Looking to Him

Thoughts at the Beach

2011-06-27T23:07:00.003-05:00

Are you a beach person?

I have to say that I am, though I haven't come close to logging the kind of hours in the sand and surf that would qualify me as a bona fide "beach bum". Much to my regret, I rarely see the beach in person, but when I do, I find that there are few places on earth that turn my thoughts heavenward quite like this place does.

When I am here, I can't help but remember...

*God's words to Job, about when He created the sea: "Here your proud waves must stop!"

*God's mention of something called Leviathan, which makes me wonder just what all is swimming under there...

*Jonah.

*The terror felt by Jesus' apostles when their boat was threatened by a stormy sea, and what must have been a flood of thoughts and emotions at His mastery over nature.

*Jesus walking along the top of the water.

*The resurrected Jesus grilling fish on the beach, and Peter the fisherman jumping overboard and swimming ashore to see Him. (Have you ever wondered how Jesus lit the coals for his cookout? I love to imagine that He spoke them into flame, just to save the time and aggravation.)

*Paul's mention of having been shipwrecked, and spending "a night and a day in the deep". Just the mere thought of this is terrifying to me.

The picture above was taken this afternoon, from my perspective, ankle-deep in the Gulf of Mexico, at Mustang Island, Texas.

I'll be visiting this spot again over the next few days, but I won't be venturing out into the water much further than I did to take this picture. I'm painfully aware of my limitations when it comes to the ocean. While its beauty and vastness inspire me, and I do love to swim, I just know that I don't belong out there. While I want to show our two little boys God's beauty in this place, I also fear what a moment's inattention here could cause.

Yes, I'll be trusting in God this week to keep my family safe in His care at the seashore, where I'm an alien and don't know what I'm doing.

Then we'll all return home, to solid ground, with no waves in sight, where I know what to do and can handle whatever comes along.

Maybe I should come here more often.

No Mulligans

2011-06-26T15:56:00.001-05:00

Did you see the sports highlight the other day about the golfer who broke his club in frustration after a bad shot, only to find that he had cut his hand open in the process?

Pretty embarrassing for him, to say the least, and kind of ironic, that in his anger over a poor shot, he would unwittingly impair his own ability to make the shots he was hoping for.

In a way, though, he might have been fortunate. Really, when do you think he will break another golf club? I highly doubt he ever will. The memory of this self-inflicted injury will probably be enough to spare his caddy the trouble of having to replace another broken club in the future. While this wasn't the ESPN moment this golfer would have preferred, it might end up being a valuable lesson learned.

If only it were always so with outbursts of anger.

If you're like me, it's not hard to compile a list of shameful memories of moments of unbridled anger. Moments marked by regrettable words and perhaps even physical displays of wrath. Moments that embarrassed, disappointed, or even frightened others; moments that changed other people's view of you; moments that made someone wonder about the depth of your commitment to Christ.

The difference between those moments and the golf highlight is who suffers the wound caused by the outburst.

Yes, the golfer made a bad impression, set a bad example, etc, but at the end of the day, he cut himself. No one else was hurt. No one else bled because of this impulsive act.

When it comes to the outbursts of anger you and I remember, it's usually the complete opposite. Usually the person delivering the blast walks away unscathed, and leaves others cut and bleeding, trying to process and recover from what just happened. The frightened child, the tearful spouse, the beleaguered co-worker, the suddenly cautious neighbor, all bear the wounds of outbursts they didn't want or ask for, and often carry these wounds alone, without even the basic first aid that allowed the golfer to at least stop the bleeding.

And I believe every one of us, when we look back on those moments, wish we could have somehow absorbed the wounds of our words ourselves, if it meant sparing others the hurt feelings and offenses we caused them.

And if we could immediately feel the hurt our own anger can cause, as the golfer did when he broke his club, might we too be less likely to "lose it" in the future?

Maybe so, but it doesn't work that way.

It's no wonder this specific danger is called out by name in scripture, as being the opposite of the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:20), the opposite of the qualities to seek in a friend (Proverbs 22:24), and the opposite of the qualities sought in the shepherds of God's church (I Timothy 3:3).

Outbursts of anger.

You don't get a mulligan.

A Tale of Two Prodigals

2011-05-30T20:27:00.002-05:00

You remember the parable of the Prodigal Son.

After the son has left his father's home, his father anxiously awaits his return, watches for his coming, and rushes out to meet his son when he finally appears on the road back home.

The father barely even listens to his son's prepared apology, but instead restores him fully, immediately, and wholeheartedly. The father kisses his son, embraces him, and leaves no room for even a shadow of a doubt as to whether the matter is resolved.

It is done. The son is home.

In a lesser-known story, another prodigal son finds himself in a homecoming that is much less clear or comforting, in fact, highly ambiguous and open for interpretation.

King David, like the father in Jesus' parable, also kisses his prodigal son Absalom, but the kiss does not convey resolution or completion, but an ambiguity that leaves open the door for the worst disaster of David's reign.

The story begins in II Samuel 13, when King David's daughter Tamar is raped by her half-brother Amnon. This bizarre and disturbing incident ends with King David being "furious", but doing nothing, and Tamar retreating in shame to the home of her brother....Absalom.

In the absence of any reaction from the King, Absalom's heart is allowed to nurture a vengeful grudge against Amnon, and Absalom resolves to carry out his vengeance when the time is right.

2 Years Later:

After everyone else has apparently moved on and forgotten about the rape of Tamar, Absalom arranges to murder Amnon in the middle of a high-spirited feast, and makes good his plan. With Amnon dead and Tamar avenged, Absalom flees the country. King David then "mourned his son every day", but still apparently does nothing in response to what has now evolved into a series of heinous events.

3 Years Later:

King David's feelings have now moved from grief over the death of his son Amnon, to longing for his prodigal son Absalom. David still does not act, but leaves the situation as it is. Joab, the head of David's army, realizes the king's heart will not be at ease as long as Absalom is estranged, and devises a scheme using an emotional story from a widow to persuade David to allow Absalom to return to the kingdom.

But David still will not erase all doubt. While he grudgingly relents to Absalom's return, there are stipulations: "He must go to his own house; he must not see my face." So, Absalom returns to Jerusalem, three years after sinfully avenging a rape that is now five years old, but still has no place before his father.

2 Years Later:

Absalom's resentment grows over his continued status as an outsider, and he twice sends for Joab to appeal for an audience with King David. Joab twice ignores Absalom's request. The increasingly bold Absalom responds to this rebuff by burning Joab's field, forcing a response from the chief of the army. Joab finally hears Absalom out, and finally arranges a meeting between father and son.

Read out of context, this reunion after seven years of separation might sound heartfelt: "...the king summoned Absalom, and he came in and bowed down with his face to the ground before the king. And the king kissed Absalom." (14:33) But, considering the reasons for the separation, and the resentment surely felt by Absalom by this time, this scene is more likely forced and awkward, so very different from the scene described by Jesus when the prodigal in His story returns home.

So much that had needed to be said was never said, and now so many things that might help are so hard to say, perhaps impossible to say.

4 Years Later:

After Absalom's ambiguous reunion with his father, he immediately sets upon a deliberate campaign to undermine his father's authority and win the hearts of his father's people. For four years this goes on, without a word from King David. And all at once, it happens. Absalom overthrows King David, and it takes a bloody battle and Absalom's demise to restore David's throne again.

All this, in 11 years. 11 short years. 11 long years. Imagine having your life turned upside-down by a chain of events that had gone unchecked, with their origin in a wrong left unresolved, eleven years before.

It was a very different story for David and Absalom than the story Jesus told about the Prodigal Son.

Both stories feature a son gone astray, and a father facing the painful aftermath of the sins of his son. Both stories build up to a moment of return for the lost son.

But only one story's reunion is happy, fulfilling, or lasting.

These stories speak to what can happen when a person needs to be restored, and when a person needs to forgive.

The son in Jesus' story repented completely of his sin, and threw himself at his father's mercy. The father forgave immediately, restored fully, and left no room for misunderstanding, in sharp contrast to David, whose responses to Absalom were marked by delay, procrastination, and grudging, conditional compromise. While Jesus' prodigal knew where he stood, it's clear Absalom did not.

We're not told exactly what Absalom's attitude was about his sin. We tend to think poorly of him all around, but one has to wonder how the story might have been different had David intervened from the beginning. Is it possible Absalom's vengeful spirit might never have taken root? Is it possible this father might have been able to guide his son to the God whose heart he knew so well?

We'll never know.

But we do know that this relationship was never restored, and this prodigal was never brought home.

Forgiveness, restoration.

When the story is told by Jesus, the way home is clear.

God's Movers

2011-03-18T12:48:00.001-05:00

What ever became of the Kohathites?

Introduced with several verses of ink in Numbers 4, but only mentioned in passing a few times beyond that; entrusted with what initially sounds like a refined responsibility, but in reality the ancestors of those indispensable guys you never think about till you need them: movers.

Never heard of them?

The Kohathites were a division of the Levite tribe in Israel, and were therefore assigned a responsibility related to the tabernacle during the years when the Israelites wandered in the wilderness.

Their task, as presented in Numbers 4:4, was "...the care of the most holy things."

How can this job description not conjur up images of white-gloved hands polishing shiny things, stocking breads, refilling oils, lighting candles and generally keeping oneself clean and out of the heat?

If you thought those things like I did, the image is busted in the next several verses. It turns out the Kohathites didn't get to dust, shine, or refill the holy things at all. In fact, they didn't even get to see or touch them. The fancy parts of this job were reserved for Aaron and his sons, and whenever God called on His children to pick up camp and move across the wilderness, the holy things inside the tabernacle were packed up carefully by Aaron's sons, covered and concealed by the curtains from the tabernacle, the hides of sea cows, and solid blue cloths.

Once the holy things were secure and unseen, "...and when the camp is ready to move, the Kohathites are to come to do the carrying. But they must not touch the holy things or they will die. The Kohathites are to carry those things that are in the Tent of Meeting." (verse 15)

"Do the carrying" would certainly fall into the "Care of the Holy Things" chapter, but it sure isn't the first thing that comes to mind.

What must this job have been like? Over and over again, to transport the same hidden items across the wilderness, only to arrive at the next stop, turn over the precious cargo to Aaron and his sons without seeing or touching it, and go back on standby till the next move is called for.

What was it like for these servants of God, to carry a burden for Him that they themselves could never see, never touch, never fully comprehend or appreciate? They doubtless saw the rough outline of the holy things of God, shrouded by mystery they were never permitted to uncover. They knew the strength it took to carry the load a long way, but they never saw the load itself, and, so far as we know, were never given a reason why they weren't allowed to see it.

Did the Kohathites bear their burden gladly? Was there ever any resentment felt over the limits of their privilege? If not resentment, at least a longing to know more, to become fully familiar with the burden God had assigned them to carry? Might a full appreciation for the splendor of God's holy things have made the burden easier to carry? (Or, might the Kohathites have thought so, at least?)

We're just not told.

One thing we do know, however, is that the Kohathites are not the only ones God has ever tasked with carrying a burden they could not comprehend.

"Have you considered my servant Job?" -- Job 1:8

"For truly I tell you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see but did not see it, and to hear what you hear but did not hear it." -- Matthew 13:17

"It was revealed to them [the prophets] that they were not serving themselves but you, when they spoke of the things that have now been told you by those who have preached the gospel to you by the Holy Spirit sent from heaven. Even angels long to look into these things." -- I Peter 1:10-12

From Job to the Kohathites, to the prophets to the angels, the children of God can find kindred spirits in scripture during times of confusion created by burdens we bear but can't comprehend.

Illness, loss, good deeds seemingly unnoticed or even punished, attempts at godly influence spurned. Seemingly aimless periods in which God's direction is sought after, but just doesn't seem clear.

Why doesn't God always supply the full context for these burdens at the time we're carrying them?

Why doesn't he always satisfy our desire to know more, to comprehend fully in this life?

There are deeper waters to dive in search of scholarly answers to those questions, but a sense of His mystery can be found in the story of Jesus' healing of the man blind from birth. (John 9) Jesus makes clear that the man's affliction, his burden in life, was not caused by anyone's sin, but was rather an opportunity for "...the works of God to be displayed in him." (verse 3).

Ultimately, the burdens we bear without full comprehension can only be accepted on faith as God's opportunities to display His work in our lives.

And, ultimately, our ways are not His ways, and our thoughts are not His thoughts. (Isaiah 55:8)

Lord, please sustain us when we don't see what You see, when we can't comprehend what You ask us to carry, when it seems so clear to us that we just need You to tell us Your plan.

Help us to trust you more, Father, and to rest assured that You will never forsake us, even when the burden seems heavy, and the purpose seems unclear.

Without Fear of Persecution

2010-12-18T18:21:00.010-06:00

If you've attended worship services in the United States all your life like I have, you've probably heard this, too:

"Thank you, God, that we are able to gather together freely and worship You without fear of persecution."

I'll be honest: It's a sentiment I certainly agree with, but don't often think much about. Freedom of worship is all I've ever known. It's all my parents and grandparents have ever known as well. In fact, I can't say that I've ever met, in all my life, anyone who has ever experienced anything else, or who even knows anyone who has experienced anything else.

That's just how far removed from persecution I am.

So, the prayer quoted above takes on a whole new meaning in the light of this news story.

Imagine it. Gathering together to worship, only to be interrupted by a mob of hateful opponents, bent on not only stopping the worship, but dispersing the worshippers, by whatever means necessary.

Call the police? The government is on the side of the hostile crowd, and the facility you used for worship right up to that moment is now sealed off from your use.

Fight the crowd? Not exactly in line with Jesus' command to turn the other cheek, nor with His reaction to Peter's sword strike on Malchus. To respond in kind would be to forfeit every shred of credibility as followers of Christ, and accomplish the mob's very goal.

Demand of God how He could possibly let this happen to His children? While crying out to Him about such a trauma would be the only normal reaction, the realization would quickly set in that Jesus never promised His followers the respect or support of their neighbors, colleagues, or countrymen, or even their families.

In fact, it's quite the opposite.

"If the world hates you, you know that it hated me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love its own. Yet because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you." -- John 15:18-19

"...all who desire to live godly in Jesus Christ will suffer persecution." -- II Timothy 3:12

As hard as it can be to accept, there are some things God simply does not promise His children, and the average American Christian's absence of fear of persecution is probably more of an anomaly than a norm.

While it is right to make the most of our freedom to serve God and share the Gospel, our freedom must not be allowed to create within us a feeling of entitlement to the approval of those around us.

And while we should pray for the preservation of our freedom, we should be prepared to follow Jesus even if we are not always afforded a comfortable set of circumstances in which to do it.

A story like the one above might cause you and me to reflect on just what, if anything, following Jesus has really cost us in this life. And what we would be willing to have it cost us if our circustances were different.

Have we prepared our minds for the possibility of following Jesus in a hostile environment? Are we assuming our current favorable situation will endure right up to the moment Jesus comes again? Are we assuming nothing here will ever be different? Are our children developing a faith that assumes it will always exist in a supportive environment?

