As I sit here in my basement office listening to the wind howl off the lake and drive the snow faster than a Canadian on Highway 61, I'm making notes for the Christmas Eve service. Whether or not we will actually have the Christmas Eve service remains to be seen. The parking lot will have to be plowed. People will have to be able to see to drive, and have some measure of confidence they can get home if they come in to town. It may be a greater service to them to simply cancel the service tonight and urge them to remain safely in their warm homes surrounded by their loving families.
I wonder if God ever thought about canceling Christmas due to unfavorable conditions. There was no room in the inn. It's a long way on foot from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Animal habitat smells. And that trip from heaven down the birth canal, all that blood and commotion! Who's up for that? And of course, the ultimate destination, the great cause for Christmas was a crucifixion. They would all show up to see him die, but so few would be there to see him born.
In my mind I may wonder, but in my heart I know. I know God never once thought of canceling Christmas. The people he loves so much needed a Savior. We, you and me, were trapped in our sins and subject to death and without Christmas, we would be forever lost to him. So he made the journey of a life and lifetime. He was wrapped in swaddling clothes so that we would not remain bound in our sin. He was laid in a manger so the wrath of God would not be laid on us. He was born into poverty so that we would appreciate the riches of his grace. He became nothing to give us everything.
I don't know yet if we'll cancel the Christmas Eve service here in Grand Marais or not. I don't know whether you'll be able to get to a service where you are, but I offer you this. The Child who came to die lives and he still enters gladly into the worst personal conditions of heart and soul to bring peace, joy, and new life forever. Blizzard or no blizzard, if you want God in your life, it can always be Christmas if you will believe in him.
Ask him into your life, into your situation today, whatever that situation is, and discover what Christmas is truly all about.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Christmas Spirit
A light snow fell like sifted flour and covered the landscape, the roads, the parking lots. It was 18 degrees, cold enough to make what snow there was more crunchy than slick. Shoppers were everywhere.
We avoided Black Friday, but could not avoid the trip to Duluth. The 14th Annual Christmas Open House still needed more cookies, dips, and crackers. There were gifts we could not find in our little town. There was the simple need for a change of scenery. So off we went.
Stores and houses and light posts are decorated. Christmas music fills the air, as it does in a lot of places this time of year. I almost started to get into the "Christmas Spirit" until the young woman in the gray Saturn charged down the aisle in the parking lot, horn blaring at a car already three quarters backed out of a spot. She barely missed clipping a pedestrian as she sped to get around the moving vehicle before it could block her path any further.
I seem to recall Coach Carswell drilling the idea into us during Driver's Ed in the tenth grade that if you come upon a car backing out of parking spot, you wait for them to complete their action before proceeding. In other words, you stop and they go. Then you go. You don't lay on the horn and try to get around them putting the lives of drivers and pedestrians at risk.
Minnesotans seem to have learned to drive with different rules of etiquette. If the car ahead of them is making a left hand turn, they pass on the right, crossing the solid white line. They don't slow down. They don't stop. And God help the pedestrian walking on the shoulder at the same time, or the car ahead making a left turn into their path! I've seen cars passing on the right cut off other vehicles that patiently waited for the left turning driver.
All this led me to wonder about the "Christmas Spirit." Where does that inclination to be gracious, patient, kind, thoughtful, sensitive, caring, self-effacing come from? (Certainly not the Minnesota DMV!) The newly fallen snow, the cheerful decorations, the omnipresent music did not seem to create the fabled warmth of the season one might have expected among shoppers and staffers. Lines were long. Patience was short. Frowns were abundant. Smiles rare. Where was the "Christmas Spirit?"
Maybe it is simply too early for its appearance. Maybe there weren't enough children bundled up to their eyelids visiting Santa on the rotunda. Maybe the reason is internal and not external, so the "stuff of Christmas" is getting less effective at producing the "spirit of Christmas?"
I pushed my cart down the aisles at Walmart and thought about it. None of the externals that mark Christmas were present that night. No "price rollbacks." No "limited offer DVDs." No holiday portraits at one low price. No shopping carts, lifetime warranties, or chocolate santas. No gift receipts or express lanes (10 items only, please.)
So, what was there that night? What created the awe, the splendor, the power, the mystery, and the glory that caused Mary to "ponder these things in her heart," and the shepherds to return "glorifying and praising God?" What created the impact the world longs for and so often misses? What created the "spirit" retailers and license bureaus fail so miserably to recreate?
Three things, I think, from Luke 2:10-11. And the angel said to them. 'Fear not, for behold I bring you good news of a great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.'"
First, the Christmas spirit arises in the human heart from a divine pronouncement. "The angel said to them." I love this, don't you? God could easily remain distant and quiet, withholding his thoughts and leaving us in the dark about his intents and purposes. He could leave us guessing and getting it wrong and still hold us accountable. Instead, he tells us. He shares his mind, his thoughts, his heart with us, revealing himself, even if we can only grasp a glimpse of the immensity who is God. God's pronouncements are an expression of mercy, for through them we are invited to join him, heart to heart, in the work and wonder of his being God. And that is the Christmas spirit.
Second, the Christmas spirit arises in the human spirit from the divine promise. Six hundred years before, the prophet Isaiah prophesied, spoke God's promise, and said, "For to us a child is born, to us a son is given . . . and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace." That night the angel said, "Unto you is born . . . a Savior, who is Christ the Lord." The child of promise arrived. God made good on what he told his people to expect. God proved that faith is not futile! Hope received what the heart yearned for!
Listen, if God kept this most important promise to his people, you can expect him, through faith, to keep ALL his promises, including the ones he makes in his word to YOU! Expectation of grace, and mercy, and love, and wisdom, and guidance, and justice with good reason (because God keeps his promises); that's the Christmas spirit.
