You gave of your time to that charitable organization, shouldn't there be some "benefit" in it for you?

Don’t we all think that we should be center stage, center of the world, the most important person in the world? How many times have you heard “I quit going to that church because MY needs weren’t being met”?

No reputation.

Let that sink in.

NO Reputation!

No fame, no credit, no automatic acceptance, no celebrities, and no place where who you know or what you know earns you admittance or recognition.

Jesus made himself of no reputation. The very God of the universe became nobody. He emptied himself, he became a servant. As Isaiah said, he was not handsome or attractive in such a way as to draw attention to himself. He lived to give attention only to God. He had "no reputation."

Ouch!

We love our awards, the acceptance of others, the glamor of being “somebody,” or the wonderful happiness of fame, don’t we? We like to be recognized, remembered, acknowledged, accepted, and celebrated.

“Don’t neglect me” is the motto of many in our society and our churches.

The motto of Christ and his followers is “No reputation.” God chooses such people to further his agenda. Will we be involved, or do we like our perks too much?

In Job 1, Satan appears in God's court. God acknowledges the good job done by Job, and asks Satan if he has noticed what a righteous person Job has become. Satan's response is a tough challenge: "Does Job fear God for nothing?"

Think about what the evil one is implying here. He is asking, "Will a human serve God with no expectation of something in return?"

Will humans serve God for nothing?

That hurts, doesn't it? Even the mere thought of it as a possibility smarts a bit. Surely the mighty God of the universe wouldn't expect me to show him respect and serve his purposes without expectation of payment for services rendered, right?

Right?

Will you serve God for nothing?

Can we humble ourselves to the point where we realize that God owes us nothing? Quite literally, we have done nothing to merit a reward. Even our service is a response to his continued mercy.

Will we, like Christ, humble ourselves to the point of no reputation? Are we willing to be "nobodies" in God's service, among his people, even among those who ought to "recognize" us?

What would Christmas look like this year if we (all of us) decided to give with no expectation of return? What if we humbled ourselves and expected no acknowledgment? What if we chose to serve anonymously and to bless others without receiving a blessing in return? What would happen?

What can you do this Christmas season that will bless others and garnish no reputation for you? Who can you serve that can't repay you? This year let's commit ourselves to serving, giving, and loving as Christ did. Let's look for opportunities to bless others in a way that does not give us recognition. Instead of asking for things for ourselves, let's give to the needs of others. Instead of expecting gifts, let's give our lives away in blessing others.

How would that change Christmas in your neighborhood?

Thanks for reading!

A Glimpse of Home: God's Irresistible Stare

For those of you too young to remember the great classic rock group Kansas, let me just say that their music defined my generation during our high school years as much as any 70s to 80s rock band. Their songs were majestic in scope and tenor, they were classic tales sung to the tune of an amazing mixture of heavy rock and roll, church organs, and violins. In some ways (to me at least), they were the U2 of my generation. Here is a song that I love from a 1979 album. Kerry Livgren wrote the song. It is entitled "A Glimpse of Home." Here are the lyrics:

When I was very young so many songs were sung
So much wasted time on an uphill climb
But you where always there, a feeling in the air
There was nothing to fear you were so near
Now you are here once again
As I stand in your presence
I can feel the quiet patience of your gaze
Like an old superstition
You are haunting all my dreams and waking days

(Chorus)
All my life I knew you were waiting, revelation anticipating
All is well, the search is over, let the truth be known
Let it be shown (give me a glimpse of home)

There's no resisting you among the chosen few
It's hard to be sure, it's hard to endure
And when I hear your voice
I know I have the choice
To pursue an ideal, something so real
Now I've got nothing to lose
As I see your reflection
All the answers I desire become so clear
Like a page that is turning
I can look into the future without fear

(Chorus)

You're in my rock and roll, you're in my very soul
Though it's heavy to bear, it's a feeling so rare
And it's a mystery, the way it's meant to be
Can we ever know, we're moving so slow
There ain't enough time in the world
As I reach up the ladder
There is something ever higher to perceive
Like a fire that is burning
In my heart I know I surely must believe

(Chorus)

As a young Christian looking for a music to define his spiritual journey, this song became a kind of "Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" milestone for me. I can't be sure, but when I heard the lyrics above, I had the distinct impression that Livgren was talking about God/Jesus.

You see, though raised in a good Baptist home and church, I had in my youth become something of a doubter and skeptic. I tried to find reasons to ignore or overlook the Divine in what was around me, and I often came up with my own explanations as to why things happened as they did.

Yet even in my most skeptical moments, Jesus was there, "like an old superstition," haunting my days and my dreams.

I couldn't shake it. I couldn't shake him.

His patience and merciful stare seemed to follow me on matter where I went. His benevolent hand of mercy shielded me, protected me, even promoted me without my request.

He was there, a "revelation anticipating" my gaze, my faith.

One day I surrendered. Realizing that I was surrounded and enveloped by God, I gave in. I said, "Enough! I can't shake you, so I'll join you."

He kindly let me in. He also let me think it was my idea (grin).

This song defined that moment for me--the moment when I came face-to-face with God. He didn't blink. He opened his arms. He hugged me. He accepted me. He wanted me. He took me as I was.

His love has overwhelmed me ever since.

My search is over, I have found home. It is in the loving gaze of Jesus.

I love this song. Thank God for music!

Thanks for reading!

God, Theology, and Karl Barth

I know, I know, some may be a bit shocked to find Karl Barth here, but I wanted to share a couple of quotes from pages 25 and 26 of his The Humanity of God. Barth says:

"Theology is in reality not only the doctrine of God, but the doctrine of God and man. . . . [It stresses] the fact that man's relation to God is based on God's dealings with man, and not conversely."

"When the Christian gospel was changed into a statement, a religion, about Christian self-awareness, the God was lost sight of who in His sovereignty confronts man, calling him into acount, and dealing with him as Lord. This loss also blurred the sight horizontally."

Barth seems to be saying that when we do real theology, we must concern ourselves not just with Christian self-esteem or self understanding/identity, but rather we must focus on the reality of God's invasion of our very lives, even his untimely (or is it "timely"?) interventions in the everyday mundane existence of humanity.

Theology is a moot point if God is studied in isolation from his workings with humanity.

When we change Christian thought or preaching into some kind of boost to the individual Christian's self-esteem, we have really lost sight of true Christianity or theology. Theology has little to do with me. It has everything to do with God and his attempts to work with humans, for humans, and in humans. He is not just the model of all that is good, he is the Author, Creator, and Initiator of all that is good, perfect, just, and holy. What have I created lately that can compare to that?

Theology makes no sense without Christology, without salvation, without the God of the universe joining his creation as one of them, so that by living among humans he may redeem every aspect of humanity.

Jesus became sin so that we may be the righteousness of God.

Jesus took on the likeness of sinful flesh so that he might condemn sin in the flesh.

God deals with us by becoming one of us. He does for us what we can't do for ourselves. What we could not accomplish in our sinfulness, God accomplishes in the likeness of sinful flesh. The prize we lost he came to regain.

If we lose sight of that, our vision becomes blurred and we forget that we are a part of a larger story--God's Story.

I am not the star, he is.

It is not my dealings with God that produce good theology or even life itself. Rather, it is God's dealings with fallen humans that produce so much good and greatness.

God in Christ became one of us, so that he might win us and win for us the prize we lost by our own sin. Christ descended to our level, then re-ascends to God with his prize intact. His prize is a redeemed humanity, a reconciliation between what was lost and the One who loved it enough to go find it and purchase it at his own expense.

God's humanity in Christ thus creates a bond between the divine and human, between man and God that not only gives hope, but a possibility for a good future.

All that is good here in this fallen world is a direct result of God's goodness and dealings with us.

We did not create it, we did not cause it to happen, we cannot make it better.

God is the author and star.

His dealings with us produce more grace, more light, more truth.

Maybe we should let him do his job.

Thanks for reading!

Unraveled . . . .

Today as I drove to work, I couldn't help a bit of melancholy.

The weather was cool, traffic was light, John Denver was breezy (yes, John Denver!), the mountains were august, the sun brilliant, . . .

and I was melancholy.