Lord, please preserve our freedom to serve You, please help Christians who suffer persecution for serving You, and please prepare us for more difficult times, if they are to come.

A Brilliant Idea, Not to Be...

2010-11-24T23:47:00.012-06:00

You've probably been there before.

Road tripping through the middle of nowhere, deciding it's time to make a pit stop, pulling into a gas station or convenience store, finding the restroom, and stepping into a biohazard unfit for a sewer rat.

Add to this scene the challenge of helping a small child use the facilities without touching anything, and you've just created the perfect storm.

Carelessly used, sparsely supplied, and seemingly seldom cleaned public restrooms are just a part of the reality of traveling by car across great distances.

Having experienced this many times, I've occasionally reflected on why this is. The answer, of course, is simple. If a restroom is in bad condition, it probably isn't cleaned very often. So, I got to thinking one time, somewhere on the highway while my family slept, about a sure-fire way to provide travelers with clean restrooms without having to rely on an infinite variety of employees to take the time to keep them clean.

It all came together in my mind.

It would be perfect.

Public restrooms would clean themselves. They would be made entirely of stainless steel, every surface. The walls would be fitted with high-powered jets that would spray a potent soapy-water mix all over the room and everything in it, at two or three regular intervals each day. What about the toilet paper? Not to worry. The container holding it would be rigged up to seal itself tight just before the super-jets kicked in, and open up again only after the cleanse was finished and all was dry.

And I, along with millions of conscientious travelers like me, would be able to walk into any public restroom without worry, and without a haz-mat suit.

Pure genius.

Well, it didn't take more than a few miles of highway to come to grips with the fact that this scenario was never going to happen. It would be far too expensive to ever become a reality, not to mention the surefire lawsuit from the first person to get trapped inside the restroom during the jet-powered, scalding-hot cleanse.

So, I was back at square one: Bathrooms get dirty, and they don't get clean again until someone takes brush in hand and does the cleaning. There is no mechanism to make it automatic, no technology to make it less personal, no way to eliminate the risk of getting dirty in the process.

So it is with most other necessary tasks in our lives. They don't get done unless we do them. The lifestyle of the Jetsons hasn't become a reality, even though we all thought it surely would, back when we were looking "way ahead" to the year 2000. Ten years after that milestone, we still scrub toilets in the same old way, (give or take some fancier cleaning tools), and if we neglect the job, we live with the same unpleasantness that has always occurred when this chore doesn't get done.

Everybody wants clean restrooms. Everybody wants a clean home. Everybody wants a nice neighborhood, a good school, a thriving church, a loving family.

Every Christian wants the gospel proclaimed and the lost saved by its power.

These are all good and noble desires, and no one should hope for anything less. But how tempting is it to passively allow ourselves to assume that these goals, far more important than household chores, will be fulfilled any other way than with our personal involvement?

Jesus is not dependent upon our efforts to accomplish His will, but stop for a moment to consider some of His commands and how personal they are:

"Love one another."

"Feed my lambs."

"Make disciples..."

"Teach them..."

"...wash one another's feet."

No matter the time or culture in which these words are read, the commands of Christ are personal. For those who choose to obey Him, there is no other way to do His will than to simply do it. No one else obeys on a disciple's behalf. There is no machine to do the obeying for us. Even in the world of the web, technology cannot obey the personal commands of Jesus for us.

And as with the joy of a task well done, the peace to be found in obedience to Jesus can be truly experienced only by those who themselves personally obey Him, never by anyone who waits for a solution that would allow him to remain passive.

And the consequences of neglecting to do His will are felt by many.

But of course, a life with Christ is not a chore like cleaning the house. It is a love deeper than a marriage and more assured than parenthood. It is a personal walk that will only grow more precious with time.

Who could think a relationship this real could be experienced passively, without personal commitment?

Need Directions?

2010-06-26T15:48:00.026-05:00

Looking back on it now, it's pretty sad that I actually felt this way at such a young age.

But I distinctly remember, somewhere around the age of 8 or 10, becoming seriously anxious that, when the time came for me to learn how to drive and get myself around town, I would become hopelessly lost and not be able to find my way to wherever I was needing to go.

In a way, it wasn't a totally unreasonable fear. Riding along with my parents every day as they navigated a seemingly never-ending labyrinth of L.A. freeways, exits, and twists and turns, it could easily overwhelm a kid to think about taking the helm on his own someday.

I can even remember bringing along some paper and a pencil one time, so I could copy down the route from our house to wherever our destination was. Not surprisingly, I was unable to keep up, gave up the effort after a few turns, and remained alone with my fear.

Never did I mention this nagging worry to my parents, so I forfeited the chance to nip this fear in the bud with their reassurance. It never crossed my mind that they, too, were once children riding along with their parents, not knowing one street from another or how to get anywhere.

But one random day, mercifully, the answer came, and my worries were relieved.

I had never noticed this before, but it all made sense the moment I did. I can't explain the relief and jubilation I felt when I finally saw it!

From my usual perch in the backseat, I could clearly see it: As we approached an intersection, just before my mom slowed down and turned the steering wheel, a little green arrow on the dashboard blinked on and off several times, and kept blinking until we had successfully made the turn!

There it was! Left this time, right next time, we're almost home!

The green arrow was even accompanied by a clicking sound, just to be sure you didn't miss it.

Oh, man! I had it figured out! Why had I been so worried for so long? It was all going to be OK!

The car would tell me which way to go, and when I needed to turn. Whew!

Well, I'm not sure which ending to this story is funnier: the bursting of my bubble when my parents later explained to me that the green arrow on the dashboard actually did not intuitively know your destination and blink on its own, or the fact that now, almost 30 years later, my cell phone does for me exactly what I thought my parents' dashboard did for them all those years ago. (In fact, many vehicles now actually do have this technology mounted into the dashboard!)

You've probably done it, too:

Just open up whatever app you use for maps and driving directions, tell the device where you want to go, and just turn when the voice says to turn. Amazing!

As I write this, I am sitting in a hotel room in Roswell, NM. I have only been here once before, several years back, and have no personal familiarity with the city. But, thanks to my Droid, Google maps, and a robotic, female voice I've named "Betty", I have driven around town with the confidence of a local during this visit.

Kind of funny to sit here while my boys sleep and think that they will have no recollections of a world without Betty. Their experience with navigation will take place entirely after the infusion of GPS technology into the life of the average American. They may end up laughing years down the road at how primitive Betty was, and how excited I was just to have her in my life.

Will they ever purchase the annual Wal-Mart/Rand McNally Road Atlas?

Will it even be printed anymore?

Will the whole stereotype about men not being willing to ask for directions even be relevant in another generation?

It will be interesting to see how those questions pan out. But as long as Betty proves faithful in her guidance, I am sold on following her lead in unfamiliar territory, despite her difficulty with Spanish pronunciation. (It's "Chavez", Betty, not "Chaives"...)

I guess when it comes right down to it, everyone is looking for a guide to the unfamiliar.

Wouldn't it be nice to have GPS-quality instructions for the decisions and dilemmas that vex us throughout life? Compound those head-scratchers with the inevitable questions that will come from your children, and you will definitely be looking for some help.

(A shoulder-tap from reality: Our 5 year-old understands that he began his existence "in mommy's tummy", and just upped the ante tonight by asking how he got there in the first place...)

Betty can't help us there.

While my boys will someday enjoy technology even more impressive than what I am used to, there are some things, the most important things, that will require them to respect and rely upon navigation that remains changeless with time.

They must learn to excel in the ever-changing world around them, making use of its constantly evolving tools and systems, yet remain grounded in the Truth that never needs updating.

As much as Kristi and I relish the chance to be the source of answers for our boys now and for as long as they will come to us with their questions, we know the time will come when they will either have to, or will choose to, work things out on their own.

Here's the scariest part: When someone is desperate for direction, as I was when I pondered the challenge of learning to drive and navigate on my own, almost anything that provides even a glimmer of hope will be awfully appealing.

It's worth a laugh now to think back on my hopes foolishly invested in the green, blinking arrows on the dashboard. But what in this world, equally non-sensical, will seem to my children to be the source of just the answers they are looking for, if their hearts are not trained to look to the Father for guidance?

I shudder to imagine.

Changing of the Spade

2010-06-12T23:02:00.001-05:00

My old shovel finally gave up the ghost last weekend.

I plunged the spade into the fresh soil of our garden, drove it in deep with my foot, pulled back on the handle, and heard a low-pitched crack. Sure enough, the handle had broken completely loose at the base, and my dig was stalled.

Honestly, this wasn't a complete surprise.

I acquired this shovel nearly a decade ago. At the time, my parents and I lived in the same town, but when they moved away, I took care of their yard for awhile, and some of their tools ended up migrating to my house. Ever since then, at the three different residences I've called home in that span of time, this shovel has stood in my backyard, leaning against the fence, standing guard against I'm not sure what, totally exposed to the elements season after season.

It is precisely this exposure that weakened the shovel to the point of cracking. It certainly wasn't weakened by extended use. Honestly, I didn't use it much at all. But time and weather took its toll.

So, I made an uneventful trip to Lowe's to purchase a new shovel, but while there, also picked up a hook for the wall of my garage, to give my new shovel a place to stay, safe from the elements that had shortened the life of its predecessor.

Funny how different things are when you're spending your own money on something, isn't it?

It wasn't that I didn't appreciate the previous shovel. I was glad to have it, used it for its intended purpose when it suited me, but took no great care to ensure its longevity or protect it from the wear and tear of time and trial.

That's so often the difference between the one who has paid the price for something and the one who hasn't.

How ironic that some of the relationships we claim to value the most are so often left standing against a backyard fence, exposed to needless wear and tear, yet assumed to be ready for the demand and strain of the dig when called upon.

How do we treat our relationships?

Like treasures for which we've committed our time, our resources, and ourselves? Or like hand-me-down tools to use but not preserve?

Ultimately, how do we treat our relationship with God?

"Such a Worm as I"

2010-05-23T01:53:00.004-05:00

Have you ever come across these words before?

They're among the lyrics to Isaac Watts' 1707 hymn, "At the Cross".

Alas! And did my Savior bleed?
And did my Sovereign die?
Would He devote that sacred Head
For such a worm as I?

I've sung this hymn many a time, and am quite fond of it, though I have to admit that on occasion, the "worm" part has brought a smile to my lips. No disrespect intended, but you can tell this was written in an entirely different era, one in which people's view of themselves before God was probably much humbler than it is today; apparently, folks didn't take offense at being compared to worms in this hymn, which has now been sung by believers for over 300 years.

300 years is quite a stint for any piece of music, so this hymn's survival is more than noteworthy. But this longevity has not come without, shall we say, "modification".

The hymnal in our pews where I worship does include this song, but the "worm" lyric has been updated to read: "...for such a one as I..."

Thank goodness.

No more being compared to worms! I mean, really, who needs that? Rather insulting, don't you think? At the very least, pretty outdated.

Or, is it?

This hymn recently resurfaced in my mind after a heavy rain here in central Texas.

As often happens during a storm, several earthworms were driven out of the grass and out onto our concrete driveway, where they could be seen squirming and wriggling around, not exactly sure of what to do or where to go.

Needless to say, these earthworms face many dangers out on the driveway. They make easy prey for birds, they can be smashed under our tires, or they can simply shrivel up and die from lack of moisture once the sun comes back out and dries up all the rain.

It's a common sight to see the dried-up remains of venturesome earthworms who weren't fortunate enough to make it back to the grass after the rain.

On one of these occasions, I was moved with compassion for one of these squirmy creatures, and decided to intervene rather than let nature take its course.

Feeling rather magnanimous, I got down close to the ground and reached out toward the worm, gently attempting to pick it up between my thumb and index finger.

Boy, was I caught off guard by the reaction to my attempted rescue! I didn't even know worms could move like that!

That thing snapped into action the very second my skin touched his. This slow, poky worm suddenly began thrashing around, snapping back and forth, jumping off the ground, and just generally saying "No!" to my best efforts at salvation. It actually startled me, and if it had been a snake, I'm sure I would have been bitten. The worm's reaction was instant and adamant: He was not to be touched. He apparently had it all under control.

I had to laugh, but was also somewhat taken aback.

Here I was, the only being in this worm's little world with the power to save him, let alone the concern and compassion to even try, and he wasn't even willing to let me do it.

He would unwittingly choose death on his own terms rather than yield control of his situation to the power of the one who could save him from himself.

What was he thinking? What was Watts thinking?

Don't ever compare me to a creature like that.

Redemption

2010-03-16T15:02:00.016-05:00

I've mentioned before that I'm a lifelong Lakers fan.

The "3-Peat" years of 2000-2002 are an especially sweet memory for me, though the feat was not easy for the team to achieve, nor for the fans to live through.

Honestly, it almost didn't happen (see Game 7, 2000 Western Conference Finals vs Portland), and once begun, was nearly cut short at two titles, not three, by the Sacramento Kings in the 2002 Western Conference Finals.

That series against Sacramento was nearly the death of every Laker fan everywhere. What was supposed to be a turnstyle into a third straight NBA Finals appearance turned into a 7-game, alleyway knife-fight that the Lakers weren't expecting and were fortunate to survive.

As excruciating as that series was to watch, there was a pivotal moment, right in the middle of it, that I missed, on purpose, in a fit of disgust with the play of my team.

The Lakers entered a must-win Game 4 as lethargic and out of sync as I had ever seen them, which was more than I could take, given the life-or-death stakes of that particular game.

With the Lakers trailing Sacramento by more than 20 points before halftime, I turned off the game and put it out of my mind, resolving to make peace with my team's demise.

That is, until the next morning.

I arrived early at work that day, and had time to peruse the news online before my workday began. In a somber mood, I opened the ESPN web site to read the Lakers' obituary.

Much to my shock, my eye caught sight of what seemed like an awful lot of yellow on the screen, and the headline took my breath away. The made-up word "Horrywood" led the story of a Hollywood ending in Game 4 of the series, capped off by a game-winning 3-point shot by Laker star Robert Horry.

I read on, dumbfounded, to learn that after I had given up on the game and quit watching, the Lakers had begun an historic rally, slowly chipping away at the Kings' massive lead, pulling to within two points in the final seconds of the game, setting the stage for Horry's heroics.

Seeing the replay now, almost 8 years later, I still can't believe I missed it when it happened live.

Redemption is a mysterious thing.

You never can tell who will be the one to overcome past failure and set things right.

*The long-troubled student who finally gains perspective and maturity.

*The uncommitted athlete who at long last grasps the dedication it takes to win.

*The chronic debtor who eventually gets right-side-up and stays there.

*The husband who finally lays down his pride and accompanies his wife to worship.

*The "friend" who could never keep a secret, but comes out of nowhere to have your back in a time of trial.

*The wounded soul who once turned bitter, but later learns to comfort others.

Yes, for every example like this, there are other people from whom we've come to expect little, who never change that expectation. For every great comeback in Laker history, there have been many other games in which they played poorly, fell behind, and stayed behind.