Finally, the Christmas spirit arises in the human experience from the divine presence. "Unto you." That's what the angel said. "Unto you." Into your experience. Into the realm of your existence. Into the measure of your need. For your salvation. For your joy. For your hope. "Unto you a child is." Ponder it. Marvel at it. God himself comes to you, into your life to be fully present for his glory and your joy as you keep your faith in him. God does not make cameo appearances. He dwells! "Unto you a child is." Christ present in your life for glory and joy. That's the Christmas spirit.
The Christmas spirit in us arises from God actively expressing his love and character in us daily through the Son born to us, died for us, and raised for us. You know what that means, don't you? It is not the trappings of the season that initiate or motivate the Christmas spirit within us, but the reality of the Son, who is always with us. That means any day can be Christmas, and every day can be filled with the Christmas spirit!
We avoided Black Friday, but could not avoid the trip to Duluth. The 14th Annual Christmas Open House still needed more cookies, dips, and crackers. There were gifts we could not find in our little town. There was the simple need for a change of scenery. So off we went.
Stores and houses and light posts are decorated. Christmas music fills the air, as it does in a lot of places this time of year. I almost started to get into the "Christmas Spirit" until the young woman in the gray Saturn charged down the aisle in the parking lot, horn blaring at a car already three quarters backed out of a spot. She barely missed clipping a pedestrian as she sped to get around the moving vehicle before it could block her path any further.
I seem to recall Coach Carswell drilling the idea into us during Driver's Ed in the tenth grade that if you come upon a car backing out of parking spot, you wait for them to complete their action before proceeding. In other words, you stop and they go. Then you go. You don't lay on the horn and try to get around them putting the lives of drivers and pedestrians at risk.
Minnesotans seem to have learned to drive with different rules of etiquette. If the car ahead of them is making a left hand turn, they pass on the right, crossing the solid white line. They don't slow down. They don't stop. And God help the pedestrian walking on the shoulder at the same time, or the car ahead making a left turn into their path! I've seen cars passing on the right cut off other vehicles that patiently waited for the left turning driver.
All this led me to wonder about the "Christmas Spirit." Where does that inclination to be gracious, patient, kind, thoughtful, sensitive, caring, self-effacing come from? (Certainly not the Minnesota DMV!) The newly fallen snow, the cheerful decorations, the omnipresent music did not seem to create the fabled warmth of the season one might have expected among shoppers and staffers. Lines were long. Patience was short. Frowns were abundant. Smiles rare. Where was the "Christmas Spirit?"
Maybe it is simply too early for its appearance. Maybe there weren't enough children bundled up to their eyelids visiting Santa on the rotunda. Maybe the reason is internal and not external, so the "stuff of Christmas" is getting less effective at producing the "spirit of Christmas?"
I pushed my cart down the aisles at Walmart and thought about it. None of the externals that mark Christmas were present that night. No "price rollbacks." No "limited offer DVDs." No holiday portraits at one low price. No shopping carts, lifetime warranties, or chocolate santas. No gift receipts or express lanes (10 items only, please.)
So, what was there that night? What created the awe, the splendor, the power, the mystery, and the glory that caused Mary to "ponder these things in her heart," and the shepherds to return "glorifying and praising God?" What created the impact the world longs for and so often misses? What created the "spirit" retailers and license bureaus fail so miserably to recreate?
Three things, I think, from Luke 2:10-11. And the angel said to them. 'Fear not, for behold I bring you good news of a great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.'"
First, the Christmas spirit arises in the human heart from a divine pronouncement. "The angel said to them." I love this, don't you? God could easily remain distant and quiet, withholding his thoughts and leaving us in the dark about his intents and purposes. He could leave us guessing and getting it wrong and still hold us accountable. Instead, he tells us. He shares his mind, his thoughts, his heart with us, revealing himself, even if we can only grasp a glimpse of the immensity who is God. God's pronouncements are an expression of mercy, for through them we are invited to join him, heart to heart, in the work and wonder of his being God. And that is the Christmas spirit.
Second, the Christmas spirit arises in the human spirit from the divine promise. Six hundred years before, the prophet Isaiah prophesied, spoke God's promise, and said, "For to us a child is born, to us a son is given . . . and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace." That night the angel said, "Unto you is born . . . a Savior, who is Christ the Lord." The child of promise arrived. God made good on what he told his people to expect. God proved that faith is not futile! Hope received what the heart yearned for!
Listen, if God kept this most important promise to his people, you can expect him, through faith, to keep ALL his promises, including the ones he makes in his word to YOU! Expectation of grace, and mercy, and love, and wisdom, and guidance, and justice with good reason (because God keeps his promises); that's the Christmas spirit.
Finally, the Christmas spirit arises in the human experience from the divine presence. "Unto you." That's what the angel said. "Unto you." Into your experience. Into the realm of your existence. Into the measure of your need. For your salvation. For your joy. For your hope. "Unto you a child is." Ponder it. Marvel at it. God himself comes to you, into your life to be fully present for his glory and your joy as you keep your faith in him. God does not make cameo appearances. He dwells! "Unto you a child is." Christ present in your life for glory and joy. That's the Christmas spirit.
The Christmas spirit in us arises from God actively expressing his love and character in us daily through the Son born to us, died for us, and raised for us. You know what that means, don't you? It is not the trappings of the season that initiate or motivate the Christmas spirit within us, but the reality of the Son, who is always with us. That means any day can be Christmas, and every day can be filled with the Christmas spirit!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Who Prays for the "Worst of These"?
I got up at 3:45 this morning to watch the Leonid Meteor Shower. By all reports I'd read it was supposed to be awesome this year. And I'm sure it was . . . somewhere.