As I drove I began to think of Abraham, Moses, and Isaiah for some reason. Each of these individuals had an amazing encounter with God. Abraham (while still "Abram") encountered the God of covenants. During a dream at night terrors seized Abram as he saw the torch of God move between the divided carcasses of the animal sacrifices. Abram was undone.

Moses encountered God first as an enigma. Moses saw a bush that was on fire and yet not burning. He went closer, he heard God, he took off his shoes. He was undone, his life would never be the same.

Isaiah lost a friend and a hero. When King Uzziah died, Isaiah wept and went into deep mourning. During his depression, Isaiah had a vision. Angels flew about, the holiness and awesomeness of God shook the foundation and pillars of the Temple.

God spoke, Isaiah trembled.

When Isaiah dared to speak in this holy company, the words out of his mouth were "Woe is me, I am undone!"

As I understand it, the Hebrew here has the meaning of being unzipped from the belly to the neck so that your insides spill out.

Okay, maybe I'm stretching it a bit, but it was not a happy thought for Isaiah. He felt unraveled in the presence of God.

That kind of describes my melancholy today . . . I feel unraveled. Like a ball of yarn that has lost its consistency, I am loose and dangly.

Like a sweater pulled apart thread-by-thread, I am undone.

I look at the majesty around me, the beauty and holiness and awe-fulness of it all, and I find myself undone.

It is not a bad feeling necessarily, but it is a bit unnerving.

I feel unraveled.

Like a joke with no punch line, or a sitcom with no laugh track, or a book with no thesis or direction, or a story with no meaning . . .

I feel undone.

How do I explain what is happening in my heart when words seem hard to find?

Life is good, things are fine, but I feel . . . well, what?

I think that this is a normal human emotion, and it is one I've encountered before. I'm not depressed; in fact, I'm not really sad at all! I'm actually smiling as I type these words!

I sit here in the midst of an august band of people, activities, and stuff, and I feel a bit unraveled.

Maybe I'm just relaxing . . . loosening things a bit in preparation for the next battle or the next activity or the next thing.

Maybe it is a "Selah," a sort of pause of spirit that causes me to reflect a bit.

It is a good thing, I think, to be unraveled before God and his wonderful creation.

So, like Paul, I will relish in my unraveling, in my undoing, in my weakness . . . for when I am weak, God is strong. When I am undone, God still does. When I am unraveled, Jesus holds all things together.

I smile, I sigh. I listen to U2 and Larry Norman and Bob Dylan (John Denver was making me too melancholy, I think).

I will go find some Jonny Lang. I will relish in the tones, in the thoughts, in the music. I will unravel before God and just be. I will let myself be undone so that he can renew me.

What a wonderful life!

Thanks for reading!

How the media covers female VP candidates . . .

Another interesting note from National Review (this time the September 29 edition). This note is about Sarah Palin and compares media coverage of her run for VP with similar coverage of a certain Geraldine Ferraro.

After Sarah Palin was nominated for vice president, and mauled by the establishment press, conservatives had the bright idea of seeing what the New York Times had written about Geraldine Ferraro, when she was nominated about 25 years ago. This is what the paper had to say on July 3, 1984: “Where is it written that only senators are qualified to become President? . . . Or where is it written that mere representatives aren’t qualified, like Geraldine Ferraro of Queens? . . . Where is it written that governors and mayors, like Dianne Feinstein of San Francisco, are too local, too provincial? . . . Presidential candidates have always chosen their running mates for reasons of practical demography, not idealized democracy. . . . What a splendid system, we say to ourselves, that takes little-known men, tests them in high office and permits them to grow into statesmen. . . . Why shouldn’t a little-known woman have the same opportunity to grow?” The New York Times takes its opportunity every election.

Thanks for reading!

Obama and Bill Ayers: A Radical Connection?

Here is an article from the September 15, 2008 edition of National Review that I thought some of you would like:

"Bill Ayers is an unrepentant terrorist responsible for various bombings. He is also a friend of Barack Obama, who now dismisses Ayers as just “some guy who lives in my neighborhood” — albeit a guy who, along with his wife and fellow Weather Underground terrorist Bernardine Dohrn, hosted Obama’s political coming-out party at their home in 1995. In fact, Obama and Ayers had a close working relationship. They sat together on the board of the Woods Fund, a left-wing charity, and collaborated on an education “reform” project called the Chicago Annenberg Challenge, begun in 1995 when an Ayers proposal won a huge foundation grant. Ayers ran the CAC’s operational arm; Obama chaired the board. Together, they were responsible for distributing over $100 million — with no discernible improvement in Chicago’s schools but great advantage for their ideological allies. This summer, after being assured of access, frequent National Review contributor Stanley Kurtz was barred from reviewing the CAC records housed at the University of Illinois at Chicago, where Ayers is a professor of education. As we went to press, the ban had been lifted after considerable public pressure. But the attempts to suppress this story continue. After a conservative group ran an ad attacking Obama’s association with Ayers, Obama asked the feds to investigate the group. And he says that Bush is trampling our civil liberties?"

That's right, a vote for Obama is a vote for people like Ayers.

I just thought you might like to know.

Thanks for reading!

On the Road Again . . .

Okay, okay, I'm not much of a Willie Nelson fan (but as a side note here is a funny Willie story--one day Willie Nelson was passing through McLennan County near Waco, TX, when he decided to stop by the side of the road to sleep. Unfortunately for him, doing that is illegal. A police officer came by and stopped to check out the car and driver. When Willie let his window down, his marijuana smoke billowed out. The officer later said he didn't know whether to arrest him or to ask for his autograph, so he did both. Seems that Willie didn't know that marijuana was illegal in Texas either! Oh well).

Now, where was I? Oh yeah, I'm not much of a fan of Willie Nelson (c'mon Leo, stay focused), but this song does adequately portray my current situation. I am in Atlanta (yes, again), and I am waiting to return to Lynchburg and my family. I sit here in Terminal C waiting for Delta to order me on the plane, and I can't help but watch people as they walk by.

There is the young mother trying to convince her toddler son that he must quit playing and get on the plane.

There is the young couple obviously too much in love (get a room, will ya?).

There are several soldiers boarding flights to various destinations of service (or maybe home).

There are the two young men who just sat down opposite of me with wool caps and hoodies on, yet wearing short pant. Does anyone get this fashion trend? Are their heads cold while their legs are warm? They are both relatively unshaven, look like they would be more comfortable under a bridge than in an airport terminal, and they stare into space while speaking nonchalantly into their blue tooth phones (is the plural blue teeth or blue tooths? Why do I care?). Seriously, they look like someone you would meet at a Salvation Army rescue mission, but they have all this expensive technology and such.

Of course, I'm the geek seminary prof sitting here in my red LBTS t-shirt while reading the latest Superman comic I picked up last week, so who am I to judge?

Last week I wrote about travel, and today it is still on my mind. Have you ever gotten to the place where you are fed up? You know, you don't feel well, your head hurts, your back hurts, you feel like you are in a fog, and you just want to sit down and cry?

Well, this weekend I have been there. In that spot. See it?

I marvel at the stories of the apostle Paul and his travels. How the heck did he do it? Did they have beverage or meal services on his missionary trips? Did his back ever hurt? Did he ever just want to go home?

Okay, enough whining. Some observations: No matter where you go people are essentially the same. They are all concerned with taking care of their families, being with their friends, and making a life while trying to make a living. These past three days I have encountered a cornucopia of such people.

There was the waitress at Red Robin the other day (by the way, I wasn't impressed with "gourmet" hamburgers--they were more expensive but not necessarily all the much better than Five Guys. Your mileage may vary). Anyway, this young lady was obviously having a rough day when I was seated in her booth. She looked over worked, and it took her a long time to come take my order. Of course, it didn't help matters much that I promptly dumped my root beer over (glass number 2, if you are counting!). She sighed noticeably and came to my aid.

I kidded with her as she cleaned up my mess on the floor, and I worked on using napkins to stem the tide on my table. I said, "Well, I usually have one of my kids do that for me, but I guess I miss them on this trip."