But even so, how do I feel now about missing the comeback I missed?

And, especially, about the reason I missed it?

How many times have we given up on people we loved more, with more on the line, and with more reason for hope, than I had over the outcome of a basketball game?

Consider the story of John Mark.

Acts 15 tells the story of Mark's departure from Paul and Barnabus at Pamphylia, in the middle of a missionary journey. Luke records Paul's interpretation of Mark's actions as nothing less than desertion and a failure to finish the job (15:38).

We're not given any of the circumstances of Mark's decision to leave Paul and Barnabus at that point in their effort. Perhaps if we knew why he left when he did, we might feel differently, but there is no question that Paul considered the decision inexcusable, so much so that later on, when Barnabas proposed having Mark re-join the team, Paul was so opposed to the idea that he parted ways with Barnabas over it. (15:39) Mark had blown Paul's trust, and was not a worthy risk in Paul's eyes the second time around.

That's all we read about that phase in the Paul-Mark relationship, but it's not the end of the story.

At the end of Paul's second letter to Timothy, written from prison, Paul asks several favors of Timothy, instructing him to bring a cloak and some scrolls, but also, out of nowhere, he asks that Mark be brought to him, as "he is helpful to me in my ministry" (II Timothy 4:11).

Just as we weren't given details of Mark's previous departure from Paul, we're given no details of Paul's reversal of opinion about Mark. We don't know what happened in the time between these two events, but somewhere, sometime, something happened, or several things happened, that changed Paul's mind completely about Mark.

We don't know whether the resurgence of Mark's stock caused Paul to regret his previous stance, or whether Paul still felt his earlier tough call was justified, and possibly served as the needed prompt to spur Mark to make this comeback.

One thing we can safely assume: Paul was glad he was around to see the comeback take place.

Is there anyone you've deemed unworthy of your confidence? Anyone you've written off and given up on, not even wanting to see how the story plays out?

Not even praying for them anymore?

Who might we encounter in heaven that we once wrote off in this life?

Better off having never known?

2010-02-28T00:20:00.021-06:00

I still remember that Saturday night in February of 1990.

Everyone else in our family had made their way to bed, but my Dad and I were still up in the living room, watching the TV news. (ESPN had not yet entered our lifestyle, but we made do. Oh, we made do.) I don't remember now, but I'm guessing we were planning to see the sports report before signing off for the night.

As a teaser before the commercial break, the local sportscaster caused the two of us veteran sports fans to audibly gasp in unison with these words:

"Big night in Tokyo...Mike Tyson has been knocked out..."

It was one of those moments when you really doubt you heard what you just heard. Twenty years later, it's hard not to think of a life-turned-trainwreck when you hear the name "Mike Tyson", but if you're old enough to put yourself back in the pre-facial-tattoo years between 1985 - 1990, you know just how unbelievable this was.

Literally, a matter of months before this night, a student in my speech class at school had given a presentation on the history of boxing, which concluded with these words: "Mike Tyson will be the heavyweight champ until he either dies or retires from boxing."

There was just no way this ever should have happened.

On my office wall hang my two diplomas, the one for my undergrad degree bearing a gold sticker with the words "Cum Laude". Something to be proud of? For sure. But, you don't know the whole story.

Every time I see that sticker, something inside of me cringes.

Rolling into the spring of 1995, I had maintained a sufficient GPA in college to earn the "Magna Cum Laude" distinction on my diploma. I was nearing the end of my undergraduate experience, and was eager to launch my career. Honestly, I was sick of my classes. Tired of pretending to be a school teacher; ready to do it for real.

That semester included a double-block class involving observation hours and several hands-on projects to be completed in order to demonstrate that I could do the kind of work a teacher does.

To put it mildly, I blew off the course. Turned in every single project late, and not "late" in terms of minutes, or even hours. I'm talking more like days or weeks. I deserved to fail the course, but a "C" appeared on my report card, a generous gift from the instructor. (Thank you, Mrs. Hatch!)

While a "C" might not have had a major impact on my status, in a double-block course, the grade counts twice, so my last report card was dotted with two "C"s, pulling my overall GPA down from "Magna Cum Laude" to "Cum Laude", a fact that stung badly on graduation night, and a fact I'm reminded of every time I see that diploma.

It just shouldn't have happened.

Less than a year after his historic upset of Tyson, barely-minted heavyweight champ Buster Douglas showed up overweight and out of shape to defend his new title against the formidable Evander Holyfield, who had himself been preparing to take on Tyson, before Douglas changed the world.

The Douglas-Holyfield bout was a short and shameful joke, and everyone was left grasping for some purpose or point in what Douglas had pulled off eight months before.

In a recent interview marking the 20th anniversary of his upset of Tyson, Douglas commented that he had been prepared to take the title from Tyson, but was not prepared to keep it, adding that "it p****s me off sometimes to think about it..."

Really? Just sometimes?

Y'know, in a small way, I relate every time I see that gold sticker.

While it's easy to shake your head at such a glib summation of such a colossal disappointment, Douglas has identified something common to everyone who has gained something of value only to foolishly squander it.

In my case, it's a bitter, nagging aftertaste that never completely goes away, even as I think about it less and less often as time goes by.

In Douglas's case, it's the entire public perception of who he is. To most, he's the guy who earned the world's respect by winning a rare and coveted title against all odds, only to immediately set about dumping it all by the side of the road, a road that can't be retraced, and a prize that can never be recovered.

II Peter 2:20-21

For if, after they have escaped the pollutions of the world through the knowledge of the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, they are again entangled in them and overcome, the latter end is worse for them than the beginning. For it would have been better for them not to have known the way of righteousness, than having known it, to turn from the holy commandment delivered to them. But it has happened to them according to the true proverb: "A dog returns to his own vomit," and, "a sow, having washed, to her wallowing in the mire".

I've always wondered just what Peter meant by saying that a Christian who walks away from Christ would have been better off never having known Him. That essentially, a babe in Christ could end up being "better off if he hadn't ever been born". Worse off than a lost soul who never obeyed the gospel in the first place.

It's hard to say exactly what that could mean in eternity. Hotter flames? Darker darkness? A more remote separation from God? Harder weeping and gnashing of teeth? And for those who don't believe in a conscious eternal torment, it's even harder to speculate as to what could be worse for one lost soul as compared to another.

I guess we'll never really know. No one who experiences those things will be able to tell us about it.

But there is something to this.

Jesus Himself warned those intrigued by Him to consider what following Him would cost, His clear implication being that you shouldn't do it if you aren't ready for what that decision will mean for you later. Jesus' description of the disgrace of a partially-completed building (and the public judgment and mockery that go along with it) is not diplomatic.

Hard to say that Buster Douglas doesn't know a little bit about that.

While we'll never know if eternal loss is any worse for one soul over another, one thing is certain:

Salvation is more precious than any achievement, and to lose it after having lived in it would be a unique form of torment all its own, dwarfing Douglas's disappointment, as well as mine.

Matthew 25:41

"Then He will say to those on His left, 'Depart from Me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and His angels.'"

It's hard to read. It's hard to imagine. I hope I don't have to see it happen. And I would never wish upon anyone to be in that crowd hearing those words.

But as painful as those words will be to all who hear them, you'll never convince me that they won't sting worse for those who spent some time in the other flock. Those who had known Jesus' love, given Him their souls, and had lived in His care for any amount of time.

Those for whom it just shouldn't have happened.

"Hello, Mike!"

2010-02-21T16:02:00.025-06:00

Have you ever had one of those moments that you only wish you had known would come back to haunt you?

I'll never forget the time an elderly man walked up to the circulation counter at my university library, where I was employed as an undergrad student worker. The man had to have been well into his 80s, but he got around on his own, seemed seriously engaged in research of some kind, and approached me with a friendly manner.

I checked out his books without complication, wished him well, and then listened only half as well as I later wished I had.

The kindly old man looked at me with a smile and proceeded away from the counter to make his exit from the library.

As he stepped away, he said or asked something that I didn't quite make out.

And that is the moment I wish I had back.

For whatever reason, I'll never know why, I didn't ask the man to repeat himself. Having no idea what he had just said to me, I simply smiled and answered, "Yeah!"

(I know, I should have demonstrated more respect and offered, "Yes, sir" but that is another point altogether.)

Receiving my affirmative response with a nod and a smile, the man walked away, and I went on with my work, only to realize about five seconds later, to my horror, what the man had actually said.

I don't know why this happened, but it was as if my brain received his message via satellite, with a five-second delay.

Whatever the reason, his words at last rang clear in my mind.

The man had actually asked me, "Is your name Mike?"

And I had, without the slightest hesitation, answered, "Yeah!"

So, it all came rushing together in my mind, and I spent the next few seconds contemplating my options:

1.Chase after the man, who had barely reached the exit, explain my error and give him my real name.

2.Let it slide, on the chance that I would never see this man again anyway, and that if I ever did, his advanced age would almost certainly cause him to ask my name again, at which point I could correct my error without him knowing the difference.

Well, I went with choice # 2, and here's how it played out:

The elderly man did indeed reappear at my circulation counter, again and again and again over the next year or so, each and every single time greeting me with a warm and hearty, "Hello, Mike!"

The one possibility that I had completely discounted actually proved true: that this elderly man's mind was a steel trap, a sharp-toothed bear trap, and caught within its clutches were my face and the name "Mike", never to be separated from each other again.

Over the remaining time I saw this man, which amounted to at least a year, if not more, I accommodated this ridiculous error by either avoiding him altogether or making sure I was alone when he approached, so none of my co-workers would witness my charade of responding to the wrong name.

I was "Mike" to this man, with all the nonsense that entailed, all because I wouldn't break down and tell him the truth.

I had another identity for awhile there, one I didn't want my friends to know about, and one I didn't talk about, for the sheer embarrassment of how fake I was acting and how easily I could have avoided such a foolish dilemma.

Does everyone who knows you know the same person?

Do they all call you by the same name?

By whose name do you want to be known?

Around the next bend...

2010-02-07T15:18:00.002-06:00

This morning during worship service, I caught myself thinking it:

I am so ready to be past the stage of occupying small children in church, bringing the things you bring and doing the things you do just to get the family through the service without being disruptive.

Don't get me wrong: We're glad we're doing this, and we made a deliberate choice not to make use of the attended nursery during the service. No dispute with anyone who does, but we decided we wanted our boys to get used to remaining in the assembly without being taken out.

So we chose this, and we knew reasonably well what we were getting into. And it has been a good thing for our family. We can't even remember the last time either one of our boys had to be taken out of the assembly, and they have no expectation of doing anything other than sticking it out.

But, as you can imagine, none of this means what we have chosen is easy.

It takes planning, teamwork, and coloring books to pull this off, and I'll admit it can be tiresome.

For whatever reason, it was especially tiresome this morning, and I let myself think it:

Man, am I ready to be past all this!

Now that a few hours have passed, I'm really hoping no one "up there" heard or took to heart what I thought. Actually, someone probably did, and supplied the thoughts that occupied my mind for the latter part of this morning's service.

It occurred to me that, while this phase of our children's upbringing is indeed challenging, it is only the very beginning, and will end up proving to be anything but the most difficult part.

Very soon, we won't have to worry about bringing coloring books to occupy the boys during the service. We won't have to worry about taking them to the restroom, keeping them quiet, and making sure they stay put.

While those changes will surely be nice, consider the cares that will then occupy our minds:

*What is the state of our boys' spiritual development?

*Do our sons love the Lord? Do they believe the gospel? On their own? Apart from us?

*Are we demonstrating spiritual discipline in our everyday lives?

*Do our boys know the Word of God? Do they pray on their own?

*If we died today, would our boys be left with a faith that could stand on its own?

*If our boys had the choice, as they will in a few short years, would they be here in worship?

*Whose voices threaten to drown ours out of our children's ears?

These are questions with a direct impact on eternity, and the time will come very soon when these questions will take center stage.

Of course, what we're doing now will in many ways lay the foundation for these more consequential things, but...

Maybe the coloring book bag isn't so bad for awhile longer.

It's so easy to think things will be easier around the next bend. That somehow parenting gets easier when you're not changing diapers anymore.

Two foolish thoughts:

First, to want to hurry into a spiritual war-zone with our children's souls in the balance.

Second, to think we're not already there.

Saints & Saints Fans

2009-11-09T01:45:00.018-06:00

Who could have guessed it?

The New Orleans Saints are 8 - 0, one of only two undefeated teams remaining in the NFL halfway through the season.

Honestly, it's not a huge deal to me, other than the novelty of a historically woeful team having an outstanding season, coupled with curiosity about the Saints' chances of carrying this momentum deep into the playoffs.

We'll see how it plays out in the coming weeks.

Flashback to 1989:

I was a sophomore in high school in Oregon, when my dad had to travel to New Orleans for business. This was an exciting trip, as no one in my family had ever been to that part of the country before. My dad asked us boys what we might like him to bring us back from The Big Easy, and it occurred to me that a Saints T-Shirt might be a cool item to have, despite the absence of any allegiance on my part to that team. So, that's what I asked for, and Dad came through with a cool Saints shirt that I wore for no real reason for a few years thereafter.

Fast-Forward to 2009:

Just imagine it: Had I only begun rooting for the Saints way back then, and had I followed their fortunes faithfully for the next twenty years, I would be riding high right now. I would be an original. A die-hard loyal, undeterred by years of futility, enjoying the fruit of years of faithful devotion.

But I didn't do that.

So, if I were to try to claim the Saints now, I would be a fairweather fan, a front-runner, a Johnny-Come-Lately, the total opposite of an original, and not likely to be fully embraced in the ranks of the New Orleans faithful.

I can imagine the sideways glances of the originals, viewing my brand new Reggie Bush jersey with suspicion, especially in the light of my near-total ignorance of Saints history & tradition, my absence of emotional investment in previous wins and losses, and the fact that Archie Manning is just Peyton and Eli's dad to me.

And, I don't think many of us would blame original Saints fans for being hesitant to welcome aboard every Johnny-Come-Lately who will just as likely become a "fan" of some other team later on when it's popular to do so.

How interesting, in the light of our feelings about the late comer, that Jesus would make a point of telling a story that overturns our instincts on this subject.

The workers hired on at the eleventh hour in Jesus' parable in Matthew 20:1-16 were just the kind of late arrivals we so often tend to categorize as lesser members of the group, lacking the full legitimacy of those who have "borne the burden and the heat of the day".

But Jesus, even at the expense of displeasing the "originals", makes the late comer their equal in every way. Worthy of the same reward. Free of any stigma or additional obligation. Not subject to any probationary period. Defended by the Master against any aspersions cast by brothers or sisters.

Do saints truly understand and accept Jesus' stance on the soul who arrives at the eleventh hour?

Even if we understand that Jesus accepts this new saint, do we comprehend what his stance means for us?

Do we get the fact that it is up to us to demonstrate that acceptance? That it's not enough to believe in the abstract that the late arrival is equal to the "original"?