The sky was black and clear. The stars stood out magnificently. I've seen it darker and clearer and more breathtaking, but this was good and I was sure it would be a fine morning for viewing the meteors. I guess I should tell you now that after laying there for forty-five minutes at the proposed "perfect time" I saw exactly one (1) meteor whose flameout lasted about half a second. I must have been looking at the wrong sky. Maybe they meant that other sky over there.
At any rate, the Leonid meteor shower turned out to be a meteor drip for me. But the morning was not wasted. Far from it. As I lay there on my back staring at the stars a thought began to take shape in my mind. "There are so many of them," I thought. So many beyond counting. We see a few, but not even a countable number compared to how many there are. It was captivating, but it was the thought that God threw in next that actually caused my heart to skip a beat and me to catch my breath and hold it for a moment.
"As the stars, so are those whose lives, and bodies, and minds, and hearts are enslaved by pornography." I wasn't expecting that. At all. Suddenly my mind began a slow tumble back to the day we discovered the two grocery bags of magazines my stepfather kept in the attic, the Playboys we lifted from the rack at the corner drugstore across the street from Hardees where Lumpkin Rd. diverts from Cusseta Rd., to a bachelor party the year I left for college. I shook my head not wanting and not willing to return to the places I left behind when I came to the cross.
But God was unrelenting. "I want you here. I want you to recall faces you have forgotten, faces you will never know, faces about which you never cared. Dale, they are like the stars in the heavens. You have seen a few, but there are millions more. Millions more women and girls, boys and men trapped, enslaved, selling what they think they have to get what they think they want and coming away used, empty, and too often dead. And Dale, I want you to answer this question: who prays for these?"
Producers, publishers, printers, photographers, models, actors, owners, distributors, buyers, viewers: victims, everyone of them, of an unspeakable evil more repugnant to genteel folk than AIDS victims in our day. We pray for the persecuted, the sick, the "lost," the imprisoned, the unfortunate, the nation, the president, the school, the church, the potluck, the pastor, the people, and the parking lot, but who prays for these?
Who begs God to send into the filthiest of industries One who will bring hope, deliverance, and true, lifesaving love. We preach, and rightly so, against the dangers of pornography. We rave against the addiction. We filter the Internet. But who prays for the people? Who intercedes on their behalf, these ones who turn a glorious gift into a freak show for perverted minds and hearts? Who prays for them to find someone who genuinely cares for their souls? Who prays to be someone who genuinely cares for their souls?
I finally exhaled as the shower of divine concern subsided. I cried. And I prayed. And I cried some more as I tried to get my mind around how many people in our world (out of perhaps 9 billion people) might be caught in this wicked trap. How many children sold out by desperate parents who can't feed the rest any other way? How many fatherless boys seeking affirmation? How many girls just looking for love? How many women, frightened or fighting for some shred of self, selling themselves one photo set, one film, one view at a time? How many men loving and hating, lusting and loathing, not able to be free and whole? They are more than we can count. And we consider them, all of them, the "worst of these." We recoil at even the thought of what they do, what they have become.
Who will pray for them? Who will pray for the "worst of these," that by the mercy of God someone, somewhere, full of grace and truth, will intersect their lives and offer them Christ? Offer them hope? Offer them a way out and a way home?
I will. I've decided that every time I have to take an impure thought captive to Christ, every time Satan launches a stray image into my mind, every time my eyes are assaulted by unclean things, I will pray for those caught in the spider web of pornography. I will fight back on their behalf. I will not let them die alone, forgotten, unloved. Not everyone can do this. Not everyone should do this. Even the best intentions can be exploited by the evil one. But until God says otherwise, I'm going to pray that a very specific group of people hear a life changing testimony about the grace of God in Christ Jesus every time I think of them.
There are more of them than I can count or even imagine. But God is great. He loves them. He has asked, "Who will pray for these?" He must have a plan for them. I will pray. Perhaps you will too?
The sky was black and clear. The stars stood out magnificently. I've seen it darker and clearer and more breathtaking, but this was good and I was sure it would be a fine morning for viewing the meteors. I guess I should tell you now that after laying there for forty-five minutes at the proposed "perfect time" I saw exactly one (1) meteor whose flameout lasted about half a second. I must have been looking at the wrong sky. Maybe they meant that other sky over there.
At any rate, the Leonid meteor shower turned out to be a meteor drip for me. But the morning was not wasted. Far from it. As I lay there on my back staring at the stars a thought began to take shape in my mind. "There are so many of them," I thought. So many beyond counting. We see a few, but not even a countable number compared to how many there are. It was captivating, but it was the thought that God threw in next that actually caused my heart to skip a beat and me to catch my breath and hold it for a moment.
"As the stars, so are those whose lives, and bodies, and minds, and hearts are enslaved by pornography." I wasn't expecting that. At all. Suddenly my mind began a slow tumble back to the day we discovered the two grocery bags of magazines my stepfather kept in the attic, the Playboys we lifted from the rack at the corner drugstore across the street from Hardees where Lumpkin Rd. diverts from Cusseta Rd., to a bachelor party the year I left for college. I shook my head not wanting and not willing to return to the places I left behind when I came to the cross.
But God was unrelenting. "I want you here. I want you to recall faces you have forgotten, faces you will never know, faces about which you never cared. Dale, they are like the stars in the heavens. You have seen a few, but there are millions more. Millions more women and girls, boys and men trapped, enslaved, selling what they think they have to get what they think they want and coming away used, empty, and too often dead. And Dale, I want you to answer this question: who prays for these?"
Producers, publishers, printers, photographers, models, actors, owners, distributors, buyers, viewers: victims, everyone of them, of an unspeakable evil more repugnant to genteel folk than AIDS victims in our day. We pray for the persecuted, the sick, the "lost," the imprisoned, the unfortunate, the nation, the president, the school, the church, the potluck, the pastor, the people, and the parking lot, but who prays for these?