She laughed just a bit, so I took that as an opening. "You know, life sometimes seems like a series of mishaps and spills that almost never end. Yet, in most cases there is someone with a mop or a handful of napkins to clean up the spill. I am so thankful for that help."

She smiled again, and asked why I was in Atlanta. I was teaching a class on the New Testament, so I told her that. I added: "You know, I've lost count of the number of times my life has spun out of control only to have God drop by and clean up my mess. He sure has been good to me."

She shrugged and kept mopping, so I said, "Can I pray for you?" She really didn't say much, but her attitude seemed to lighten a bit. She joked with me, and at the end of the meal, she thanked me for making her day "better."

I'm kinda glad I spilled my root beer.

One more story and I'll go get on my plane. I was sitting in the lobby of the hotel on Friday writing some notes and reading my Greek New Testament (and my comics!). A man walked by and said, "I don't usually see a person reading the Greek New Testament and comics!" I laughed and introduced myself. Turns out this fellow is a United Methodist pastor who almost walked out of the hotel. He said that the Lord prompted him to come to the lobby to meet someone, and there I was. We talked about his ministry, about Liberty, and most importantly, about the Lord. He was an angel in disguise, I think, because he did for me what I would later in the same day do for the waitress. His kindness and concern lifted my spirit and gave me energy.

Isn't life funny like that? Just when you want to quit, God often comes in and gives you a reason to keep going.

I don't feel well, while I was in Atlanta my dog (a good pet for almost 13 years) died, my family grieved without me, and I am tired to the bone. I wonder who God is sending my way today?

I'll let you know!

Thanks for reading!

Ramblings from a Fellow Traveler

Well, here I am at the Atlanta airport again! It doesn't seem like too long ago that a certain seminary president and I were stuck in this magic wonderland (yeah, that's sarcasm in case you didn't get it). I'm sitting here in the food court of Terminal E, listening to some pianist try to make a few bucks by offering her renditions of popular favorites while some drunk at the bar tries to accompany her in song.

I wish I could be home now.

I mean, I don't mind the travel, but sometimes I just miss the familiarity of my home: family, friends, my big red lounge chair, my sleep comfort bed, and especially my wife and children.

After a day or so away, I always find myself longing to return to them, to return home.

I know, I know--"Home is where your heart is," or "Home is where you make it" or even "Home is where you hang your hat." However you define it, nothing quite fits like feeling "at home."

Lately I've noticed another longing in my heart, the longing for a place that I've never visited, where friends and family are that I have not seen in a long time. Sometimes I've caught myself looking up at the stars and thinking, "What's it like for my loved ones who have gone 'home'?"

Okay, she's playing "Love Song" now . . . if I could bring a gun into the airport, I might put it to my temple at this point!

Ugh!

Did I tell you I want to come home?

I stayed in a nice Hampton Inn in Atlanta. Great bed, great pillows, wonderful people to help with directions, good food, access to the Internet, etc. But . . .

It ain't home.

I've been thinking too much lately. Sometimes I get a bit melancholy when I think. My dad passed away four years ago around the first week of August. Years before he died his illness robbed him of vitality and verve. My dad was not himself. I'd go to visit him, he wasn't himself. He is now, he is finally "home."

Now the piano is playing some piece of classical music. I think I'm gonna have to move soon.

Where is Starbucks when I need some coffee?

Okay, let's try to be more positive--I'm positive I need coffee.

There, I feel much better.

I heard a preacher on the radio today. He wasn't bad, but I honestly can't remember what he said. I think he was speaking about marriage. I remember that he mentioned George Beasley-Murray, my former seminary professor. Isn't odd what we remember sometimes?

Friday I was running late for the class I was supposed to teach. I drove following new directions I'd never used before in a rented car. You know what I remember the most? I remember the guy in traffic ahead of me apparently pitching a fit because traffic was backed up due to construction. I'm sure he got where he needed to go, but I wonder why I remember that? Of all the stimuli smacking my brain at that time, why do I remember him?

I guess I should be glad I remember things.

Well, I've rambled enough. I have to say that it was an uneventful weekend, but I had an uncanny sense of God being there. Everywhere I turned, I sensed his protection and his kindness. It was a good weekend.

She's playing the theme from "Butch Cassidy" now. If she starts with "Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head" I may scream.

I'm going to find Starbucks. I'm going to have the most caffiene I can get for my money. I'm going to find a kiosk, plug in my computer, read Captain America, and get happy again.

Believe it or not, someone looking a lot like Jerry Lawler just walked by, I think I'll ask for his autograph.

Holy Crap! She's playing "Leaving on a Jet Plane"! My cliche-o-meter is going off the charts.

I will start humming my new favorite praise song (thanks Juan)--"Kill me, kill me, kill me Jesus."

Okay, off to Starbucks. Thanks for reading!

Malcolm Muggeridge and "reality" TV

Those who are familiar with Malcolm Muggeridge already know that he was a journalist. If you didn't know that, you may wonder how it is possible for a journalist to be a Christian (grin), but that's a discussion for another day. The fact is that Muggeridge was a journalist, and in his lectures that later became the little book, The End of Christendom, Muggeridge notes some problems with the media. Here is the quote from pages 38-39.

"A strange thing I have observed over many years in this business of news gathering and news presentation is that by some infallible process media people always manage to miss the most important thing. It's almost as though there were some built-in propensity to do this. In moments of humility, I realize that if I had been correspondent in the Holy Land at the time of our Lord's ministry, I should almost certainly have spent my time knocking about with the entourage of Pontius Pilate, finding out what the Sanhedrin was up to, and lurking around Herod's court with the hope of signing up Salome to write her memoirs exclusively. I regret that this is true. Ironically enough, as the dramatization of the public scene gains impetus, so we move farther and farther from the reality of things and become more and more preoccupied with fantasy."

That last line gave me pause. Here is Muggeridge, speaking decades ago, addressing the problem of news and reality. I understand this paragraph to be saying that even before the advent of cable TV, Muggeridge saw signs of the media's "dramatization of the public scene" as opposed to the straightforward reporting of "the reality of things." Is this some kind of reference to "making the news" versus "reporting the news"? Perhaps, but more to the point is the reference to the danger of becoming "more and more preoccupied with fantasy." This remark certainly sounds a lot like "reality" TV, doesn't it?

Think about it--we neglect our "real" lives to tune in to shows that purport to show us "reality" on TV. Yet these very shows are more interested in the dramatization of an "unrealistic" setting than in offering us "reality." We strand a bunch of people on an island, encourage them to stab each other in the back, film the results, edit that film, and then call it "reality!" Does anyone else appreciate the irony?

We take the desire among most humans for a loving relationship, find some single guy, set him up with a choice of several gorgeous women, and then film their responses as the fat hits the fan. Then we call it "reality" TV!

We put a bunch of has-been celebrities together in a house, encourage them to participate in shenanigans, then we call it "reality."

Why are we obsessed with this stuff? Could it be that our own "reality" is so mundane that we want a substitute reality for it?

We all know that (like TV wrestling) most of these "reality" shows follow a script and are edited to elicit a certain response, yet we persist in calling them "reality" TV!

Muggeridge was practically prophetic here. Look at the major cable "news" networks--don't you see basic "dramatization" of events instead of a reporting of "things"? Why does the coverage of MSNBC, CNN, and even Fox look the same? We are living in the age of reality dramatization predicted by Muggeride almost 30 years ago!

Maybe we need to look at "reality" in a different light. Maybe we need to search for capital "T" Truth and try to understand our reality in light of God's plans and purposes as opposed to pursuing a fantasy "reality" that has little to do with eternity. Perhaps we should listen to God and pay less attention to "media outlets" and "news makers"? What would the world look like if we took our reality seriously, if we considered God's call on our lives in this reality as more important than the "realities" we see on TV? What kind of world would this be if Christians put as much effort into pursuing God as we put into following our favorite "realities" on TV?

What do you think?

Is God There? A Day Dream Moment from Leo

Sometimes, when no one is looking, I day dream. If I'm not careful, I'll even talk to myself. I even find myself writing down some of these ideas on occasion. So, I'll confess: I like to think of myself as some kind of writer or story teller, a scholar or academic of sorts, yet I never seem to have the words to say what is really in my heart.