If an eleventh-hour saint is made to feel like a Johnny-Come-Lately, then the body is not following the direction of the head, and the newcomer will not be likely to remain.

Picture yourself in the line receiving wages in Jesus' parable.

To be Christ-like in that scenario would mean celebrating the fact that the eleventh-hour hire received the same pay as you did, after you worked all day and the newcomer worked an hour. Not just celebrating it after the fact, but anticipating it beforehand, welcoming the new worker at the eleventh hour, knowing full well that his reward would equal yours, being glad about it, and expecting nothing different.

Are we there yet?

2 Moments, Frozen in Time

2009-11-08T22:20:00.000-06:00

Kristi and the boys and I recently enjoyed dinner on the Riverwalk in San Antonio.

As you can imagine, getting a 5 year-old and a 2 year-old to dinner and back in this setting is kind of an adventure. We parked on Travis Street, took a flight of stairs down to the Riverwalk, and followed the water for what seemed like a pretty good distance.

The boys were well-behaved, but it's still a little nerve-wracking making sure no one gets too close to the water or gets lost in the crowd. On the way back to our car after dinner, we were the classic picture of a family with small children: Daddy holding the hand of the 2 year-old who's had a noticeable accident, Mommy holding the hand of the 5 year-old who would just as soon follow the ducks off the path, both boys clutching their flashing, souvenir cups from the restaurant. Throw in a backpack of "kid stuff" and the picture is complete.

As our rag-tag caravan made its way through a quiet area of the Riverwalk, we came across an unexpected scene: A bride with her father and bridesmaids, gathered together by the water, waiting out the last few moments before her big moment, ready to take a stairway up to an open area where wedding music was playing.

In order to proceed, we had to squeeze right by this group, within inches of them, apologizing and trying not to impose in any way.

It was a chance encounter, but an interesting pair of snapshots to look at side-by-side. This new bride provided us with a visual reminder of where we were seven years ago next month, and, if by any chance she noticed and thought about it, we might have given her a picture of what could be in store for her and her new husband in the coming years.

A preacher I know often points out that a wedding and a marriage have frighteningly little in common, and our two snapshots provide evidence of his claim: The formality, pomp, and idealism of the wedding day, giving way to the all too "down-to-earth" reality of making it all work in a marriage with children.

So, which picture is right?

The perfect wedding dress? Or, a child's wet pants? The strings that serenade the bride coming down the aisle on the day she's dreamt of her entire life? Or, the clatter of cookpots on the kitchen floor, serenading mom on a random Tuesday afternoon? The carefully chosen words of devotion spoken earnestly by bride and groom? Or, the sometimes careless words of hurriedness, spoken over the shoulder or around the corner, by harried husband and wife?

Well, if you've been there awhile, you know they're all right; they're all true. You're not going to have one without the other. It's a mistake to overlook or to exaggerate the importance of either at the expense of the other.

Which picture is more true:

The new creation emerging from the water?

Peace in the face of imminent death?

Moments of intimacy with God that put a lump in your throat and bring a tear to your eye?

Times of everyday ordinariness that leave you wondering if you're missing something?

The clutch of temptation and sin?

The embrace of a forgiving God?

The approval of the like-minded?

The scorn of some who think it's so foolish?

Once again, they're all true. Each one is a part of the deal. None can be ignored or forgotten. Each will have its place in the life of a Christian.

Where is wisdom?

Wisdom lies in seeing one of those pictures while experiencing its opposite.

Business Cards

2009-10-21T07:58:00.003-05:00

I just finished putting a stack of my business cards back into their carrying case, to go back into my pocket. The other day, one or the other, or both, of our boys got ahold of my case and took all the cards out to play with, and I found the cards scattered on the floor.

Lord, please help me remember that there will come a day, far sooner than I'm prepared for, when I would give anything to find my business cards scattered around by two little sons who think my stuff is cool.

Help me remember that.

Why It Matters

2009-10-03T09:23:00.005-05:00

Does a leader's personal life matter?

Every so often in American politics, this question rears its head and generates fierce debate, pitting voters against each other and stirring volatile emotions on both sides. Some argue that an individual who has proven less than trustworthy in personal matters is not worthy of the trust of strangers. Others argue that anyone, even a powerful leader, should be judged only on the performance of formal responsibilities, and that anything beyond that is no one else's business.

To date, no resolution to this argument has been found, but opportunities for debate still abound.

In the latest example of a high-profile individual caught up in personal scandal, comedian David Letterman addressed his audience frankly about his recent experiences with attempted extortion committed by an individual threatening to reveal embarrassing information.

While few would consider a TV host to be an important leader in our society, the incident serves as an example of how a leader's standing, credibility, and authority are compromised by personal scandal. Like it or not, Dave will never be looked upon in the same way.

Sure, Dave's comments to his audience were well-received, and he will certainly have the support of his fans throughout the ordeal, but few leaders have the benefit of Dave's sharp wit and a nightly TV audience to help overcome the damage of personal scandal.

Most leaders in this position are simply compromised and crippled by it.

For the Christian, it's easy to think this principle applies to ministers, deacons, shepherds, people we recognize as leaders in the body of Christ. And, of course, it does. Scripture makes clear that leadership in the church requires a personal life that will not be a stumbling block (I Timothy 3:1-13).

But what is so easy to forget is that every Christian is in a position of influence and, in the eyes of someone, leadership. Scripture clearly identifies every member of the body of Christ as a "priest" in his or her own right, (I Peter 2:9), having full right to approach the throne of God through Christ.

Every Christian relishes direct access to God, but imagine for a moment that we didn't all have it, that only certain, special people did, and the rest of us looked to them for contact with the Lord.

In that scenario, what would we expect of those special people? How would we feel about their privileged status, and our dependence on them, if we found them to be personally lacking in character or trustworthiness?

No, no one is expecting anyone to be sinless. All need the blood of Christ. No one can stand before God without it.

But influence is a fragile thing. Credibility is just as easily broken.

We all expect our leaders to maintain both.

But is there any reason why we should expect anything less of ourselves?

Where Does the Bad Stuff Go?

2009-08-22T17:10:00.020-05:00

Maybe I'd like to forget it, but I know I never will.

On the other hand, I have gotten so many good laughs out of this moment, I'm not sure I really want to let it go.

I was in my late teens, and we were visiting my grandparents. I don't recall all the circumstances now, but I was riding in the back seat of my grandparents' car, and we stopped to check on some work my grandpa was having done out on a section of his land. While we waited, Grandma opened her car door to let some air in.

Little did she know what else she was letting in.

One of Grandpa's employees, an older man, came over to visit, and hunkered down in the dirt on one knee, just inside Grandma's open car door. We made small talk with the pleasant workman for a few minutes, and then it happened:

Without warning, comment, or fanfare, as a chuckle wound its way down, the man looked down to earth, snorted deep and long, reared his head back, turned to his right, and spat the biggest loogie you ever saw, right smack in the middle of the inside of Grandma's window, not three feet from her face.

I guess it was just one of those moments where you forget where you are.

But in his defense, the ol' boy wasn't totally insensitive to the mess he had made. After a surprisingly slow moment's delay, he suddenly realized his error, and with his usual jovial spirit, declared, "Aw, lookee here what I done..." and began using his filthy shirt sleeve to smear the mucus and spittle all around the window, doing as much harm as good. But he tried, bless his heart.

What to do with a mess like that?

There's not enough Windex in all the world.

It matters where the bad stuff goes, doesn't it?

The spitter in the story obviously broke some critical rules, rules we live by, care about, and expect everyone around us to know and obey. In fact, we tend to judge pretty harshly those who fail to abide by those rules, and probably won't choose to spend time in their presence. And who could blame anyone for feeling that way?

But what if we tried something a little different?

What if we took the rules governing phlegm, gas, and earwax, and applied them to the most toxic, germ-infested forms of human interaction?

What if we practiced the most careful hygiene with:

*The scandalous story about another person.

*The offense taken at someone's stray comment.

*The hurt caused by a friend's oversight.

*The disagreement with a point made in the Sunday sermon.

*The complaint against a child's teacher.

*The bitterness over an age-old slight.

Or, to put it another way: Would we really want to explain to God why we are so careful to keep our noses blown and our ears clean, but so careless, or perhaps vicious, with words and emotions containing sickness far more contagious than any bodily fluid?

Few have actually suffered the misfortune of being spat upon by another person, but who hasn't felt the sting of the wrong word at the wrong time?

Few have actually spat upon someone else, but who hasn't taken advantage of an opportunity to twist the knife just to make the wound bleed a little more?

Some are as careless with hurtful words as that poor workman was when he spat on the window.

Some of the careless are oblivious to where the loogie landed; some realize it, but choose not to care. Others realize the mess they made, but prove as inept as the workman at cleaning it up. (Assuming it's even possible to clean it up.)

A small minority of the careless spitters realize their error, repent, and in humility clean up the mess, restoring trust in the process.

Still others actually spit on the window on purpose, relishing the chance to maximize the damage of hurtful words.

But what if it really was different?

What if we were actually as careful with our words, especially our angry words, as we are with a used Kleenex?

"Is It Oso?"

2009-08-08T18:41:00.012-05:00

In the last few months, our boys have gone crazy for a new cartoon, Special Agent Oso.

"Oso" is a teddy bear fashioned after James Bond, and he is routinely sent out on missions to help young kids trying to complete random tasks. Oso arrives on the scene out of the blue and lends a hand, much to the appreciation of the child who needed help.

For kids who just can't get enough of Oso, parents can go online and sign up for a personal phone call in which Oso will call your child by name and assign a special mission to complete around the house.

A few weeks back, my wife Kristi lined up both of our boys to receive "the call" from Oso, and it went over big. Both Benjamin and Jonathan were blown away by the phone call, listened intently to Oso's message about replacing the batteries in the household flashlights, and talked about the phone call for days.

I'm not sure we had fully grasped just how excited our boys were by Oso's call, until a few days later, when Kristi's cell phone rang and 2 year-old Jonathan, snapping to attention, asked, "Is it Oso?"

Now, that is a kid who is eager to hear from his favorite cartoon character. He just can't get enough.

Isn't that how it is with those we love, while we are apart? We want to hear from them. We look forward to any word that might come, and we appreciate the message when it arrives. If the message is written, we don't stop at reading it once. We just can't get enough.

"The days are coming," declares the Sovereign Lord, "when I will send a famine through the land -- not a famine of food or a thirst for water, but a famine of hearing the words of the Lord." -- Amos 8:11

God's people, throughout history, have not always demonstrated love for Him in their appreciation of His message. In fact, in Amos's time, God decided He had had enough of seeing His message ignored, and told the people He would withhold it for awhile, knowing it would be sought again:

"Men will stagger from sea to sea and wander from north to east, searching for the word of the Lord, but they will not find it." -- Amos 8:12

Sometimes we don't know what we have until it's gone.

Have you forgotten the taste of the Word of God, the taste described as being "as sweet as honey"? (Ezekiel 3:3)

Has the hearing of His message become so commonplace that your ears no longer perk up and give attention to its reading?

Can you imagine the irony of camping next to a fresh water spring, and never quenching your thirst with its water?

Or, forgetting you're thirsty altogether?

Is God's message greeted with eagerness from listeners who can't get enough? Or with apathy, from people who think they've heard enough?

The proof lies in what we do after hearing. (John 14:15)

I'd better go see about those flashlight batteries...

What's That Smell?

2009-06-13T20:18:00.009-05:00

Let's face it.

No one wants to smell bad.

Even our 2 year-old, if he manages to sneak into Mom & Dad's bathroom, can be found applying Old Spice High Endurance to his stomach. He's got the right idea, anyway.

Like it or not, people make judgments about other people on the basis of any noticeable smell, whether pleasant or unpleasant. The right perfume or cologne may be intoxicating, but any failure to prevent unpleasant odor is, well...

One summer when I worked at a university bookstore, there was a customer who entered the store almost every day, and carried with him a cloud of the most staggering stink you ever smelled. Seriously. It buckled the knees. It lingered in the air after the man left the room. I am not exaggerating when I say this guy gave me a headache.

Looking back, I have to admit there was a character/personality profile I imagined about this poor man, based on nothing more than this unfortunate problem. I never once spoke to him, never even allowed myself to be close to him. I avoided him and made fun of him with my co-workers, and that was about it. I decided in my mind that this guy was either unsanitary, inconsiderate, or simply oblivious.

But one random day it was different. The smelly man entered the store and didn't smell anymore. Something had changed, but I never found out what. Had someone spoken
to him? Helped him? Befriended him? Had he been painfully aware of the offense all along, but lacked the resources to remedy the problem, until that day? (Of course, he was book-shopping, so one would assume he had some money.)

In any case, however it happened, the fog had lifted, the odor was gone, and the man's presence no longer caused offense. I was uneasy with the realization that I was only then willing to deal with this man.

Makes you wonder how some of the people Jesus dealt with smelled. A group of fishermen after a long night on the water? Sowers who scattered seed by hand? Impoverished people without the luxury of concern over appearances?

Besides physical smell, many people Jesus interacted with bore the stench of the condemnation of their community: Lepers, Lunatics, Prostitutes, Tax Collectors, and ultimately, two thieves.

What made Jesus different was his willingness to engage humanity right where it was, however it looked, however it smelled, whatever anyone thought.

How interesting, then, that the analogy of fragrance is used to describe the effect the people of God are supposed to have on their surroundings:

"We are to God the fragrance of Christ among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing." -- 2 Corinthians 2:15

We smell like Him. If He is really in us, we smell like Him. People can tell when we're near. They notice it. It surrounds us, and lingers in the air after we leave.

So, is it a nice smell?

Well, that all depends. You might say it's in the nose of the smeller.

"To the one we are the aroma of death leading to death, and to the other the aroma of life leading to life." -- 2 Corinthians 2:16

What a person thinks of Jesus will determine what he thinks of how a Christian smells. Not everyone likes Him. Not everyone appreciates His fragrance. And, if you choose to wear it, not everyone will appreciate you.

Do you trust Him enough to wear His fragrance and let others think what they will?

"If the world hates you, you know that it hated Me before it hated you." -- John 15:18

Consider how self-conscious we all are about odor, and the measures we take to prevent it. Few among us would dare expose the public to our own natural scent.

Jesus has a scent all His own.

What then? Will we wash it away, mask it, prevent it? Or trust it to have its effect, knowing it's not about us anyway?

Considering all this, and looking back on the smelly man in the bookstore, the clear question that comes to mind is:

Did I actually smell worse than he did?

New?

2009-05-23T23:50:00.016-05:00

True story:

On a random visit last year, my mother-in-law offered me a pair of Dockers she had bought for my father-in-law, since the pants had turned out to be the wrong size for him. Once I made sure the pants would fit me, I gladly accepted the offer and brought the pants home.

A week or so later, I decided to wear the pants to work. I removed the labels from the pants, touched up the ironing, put on the pants, and went on my way. (I know, I know, I didn't wash them first...)