Who begs God to send into the filthiest of industries One who will bring hope, deliverance, and true, lifesaving love. We preach, and rightly so, against the dangers of pornography. We rave against the addiction. We filter the Internet. But who prays for the people? Who intercedes on their behalf, these ones who turn a glorious gift into a freak show for perverted minds and hearts? Who prays for them to find someone who genuinely cares for their souls? Who prays to be someone who genuinely cares for their souls?
I finally exhaled as the shower of divine concern subsided. I cried. And I prayed. And I cried some more as I tried to get my mind around how many people in our world (out of perhaps 9 billion people) might be caught in this wicked trap. How many children sold out by desperate parents who can't feed the rest any other way? How many fatherless boys seeking affirmation? How many girls just looking for love? How many women, frightened or fighting for some shred of self, selling themselves one photo set, one film, one view at a time? How many men loving and hating, lusting and loathing, not able to be free and whole? They are more than we can count. And we consider them, all of them, the "worst of these." We recoil at even the thought of what they do, what they have become.
Who will pray for them? Who will pray for the "worst of these," that by the mercy of God someone, somewhere, full of grace and truth, will intersect their lives and offer them Christ? Offer them hope? Offer them a way out and a way home?
I will. I've decided that every time I have to take an impure thought captive to Christ, every time Satan launches a stray image into my mind, every time my eyes are assaulted by unclean things, I will pray for those caught in the spider web of pornography. I will fight back on their behalf. I will not let them die alone, forgotten, unloved. Not everyone can do this. Not everyone should do this. Even the best intentions can be exploited by the evil one. But until God says otherwise, I'm going to pray that a very specific group of people hear a life changing testimony about the grace of God in Christ Jesus every time I think of them.
There are more of them than I can count or even imagine. But God is great. He loves them. He has asked, "Who will pray for these?" He must have a plan for them. I will pray. Perhaps you will too?
Thursday, November 12, 2009
A "Well duh!" Moment
I sat down in my favorite booth at the local cafe this morning to order my favorite breakfast and read my favorite prophet. You c'aint git no grits this far north (they think grits is the stuff left over on the road after they sand all winter), so I order biscuits and gravy, two eggs over easy on top, and pass the Tabasco. It's close as I can get to home without ordering fried chicken.
Anyway, I sat down in the booth, ordered decaf and breakfast, and started reading Jeremiah. I've said it before, and I'm saying it again, Jeremiah is the bomb! God sends him out to preach and tells him, right up front, "Ain't gonna be easy, but don't you get discouraged, 'cause if you get dismayed by them, I'll dismay you before them." C'mon, you gotta love a job description that starts out, "They will fight against you but they shall not prevail against you."
So what was Jeremiah expecting? Chapter twelve records his complaint to God. "Why does the way of the wicked prosper? Why do all who are treacherous thrive?" What kind of question is that, don'tcha know? What did he think God meant? Did he think God was kidding when he said, "They will fight against you."
Maybe Jeremiah thought, "Gee, I'm a prophet of God. Surely everyone who loves God will love the messages I bring and the whole nation will treat me like a hero." They treated him like dirt. They threw him down a well and left him there. They ignored what he said. It was just like God told him. There would be occasions when he would be tempted to despair.
God answers Jeremiah's complaint in the latter half of chapter twelve. Essentially he says to Jeremiah, "If you think you have it bad, imagine how I feel! This is my house. These are my beloved. Many shepherds have destroyed my vineyard; they have made my pleasant portion a desolate place." God continues by promising to "pluck Judah" from among the nations that seek to destroy her. He promises to do them good after accounting for the bad they have done to him.
In case you were looking for a definition of grace, that's a good one.
Anyway, I'm reading through all this and smiling at the lessons God supplies faithful Jeremiah, when I get to chapter 13 verse 12. God gives Jeremiah a message to give to the people. It is a serious statement of the obvious. Jeremiah is to tell the people, "Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, 'Every jar shall be filled with wine.'" It's one doozy of a "well duh!" moment. The people respond, "Do we not know indeed know that every jar will be filled with wine?"
"Of course wine jars will be filled with wine, Jeremiah. What do you think wine jars are for? And don't you think we're smart enough to know wine jars will be filled with wine? What kind of message is this." I can just hear them, can't you. Sometimes, we get that response, don't we? We try to tell people about life, and God, and grace, and we get that response, "C'mon we already know all this. What's the big deal?"
Here's the big deal: God used a statement of the obvious as an introduction for a not so obvious announcement. Verse thirteen says, "Then you will say to them, 'Thus says the LORD: Behold, I will fill with drunkenness all the inhabitants of this land . . . and I will dash them one against another . . . I will not pity or spare or have compassion, that I should not destroy them.'"
Everybody stop and bow your head. God used the obvious to convey a less obvious message. The people were the wine jars and they were to be filled, not for storage but for destruction. Now, there's a time to make the same point about God's justice upon his people (and all people) in regard to sin, but what struck me this morning, was that, as the people responded to Jeremiah, they were stuck in earth-based, time-trapped, self-focused thinking. They did not expect Jeremiah to be providing a spiritual message and so they did not discern the spiritual message written on the face of the obvious. God was telling them more than they recognized.
Thank God Jeremiah kept talking. I've come to realize that God's warnings are occasions for grace. They are invitations to repent and find forgiveness and repair to the mercy and compassion of God before that mercy and compassion become unattainable.
Look for the message God is writing in the world around you. Look for the warning, or the grace, or the mercy that comes in a shooting, or a football game, or a sunset, or a sermon. It is likely there is more to them than the obvious, more than "well duh" can account for.
Anyway, I sat down in the booth, ordered decaf and breakfast, and started reading Jeremiah. I've said it before, and I'm saying it again, Jeremiah is the bomb! God sends him out to preach and tells him, right up front, "Ain't gonna be easy, but don't you get discouraged, 'cause if you get dismayed by them, I'll dismay you before them." C'mon, you gotta love a job description that starts out, "They will fight against you but they shall not prevail against you."