Of course, God is in my heart, and that is enough (or, at least, it should be!). Even if words fail me and my ability to explain clearly the thoughts and intents of my heart disappears, nonetheless Christ remains faithful and stalwart.

Will God fail? More likely the sun will cease to shine, the stars will blink out, the universe will cave in, and the earth will stop rotating on its axis!

Will God be there? How silly we can be! How can God not be there? For God not to be there amounts to nothing short of hell! That is the only place where God is not. Oh, we try to exclude him, to push him out of our lives as though we somehow have power or authority over the One who holds the cosmos in the palm of his hand! We may dig pits for ourselves, or develop yokes for ourselves to wear in an effort to hide or escape God's great governance of the universe, but we can no more push him out than we can dissolve the rings of Saturn, or move the moon, or snuff out the sun! What ridiculous notions!

Sure, we try to rid ourselves of God, but it never works. He is there, still loving us, still caring, still taking care of us, still pouring grace into our graceless lives. Oh, we may not acknowledge him, we may not “notice” the subtle coincidences as the hand of God, but they are there. Everyday, in hundreds of ways, God is watching out for us. Amazing thought, huh? The Psalmist said that “such knowledge is to wonderful for me,” and I think he was right.

Consider this—When they dug Saddam Hussein out of his hiding place, God was in that little hole with Saddam, loving him, trying to get him on the right track. When you and I try to hide away from God like Adam and Eve, using inadequate fig leaves to cover a problem that only the blood of Christ can fix, God is still there. When we hide in a closet or close our hearts to those who care, God is still there. He is at the highest height or the deepest depth!

The God who loves, that same merciful God is with you, in whatever rabbit hole you find yourself, he is there to comfort, to help, and most importantly, to love on you like nobody’s business.

Do you think God doesn’t care? Look around you. Do the trees worry about their next drink of water? Do the flowers worry about the sun? Do the birds worry about food? Yet we continue to think that God doesn’t care? How utterly foolish we can be! If God didn’t care, none of life would be good, none of this would matter, none of us would be alive, none of this would exist.

I don’t know how to say it—we are caught up in "God moments" everyday. We may not recognize them, but there they are! Jesus shows up as the odd person who seems destined to "waste your time" and only wants to chat, or as the young person looking for encouragement concerning something “disturbing” he has found in Scripture, or as the mother with three young Veggie Tales fans who is taking great pleasure in her latte and in browsing for books at the bookstore, or as the friend who arrives on your doorstep at just the right time with a word of encouragement and hot chocolate. He shows up as the person who tips or compliments you, as the person who “accidentally” gives you a word of encouragement. He comes as the encouraging e-mail, the unexpected but welcome phone call. He comes in the beauty of creation to overwhelm and amaze you.

He comes like the Father who adores the child. He smiles, he says, “well done.” He is There with YOU! In the flood, in the fire, in the sweet times, in the good times, in the hard times, he stands with you and applauds you. He kisses your face and thinks to himself, “What a delightful child! How proud I am to be here!” Look for him, he is there!

Thank you, Father, that you are here, and you will be there. Create moments for us that remind us of your subtle and eternal watch care for us. Energize us by that knowledge and create the character of your Son Jesus in us. For Christ’s sake, do these things we pray.

Thanks for reading!

In Honor of Independence Day--July 4

Well, the USA is celebrating yet another birthday, and although some people think that the brightness has worn off this "city on a hill," I'm not ready to read her obituary yet. I went back into the archives to find some quotes for you today. The first one comes from John Wayne. On the internet you can find a lot of fun stff about the Duke, but this audio of him speaking about his country is priceless to me. Click here to listen: http://www.coyote-art.com/91102/johnwayne.htm.

I wanted to add another one from my favorite actor. In the movie "The Alamo," Duke plays Davey Crockett, leader to the Tennessee volunteers. At one point in the movie he gives a speech about the USA and the idea of a "republic." Here is the excerpt I liked the best:

"Republic. I like the sound of the word. It means people can live free, talk free, go or come, buy or sell, be drunk or sober, however they choose. Some words give you a feeling. Republic is one of those words that makes me tight in the throat - the same tightness a man gets when his baby takes his first step or his first baby shaves and makes his first sound as a man. Some words can give you a feeling that makes your heart warm. Republic is one of those words."

Finally, I wanted to share a poem with you all. About 8 years ago I discovered the poetry of Edgar Guest. The first poem I ran into was his "It Couldn't Be Done" in which he describes an optimist who wouldn't say "it couldn't be done" until he tried, and in trying the optimist accomplished the thing. At any rate, Guest is the author of dozens of patriotic poems, and I wanted to share this one in honor of the men and women who serve the USA in the various branches of our military and reserves. As you read this poem, why not say a short prayer of thanks for their service and ask God to protect them as they serve? Here's the poem, "The Things that Make a Soldier Great," by Edgar Guest:

The things that make a soldier great and send him out to die,
To face the flaming cannon's mouth nor ever question why,
Are lilacs by a little porch, the row of tulips red,
The peonies and pansies, too, the old petunia bed,
The grass plot where his children play, the roses on the wall:
'Tis these that make a soldier great.
He's fighting for them all.

'Tis not the pomp and pride of kings that make a soldier brave;
'Tis not allegiance to the flag that over him may wave;
For soldiers never fight so well on land or on the foam
As when behind the cause they see the little place called home.
Endanger but that humble street whereon his children run,
You make a soldier of the man who never bore a gun.

What is it through the battle smoke the valiant solider sees?
The little garden far away, the budding apple trees,
The little patch of ground back there, the children at their play,
Perhaps a tiny mound behind the simple church of gray.
The golden thread of courage isn't linked to castle dome
But to the spot, where'er it be --the humblest spot called home.

And now the lilacs bud again and all is lovely there
And homesick soldiers far away know spring is in the air;
The tulips come to bloom again, the grass once more is green,
And every man can see the spot where all his joys have been.
He sees his children smile at him, he hears the bugle call,
And only death can stop him now --he's fighting for them all.


On this fourth of July, as you give thanks for the freedoms and opportunities God has given you in this land, please remember to pray for those who defend our way of life and for the families of those whose loved ones paid the ultimate price so that we can enjoy our great republic. Remember, it is a cliche, but it is true "Freedom isn't free."

Thanks for reading!

Are you rich or are you poor?

Rich or Poor?

In the Beatitudes, Jesus states “Blessed are the poor” or “Blessed are the paupers.” He also states in the Gospels that it is difficult for a rich person to enter into the kingdom of heaven. Have you ever wondered at the juxtaposition of those two thoughts?

I know the traditional interpretation of both sayings, and I am aware of the devotional literature that surrounds them as well. What I want to consider for a few moments today is the abject difference between the two.

The poor are blessed, but the rich have a difficult time entering God’s kingdom.

Why?

Most of us have been “poor” at some point in our lives. Oh, we may not have been as poor as the poorest of the world, but we had to do without due to our lack of means. Maybe our stomachs even growled and our heads hurt a little bit from hunger. Perhaps we even had to bypass the purchase of a particular item we desperately wanted or even needed. Yes, we have known some form of poverty. Did we feel blessed? Really?

Did you feel “happy” during those times of poverty? In all likelihood, we looked forward with some measure of pleasure/joy to the day when we wouldn’t suffer such setbacks. We prayed and wished for a time when we would have abundance and would not have to “do without.” We didn’t feel blessed, we felt miserable.

Some of us today are rich, or at least, we aren’t as poor as we used to be. We can pretty much get what we want or need when we want or need it. We don’t have to “do without” unless we choose to do so. As an example, I recently took my family to Walt Disneyworld, something I could never have done when I lived and worked in Waco, TX. I am no longer “poor"! Do I feel far from the kingdom of God? Do I feel unhappy or a lack of blessing? Not really.

What could Jesus mean then? Was he just speaking rhetorically or do these words tell us something important?

I think it is Matthew who says “Blessed are the poor in spirit” as opposed to simply “Blessed are the poor.” I like what Oswald Chambers says in My Utmost for His Highest.