Later on, in the middle of my work day, I happened to put my hands in the pockets of the pants, and felt a piece of paper. I pulled out the paper and realized it was the receipt from the purchase of the pants I was wearing.

The date of the purchase was printed on the receipt, and, much to my surprise, the date was five and a half years prior to the morning I pulled the labels off the pants.

My brand-new Dockers were actually five and a half years old!

They were both new and old at the same time.

A pair of pants that should have been well-worn, if not worn out, was still in mint condition, never used, never even tried on, forgotten for half a decade. The pants hadn't served their intended purpose for anyone in five and a half years.

"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another." -- John 13:34-35

"Brethren, I write no new commandment to you, but an old commandment which you have had from the beginning..." -- I John 2:7

Love one another.

A new commandment? An old commandment? Both?

The children of Israel had been commanded to love their neighbors as themselves centuries before Jesus' ministry (Lev. 19:18). So, it's certainly an old commandment in that sense. But Jesus made it new again by raising the bar of what the commandment means. When He talked about loving one another, the standard became, "as I have loved you". Who could have claimed to have already had that covered?

In another sense, as John reminds his readers, the commandment to love one another is old to every Christian, because it was introduced right along with the gospel, at the very beginning of each soul's walk with Christ (I John 2:7).

But, there is yet another sense in which this commandment is both new and old at the same time, and will be forever, for every Christian.

Like my "new" Dockers, the commandment to love one another is brand-new again each time we realize we've forgotten about it.

Maybe the commandment was accepted warmly, even eagerly, to be put into service to the blessing of others, only to find its way to the bottom of a drawer, out of commission and unaccounted for. Maybe the season or the fashion changed, and it just didn't seem like the right time to wear that garment.

For whatever reason, has the commandment to love one another, as Jesus loves us, fallen to the back of your mind, or been forgotten entirely?

Is it so taken for granted that we're content never to see it?

May it never be so.

Pray that our Father will make this old commandment new in our lives every day.

What's the Point?

2009-05-19T21:09:00.014-05:00

OK, NBA fans: Did you hear the news?

The Los Angeles Clippers, through some far-fetched stroke of what statisticians refer to as "dumb luck", claimed the #1 pick in this year's NBA Draft Lottery.

Perhaps you, like me, are rolling your eyes and asking yourself, "What's the point?"

Or, maybe you're even feeling a twinge of pity for the young athlete selected by the Clips. "Sorry, man. Hang tough."

Growing up in the L.A. area, my blood ran purple and gold. The life of a Lakers fan was good in the 80's. I actually remember the Clippers' move from San Diego to Los Angeles in 1984, and, even as a kid, wondered what on earth was the point.

Ever since, the Clippers have operated for the most part in total futility, right in the shadow of an NBA powerhouse. Not even #1 draft picks in 1988 and 1998 have helped right the Clippers' ship.

And, now, here they are all over again.

But this really isn't about the Clippers.

Have you ever given up on someone? Do you know anyone who is so chronically unreliable that you finally roll your eyes in disgust?

Someone who, despite the help of everyone around, and the benefit of every resource and opportunity, just never seems to get it together?

Someone who prompts you to ask yourself, "What's the point?"

Of course you do. We all do.

*The struggling, straggling student who can be led to water, but can't be made to drink.

*The troubled employee who doesn't seem to comprehend that the boss's patience will eventually run out.

*The borrower back in debt just a year after being bailed out.

*The spouse who never matured beyond selfishness.

*The child who continues to abuse his parents' trust.

*The hollow promises coming from all of the above.

Where does anyone find the patience to deal with this? So much promise, so much possibility, so little results. Total futility.

More importantly, do we realize that, on our own, this is all we amount to before God?

Where can we find the patience to deal with unreliable people who don't perform?

Where does He?

May His grace toward us give us the perspective we need to extend grace to others, even when efforts are futile and patience is thin. Even when it's hard to see the point.

In fact, especially then.

Classic Quote

2009-05-18T21:30:00.003-05:00

So often, the classic quote comes at the most random moment.

This afternoon, I spent some time with our boys, letting them ride their bikes up and down the sidewalk by our house. This is still a "follow-along" activity, as Jonathan is barely getting started at riding, and Benjamin still needs a little help now and then.

We were following our usual route, past the next-door neighbors' house, over the drainage ditch (yes, a glorious view) and on to the driveway of the next house, where we turn around and head back home for another lap.

Just as we made the turn in the usual driveway, I took hold of Benjamin's handlebar to guide him around. Without hesitation, he made clear he had it all under control:

"Daddy, you just have to let go now."

I had to let that one sink in for just a second.

How deep does that statement go in your mind?

Talk about flash-forwards. Coming back up that sidewalk, I saw visions of everything from the first day of Kindergarten to high school graduation, relationships I may or may not approve of, and life choices that will be entirely our son's to make.

Lots of moments ahead when I will have little choice but to let go.

But that's only part of the story. The fact is, the only reason Benjamin was able to tell me to let go, was the fact that I had held on for as long as I had. Today wasn't his first bike ride. I've taken hold of the handlebar many times before. And, it probably won't be the last time he ends up needing my help. But his confidence has grown to the point that he believes he can handle it on his own.

And the safety of my grip on the handlebar was needed for a time.

Just not forever.

*The wisdom to know when to let go.

*The courage to let go when you know you should.

*And, the commitment to hold on long enough to make your grip obsolete.

All this wrapped up in the confident statement of a 4 year-old.

On Mothers' Day

2009-05-10T07:54:00.002-05:00

I thought it would be appropriate to re-post this one from last year on the occasion of Mothers' Day. This one originally appeared in July, 2008, and was entitled, "A Promise Kept". Happy Mothers' Day!

Jane: "Mary Poppins, you won't ever leave us, will you?"
Michael: "Will you stay if we promise to be good?"
Mary Poppins: "That's a pie-crust promise; easily made, easily broken."

Most of us know the story of the prophet Samuel's birth.

In a sense, every human being owes his existence to his mother, but Samuel in particular owed his life to his mother Hannah's deep faith and heartbroken prayer.

We read the story in the first few chapters of I Samuel.

Hannah lives, as so many women of her era, in a polygamous relationship, with a husband who loves her dearly, but also has another wife. The other wife has borne children, but Hannah has not. In fact, the Scripture says, "the Lord had closed her womb". (1:5)

No explanation is given for this, but it is clear that Hannah's inability to conceive is a source of great pain for her. This fact is not lost on the other wife, who takes advantage of this sore spot to "provoke her severely, to make her miserable, because the Lord had closed her womb." (1:6)

"She was in bitterness of soul, and prayed to the Lord and wept in anguish." (1:10)

Out of this torment comes a request, and a promise.

"O Lord of hosts, if you will indeed look on the affliction of your maidservant, and remember me, and not forget your maidservant, but will give your maidservant a male child, then I will give him to the Lord all the days of his life." (1:11)

Hannah's prayer is granted, and she names her son "Heard by God".

As moving as this part of the story is, it alone does not provide the most compelling point for us today. That is yet to come.

God's intervention in this story is, like most of His deeds, beyond our grasp. How does God take a woman who cannot have children, and bring about whatever change is necessary to allow conception to occur? How or why had He prevented conception from occurring before? We'll never know; we accept that He can and does intervene in such ways, according to His will.

Not to suggest that God's work is not the most remarkable element of this story, but His intervention in this case is similar to innumerable miracles He has performed over the centuries, completely in keeping with who He is and what we have always known Him to do.

The most unusual element of this story is Hannah's promise. More specifically, the fact that she keeps it.

After all the years of torment and depression, after all the wishing and hoping, the son she wondered if she could ever have is finally in her arms. Any mother who has locked eyes with her newborn knows the instant and eternal bond. Everything else is reordered. Previous priorities fade. Nothing is ever the same.

Yet, in spite of all this, as God remembered her, so Hannah remembers her promise. She weans her son, and then takes him, at a very young age, to Eli the priest to begin his life of service to God. And, the course is set for a critical period of Israel's history.

Imagine it. Taking your small child to begin a life apart from your household, willingly giving him up to see him again only once a year thereafter. A tear-jerker of a passage is found in chapter 2, verses 18 - 19: "Samuel ministered before the Lord, even as a child, wearing a linen ephod. And his mother used to make him a little robe, and bring it to him year by year when she came up with her husband to offer the yearly sacrifice."

Can you see Hannah stitching her son a new robe, remembering what he looked like the last time she saw him, wondering what he would look like now? Wondering how much he might have grown? Hoping he'll like his new robe? Can you imagine the annual reunion, with Hannah helping Samuel try it on? Can you imagine how often Samuel thought of his mother throughout the year, every time he wore that robe?

Considering all this, it's truly amazing that Hannah kept this promise. Honestly, if she had failed to keep her promise, would we judge her for it today? Could we blame her? Could any of us keep a promise like this? Would any of us have made such a promise in the first place?

Hannah would have had at her disposal any and every rationalization she would have needed to break her promise to God, and make it all right in her mind. Imagine how the tempter might have worked on Hannah's mind in the few years she had Samuel at home. We're not given any indication that Hannah even struggled with this decision, but if she did, she would have had plenty of help.

While we might not have been inclined to judge Hannah harshly had she failed to keep this promise to God, Scripture indicates God Himself would indeed have taken it seriously. (Ecclesiastes 5:4-5) And while Hannah's story is not entirely equivalent to the story of Jephthah (Judges 11), it serves to illustrate the same point: take seriously what you tell God you're going to do.

Buried beneath all this, lies an often-overlooked fact in Hannah's story.

"And Eli would bless Elkanah and his wife, and say, 'The Lord give you descendants from this woman for the loan that was given to the Lord.' Then they would go to their own home. And the Lord visited Hannah, so that she conceived and bore three sons and two daughters. Meanwhile the child Samuel grew before the Lord." (I Samuel 2:20-21)

Who knew Hannah was going to have more children after she gave Samuel to the Lord?

There is no indication that anyone knew. Hannah's original prayer was for "a male child", not for the ability to have as many children as she and her husband might have wanted to have. It was on her heart to have a son, and once that prayer was granted, it is clear her heart was content. (2:1-10) In fact, we have to assume that Hannah thought she was handing over to the Lord her one and only child, and that she would live the rest of her years on the joy of her short time with her baby Samuel. There was no inkling of future children to numb the pain of giving Samuel up, or to make it any easier to keep that promise. The reward of having five more children must have overwhelmed her heart.

Promises, promises. We live in a world today in which promises don't seem to mean very much. It seems people vow first, and think later. The vow may even be sincere at the time, but changing circumstances provide the back door people use to abandon a promise they no longer wish to keep. Even marriage vows turn out to be pie-crust promises with disturbing regularity.

More than anything else, a Christian is supposed to be different from this world. How seriously do we take our promises to ourselves, let alone others, let alone God?

"This is the year I'm going to exercise again."

"Till death alone separates us."

"You are my God."

Watching Jim Bob

2009-04-08T20:47:00.004-05:00

Are you familiar with the Duggar family?

These great folks are the subject of an interesting TV show called "18 Kids & Counting". It's more or less a wholesome reality show about the day-to-day life of a family with 18 children. Besides the daily adventures of the family, there are many moments that should prompt a little self-examination from the viewer.

Over the last few seasons of the show, the head of the family, Jim Bob Duggar, has on two specific occasions laid down an example that should make every husband and father squirm.

The first was an episode that featured a family trip in an older-model RV that was also towing a large trailer. The family had prepared for days, packed with precision, planned for everything, and finally launched off on the trip, only to have the RV overheat and break down just a few miles down the highway, unable to handle the weight of the trailer behind it.

So, there was Jim Bob, with wife and children in tow, broken down on the side of the road, with the hopes of a joyful trip hanging in the balance.

No joke, no exaggeration: The man never batted an eye. Never broke a sweat. Thought and spoke calmly, but quickly. Not a hint of frustration. No sign of despair. The man regrouped, devised a new plan, fixed the vehicle HIMSELF, and got the family back on the road, joking later on about the pace of the trip thus far.

What?!?

Is this guy a robot? Is he just doing this for the cameras? Would he really, like most of the rest of us, blow his stack, curse the vehicle, and terrorize some toddlers if it hadn't been for the TV show?

If you had any doubt about it, all doubt was erased in a more recent episode, in which the family experienced an ice storm that broke the limbs off several trees on their property. One huge limb demolished the family's outdoor storage shed, and another knocked out the power lines to the house, leaving the Duggars without electricity for days.

The camera crew dutifully followed Jim Bob around as he surveyed the damage. Just then, Jim Bob said something that explained everything about his previous calm reaction to the RV breakdown:

"Right now, the kids are watching how I react to this."

Amazing.

To be in that very moment, responding in real time, and to say such a thing.

Every one of us could say that in retrospect, but not many of us could say it in the moment.

We all regret tempers lost and careless words, but not many of us avoid the need for regret.

Thanks, Jim Bob.

Your words made me squirm, but I needed it.

Finished

2009-03-24T20:44:00.000-05:00

So much is wrapped up in these final words of Jesus on the cross:

"It is finished."

The torment of a cruel execution. The weight of the world's sin. The strain of the most difficult mission ever undertaken. The grip of sin on the helpless souls of humanity. The burden of the Law on the backs of believers. Separation from His Father.

All of this, finished finally when Jesus breathed His last.

We have the benefit today of knowing the rest of the story, unlike all those witnesses who saw this happen, felt the earth shake beneath them, wondered at the darkened sky, and later encountered people long since dead. Jews who heard rumors of the temple veil being found ripped apart, stories of people claiming to have seen Jesus again, reports of miracles performed by His apostles.

It was a time of great events, events that required decisions on the part of everyone who heard of them. To believe, or not to believe?

But from Jesus' perspective, a phase was complete. Everything He had come to earth to do was done. For better or worse, it was done. Whether everyone believed, or no one believed, it was done. He was going back home to prepare for His next visit.

This attitude is evident in the written record of what Jesus did when He appeared to people after His resurrection. He appeared to the women who came to His tomb the third day. Walked and spoke with two travelers who initially didn't recognize Him. Grilled fish on the beach with His disciples. Appeared suddenly inside a locked room and comforted them. Offered his hands and side to Thomas, who decided he didn't need to touch them after all. Bestowed His Spirit upon them, issued the Great Commission, and ascended to Heaven.

It's interesting that there is no record of any confrontation with the Jewish leadership who wanted Him dead. No appearances to folks who had boldly disbelieved His claim to be the Son of God. No "How Do You Like Me Now?" moment with those who had dared Him to come down from the cross. No "Remember Me?" visit to Pilate. Apparently, no last look at the old wood shop, no contemplative visit to the garden to reflect on that last prayer. No retracing of the steps to Golgotha, no scanning of the ground for drops of blood spilled along the way. No search for the cross. No last cleansing of the temple. No last eradication of disease.

Every post-resurrection moment for Christ on earth was focused on the future, not the past. His appearances were spared for those who believed in Him, and dedicated to preparing them for the events recorded in Acts.

Everything that had gone before was, in a word, finished.