So what was Jeremiah expecting? Chapter twelve records his complaint to God. "Why does the way of the wicked prosper? Why do all who are treacherous thrive?" What kind of question is that, don'tcha know? What did he think God meant? Did he think God was kidding when he said, "They will fight against you."
Maybe Jeremiah thought, "Gee, I'm a prophet of God. Surely everyone who loves God will love the messages I bring and the whole nation will treat me like a hero." They treated him like dirt. They threw him down a well and left him there. They ignored what he said. It was just like God told him. There would be occasions when he would be tempted to despair.
God answers Jeremiah's complaint in the latter half of chapter twelve. Essentially he says to Jeremiah, "If you think you have it bad, imagine how I feel! This is my house. These are my beloved. Many shepherds have destroyed my vineyard; they have made my pleasant portion a desolate place." God continues by promising to "pluck Judah" from among the nations that seek to destroy her. He promises to do them good after accounting for the bad they have done to him.
In case you were looking for a definition of grace, that's a good one.
Anyway, I'm reading through all this and smiling at the lessons God supplies faithful Jeremiah, when I get to chapter 13 verse 12. God gives Jeremiah a message to give to the people. It is a serious statement of the obvious. Jeremiah is to tell the people, "Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, 'Every jar shall be filled with wine.'" It's one doozy of a "well duh!" moment. The people respond, "Do we not know indeed know that every jar will be filled with wine?"
"Of course wine jars will be filled with wine, Jeremiah. What do you think wine jars are for? And don't you think we're smart enough to know wine jars will be filled with wine? What kind of message is this." I can just hear them, can't you. Sometimes, we get that response, don't we? We try to tell people about life, and God, and grace, and we get that response, "C'mon we already know all this. What's the big deal?"
Here's the big deal: God used a statement of the obvious as an introduction for a not so obvious announcement. Verse thirteen says, "Then you will say to them, 'Thus says the LORD: Behold, I will fill with drunkenness all the inhabitants of this land . . . and I will dash them one against another . . . I will not pity or spare or have compassion, that I should not destroy them.'"
Everybody stop and bow your head. God used the obvious to convey a less obvious message. The people were the wine jars and they were to be filled, not for storage but for destruction. Now, there's a time to make the same point about God's justice upon his people (and all people) in regard to sin, but what struck me this morning, was that, as the people responded to Jeremiah, they were stuck in earth-based, time-trapped, self-focused thinking. They did not expect Jeremiah to be providing a spiritual message and so they did not discern the spiritual message written on the face of the obvious. God was telling them more than they recognized.
Thank God Jeremiah kept talking. I've come to realize that God's warnings are occasions for grace. They are invitations to repent and find forgiveness and repair to the mercy and compassion of God before that mercy and compassion become unattainable.
Look for the message God is writing in the world around you. Look for the warning, or the grace, or the mercy that comes in a shooting, or a football game, or a sunset, or a sermon. It is likely there is more to them than the obvious, more than "well duh" can account for.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
A Pastor's Down Time Prayer
It has been more than a month since my last post. I thought I might have more to say. Actually, I do have more to say, but so much of what I have to say I need to say to God before I say it to anyone else. I need a divine editor these days, not only of my words, but of my heart.
So much troubles me. So much seems wrong, out of sorts with God and His word. So many willing to cut theological corners, short sheet the word of God in their lives, even ignore the clear injunctions of Scripture to their lives: thoughts, words, actions, and attitudes included. I have been cursed and dismissed and complimented and affirmed all at the same time. I look at Jesus and I think, "Look out! Crucifixion ahead."
O Lord, make me like you. There are other aspirations that float through my mind and spirit, but please, make that one the priority. Tomorrow I may feel differently, but right this moment, while I'm still in my right mind, accept this plea. Make me like you.
You did not lash out. You did not scorn. You did not despair. For the joy set before you, you endured the cross. I feel the cross today, but the joy? Not so much. So make me like you. Please.
I need to be faithful. I need to be gracious, truthful, and filled with unconditional love and forgiveness because the god of this world has blinded their eyes and "they do not know what they are doing." Please, please. Make me like you.
Let me bare my back to the scourging of gossip and misunderstanding, not because those who give it are right, but because you who took it are right. let me open my heart to the heartless and rebellious, not because they deserve my love, but because I do not deserve your love. Please, make me like you.
"I once was blind." In some ways I still am, so please, Lord, don't just give me sight, but fulfill what the author to the Hebrews said when he exclaimed, "We see Jesus!" Make me like you, able to see what you see in my heart, in the hearts of others, in the Father's heart most of all.
I am full of "I" when I should be full of You, full of Spirit, full of faith. Please, Jesus, make me like you.
What's that, Lord? Before the words leave my lips you are answering? What did I think these difficulties and distresses were all about? You sent them ahead in answer to the prayer you knew I would pray when you sent them?
Oh.
Okay.
No, seriously. It's okay. I just sort of forgot as I got wrapped up in my own little--very little--world. I'm better now. You know the plans you have for me, plans of good and not of evil, to give me hope and a future. These are your unthwartable plans. Good plans. Hopeful plans. Plans that, as the future becomes today and passes into tomorrow, will make me like you.
Thank you.
I love you.
So much troubles me. So much seems wrong, out of sorts with God and His word. So many willing to cut theological corners, short sheet the word of God in their lives, even ignore the clear injunctions of Scripture to their lives: thoughts, words, actions, and attitudes included. I have been cursed and dismissed and complimented and affirmed all at the same time. I look at Jesus and I think, "Look out! Crucifixion ahead."
O Lord, make me like you. There are other aspirations that float through my mind and spirit, but please, make that one the priority. Tomorrow I may feel differently, but right this moment, while I'm still in my right mind, accept this plea. Make me like you.