“The teaching of the Sermon on the Mount produces despair in the natural man—the very thing Jesus means it to do. As long as we have a self-righteous, conceited notion that we can carry out our Lord’s teaching, God will allow us to go on until we break our arrogance over some obstacle, then we are willing to come to him as paupers and receive from him. ‘Blessed are the paupers in spirit,’ that is the first principle in the kingdom of God. The bedrock in Jesus Christ’s kingdom is poverty, not possession; not decisions for Jesus Christ, but a sense of absolute futility—I cannot begin to do it. Then Jesus says—Blessed are you. That is the entrance, and it does take us a long while to believe we are poor! The knowledge of our own poverty brings us to the moral frontier where Jesus Christ works. . . . Jesus Christ never asks us to decide for him, but to yield to him—a very different thing.. . . If I know that I have no strength of will, no nobility of disposition, then Jesus says ‘Blessed are you,' because it is through this poverty that I enter his kingdom. I cannot enter his kingdom as a good person, I can only enter it as a complete pauper.”

In other words, as long as I think of myself as offering some gift or blessing to God, I cannot receive his free gift or blessing. Unless I recognize the poverty of my own will and spirit. the poverty of my own abilities to give God anything he needs, I cannot humbly receive what God has to offer. Like a little child, I must recognize my limitations in order to enter the kingdom of heaven. "Rich" people like us think we can buy or earn what we need or want, that somehow we can give God something without which he cannot possibly accomplish his plans. "Rich" people think that God needs them on his team, that God is "lucky" to have them on his side.

God says that the kingdom of heaven is for those who realize that they cannot enter on their own abilities or initiatives. God reserves blessing for those who know they do not deserve it. Faith in Christ starts with futility in self. To the degree that I think I can save myself, to that degree the blood of Jesus is ineffective for my salvation. If I think I can save myself, why do I need God? God's grace is free to those who realize their need for his kindness (it is his kindness that brings us to repentance, right?)

Thanks be to God for the grace to enter! Thanks be to God for his inexpressible gift in Jesus Christ!

Thanks for reading!

In honor of Dad for Father's Day

My father passed away in August 2004. It happened just before I moved my family 1300 miles from Texas to Virginia. I wrote a little piece about my dad and posted it here shortly after we moved to Virginia. In his honor and to celebrate Father's Day, I'd like to post it again.

Thanks for reading!

I have been thinking this morning about memories. You see, my father passed away in August 2004, and for some reason thoughts of him have been central in my mind recently. I’m afraid I’m losing him.

Let me explain.

My dad wasn’t very active the last few years of life. Due to his own lack of proper care for his physical body and a host of problems with illness, the primary memory my children have of their grandfather is dad sitting in a big lounge chair watching TV and occasionally waking up long enough to tease them.

My children did not get to know my dad. Oh, my dad was never the most active guy in the world (I think I know where my own lack of activity comes from!), but he didn’t sit around a lot as I remember it. Dad coached baseball, football, basketball, if it had “ball” in the title, he learned it, played it, and probably coached it. My dad cared about folks that no one else wanted. He loved kids, even his own. I once saw my dad kick a field goal from the 45 yard line (that’s a 55 yard kick, if you didn’t know!). I was in high school then, so dad was probably in his mid-40s. He could kick the ball further than the place kicker on our team.

I remember looking for dad’s vehicle to pull up at the football practice field. I don’t know if he knew that I saw him, but I looked for him to show up so I could perform for him. Dad didn’t get real excited about sports (that was mom’s job!), but you could tell when he was enjoying something. He had this infectious grin and mischievous smile that would literally light up his face. I heard that for almost 10 years after my younger brother graduated high school, dad would make his way to the practice field and sit in his car and watch the players go through their paces. For me, his watching was a comforting presence that reminded me that he was there if I needed him. Oh, I’ll admit that I didn’t “need” him as much as he would like, but it made me feel real good to know dad was there.

I miss him.

Sometimes in my work here, I think that dad is sitting in heaven, in his heavenly lounge chair, watching his boy perform. Oh, I’m not blindsiding running backs and quarterbacks any more, but I can’t help but think that dad is silently cheering for me. He sits there, intently studying me as I pace a classroom or teach a class or grade a paper. When I make a particularly brilliant play, he smiles that smile. Even when I don’t do so well, dad looks approvingly on his boy. I can see him, sitting there, big glass of sweet tea on the table, a smile in his eyes, and joy in his heart. I want to make him proud, and I think he knows that.

My last words to my dad face-to-face were spoken around Easter of 2004. I don’t remember everything we discussed, but I remember putting my arm around his shoulders and looking into that face. His eyes were a bit dimmed by senility due to old age and strokes. But somewhere in those eyes I saw the place kicker kicking a field goal from the 45 yard line. I remember saying this to him, “Dad, I love you. I’ll see you later.” At his funeral in August, the pastor asked me to pray at the grave site (actually, my mother asked me to do it). As I walked away from dad’s coffin, I touched the lid and said, “I love you, dad, see you later.”

I miss him, but thank God I will see him later. If you father is alive, call him up. Tell him you appreciate him and love him. Memories are great, but I’d love to have my dad here to hug again. He’s much better off, but I need his smile. Dad, I love you. See you later.

Missing my friend . . . Steve Huisman

Two years ago on June 12, Steve Huisman went to be with the Lord. I don't know why his death is heavy on my heart this year, but it just is. I miss my friend. I have so many things to share with him, so much to ask, and I need his honesty.

I miss Steve more than I can say.

Two years ago, I wrote the following note in memory of Steve. I read it again today and it brought tears to my eyes. I want to share it with you all again as a reminder of how important good friends are. If you have a friend like Steve, call that person today and thank them. If you don't, I pray that God will send you one soon.

Sorry to be so melancholy!

Here's the post in honor of my friend:

Steve Huisman.

Most of my readers will not recognize that name, although a few may think they know it.

Steve was a very good friend of mine. In fact, he was one of the best friends I ever had.

Steve died on Monday (June 12, 2006) in a plane crash. He was flying a plane in Florida that encountered some mechinal problems and crash landed on Davis Island. Steve died when the plane hit a home and caught fire. His co-pilot and the one person in the home survived.

I don't want to dwell on how Steve died. I want to describe how he lived.

Steve was a man that seemed at times to operate on an almost visceral level of honesty. He was unafraid to admit exactly how he was feeling and what he thought, especially when those thoughts and feelings pertained to his own spiritual status.

Don't misunderstand me, he was not a negative person. He was just quick to recognize his own fallenness and struggles. And by his honest admission of his fallenness, he elicited from others a confession that often bordered on sacramental.

Steve was my hero.

I would never have completed my Ph.D. if not for Steve Huisman. He was working on a correspondence course when he called me one day. He asked how the dissertation was going, and I confessed that I was struggling and didn't think I'd finished. Oh, my lovely wife was gently prodding me, the members of the dissertation committee were doing their part to help me out, but I just was not motivated.

Steve had a great thought--"Leo, how about we call each other at 6:00 a.m. to update each other on our projects. It will be good for us and provide a source of accountability."

Promptly at 6:00 the next morning, he called me.

For about two years after that my early morning conversations with Steve were opportunities to admit my fears and my failures as well as times to rejoice in milestones and accomplishments. He never judged me when I had a bad day or week. He gently encouraged me to press on. He laughed with me when something funny happend, he celebrated with me when things got done. He walked with me, and by being there he pushed me to finish.

When I graduated with my Ph.D., I neglected to tell him how much his encouragement had meant to me. Two weeks ago he called me here in VA. He was in FL and just wanted to talk. We talked about an hour about our families, our lives, our Lord. We laughed, we kidded each other, we prayed for each other. He told me that he wanted my wife to speak to his wife. As we were passing the phones, I cleared my throat and said, "Steve, I wanted to tell you how much your friendship means to me. You were God's instrument to help me finish my dissertation. I never adequately thanked you for that." I told him all the great things I loved about him--his acceptance, his honesty, his gentleness even when he corrected me or pushed me to discipline, his gut level love for other people that was evident in my life. I sang his praises, I think I embarassed him.

I told him I loved him.