How could Jesus feel such a sense of completion regarding such dramatic and meaningful, even painful, events? How could He be at peace with all that had just happened? Did Jesus just not feel the emotions you and I feel? Of course He did, as we know from His tears over the death of Lazarus, even knowing full well he was going to raise Lazarus from the dead.

In all our talk about asking what Jesus would do, has anyone asked how Jesus would approach life after trauma?

How many souls who live through tragedy and turmoil, for whatever reason, never see these events finished in their lifetime? How many of us relive, revisit, feel again, suffer anew, and possibly hurt others with our inability to finish? And how many of us who don't finish, ever really want to?

Is it God's will for His children to keep salt sprinkled on their wounds, or to pierce those wounds periodically and make them bleed again? While scars may be unavoidable, does He really want us never to heal? Never to be at peace again?

Consider a contrast: The Apostle Paul on one hand, and King David on the other.

Both of these men lived lives marked by dramatic events, even tragic events. Paul somehow considered finished his previous life as a persecutor of the church. While he acknowledged his past as evidence of his opinion that he was the chief of all sinners, he did not allow those deeds to impede his efforts to secure the church's future. He accepted that God's grace was sufficient for him, and that he didn't have to resolve it all. It was in God's hands, and Paul was at peace.

King David certainly gave the appearance of a soul at peace as he lay dying and about to turn over his kingdom to his son Solomon. But the appearance was deceiving. It turns out David's business on earth wasn't finished at all, as he saddled his son, the newly anointed king, with the burden of two vengeance killings to be carried out after David's death so he couldn't be blamed for them. As grievous as David felt these two men's offenses were, he had clearly given the appearance of having made peace with the facts and let the matters go. But this was not the case. In David's mind, it wouldn't be finished until two men were dead.

In a small Texas town live two families who each lost a small child to the same type of accident: backing over the child with a family vehicle. These two families are just as much a study in contrasts as Paul and David.

One family, while never ceasing to remember their lost son, has long since allowed God to carry this burden for them, and has carried on to contribute to their community, and even to have more children who will only meet their lost brother after this life. The ache in the heart will never completely go away, but the incident and its related trauma are finished for this family.

The other family was destroyed by the accident, with the husband and wife descending into alcoholism, infidelity, and neglect of their other children. The end of that fateful moment will never be seen by this family, as every trial they suffer from now on will be linked back to it in their minds. Unless they make a major change of course, they will never know peace. It will never be finished.

When we suffer, and after we have suffered, what is it we seek?

Answers? Reasons? Numbness? Escape? Rectification?

We do seek these things, but God does not promise them. What does God offer?

" the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:7)

Peace. He offers peace. The knowledge of being secure in Him in spite of not having answers, reasons, numbness, escape, or rectification. His presence, as real as the pain we suffer, and many times stronger. The confidence that eternity with Him will dwarf even our best recollection of the worst pain we endured on earth. (Romans 8:18)

The fluke accident that claims a child's life.

The job lost to unfair circumstances.

The deceit that claims a chunk of your heart and years of your life.

The reputation falsely injured.

The cruel disease that cripples a body.

The loved one lost to war or murder.

Any of these disasters and countless others could enter a Christian's life and open a bleeding wound. Healing isn't easy or automatic, nor will it occur at the same pace for everyone. No one forgets a traumatic event. No one should. No one survives such a moment uninjured. And again, no one should.

But after the trauma? What then? Will we claim His peace, or search in vain for the things He never promised?

Will our moments of trauma be landmarks along the road behind us, significant but finished, or will they be wet clay in our hands for us to mold, re-mold, re-work, and make a mess with, never quite finding the shape they should take?

What would Jesus do?

What did He do?

What would Satan have you do?

The Real Battleground

2009-03-14T21:56:00.003-05:00

Our 2 year-old son Jonathan accompanied me to Subway this evening to pick up sandwiches for supper. It turned out to be a good thing he's still a little too young to understand everything around him.

Jon-Jon and I entered the sandwich shop and approached the counter. A very friendly employee began getting our bread ready when I overheard a bit of a conversation at the opposite end of the counter.

A dad was in line, probably in his late 40s, with his teenage daughter in tow. They looked normal enough; didn't appear to be members of a biker gang or anything like that. The dad could have been a guy you would do business with, and the girl could have been a cheerleader at school.

Girl and pop were engaged in some sort of playful "joking reprimand/yeah, right, Dad" kind of moment that any father and daughter might enjoy. I didn't hear what Dad actually said, but the girl responded between giggles with the kind of "Oh, gimme a break" response that would be appropriate to the situation. She did not appear to intend any disrespect to her father, and he certainly didn't take her response that way. He said what he said, she said what she said, he finished paying for their sandwiches, and they walked out together.

Nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, a pleasant picture of playful interaction between parent and child.

At least, you would think that, unless you had heard what the girl actually said to her dad.

Her "Yeah, right, gimme a break, Dad" comment was worded in a way I'd never heard it worded before in that context. Without any hesitation, spite, fanfare, or response from Dad whatsoever, the girl simply said, "Shut the f*** up."

No, you didn't read that wrong. That is exactly what she said. And she left with Dad still chuckling to himself.

Fairly certain my 2 year-old was oblivious, (too distracted by all the foods behind the glass), and thinking I had surely misunderstood, I discreetly asked the lady making our sandwiches if she had heard what I thought I had heard. She confirmed it, and we shared our opinions about the matter.

I couldn't help but think back on my post about the folly of writing off our youth.

I couldn't help but feel defensive about my school. Many of my students are unfairly judged by community members who don't know them, yet none of them I know would speak to a parent that way.

I couldn't help but consider what it takes to create this scenario: a teenager so accustomed to using profanity that it flows right off the tongue, not only in the presence of a parent, but directed at a parent.

And ultimately, my thoughts centered on the home. The only conclusion to reach from this scene is that Dear ol' Dad either led his daughter to this kind of speech, or somehow failed to prevent the influence of someone else, and has now made peace with it. What is Dad going to say when his daughter is busted at school for addressing a teacher this way?

More importantly, how will this girl ever respect God, when she holds her earthly father in such low esteem?

For all of our fretting over society, the government, the media, the popular culture, our neighborhoods, churches and schools, the heart of the war, with bayonets affixed, in the trenches, mano a mano, occurs behind your front door. What's at stake in this war is the soul of each person who lives behind that door. The evil one respects no relationship and calls no truce.

As unsettling as it is to hear a child tell a parent to shut up, it only serves to remind parents that Satan is telling you the same thing:

Just shut up.

If you do, he wins. That's what he's counting on.

Misquoted

2009-03-09T23:29:00.002-05:00

"Just like the Good Book says, 'Spare the rod, and spoil the child'".

"You know that money is the root of all evil. It says so in the Bible."

Really? Is that what it says?

Does it drive you crazy to hear Scripture misquoted? If it doesn't, I think it should. No, I'm not saying Christians with an impressive recall of text are better than Christians who struggle to quote Scripture. And I'm not saying memory verses stamp one's passport to Heaven. Memorizers should not feel superior, and non-memorizers should not feel resentful.

And I am definitely not saying that someone who misquotes Scripture deserves to be assaulted for it.

What I am saying is that Christians should remind themselves on a regular basis how important it is to be familiar with the Word of God. Besides the two listed above, how many other near-quotes and mis-quotes of Scripture have made their way into common language? And even more important than wording, how many misrepresentations of Scriptural ideas make their way into common understanding, simply because so many believers lack their own personal foundation in Bible reading?

Yes, Christians differ in spiritual gifts. Some will have more of a knack for wording and memorization than others. But even a Christian who isn't talented in this area has great tools available to help, if the interest and commitment are there. Just take a look at Search God's Word.org and see how easy it is to search for a phrase and find the Scriptural reference. Even without this site, any search of Google or other search engines will yield the results a reader needs to be sure a Scriptural citation is correct.

The tools are at our fingertips. It's just a matter of whether we care enough to know what God's Word says, or whether we're satisfied with what we heard somebody say sometime.

Not sure what the errors were in the "scriptures" at the beginning of this post?

Check them out. You'll be amazed at how much the meaning is affected by the real wording in both places:

Proverbs 13:24

I Timothy 6:10

Do you have any other favorite Scriptural misquotations?

It Didn't Take Long to Get Here

2009-02-23T19:10:00.008-06:00

It was one of those moments when you grasp an entire scene in the blink of an eye.

Saturday morning. I was brushing my teeth in our bathroom. I could hear Kristi and the boys talking and playing at the other end of the house through the baby monitor that we still use for our now two year-old son. (Just when do you actually retire those things?)

I wasn't quite ready to emerge from the bathroom, when my morning routine was interrupted abruptly.

It was a sound I recognized right away. A great sound during a test run, but not a sound you want to hear unexpectedly. There was no mistaking it; the burglar alarm had been tripped.

My mental rolodex of possible explanations spun at light speed:

*No beep preceding alarm; that means back door. (Hadn't disarmed the system yet.)

*A burglar breaking in after daylight, with people obviously home? Not likely.

*I knew I hadn't opened the door. And Kristi wouldn't have without disarming the alarm. Only two suspects left.

*The top lock, the one out of reach of the kids, had to have been left unlocked for either of the boys to be able to open the door.

I sprinted from the bathroom to the living room. No burglar. Back door closed again. Benjamin running back down the hall to his bedroom. I hollered to Kristi that Benjamin had opened the back door, ran to the keypad, and punched in our code. Alarm stopped. Back to the bathroom to get the cell phone off the charger and await the call from the alarm company. Call came, password given, police averted, all was well again.

Now that everyone was back where they started and the dust had settled, the voices once again came through the baby monitor:

Kristi: "Benjamin, did you open the back door?"

Benjamin: "No. Daddy did."

Oh, yes, he said it. Our firstborn. That little baby we held in our arms. Benjamin Bunny. Little Bennigan's.

Our boy had looked Mom square in the face and told her a bald-faced lie. There was nothing subtle about it. He saw that Door #1 might have led to some type of reprimand, and instead chose Door #2, not grasping that the truth was already known, and that even if it had not been, Mom would have checked with Dad anyway. And that, even if she hadn't, lying is still the wrong thing to do.

Man, it didn't take long to get here. Our four year-old has taken his first step into that risky mine field of deceit. It's a tempting place to walk. The shortcuts and payoffs often seem great in comparison to the danger. The chance of harming oneself or a loved one seems ever so remote. It all seems so easy to control. And sometimes it is. That's what's so scary about it.

All of us who have walked that field know that eventually you take the wrong step and lose something more precious than an arm or a leg.

The trust of those who trusted you is hard to win back. And like the prosthetic limbs of an amputee, it's just not what it used to be. It can't ever be like it was.

Don't get me wrong; I don't distrust my son. He's only four. I did the same thing. Really, it probably wasn't the first time, and I am confident it won't be the last. But this time, it hit me that a threshold has been crossed in his life and ours. He is starting to see his options as being wider than simply doing what Mom & Dad would like for him to do.

That's a threshold we all cross at some point. We cross it at home, and we later cross it with God.

Father, please help us:

*To see our children as You see them.

*To accept that our children will go where we've warned them not to go.

*Not to overlook it when they do, but not to overreact in anger when they do.

*To make sure our children learn to accept the consequences of their mistakes.

*To trust our children as they grow up, and to allow them to learn how to earn the trust of others.

*To remember that deceit is tempting, and that our children need us to be watchful for it in their lives.

*Never to model deceit for our children, or be the ones to teach them how to lie.

*Not to believe the deceiver's lies, who tells some that their children do no wrong, while telling others that their children are no good.

*To be brave enough to lead our children to You, in the face of a world that would draw them away.

And as for me and Kristi, please help us to remember to lock that top lock on the back door.

What's Wrong With This Picture?

2009-02-06T21:39:00.011-06:00

I was driving from my campus to my boss's office one day last week, when I passed by the Statue of Liberty.

Well, sort of.

If you've read my profile, you know I live in Texas, nowhere near the Statue of Liberty. In fact, I've never even seen her in person, though I've always wanted to. After this story, you'll understand why I want to see the real thing more than ever.

There's a mom-&-pop tax preparation business located on a street I take on this particular route, and both tax seasons I've lived here, this business has engaged in a marketing ploy that, in my opinion, is pretty senseless.

To attract customers who need their taxes done, they post a person out on the sidewalk in front of their office, wearing a costume of our Ellis Island landmark, complete with robe, hat, and torch.

The person in the costume waves energetically at motorists passing by, just hoping to attract that random taxpayer who will realize, "Oh my goodness! I haven't filed yet! And all my papers just happen to be right here handy in my car! And I have nowhere else to go right now! I'll just swing in here!"

Just my cynical side coming out. I guess I don't see how an "impulse purchase" marketing strategy could do much for this kind of business. But maybe I'm wrong. It's the second year I've seen it, so maybe it does work.

So, as I passed by the waving statue again this year, I thought the same thoughts about it, but noticed something just a little bit different than I had seen before. I thought I saw, and looked again to be sure I saw, a cloud of smoke billowing out of Lady Liberty's mouth.

I got closer and saw her bring her hand up to her face and take a long drag before waving at motorists again, this time with her cigarette clasped between her fingers in her grey-gloved hand.

Now, I don't know about you, but seeing the Statue of Liberty prancing around on Rancier Ave. in Killeen, TX, is already a bit of a stretch for me. But the cigarette just took the whole thing over the edge. A lame marketing strategy became something out of a low-rate comedy routine, just like that.

I'm not talking about whether or not people should smoke.

I'm talking about an image. I'm talking about impressions and associations. And ultimately, I'm talking about respect.

Who on earth would associate the Statue of Liberty, and all the grand ideals she stands for, with something as mundane as smoking a cigarette, or even munching on a sandwich or swigging on a soda, for that matter?

How could anyone, with any respect for this landmark, publicly bear her image and then treat it like it's no different than anything else you might wear?

How could anyone not realize that this behavior would be offensive to witnesses who associate this image with greater things? Or even if not offensive, at the very least unfitting or unbecoming?

How often do we forget to take seriously the names we wear and the images we show the world around us?

How quickly can our credibility be damaged or destroyed by carelessness with these things?

Verbal abuse from a counselor.

Profanity from a preacher.

Cruelty from a teacher.

Indifference from a doctor.

Corruption from a police officer.

Hatred from a parent.

I'm sure you see the pattern, and I'm sure you could think of other examples. These are deeds or traits that just don't fit the person they've been linked to, any more than a puff of cigarette smoke fits the Statue of Liberty. Someone responding to one of these images might ask, "And you call yourself a....?" Someone wearing that name just shouldn't act in that way.

If you take seriously the images just listed here, what about the name of Jesus Christ?

No, no one can be sinless. That's why we need Him.

But there is a big difference between a sincere soul wearing His name with awe and humility, and a careless one, wearing it like a cheap costume.

Are you wearing His name?

If so, how?

Hoods, Hooligans, & Honyocks

2009-02-01T00:20:00.014-06:00

The doorbell rang yesterday, which is odd in the middle of a Saturday morning.