You did not lash out. You did not scorn. You did not despair. For the joy set before you, you endured the cross. I feel the cross today, but the joy? Not so much. So make me like you. Please.
I need to be faithful. I need to be gracious, truthful, and filled with unconditional love and forgiveness because the god of this world has blinded their eyes and "they do not know what they are doing." Please, please. Make me like you.
Let me bare my back to the scourging of gossip and misunderstanding, not because those who give it are right, but because you who took it are right. let me open my heart to the heartless and rebellious, not because they deserve my love, but because I do not deserve your love. Please, make me like you.
"I once was blind." In some ways I still am, so please, Lord, don't just give me sight, but fulfill what the author to the Hebrews said when he exclaimed, "We see Jesus!" Make me like you, able to see what you see in my heart, in the hearts of others, in the Father's heart most of all.
I am full of "I" when I should be full of You, full of Spirit, full of faith. Please, Jesus, make me like you.
What's that, Lord? Before the words leave my lips you are answering? What did I think these difficulties and distresses were all about? You sent them ahead in answer to the prayer you knew I would pray when you sent them?
Oh.
Okay.
No, seriously. It's okay. I just sort of forgot as I got wrapped up in my own little--very little--world. I'm better now. You know the plans you have for me, plans of good and not of evil, to give me hope and a future. These are your unthwartable plans. Good plans. Hopeful plans. Plans that, as the future becomes today and passes into tomorrow, will make me like you.
Thank you.
I love you.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Four Ways to Help in Crisis
Autumn blew into Cook County on Monday with an unprecedented fury. Winds from the north, virtually unheard of in our little chunk of earth, gusted from land out over Lake Superior at upwards of sixty miles per hour. Trees uprooted or broken off by the wind took out power lines and transformers. Others toppled on buildings and cars. It's a big mess, and three days later many are without power and water.
Unexpected events like this, though not as severe as a hurricane or other natural disaster, still effect people's sense of normalcy and security and create a level of stress and trauma that can have the same debilitating effect as a low grade temperature does on a body after several days. Energy, enthusiasm, and endurance can all suffer.
Here are a few ways you can help your friends, family, and neighbors cope with the inconvenience and stress of unexpected traumatic events.
First, take a minute and gain some perspective for yourself. We often point out the needs of others as being more intense or acute than our own (or someone else's) need. Please. Don't do this. Not yet. I realize that there are people in Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama who are still trying to recover from Hurricane Katrina. I realize that their difficulty is very likely greater than mine, their inconvenience more severe than mine, but that does not diminish the emotional effect of my crisis on me. So, helper, take a moment and prepare yourself to understand my crisis in my context. Don't attempt to dismiss my sense of need because you think someone else has a greater need than I. Get some perspective. If you're going to help me, help me.
Second, let's talk about what happened. Let me tell you my story. Tell me your story. Let me tell you how it feel to be a new homeowner and suddenly lose nine trees, three of which were important in screening my house from highway noise. Let me tell you how it feels to have someone else come and cut up my trees with their chainsaw because they didn't think I was competent enough to use it without hurting myself. Let me tell you about not having the ability to shower or even use the bathroom in my own home while I wait for someone who gets to go home to a hot meal and hot shower every night to come and fix my lines. tell me about your trees, your experience, your outlook, and in the telling of these shared stories we'll identify together the things that are important, the things that are silly, and the things that will help us get both the land and the spirit back to normal.
Third, help as you can, but don't make offers or promises you can't keep. If you'd like to help but can't, say so. If you offer to help but are not able to assist me when I tell you what I need, just say so. Please don't tell me you'll see what you can do, and then do nothing. That simply adds disillusionment to my frustration. You might also want to consider offering what you actually can do. If you're allergic to pine sap and can't help me clean up broken branches, but you can bring me a drink of cold water from the store three miles away (since I'm still without power) then by all means, offer what you can, what you will. I'll understand the heart behind the offer and will be encouraged by your thoughtfulness!
Finally, be patient, especially if I lose mine. We all know the proverb, "This too shall pass." We just forget sometimes, in our instant soup world, how slowly some things pass. If I tell the same story again, be patient. Eventually the event will find its rightful place in my life and I'll move on to other stories. If I cuss the same broken tree over and over, be patient. Soon enough new sprouts will grow from the stump and I'll be complaining about more leaves to rake than ever before. If I stand for a moment, overwhelmed at the result of power beyond my control, be patient. Shortly I will realize the normalcy of that position and find my contentment again. So just be patient. It could be the biggest help of all.
Unexpected events like this, though not as severe as a hurricane or other natural disaster, still effect people's sense of normalcy and security and create a level of stress and trauma that can have the same debilitating effect as a low grade temperature does on a body after several days. Energy, enthusiasm, and endurance can all suffer.
Here are a few ways you can help your friends, family, and neighbors cope with the inconvenience and stress of unexpected traumatic events.
First, take a minute and gain some perspective for yourself. We often point out the needs of others as being more intense or acute than our own (or someone else's) need. Please. Don't do this. Not yet. I realize that there are people in Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama who are still trying to recover from Hurricane Katrina. I realize that their difficulty is very likely greater than mine, their inconvenience more severe than mine, but that does not diminish the emotional effect of my crisis on me. So, helper, take a moment and prepare yourself to understand my crisis in my context. Don't attempt to dismiss my sense of need because you think someone else has a greater need than I. Get some perspective. If you're going to help me, help me.
Second, let's talk about what happened. Let me tell you my story. Tell me your story. Let me tell you how it feel to be a new homeowner and suddenly lose nine trees, three of which were important in screening my house from highway noise. Let me tell you how it feels to have someone else come and cut up my trees with their chainsaw because they didn't think I was competent enough to use it without hurting myself. Let me tell you about not having the ability to shower or even use the bathroom in my own home while I wait for someone who gets to go home to a hot meal and hot shower every night to come and fix my lines. tell me about your trees, your experience, your outlook, and in the telling of these shared stories we'll identify together the things that are important, the things that are silly, and the things that will help us get both the land and the spirit back to normal.