Little did I know it would be the last time we would talk on this earth.

Steve went to be with the Lord in that plane crash Monday, but he left an awful lot of good stuff behind. His life is still having an impact on others even though it has ended. His diligence to serve God and others has left the world a better place. His love for his wife and children have instituted a legacy that will no doubt bear great fruit. His ongoing desire to be the best he could be for God's sake continues to motivate those who knew him to a deeper intimacy with God through Christ.

Steve was not a Bible scholar, but his life exemplified a clear understanding of the biblical call to follow Christ. He was a friend. He was a godly man. I miss him.

God, how I miss him!

I hate this fallen world of ours, but I know that it isn't home. Not completely. It is a way station. None of us are on this earth forever.

I still miss Steve.

41 years is not enough. I only knew him about 13 or so of those years.

He was a tall drink of water, a missionary kid with a love bigger than the world. He was the kind of guy you could trust to watch your most prized possessions. He had my back, he was my mighty and marvelous comrade. He helped me slay dragons and rescue damsels. Now I have to contemplate life without one of my wing men. Steve loved flying only slightly less than he loved God and his family. He loved to be in the air. Someday, I'll look up in the air and see him coming with Christ. It will be the ultimate flight, and it won't surprise me to see Steve acting as the pilot.

Death has invaded my life again. I can't imagine how his wife and children feel. I feel like I've been punched in the stomach, like I've lost something that cannot be replaced. I can almost hear Steve saying "I'll call you in the morning. You're going to make it! Hang in there!"

Thanks Steve, for all you gave us. Thanks to God for sharing Steve with us for 41 years. I'm crying now and feeling like I'm rambling, so maybe I better stop.

Live today like you have no tomorrow. Hug someone special and tell them you love them. Life is fragile, my friends, but God is strong. God is still in control, even though the world seems to spin crazily out of orbit.

Hang in there! With God's help, we're all going to make it!

Thanks for reading!

For Memorial Day

I wanted to post this today in honor of the men and women who have served or are currently serving in the United States military. Thank you for your service! May God bless you all, and may we all remember this weekend the sacrifice given for freedom. This poem by Edgar Guest says it well.

Memorial Day
Edgar Guest

The finest tribute we can pay
Unto our hero dead to-day,
Is not a rose wreath, white and red,
In memory of the blood they shed;
It is to stand beside each mound,
Each couch of consecrated ground,
And pledge ourselves as warriors true
Unto the work they died to do.

Into God's valleys where they lie
At rest, beneath the open sky,
Triumphant now o'er every foe,
As living tributes let us go.
No wreath of rose or immortelles
Or spoken word or tolling bells
Will do to-day, unless we give
Our pledge that liberty shall live.

Our hearts must be the roses red
We place above our hero dead;
To-day beside their graves we must
Renew allegiance to their trust;
Must bare our heads and humbly say
We hold the Flag as dear as they,
And stand, as once they stood, to die
To keep the Stars and Stripes on high.

The finest tribute we can pay
Unto our hero dead to-day
Is not of speech or roses red,
But living, throbbing hearts instead,
That shall renew the pledge they sealed
With death upon the battlefield:
That freedom's flag shall bear no stain
And free men wear no tyrant's chain.


Thanks for reading!

Enjoying the sacrament of life

I don't have a lot to say today, and I'd rather let two authors whose writings I respect speak for me. I want to say, however, that I have been thinking a bit today about how life is sacramental--how all that we experience can be full of the holy awesomeness that is God. Remember, Jeremiah said that God's mercies were new every morning, just like the morning dew. Today can be full of the sort of radical presence of God as to overwhelm us. In 1999, Ray Bradbury gave the following view of life:

"It is neither all beautiful nor all terrible, but a wash of multitudinous despairs and exhilarations about which we know nothing. Our history is so small, our experience so limited, our science so inadequate, our theologies so crammed in mere matchboxes, that we know we stand on the outer edge of a beginning and our greatest history lies before us, frightening and lovely, much darkness and much life."

This description of life sees our existence as awe inspiring and frightening, and such it is on many occasions. Storms come and blow and bluster against us, threatening to undo not only our homes, but our very lives. As Bradbury said, life can be frightening and lovely at the same time. For the child of God, however, life has a more sacramental flavor. Oh, we may not "feel" it every day, but the truth is (as the Greek Orthodox have said) Jesus' very life has in some sense sanctified the mundane daily experiences of human life. His birth sanctified the birth process, his childhood sanctified childhood, yes, even his teen years consecrated those experiences in our own lives. As Frederick Buechner said:

"[C]hurch isn’t the only place where the holy happens. Sacramental moments can occur at any moment, any place, to anybody. Watching something getting born. A high school graduation. Somebody coming to see you when you’re sick. A meal with people you love. Looking into a stranger’s eyes and finding out he’s not really a stranger. If we weren’t blind as bats, we might see that life itself is sacramental." From Wishful Thinking.

I like that last part--"if we weren't blind as bats, we might see that life itself is sacramental." Yesterday God spoke to me in a silent moment, today I seem to hear his voice in the mundane. As Paul reminds us in Romans, God's very nature and character are obvious to us in nature, but of course we must take the time to look and listen. We ignore the very evidence that surrounds us, we brush it aside and pretend it isn't there. We make that which is natural our god and wonder why it doesn't save us in our time of weakness and great need.

Today God spoke to me in the simple things of life--celebrating my wife's birthday by going to Dairy Queen, playing with the bunnies with my children, feeding my dog, petting my cat and hearing his gentle purring, watching mindless cartoons and hearing the voice of God in the laughter of my children.

God is here, and he is not silent. He speaks, sometimes in whispers, sometimes in screams, but as he speaks he changes our lives; no, that's not right, he changes us. We become a type of living embodiment of the grace of God. Our lives become (in a sense) sacramental. As Christ invades our existence, his sanctifying grace creates holy places in our simple lives. Our lives become his, and by being intertwined with him we find something beyond ourselves.

Life is sacramental and sacred. Don't take it for granted.

Enjoy the sacramental wine of your life, drink deeply from the grace of God in the everyday.

You won't be sorry.

Thanks for reading!

A sheep hears his master's voice . . .

Today I was reading in John's Gospel and came across the familiar passage about the Good Shepherd. Here is what the Word of God says to us:

John 10

14 "I am the good shepherd, and I know My own and My own know Me, 15 even as the Father knows Me and I know the Father; and I lay down My life for the sheep. 16 "I have other sheep, which are not of this fold; I must bring them also, and they will hear My voice; and they will become one flock with one shepherd. 17 "For this reason the Father loves Me, because I lay down My life so that I may take it again. 18 "No one has taken it away from Me, but I lay it down on My own initiative. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This commandment I received from My Father."

The words that caught my attention in this passage were the words sheep, shepherd, voice and hear. The idea is obvious--the sheep know their shepherd and listen to his voice. The shepherd loves the sheep and is willing to die on their behalf. The sheep follow the shepherd because he loves them and they know he loves them.

Today Jesus continues to call to his sheep. Are we listening? Do we think so highly of our Shepherd that we pause to hear and to get to know his voice? Are we paying attention?

C. S. Lewis addresses a similar issue in Mere Christianity:

The real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind.

Each morning there is a voice calling to us. Do we hear it?

Oh, there may well be a cacophany of voices in your mind/heart! I know there often is a raucous and rowdy group of them in mine!

"Don't forget your work! Don't forget that e-mail or project you promised! Don't forget to play with your children! Don't forget to read your Bible!"

The voices vie for my attention even as my mind tries to shake the cobwebs of sleep and regain some semblance of focus. I hear them every morning. As Lewis notes, they rush at me.

What voices call us away from the Voice? Do you hear him? God is calling--"come to me, all who are weary and I will give you rest."

"Take my burden upon you."

"All you like sheep have gone astray."

"Come to me. I love you."

The imagery of coming out of the wind is a good one. Lewis reminds us to leave the wind of the voices calling us to busy-ness so that we can stop to listen to the one Voice that matters. God's call matters.

There is something about the call of God that transforms us when we hear it and respond. It isn't what we do, it is the very fact that God in his grace and kindness "called" us, spoke to us, singled us out, so to speak.