I answered the door and found a boy, maybe in the 5th or 6th grade, waiting on the porch. He had his bike with him, and an envelope in his hand. His buddy was back at the curb, waiting on his bike.

Assuming he was probably seeking customers for a school fundraiser, I greeted him, prepared to sign off on the purchase of a candle, a tub of cookie dough, or a discount card.

Instead, the boy simply held up the envelope in his hand, and asked, "Is this yours? I found it in the street."

I looked at the envelope, and sure enough, it was our monthly water bill, still sealed and in perfect condition other than the tread of a car tire across the front of it.

This young man had been enjoying a Saturday bike ride with his friend, had come across this envelope lying in the street, and had taken the time, on his own, to read the address, realize he was near my house, and stop what he was doing to see if the bill was mine.

Of course, I thanked the boy sincerely, and for just a moment, I wanted to say, "Tell me your name. What school do you go to? I'm sure I know your principal!" But, I didn't want to assume his parents would be thrilled that he had given his name and school to a random stranger, so I didn't ask. I just thanked the boy, shook his hand, and watched him ride off with his friend.

What a neat kid. What a cool moment. A child going out of his way to help a stranger, without any prompt from anyone. I would love to tell this story to his parents, and let them see some of the fruit of their labors.

This boy reminded me of a powerful passage, Proverbs 20:11. "Even a child is known by his deeds, whether what he does is pure and right." Without knowing anything else about this kid, it's safe to speculate he's laying the groundwork for a good reputation in life.

What are your feelings about the youth of today?

Are you concerned about the direction you see them heading? Worried over their exposure to images and content you weren't exposed to at their age? Offended at how spoiled and indifferent they seem to be? Perhaps indifferent to them at this point?

I throw out these suggestions only because these statements represented the general adult consensus 20 years ago, about my generation, Gen X, back when we were teenagers and coming of age. It was also the consensus opinion about the Baby Boomers, who in turn fretted over Generation X.

We shouldn't be surprised now that many folks feel the same way today about the kids and teens of this day and age.

(I had to laugh to myself one evening when we were having dinner at another couple's house. The wife was telling a harrowing tale from her afternoon commute, involving "some stupid teenagers" in another car. Funny; the woman telling the story was barely 30 years old. Just 15 years ago, someone might have said the same thing about her.)

But, yes, speaking from the perspective of a school administrator, I can say I have concerns of my own.

I've seen 13 year-old girls coming to school with their necks dotted with hickies. Young men stating boldly that they are willing to die for One-Tre Crip, Two-One, Eastside Locos, or whatever gang they happen to be claiming. Students exchanging profanity with their parents. Young teens keeping their forearms covered to conceal the cuts they've made in their own skin. I've seen a 15 year-old give the finger to a police officer. I've pulled marijuana out of kids' pockets and driven to seedy locales to find them skipping school.

Yes, there's a lot happening in our world and with our youth that should cause us concern.

But that's not the whole story.

For every horror story I could tell you about malice, mischief and mayhem, I could give you ten examples of fine and faithful young people, lovers of God, respectful of authority, desirous of honest success, intolerant of disorder, gentle to the weak and a comfort to the hurting, joyful in the face of hardship.

Future authors scribbling in their personal notepads. Future engineers asking tough questions of their Math teachers. Future counselors grieving over a parent lost at war. Future parents swearing never to repeat the failures of their own moms and dads.

And besides this, there are the remarkable cases of troubled young people who find their way back again, who are restored to a path of responsibility, and prove all dire predictions wrong.

Will some of my students end up populating our prisons? Yes, if statistics bear out, a few will.

But, the vast majority will grow up, leave childish things behind, raise families of their own, and lose sleep with their own grave concerns over the youth of 2030.

And, I earnestly believe this will even prove true of the hoods, hooligans, and honyocks from the stories I told before.

So, what are your feelings about the youth of today?

A better question: Are you engaged in any way with the youth of today?

Yes, if you're a parent, you're raising your own children, and no other priority comes even close.

But, are you engaged in any way with the youth of today?

I don't mean using their slang or wearing their clothes. They don't need more buddies; they need to be molded and led. The critical quality, however, is that they need to be molded and led by adults who at least try to understand them. People who are willing to establish relationship first, then let leadership have its influence in due time.

Volunteer. Tutor a student. Get to know a neighbor family.

Find a way to connect. Find a way to understand.

The easy and meaningless thing to do is to write off our youth as disappointments and failures. Every generation, in its youth, has been judged as such by its elders.

The meaningful and sometimes difficult thing to do is to resist that temptation and engage.

Will you judge from the sidelines, or be salt and light?

Classic Quote

2009-01-23T20:23:00.003-06:00

I hope I never forget something a student said to me today.

This poor girl was upset over a rumor another girl started about her. She was adamant the rumor was false, that she would never do what this other girl had said she had done, and that the whole matter was an affront to her faith. In fact, she was so indignant about the insult that she had nearly set her faith aside, barely resisting the temptation to make the conflict physical.

But, she really said it better than I did.

Try to imagine a rapid-fire delivery, accented by an index finger in the air, and shoulders bobbing up and down in an alternating pattern:

"Ooooh, Mr. Dominguez, I cannot buh-LEEEVE she said that about me! I'm a Christian; I just went to church last night!" (Friend in background: "Yeah, that's right; Bible study!")

Now, for the kicker:

"You know, I almost said, 'Jesus, go back home to the house, and I'll meet you there after school,' but I didn't."

And, it's a good thing you didn't, young believer.

Sending Jesus back home for awhile. Or, perhaps, leaving Him there in the first place. Stepping away from Him so He won't hear. Turning the corner quickly so He won't see. Awkwardly neglecting to introduce Him to a friend. Pretending He isn't there. Giving Him the silent treatment, in hopes He'll give up and leave.

Good thing only kids think like that.

What I Want to Hear

2009-01-11T14:38:00.004-06:00

A movie from several years back climaxes in a dramatic court scene in which the following exchange takes place:

"I want the truth!"

"You can't handle the truth!"

Most of us would agree that when we are engaged in conversation, regardless of when, where, with whom, and on what topic, we would generally state that we want to be told the truth.

We would also agree that we have not always told the truth to others, despite the safe assumption that they want the truth from us as much as we want it from them.

We also know that we don't always like what people tell us when they are being honest.

So, what is it we really want?

An obscure story from I Kings 22 gives an insight into human interaction, and probably an example that could have come from just about anyone's daily life.

Ahab, the evil king of Israel, is paid a visit by Jehoshaphat, king of Judah. In the course of their visit, Ahab laments the fact that the border city of Ramoth-Gilead is still under the control of Aram, the kingdom to the northeast, three years after hostilities had ended. (Can't blame him; how would the average American, let alone the President, feel if Mexico took control of El Paso, and three years had gone by without resolution?)

Ahab decides to take action, and asks Jehoshaphat for support, which he gladly gives, but with the proviso that they first consult the prophets of God to find out whether or not to go to war with Aram over Ramoth-Gilead. Ahab doesn't hesitate to bring in a troop of "prophets" who spout the hoped-for line: "Go up, for the Lord will deliver it into the hand of the king!"

This clearly would have been enough for Ahab, who wouldn't have been likely to seek God's will anyway, but it wasn't enough for Jehoshaphat, who asks if there are still any other prophets to inquire of before proceeding. There's no indication of what Jehoshaphat's reason was for asking this. Was he distrustful of what the first round of prophets said? Did their word sound too automatic to him? Was he simply seeking additional assurance? Was he prompted by God to ask this?

We don't know, but for whatever reason, Jehoshaphat opened the door for a view into Ahab's nature, and the answer to the question of what many people really want.

Ahab concedes that there is another prophet in Israel, but it's not a man he wants to see. In fact, Ahab says, "I hate him, because he never prophesies anything good about me, but always bad. He is Micaiah, son of Imlah."

Jehoshaphat admonishes Ahab for speaking this way about God's prophet, and Ahab sends for Micaiah. While they await Micaiah's arrival, Ahab and Jehoshaphat are treated to even more assurance from the prophets who have already spoken, including one who uses an iron horn to predict that King Ahab will gore Aram to death.

The messenger who fetches Micaiah also pressures him to repeat the message of assurance given by the previous prophets, but Micaiah tells the messenger he'll do no such thing, that he will simply say what God tells him to say.

And the stage is set for a strange, but dramatic confrontation, as Ahab asks Micaiah the question of the day.

Interestingly enough, Micaiah doesn't do what he told the messenger he would do, but instead does what the messenger asked, and just repeats the party line: "Attack and be victorious, for the Lord will give it into the king's hand." No reason is given for Micaiah's reversal. Why would Micaiah boldly tell the messenger he would have no part of lying to the king, but then turn right around and lie to the king? Did he simply get scared, and decide not to make waves? Did he decide that Ahab was a goner anyway, and conclude it wasn't worth the trouble of offending him? What did God think of what Micaiah did? We're not told.

Ahab was evil, but not all of his instincts were wrong. He senses something is amiss in Micaiah's prophecy, and he doesn't trust it. He knows Micaiah has only prophesied doom against him in the past, and he is not prepared to accept this sudden show of support from the prophet.

His ironic rebuke of Micaiah almost sounds like it comes from a parent to a child: "How many times must I make you swear to tell me nothing but the truth in the name of the Lord?"

How many times do I have to tell you? I want the truth!

Really, Ahab? Is that truly what you want? We'll see.

Micaiah gives in, and goes ahead and tells Ahab the truth, accurately conveying God's message of failure and death regarding Ahab's idea of attacking Aram.

And Ahab responds according to his nature, becoming angry with Micaiah, telling Jehoshaphat, "See, I told you about this guy!", and ordering Micaiah thrown into prison until Ahab's safe return from battle.

For the record, Ahab's attack on Aram results in his death, as he is killed by an enemy arrow fired at random into the crowd.

With some people, you just can't win. They want it both ways. "Tell me the truth, but make sure I like what you tell me."

Just in this short story alone, we see examples of:

*A grudge held against someone for his commitment to speak the truth.

*Pressure to lie.

*A bold commitment to speak the truth, followed by a convenient lie.

*A demand for the truth, regardless of content, followed by anger over the content of the truth.

*Disregard for the truth in favor of a lie.

Human nature hasn't changed much since Old Testament times.

So, again, what is it we really want? Do we want the truth? Can we handle the truth? Are we prepared for what the truth might mean in our lives? Do we know where to find it? Are we committed to finding it, even when it's most challenging to our own ideas?

Or, have we already decided what we want to hear?

Much more than our human lives are at stake in our answers to these questions.

A Little Knowledge

2009-01-02T22:52:00.005-06:00

My 7th grade History teacher assigned the class an unusual project.

He gave us a little background about a man we had never heard of, named Rube Goldberg. He explained how Mr. Goldberg was known for inventing ridiculously complicated machines to perform simple tasks, and then revealed what our project would be: Each one of us would design and actually construct a device along the lines of what Rube Goldberg might have designed. We were to create a Rube Goldberg machine.

Thanks in large part to my dad, I managed to complete the project, and demonstrated my contraption for the class: a golf ball rolled through a tube, setting off a series of movements, eventually resulting in an egg being cracked over a frying pan.

Neat stuff, but not the point.

It so happened that, during the period of time I was working on this project, my family had dinner with a couple we didn't see very often. We were enjoying getting caught up, and the husband asked me how school was going. I told him it was fine, and thought I would let him in on my project.

But just as I began my story, in a split-second, I reasoned that our family friend, a man in his forties, surely would not be familiar with the name "Rube Goldberg". After all, I had never heard of Rube Goldberg until my teacher brought him up. So, in an effort to spare this poor man the embarrassment of having his ignorance exposed, I launched off into a Rube Goldberg-style explanation of my project, but without actually naming Mr. Goldberg's name. I explained that I was working on a project where I had to create a complicated machine to do a simple job, and so on, and so forth.

Imagine my shock at the man's response:

"Oh, so it's kind of a 'Rube Goldberg' type of thing, eh?"

What?!? How on earth did he know that?

Simple answer: He had lived on planet Earth a lot longer than I had, and he knew a lot of things I knew, and a lot of things I didn't know. Despite my perception, I was, in fact, not in possession of a rare secret with my newfound but shallow knowledge of Rube Goldberg.

Oh, what a little knowledge can do. A measure of knowledge, mixed with pride rather than humility and perspective, can be a dangerous recipe.

About six years later, during my freshman year in college, I had the misfortune of seeing the ugliest form of the arrogance of knowledge. This time, I was on the receiving end.

I was working my job at the circulation desk in the library, when a graduate student approached to check out some books. (Gasp in awe...) What I assumed would be a routine transaction turned out to be a bizarre encounter. The student accepted my greeting, passed over his books and his ID card as usual, but proceeded to say, without any prompt whatsoever, "I was up here earlier, and heard you and that other guy talking, and I want you to know that neither one of you said anything intelligent."

Yes, that's really what he said. Honestly, I don't remember what "that other guy" and I had been talking about, but apparently this man had overheard us, and was not impressed. Why he chose to say what he said, I'll never know.

He may have been right. It's possible my co-worker and I were making no sense at all, especially as judged by the "superior intellect". But what kind of arrogance does it take to say what this guy said to me?

Possibly just a more complete version of the attitude I had toward my friend, when I assumed he wouldn't know something just because it was new to me?

Just as Rube Goldberg wasn't new to my friend, the arrogance of knowledge isn't a new issue in the family of God.

"We know that we all have knowledge. Knowledge puffs up, but love edifies. And if anyone thinks that he knows anything, he knows nothing yet as he ought to know." -- I Corinthians 8:1-2

"Because of your knowledge shall the weak brother perish, for whom Christ died?" -- I Corinthians 8:11

These passages are taken from Paul's discussion of a divisive issue facing the early church in Corinth: Whether or not a Christian could, with a clear conscience, acquire and eat meat that had been previously used in idol worship.

This issue might seem foreign to a Christian living in western culture today, but there are still many lessons to learn.

Paul makes clear in his letter that idols are nothing, and whether or not a Christian eats the meat in question is immaterial. But the interesting thing about Paul's discussion is that he focuses less attention on this question than he gives to the attitude of the people asking it. His primary focus is not on those who don't understand the meat issue; his focus is on those who do.

It's safe to assume that Paul's first choice would have been for everyone to have a perfect understanding of the issue. But short of that, it seems clear that Paul would prefer to see a sincere Christian live with the limited understanding that would lead him to think the meat in question was sinful, rather than to see the same Christian grasp this issue and become scornful of those who didn't.

The worst outcome Paul can see is not for a Christian to live with imperfect understanding; the worst thing would be for the Christian with the greater understanding to offend or alienate the one with less. Or worse yet, to embolden that Christian to violate his conscience.

Many a schoolteacher has quoted the mantra: "Knowledge is power". And there is ample truth to that statement. Knowledge is better than ignorance any day. But there is much more than mere knowledge to a Christ-like spirit and a Godly life.