Third, help as you can, but don't make offers or promises you can't keep. If you'd like to help but can't, say so. If you offer to help but are not able to assist me when I tell you what I need, just say so. Please don't tell me you'll see what you can do, and then do nothing. That simply adds disillusionment to my frustration. You might also want to consider offering what you actually can do. If you're allergic to pine sap and can't help me clean up broken branches, but you can bring me a drink of cold water from the store three miles away (since I'm still without power) then by all means, offer what you can, what you will. I'll understand the heart behind the offer and will be encouraged by your thoughtfulness!
Finally, be patient, especially if I lose mine. We all know the proverb, "This too shall pass." We just forget sometimes, in our instant soup world, how slowly some things pass. If I tell the same story again, be patient. Eventually the event will find its rightful place in my life and I'll move on to other stories. If I cuss the same broken tree over and over, be patient. Soon enough new sprouts will grow from the stump and I'll be complaining about more leaves to rake than ever before. If I stand for a moment, overwhelmed at the result of power beyond my control, be patient. Shortly I will realize the normalcy of that position and find my contentment again. So just be patient. It could be the biggest help of all.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Isaiah and Me
You have to love God's sense of irony. At least, I am coming to appreciate it more and more these days.
I'm thinking this morning of a particular prophet in the Old Testament, a man named Isaiah. Early in his career he saw God.
For real.
No lie.
Isaiah saw God. He writes, "I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and the train of his robe filled the temple." Now you have to understand, this is very, very unusual. You see, there was only man in all of Israel who might have had the opportunity to see God exalted on his throne in the temple. That would be the high priest who would enter the Most Holy Place, the "throne room" of God in the temple, once a year with a sacrifice for the sins of the people. No one else could enter this room. And even the high priest could only enter once a year and under strictly prescribed conditions.
Isaiah was not the high priest. The vision God gives Isaiah is a special invitation to an extraordinary appointment with the King of kings. While the way to God was closed to others, God opened it for Isaiah for a special purpose. God had a mission for this man.
And that's the irony. God called Isaiah into his Presence. God removed Isaiah's guilt and atoned for his sin, not requiring Isaiah to do these things for himself but graciously doing them for him. Then God poses the opportunity for Isaiah to take up as his own the Lord's purpose in the world. Isaiah writes, "I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?'"
Isaiah is ready. Isaiah is willing. Isaiah cries out, "Here am I. Send me." Can't you just imagine it? Isaiah is seeing God in a way few others ever had. He hears the voices of angels crying out "Glory!" and the voice of God calling out, "Who?" His soul has been relieved of the burden of guilt, and God himself has atoned for his sins. Can't you imagine the majesty, and glory, and freedom, and excitement, and eagerness of the moment? Can't you imagine the enthusiasm that must have swelled in Isaiah's heart to go and do whatever God asked of him? Can't you imagine how he might have thought what a wonderful life it would be to declare the perfections of this God, high and lifted up, Whose glory fills the temple? Can't you imagine how he might have projected that thousands would be overtaken by the glory of the vision God was giving him? Can't you imagine how that would have spurred his eagerness to put himself at God's disposal? Can't you just imagine?
Then God says, "Go, and say to this people: 'Keep on hearing, but do not understand; keep on seeing, but do not perceive.' Make the heart of this people dull, and their ears heavy, and blind their eyes; lest they see with their eyes and hear with their ears, and understand with their hearts, and turn and be healed" (Isaiah 6:9-10). God sent Isaiah on a mission where apparent failure equalled success. That's irony. Intentional, divine, glorious irony.
Isaiah would preach and give his life to draw people to God and to his word, and their response would be to pull farther and farther away from God until such time as God judged his people and sent them into exile. Listen, there's no hint of a megachurch in Isaiah's mission statement, just the sad realization that the hearts of his audience were becoming so jaded in sin and selfishness that to them even the good news would be bad news.
The apostle Paul, writing what was probably his last letter to Timothy before being executed by the Roman government, describes a coming day of trouble and difficulty. "In the last days there will come times of difficulty. For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, heartless, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not loving good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having the appearance of godliness, but denying it power" (2 Timothy 3:1-5). How sad that, according to this last phrase, at least some of the people whom Paul describes will call themselves and be identified as Christians. They will have a form of godliness but it will be without any real spiritual, life changing power. They will be people of religion but have no relationship with the One they suppose to worship. Empty shells. Whitewashed tombs. Pharisees of a different color.
What are an Isaiah and a Timothy supposed to do? What is a Christian who loves the Lord and loves his word to do under these conditions where what men love most is themselves and not God and not his word? What are we to do when all our preaching and teaching and loving and living seems to have the opposite effect than what we projected? What are we to do when otherwise religious people look us in the eye and declare, "I don't care what the Bible says, I want things my way?"
Do what Isaiah did. Confronted with the challenge of sharing God's word with a society and a "church" that would not listen and heed the word of God, Isaiah preached and taught and lived and loved anyway. He did not ask for a different assignment. He did not ask for a change of venue, circumstance, or outcome. Isaiah simply asked, "How long?"
There was no question of whether or not he would agree to be sent by God, having already offered to go. He affirmed his faith-filled intent and asked only that God give him a time frame, a means for understanding God's intent for the days of his life. He did not argue with God, nor express disappointment, nor rail against the people, nor call down fire on the heads of his enemies. He simply asked, "Lord, is this a temporary or permanent assignment? When will I know I've done what you asked?"