As Dietrich Bonhoeffer says in The Cost of Discipleship:

The call of Jesus makes the disciple community not only the salt but also the light of the world: their activity is visible, as well as imperceptible. "You are the light." Once again it is not: "you are to be the light," they are already the light because Christ has called them. They are a light which is seen of men, they cannot be otherwise, and if they were it would be a sign that they had not been called. How impossible, how utterly absurd it would be for the disciples--these disciples, such men as these!--to try and become the light of the world! No. They are already the light and the call has made them so. Nor does Jesus say: "You have the light." The light is not an instrument which has been put into their hands, such as their preaching. It is the disciples themselves. By an amazing act of mercy, they are the light.

When God speaks, something changes. The very call to discipleship changes us. As in the beginning when God simply spoke things into existence, his Word continues to breathe creative life into the heart of humanity (see John 1). His Word enlightens us, illuminates our dark lives, transforms us into the light of the world.

God speaks, something happens. Light comes into being. Darkness is confused, overcome, ruined. God speaks, light breaks forth.

God calls, and we become salt and light. Every part of us becomes a testimony to the kindness of God. Every aspect of our life bleeds his kindness, his love, his grace, his mercy, his call.

Oh, and let's remember--He calls us, we don't call him.

May we pray as A. W. Tozer prayed:

Lord, teach me to listen
The times are noisy
and my ears are weary with the thousand raucous sound which continuously
assault them.
Give me the spirit of the boy Samuel,
When he said to you, "Speak, for your servant hears."
Let me hear you speaking in my heart.
Let me get used to the sound of your voice, that its tones may be
familiar when the sounds of faith die away,

And the only sound will be the music of
your speaking Voice.

God speaks, we listen, stuff happens.

Wow!

Thanks be to God for his inexpressible gift!

Thank you for reading!

Ever dream of being a hero?

Heb 11:32-40

“32 And what more shall I say? For time will fail me if I tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets, 33 who by faith conquered kingdoms, performed acts of righteousness, obtained promises, shut the mouths of lions, 34 quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, from weakness were made strong, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight. 35 Women received back their dead by resurrection; and others were tortured, not accepting their release, so that they might obtain a better resurrection; 36 and others experienced mockings and scourgings, yes, also chains and imprisonment. 37 They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were tempted, they were put to death with the sword; they went about in sheepskins, in goatskins, being destitute, afflicted, ill-treated 38(men of whom the world was not worthy), wandering in deserts and mountains and caves and holes in the ground.

39 And all these, having gained approval through their faith, did not receive what was promised, 40 because God had provided something better for us, so that apart from us they would not be made perfect.” NASU

There are several stories represented in this passage from Hebrews—stories of daring action, bold attacks, thrilling suspense, and even political intrigue and romance. Read this list above again—these people conquered kingdoms, shut lions’ mouths, quenched fire, became mighty in war, etc.

Remember when you were growing up and you would pretend to be a soldier in a war, or a superhero fighting crime, or a “man alone” against evil? Did you ever dream of conquering kingdoms by yourself? Did you fight the odds? Did you defeat the evil ones with your super powers? Did the “good guys” win the fight?

I remember playing at superheroes and war when I was a child. None of my brothers or friends would choose to lose. We wanted to be the hero, the one who changed the tide of battle so that the “good guys” won. We wanted to perform daring deeds; we wanted to walk with a swagger, to be swashbucklers for good!

We wanted to be John Wayne, Roy Rogers, Spider-Man, Batman, Superman, Captain America. We wanted to be heroes standing against the evil doers!

We wanted to be like those listed here in Hebrews 11. We wanted to be amazing, to be daring, to be bold, to be courageous.

Where are we now?

What kind of heroes have we become at the end?

Where are our tales of daring, of bold actions?

Phillips Brooks says it like this:

“The great danger facing all of us—let me say it again, for one feels it tremendously—is not that we shall make an absolute failure of life, nor that we shall fall into outright viciousness, nor that we shall be terribly unhappy, nor that we shall feel that life has no meaning at all—not these things. The danger is that we may fail to perceive life’s greatest meaning, fall short of its highest good, miss its deepest and most abiding happiness, be unable to render the most needed service, be unconscious of life ablaze with the light of the Presence of God—and be content to have it so—that is the danger. That some day we may wake up and find that always we have been busy with the husks and trappings of life—and have really missed life itself.”

Have I lost my verve for life? Have I lost contact with the One who makes life worth living?

Have I fallen into the danger of complacency and mediocrity? Have I missed that “abundant life” because I forgot how much fun it was to “risk it all” to save someone from evil?

Have I allowed my contact with God to be minimal?

In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Aslan is described in this manner:

“’Safe?’ said Mr. Beaver, ‘Don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you.’”

God is like that.

He isn’t safe, he isn’t tame . . . in fact, God can be quite wild on occasions.

But he is GOOD.

We have to have contact with him, we have to be intimately attached to him for life to be good.

Oh, life may also be wild on occasions, and it will not always be safe.

But it will be GOOD. . . .

And abundant. . . .

When once we experience this intimacy with God, the hope is that we will become addicted. Addicted to God, what a great idea! As God in Christ fills all of our mundane existence, we will begin to see all of life as sacramental. Why? Because God is in it.

That’s our challenge, isn’t it? To live as though all those things Jesus said were true. As Charlie Peacock has said, we must learn to “live like heaven is a real place.”

May God grant us the grace to do so.

Thanks for reading!

The "Absence" of God?

This past week I was reading some excerpts in a little devotional book I have, and I was thinking about the “absence” of God. Some of the things I read gave me pause as I thought about the concept of God’s omnipresence. Those of us who claim to be Christians (or even Jews and Muslims, for that matter) typically claim that God is everywhere always. That is, he is right with us even when we don’t think he is, and worse, when we hope that he is not. He is there. I think Francis Schaeffer wrote a book entitled The God who is There.

At any rate, I was thinking about all the times in my life when God was present (like he always is), but I tended to overlook that reality. When I notice God there on the fringe of my experience (kind of hanging around like a brother who wants to be involved in everything you do), sometimes I respond with a sense of comfort (Oh good, he is there!). Other times I respond with fear (Oh no, did he see that!). Other times I am complacent (Oh, it’s just you, huh?). Still some times I am overwhelmed (Thank God you’re here!).

I think of the Jews wandering in the wilderness and camped at Mt. Sinai. God showed up on the mountain, and they begged Moses to make it stop! “Don’t let God speak directly to us again, we can’t take it!” The acknowledgement of God’s presence frightened them, maybe it made them a bit uncomfortable. Maybe we respond to God in the same way.

Annie Dillard addresses this problem when she says:

“It is difficult to undo our own damage, and to recall to our presence that which we have asked to leave. It is hard to desecrate a grove and change your mind. The very holy mountains are keeping mum. We doused the burning bush and cannot rekindle it; we are lighting matches in vain under every green tree.

“What have we been doing all these centuries but trying to call God back to the mountain, or, failing that, raise a peep out of anything that isn’t us? What is the difference between a cathedral and a physics lab? Are they not both saying: ‘Hello?’ We spy on whales and on interstellar radio objects; we starve ourselves and pray till we’re blue.” From Teaching a Stone to Talk by Annie Dillard

Our fear of God’s omnipresence causes us to turn off a switch in our minds and hearts that helps us to ignore this fascinating (and sometimes frightening) reality. We pretend he isn’t there. We even ignore his obvious appearances. We ignore the God of all, then we say that we didn’t know he was there.

As A. W. Tozer notes:

“. . . If God is present at every point in space, if we cannot go where he is not, cannot even conceive of a place where he is not, why then has not that Presence become the one universally celebrated fact of the world? The patriarch Jacob, ‘in waste howling wilderness,’ gave the answer to that question. He saw a vision of God and cried out in wonder. ‘Surely the Lord is in this place; and I knew it not.’ Jacob had never been for one small division of a moment outside of the circle of that all-pervading Presence. But he knew it not. That was his trouble, and it is ours. People do not know if God is here. What a difference it would make if they knew.” From The Pursuit of God by A. W. Tozer

We “know it not” because we don’t like the reality that God’s omnipresence makes us face. That reality is this—when we fail and sin, he is there. When we succeed, he is there. When we need him, he is there. When we think we don’t need him, he is there. Even when we don’t want him to be, he is there. God's omnipresence reminds us that we can neither take all the glory for our "good" acts nor can we avoid the blame for the selfish acts. We can't get away with anything. There is no place to hide. He is there! He is always there!

One of my pet peeves is to hear a preacher talking about Jesus’ cry (“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me”) from the cross and say something like, “At that point, God turned his back on Jesus because he became sin for us.” Think of the ramifications of that idea—God, the omnipresent One, turning his back on his only unique Son. God, the merciful, overlooking the sacrifice his own Son Jesus is offering.

Can you imagine it? God, forsaking his Son! It sounds ridiculous because it is. God did not “turn his back on Jesus” (look in the text of the Gospels, it does not say any such thing). No, God was watching the brutal fact of it all with tears in his eyes. He did not forsake Jesus, and he does not forsake humanity. He endures when we pretend he is absent, but he is there. He loves Jesus . . . even when Jesus became sin for us, God lovingly watched his Son. God lovingly watches us as well.

He is there, and he loves us. He watches, waits, endures, and hopes. He wants us to acknowledge his presence, to catch a glimpse of him and smile. He is there, and he wants us to notice and to know it. He has not forsaken us. He is there, why not admit it and embrace it? Why not exult in the sheer joy and enormity of it? He is always there.

Scary, ain’t it?

Thanks for reading!

Some quotes to chew on . . .

"There is no doxology without theology, and good theology should produce doxology." Ergun Caner

“A theological thought can breathe only in the atmosphere of dialogue with God.” Helmut Thielicke, A Little Exercise for Young Theologians

“Truth is always a quarry hard to hunt, and therefore we must look everywhere for its tracks.” Basil the Great (From On the Spirit 1.1).


“The task of the modern educator is not to cut down jungles but to irrigate deserts. The right defense against false sentiments is to inculcate just sentiments. By starving the sensibility of our pupils we only make them easier prey to the propagandist when he comes. For famished nature will be avenged and a hard heart is no infallible protection against a soft head." C. S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man, pp. 13-14

What do you think?

Thanks for reading!

Stealing Quiet . . .

Here's a song from 40 Days that I really enjoy. The song is "Quiet" by Mark Warren, Joel Warren. Here are the lyrics:

Walk into a crowded room, into a faceless sea
I feel right at home
Remember not to look too close so they won't see through me
They can never know that there's a voice inside my head
Inside my mind
If I could find that secret place
A place to hide

Chorus:
It would be alright if I could stay there for awhile
It would be alright if I could steal the quiet
Deep down I have a need that I cannot deny
It would be alright

I sense you there across the room
A blinding light stills me where I stand
I didn't think you'd come this soon
If I may, if I might find out where I stand
I didn't plan to leave you out for all this time
I took for granted you were here
But if you don't mind

Chorus:
It would be alright if I could stay there for awhile
It would be alright if I could steal the quiet
Deep down I have a need that I cannot deny
It would be alright

I don't know why this song speaks so strongly to me. I think it is the whole idea of stealing quiet.


Finding a center.

Hunkering down for a moment of peace in a world of white noise.

Brother Lawrence said, "To be with God there is no need to be continually in church. Of our heart we may make an oratory, wherein to retire from time to time and with Him hold meek, humble loving converse." (The Practice of the Presence of God)

Sometimes we need to retire, to separate ourselves into a sort of solitude just to be in the presence of the One who really matters. Thomas Kelly in A Testament of Devotion calls this the process of centering on God. It is the discipline of finding a place to be, a place to just sit with Abba and simply to breathe.

If we make time for this practice, for this centering, for this laser like focus on what really matters, we may well find that God often appears in those times in ways we may not have expected. As Evelyn Underhill notes in Practical Mysticism:

"Because mystery is horrible to us, we have agreed for the most part to live in a world of labels; to make of them the current coin of experience, and ignore their merely symbolic character, the infinite gradation of values which they misrepresent. We simply do not attempt to unite with Reality. But now and then that symbolic character is suddenly brought home to us. Some great emotion, some devastating visitation of beauty, love or pain, lifts us to another level of consciousness; and we are aware for a moment of the difference between the neat collection of discrete objects and experiences which we call the world and the height, the depth, the breadth of the living, growing, changing Fact, of which thought, life, and energy are parts and in which we 'live and move and have our being.'"

I think that sums up the second verse of the song--sometimes we are just jolted out of our activity, out of our busy-ness, out of our mundane existence, and then we have a clarity we have not experienced and maybe cannot adequately express. We see.

We see HIM.

We get IT.

I need the quiet. I need to get it. I need to crawl into my Father's lap and be shocked into an awareness of how interconnected my world is to His, how his grace overflows in every aspect of my existence, how completely all encompassing is this One called God.

Steal the quiet.

Take the risk and get into God's presence.

Let the Mystery and Meaning of life jolt you into the reality of this great grace which sustains us all. Look for opportunities today to raise yourself above the mundane/temporary to that which will never fade. Set your mind to pursue it, and wait for the sheer shock of God's interruption.

We need to steal the quiet. We need to stay there for a while. We need Him.

Thanks for reading!

And now, a song from Switchfoot

I was driving to church this morning listening to the music of Switchfoot (in case you were wondering, I was listening to the album The Beautiful Letdown). One of the songs struck me as simply poetic and poignant, and I wanted to share the lyrics with you all. The song is entitled "Gone." Here are the lyrics:

She told him that she'd rather fix her makeup
than try and fix what's going on
But the problem keeps on calling
even with the cell phone gone.

She told him that she believes in living
bigger than she's living now
But her world keeps spinning backwards
and upside down.

Don't say so long, you're not that far gone.
Don't spin today away, 'cause today will soon be

Gone, like yesterday is gone
Like history is gone
Just try and prove me wrong and
pretend like you're immortal.

She said, he said, live like no tomorrow
Everyday we borrow brings us
one step closer to the edge. Infinity.
Where's your treasure, where's your hope,
if you get the world and lose your soul?
She pretends like she pretends like
she's immortal.

Don't say so long, and throw yourself wrong.
This could be your big chance to make-up
Today will soon be

Gone, like yesterday is gone
Like history is gone
The world keeps spinning on
You're going, going,
Gone, like summer break is gone,
Like Saturday is gone
Just try and prove me wrong and
pretend like you're immortal.

We are not infinite
We are not permanent
Nothing is immediate
And we pretend like we're immortal.
We are so confident in our accomplishments
Look at our decadence.

Gone, like Frank Sinatra, like Elvis and his mom,
Like Al Pacino's money, nothing lasts in this life
Gone, my High School dreams are gone,
my childhood sweets are gone
Life is a day that doesn't last for long.

Life is more than money, time was never money
Time was never cash, life is still more than girls.
Life is more than hundred dollar bills and
roto-tom fills.
Life is more than fame and rock and roll and thrills.
All the riches of the kings end up in wills
We've got information in the information age
but do we know what life is outside of our convenient Lexus cages?

She said he said live like no tomorrow
every moment that we borrow brings us closer
to a God who's never been short of cash
Hey Bono, I'm glad you asked.
Life is still worth living, life is more than we are.

I really like the last 4 segments of this song. I listened to it in my convenient Corolla cage and realized that we humans are good at hiding, even in plain sight. We pretend we are righteous, while we do our best to hide the unrighteous acts we do in secret. We act like every thing we do is important, while in our hearts we cry for a life of purpose. We would never admit our inner feelings or thoughts to another for fear of "being known" too intimately. We are afraid that the light may blind us or show our weaknesses too clearly. We are afraid of being known by others. We are afraid of rejection. We all know, however, that life is more than the stuff we use to try to make life worthwhile. Life if more than the stuff we collect to hide our insecurities while building a personal empire that we hope proclaims our (self) importance. Today, let's come into the light, let's let our deeds be exposed for what they really are, let's let God be God.

Thanks for reading!