If you face a sense of futility in your life today, if attempts to share the word of God with others seem miserably ineffective, if your best efforts at living for Jesus seem only to push people away rather than draw them near to Him, then consider Isaiah. His joy, his hope, his strength was not in a pleasant outcome, but in the fact that God himself had called him, cleansed him, and sent him. It was not the men, the ministry, or the moment that mattered, but the Master.
Take strength in the undeniable fact that God has fully revealed himself in Jesus Christ, and if you have seen Jesus, you have seen the Father in his glory. Take comfort in the certain knowledge that through faith in Jesus God has taken away your guilt and in Christ atoned for your sin. Take heart in the reality of the Holy Spirit living in and through you and his power to sustain your faith. Be bold in the now, as was Isaiah of old, because the message is True, the One who sent you fills the temple with his glory, and He sets both the time and the outcome.
I'm thinking this morning of a particular prophet in the Old Testament, a man named Isaiah. Early in his career he saw God.
For real.
No lie.
Isaiah saw God. He writes, "I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and the train of his robe filled the temple." Now you have to understand, this is very, very unusual. You see, there was only man in all of Israel who might have had the opportunity to see God exalted on his throne in the temple. That would be the high priest who would enter the Most Holy Place, the "throne room" of God in the temple, once a year with a sacrifice for the sins of the people. No one else could enter this room. And even the high priest could only enter once a year and under strictly prescribed conditions.
Isaiah was not the high priest. The vision God gives Isaiah is a special invitation to an extraordinary appointment with the King of kings. While the way to God was closed to others, God opened it for Isaiah for a special purpose. God had a mission for this man.
And that's the irony. God called Isaiah into his Presence. God removed Isaiah's guilt and atoned for his sin, not requiring Isaiah to do these things for himself but graciously doing them for him. Then God poses the opportunity for Isaiah to take up as his own the Lord's purpose in the world. Isaiah writes, "I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?'"
Isaiah is ready. Isaiah is willing. Isaiah cries out, "Here am I. Send me." Can't you just imagine it? Isaiah is seeing God in a way few others ever had. He hears the voices of angels crying out "Glory!" and the voice of God calling out, "Who?" His soul has been relieved of the burden of guilt, and God himself has atoned for his sins. Can't you imagine the majesty, and glory, and freedom, and excitement, and eagerness of the moment? Can't you imagine the enthusiasm that must have swelled in Isaiah's heart to go and do whatever God asked of him? Can't you imagine how he might have thought what a wonderful life it would be to declare the perfections of this God, high and lifted up, Whose glory fills the temple? Can't you imagine how he might have projected that thousands would be overtaken by the glory of the vision God was giving him? Can't you imagine how that would have spurred his eagerness to put himself at God's disposal? Can't you just imagine?
Then God says, "Go, and say to this people: 'Keep on hearing, but do not understand; keep on seeing, but do not perceive.' Make the heart of this people dull, and their ears heavy, and blind their eyes; lest they see with their eyes and hear with their ears, and understand with their hearts, and turn and be healed" (Isaiah 6:9-10). God sent Isaiah on a mission where apparent failure equalled success. That's irony. Intentional, divine, glorious irony.
Isaiah would preach and give his life to draw people to God and to his word, and their response would be to pull farther and farther away from God until such time as God judged his people and sent them into exile. Listen, there's no hint of a megachurch in Isaiah's mission statement, just the sad realization that the hearts of his audience were becoming so jaded in sin and selfishness that to them even the good news would be bad news.
The apostle Paul, writing what was probably his last letter to Timothy before being executed by the Roman government, describes a coming day of trouble and difficulty. "In the last days there will come times of difficulty. For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, heartless, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not loving good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having the appearance of godliness, but denying it power" (2 Timothy 3:1-5). How sad that, according to this last phrase, at least some of the people whom Paul describes will call themselves and be identified as Christians. They will have a form of godliness but it will be without any real spiritual, life changing power. They will be people of religion but have no relationship with the One they suppose to worship. Empty shells. Whitewashed tombs. Pharisees of a different color.
What are an Isaiah and a Timothy supposed to do? What is a Christian who loves the Lord and loves his word to do under these conditions where what men love most is themselves and not God and not his word? What are we to do when all our preaching and teaching and loving and living seems to have the opposite effect than what we projected? What are we to do when otherwise religious people look us in the eye and declare, "I don't care what the Bible says, I want things my way?"
Do what Isaiah did. Confronted with the challenge of sharing God's word with a society and a "church" that would not listen and heed the word of God, Isaiah preached and taught and lived and loved anyway. He did not ask for a different assignment. He did not ask for a change of venue, circumstance, or outcome. Isaiah simply asked, "How long?"
There was no question of whether or not he would agree to be sent by God, having already offered to go. He affirmed his faith-filled intent and asked only that God give him a time frame, a means for understanding God's intent for the days of his life. He did not argue with God, nor express disappointment, nor rail against the people, nor call down fire on the heads of his enemies. He simply asked, "Lord, is this a temporary or permanent assignment? When will I know I've done what you asked?"
If you face a sense of futility in your life today, if attempts to share the word of God with others seem miserably ineffective, if your best efforts at living for Jesus seem only to push people away rather than draw them near to Him, then consider Isaiah. His joy, his hope, his strength was not in a pleasant outcome, but in the fact that God himself had called him, cleansed him, and sent him. It was not the men, the ministry, or the moment that mattered, but the Master.
Take strength in the undeniable fact that God has fully revealed himself in Jesus Christ, and if you have seen Jesus, you have seen the Father in his glory. Take comfort in the certain knowledge that through faith in Jesus God has taken away your guilt and in Christ atoned for your sin. Take heart in the reality of the Holy Spirit living in and through you and his power to sustain your faith. Be bold in the now, as was Isaiah of old, because the message is True, the One who sent you fills the temple with his glory, and He sets both the time and the outcome.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