We will learn much in this new year. Let us pray for the humility and perspective that will allow our knowledge to be a blessing rather than a curse.

No Small Thing

2008-12-23T09:30:00.004-06:00

The other day, I was helping our youngest son find a page to color in a Bible-based coloring book. As we flipped through the pages, we came to a depiction of Moses and the burning bush. Something struck me as unusual about the picture, so I took a closer look.

The burning bush was there, Moses was there, "authentic" clothing, walking stick, movie-star hair, everything you would expect.

But one thing was a little odd: the expression on Moses' face. The picture showed Moses approaching the burning bush with one hand raised as in greeting, with a grin on his face from ear to ear, as though he had just run into an old friend in the airport and couldn't have been more delighted.

Somehow, I doubted this was Moses' actual state of mind at that moment, and a review of Exodus 3 confirmed my suspicions.

The scene in the text is quite different from the coloring book version. In the text, Moses approaches the bush out of curiosity, is commanded to remove his sandals out of respect for holy ground, and hides his face for fear of being in the presence of God.

Moses does not respond with enthusiasm to the message given to him from the burning bush. In fact, Moses tries everything he can think of to persuade God to go find someone else for this mission of freeing God's people from slavery.

The scene continues with two miraculous signs that terrify Moses: his staff turning into a serpent, which he then has to pick up, and his hand becoming leprous and returning to normal. And, to top it all off, Moses is told he will have the opportunity to threaten the life of Pharaoh's firstborn son.

We know the rest of the story.

Moses' call at the burning bush results in the rest of his entire life being given to the service of God and His people. And this time is not filled with delight. In fact, the hardship far outweighs the pleasure. The burden is heavy, the people are ungrateful and disobedient, and Moses does not always feel the mission is worthwhile.

Yet his work was necessary. He ushered God's people from one point in their history to another.

Still, do you ever wonder whether Moses thought back on that day when he saw the burning bush? Do you ever wonder whether he wished he hadn't seen it, or that he had just minded his own business and not gone to check it out? There were times when he vented to God in exasperation, asking why he was stuck tending to these people whom he had not fathered, and asking God to simply strike him dead (Numbers 11).

Yes, Moses would have had a simpler, probably more pleasurable life had he not responded to God's call. But can you imagine the depth, the purpose, the understanding he would have missed? Apart from his most frustrating moments in God's service, surely Moses understood this.

The point is not to criticize a coloring book.

The point is to remind God's people that it is no small thing to answer His call.

He asks us to be faithful until death. He promises us an eternity of blessing if we will do so. Few believers hesitate about this, but we tend to forget that this requires a different attitude toward this earthly life than most people are willing to have. Eternity has to be more important, even if it means our time here being nothing like what we had planned and wished for.

Moses learned this, even if he didn't yet understand it at the burning bush.

Will God's people today understand what the children of Israel seldom did?

You Came...Here?

2008-12-21T13:47:00.003-06:00

Anyone who has ever moved from one place to another has heard the inevitable questions:

"You're going where?" "Why? What are you thinking?"

It's not always easy for people to understand why someone they care about would choose to relocate. Even if they understand, it's still emotional, with feelings mixed between happiness for a new opportunity, and the grief of knowing how much the person will be missed.

Something interesting can happen on the other end as well.

If you've ever moved from one place to a smaller, less "glamorous" place, some of your new neighbors might very well express surprise that you left what in their minds is a "better" place, to come live in the town they've always called home. While they're glad you're there, and they've welcomed you like family, somewhere in the back of their minds, they're asking, "Why would you come here?"

People are funny. Our hometowns are so great no one should move away, yet at the same time, other places, bigger and better, are so wonderful no one should ever want to leave them and come to our little one-horse town. A lot of this, of course, is in our imagination. Life is life wherever you are.

"You're going where?"

"You came here?"

Two questions asked sincerely by people trying to understand another person's decision. And most of the time, the answer is perfectly understandable once it is explained, and loving people support one another throughout these decisions.

There is a story, however, in which the answers to these same questions aren't so easy to understand.

"The Word became flesh and dwelt among us." -- John 1:14

Never fail to marvel at the fact that He came here. That the Creator became a part of His creation. That He entrusted Himself to the care of two first-time parents with nothing in this world. That He grew up to live a sinless life and gave Himself as the sacrifice to end all sacrifices. That the veil of the temple was torn in two so we could approach God. That He defeated death and rose from the grave. That He sent His Spirit to help us; and that He intercedes for us still. And most of all, that the story is far from over; that He's coming back again.

Who would do this? Is there any other object of faith in this world who can claim anything like this?

What sense could this have made to the angels who announced His arrival? (I Peter 1:12) Can we even claim that it makes sense to us?

Whatever else you do at Christmas time, take time to marvel at what God has done.

Marvel, but more importantly, respond.

The Wrong Hombre to Fool With

2008-12-16T22:18:00.006-06:00

You see the picture.

A hat like that would be a prized possession by anyone’s standard. In fact, I had one just like it back in my teens, and wore it with pride, until…

One random weekday morning, my brother Samuel was getting ready for school, and asked if he could borrow my Raiders stocking cap for a field trip that day. It was a cold day, and he was going to be outside, so I agreed, and Samuel took my hat.

I went to school that day and never gave my hat a thought. When I got home that afternoon, I breezed straight to my room as I normally did, unloading my school stuff and turning on some tunes.

Just as I was getting settled in, the moment came. Not sure what the deal was, or what the chemistry of that moment was, but for whatever reason, my fuse was unusually short.

Samuel came in, looking forlorn.

“Uh, Dave…I lost your hat. I left it somewhere on the field trip today.”

Oh, no, you didn’t.

I really don’t remember my words. I hope Samuel doesn’t, either. All I know is that I let him have it. Man, I shook the leaves on the trees. Yeah, that’s right. I was the wrong hombre to fool with. One tough sunnuvugun.

Samuel took this tongue-lashing quietly. He just stood there in silence, staring down at the carpet as I strutted past him and out of the room, far more macho than this hat-losing brother of mine would ever hope to be.

I cruised down the stairs and through the kitchen, right past my mom, who stopped me and said, “Oh, David, I need to tell you something before you talk to Samuel today. He lost your hat on his field trip, but I need you to be understanding. He really felt bad about it. He was crying on the way home.”

Wow.

(Do you remember those old cartoon scenes, when a character realizes he's been a complete jerk, and for just a moment, turns into a skunk, and then back to his normal self?)

Could anyone have scripted this?

My crime became even more heinous when I later learned that Samuel had made a valiant effort to save my precious hat. As his class was about to return to school on their bus, he realized he had left it behind, and insisted the teacher make the bus driver wait while he went back to search for my hat, only to find it was already gone. He had done all he could.

What are the odds? The moment my brother, six years my junior, acted most like an adult, I chose to respond like a child. When the moment called for grace, I refused to be gracious. When a loved one was vulnerable, I was vicious. Just when a point did not need to be made, I took it upon myself to pound it home, and in dramatic fashion.

It was the worst possible response, short of physical violence.

And in contrast: Just when my brother might have felt most justified in fighting fire with fire, he turned the other cheek and absorbed it all.

For everything we understand about the danger of the human tongue, how often do we forget that it's more than a simple matter of the words we choose and the stories we tell?

One of the most revealing tests of our character is the way we choose to treat someone who is vulnerable. What do we do or say when we have the upper hand, and someone else is in a position of weakness? "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." -- Matthew 5:7

Another test, just as crucial as the first, is our commitment to living out the truth of Proverbs 25:11. "The right word at the right time is like precious gold set in silver." How well do we sense where other people are and what they need?

Don't feel up to the test?

"If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him." -- James 1:5

Or, there is always the world's way: Show 'em how tough you are. Repay any offense. Make sure they know you're the wrong hombre to fool with.

And how will Jesus answer?

"I never knew you."

What Is Your Beauty?

2008-12-06T12:10:00.002-06:00

Ezekiel 16 is one of many unexplored corners of Scripture to most believers.

In this passage, God gives the prophet Ezekiel an analogy for His relationship with His people, Israel. The analogy begins with a passerby discovering an abandoned newborn, left on the ground, unwashed and helpless. The passerby rescues the baby and cares for her, and watches her mature into a beautiful woman He will call His own. The passerby/rescuer/husband gives His beloved everything there is to give, and she becomes famous for her beauty.

If only the story ended there.

Chapter 16, verse 15: "But you trusted in your beauty..."

The rest of the story is a tragic spiral of promiscuity, idolatry, infanticide, and ruin. In the end, God assures Israel that she will ultimately repent of her evil, and that He will provide atonement for it. But there is much pain to be suffered in the meantime, as Israel reaps the consequences of her unfaithfulness to God.

Naturally, the reader's attention is drawn to Israel's conduct, the idolatry that is equated to marital infidelity. This makes sense, because this conduct is what brought about Israel's ruin. But there is something else here, something that preceded the idolatry and unfaithfulness. Something that provided the starting point for all of that:

"...you trusted in your beauty..."

The origin of every evil committed by Israel was the faith she developed in her own beauty. She came to believe she was who she was by her own power, by her own virtue, and that she could continue to have everything she had by her own will, charm, and connections.

She forgot her beauty was a gift from God. She forgot what she was before He came along and picked her up off the ground. She forgot she was nothing without Him.

Once these facts were forgotten, once the prideful seed was planted and took root, the door was open for God's beloved to become no different than her worldly neighbors. In fact, according to Ezekiel's prophecy, she became even more evil than they were.

If only God's people today weren't just as vulnerable to the same mistake.

What gift from God are you tempted to trust and consider your own? Your looks? Your talent? Your charm? Your intellect? Your wealth? Your career? Your rolodex?

What is your beauty?

Points of View

2008-11-29T08:40:00.011-06:00

Fall, 1991.

Abilene Christian University.

A Freshman English class on a random weekday morning.

Just as our professor was making a point about whatever we were reading, an unmistakable noise broke the quiet and competed for everyone's attention. It was the noise of a gas-powered leaf blower being operated down on the sidewalk outside. A work crew was hard at it that morning, oblivious to the advanced scholarship they were interrupting.

Our professor paused, looked out the window, and sighed in exasperation. "That is the most pointless machine ever invented..." she muttered, before gathering her thoughts again and getting our lecture back on track.

The comment about the leaf blower obviously made a much more lasting impression on me than the lecture did, but it also said something about the professor herself, and something about me.

What my professor didn't know that morning was that, by the time I sat in her class at the age of 18, I had personally logged many hours doing the very same kind of work those men on the walkway were doing that morning.

This experience gave me an altogether different attitude about the sound of a leaf blower. Sure, it's noisy, but if your only other option is to take a broom and manually sweep a sidewalk or curb, with several other lawns still to do before dark, then a leaf blower is an absolute godsend, not "the most pointless machine ever invented".

To her, it was just noise. To me, it was an important tool, worth the noise.

Granted, the noise of a leaf blower outside the window of a class full of freshmen is probably not the best situation. And, my professor's frustration at her lecture being interrupted was understandable to a point. But, her comment went beyond expressing her point of view, (i.e. "I wish they could blow off the sidewalk some other time") and ventured out into total disregard for someone else's point of view ("...the most pointless machine ever invented").

No, I didn't say anything to her. It wasn't a big deal, and I wasn't hurt by it.

But, how often are people hurt this way?

How often do we say things that may contain some element of truth, at least the way we see it, but don't take into account where someone else might be?

For example:

"People just waste public support." (To the single mom who used public support to make ends meet the first few years after her husband left.)

"Anyone who wouldn't help a homeless person is heartless." (To my grandfather, who numerous times offered jobs at his business to homeless people, who rarely ever took him up on it.)

"Spare the rod and spoil the child." (To the couple whose teenager is living in defiance of their every value, in spite of their diligent efforts to raise him/her in the Lord.)

"Can't let worries over money get you down." (To someone who can barely pay his bills, from someone living on two pensions and a part-time job, in a paid-off house.)

"Anyone who would look at pornography is a sick pervert." (To the wounded Christian fighting a losing, secret battle with this very evil.) -- see The God of the Towel, by Jim McGuiggan, page 225.

Have these examples brought to mind other things folks have said in your hearing, that were offensive, insensitive, or at the very least, ignorant of your point of view?

Have you thought, perhaps, of some things you've said to others, that you now wish you hadn't said?

In James chapter 3, we read of the dangers inherent in the gift of speech: "...no man can tame the tongue. It is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison..." (3:8)

Typically, when we read this passage, the dangers that come to mind are of a deliberate nature, such as gossip, profanity, and outbursts of anger. And, rightly so, as these dangers deserve our careful attention.

But again, how often are people hurt, not by a deliberate attack, but by a careless remark, an insensitive observation, a needless expression of one's personal opinion, without regard for the possibility that someone within earshot could be in a totally different place, and vulnerable to the remark?

Combine this insensitivity with most Christians' refusal to follow Jesus' command from Matthew 18 about going to a person who has caused offense, and the result is a body of believers fractured and divided, with souls and groups of souls walled off from one another, not in the unity Jesus prayed for in John 17.

So, what is the answer? If this is the case, what can anyone say? Couldn't almost anything we say be potentially misconstrued and taken as offensive by someone? And, in fact, isn't the Gospel itself offensive to many? (I Cor. 1)

Yes, but we're not talking about the Gospel, or anything even close to its importance.

And, we're not talking about that person we all know who seems to find a way to read something offensive into even the most harmless incidents and remarks.

We're talking about those times when we should have known there was potential for offense in what we said or did. Those times when the offense was reasonably predictable, and the matter at hand not nearly important enough to be worth offending anyone over.

Those times when needless offense creates a barrier to either the Gospel itself or to Christian fellowship.

That's what we're talking about, and it's far more common than we might like to think.

So, the answer lies in James 3, and in the mirror.

Gratitude

2008-11-27T16:37:00.004-06:00

It's Thanksgiving Day.

As I write, our feast is finished, our guests are gone, and the Cowboys are beating Seattle.

Now that it's quiet, what better time to reflect on what I'm most thankful for?

Father, I thank You for:

*The family You've given me.

*The job You've provided for me, and the purpose I find in it.

*The fact that this physical life is not the whole story.

*Your church on earth; we're not alone in our faith.

Not to minimize any of these things, but I am conscious of my gratitude for them most of the time.

Today, for whatever reason, I am particularly thankful for something else:

*The times when You've allowed me to endure hardship, and through hardship brought about growth in me that I could never have foreseen. Growth I didn't even want, and hardship I never would have chosen.

I know many have suffered more pain than I have, and many might trade their circumstances for mine in a minute. But I also know that You work in my life, and on my heart, and You've made me more like You than I was before.

I don't desire difficulty; I would never pray for pain. But I do pray for growth, for continued growth, and to be molded and shaped by Your hand. This is what I desire.

And if it hurts, it hurts.

Recon

2008-11-21T00:02:00.014-06:00

Have you seen the new TV commercial for Levi's jeans?

This ad ran during the 8 pm hour on NBC last week. It features close-up shots of a teenage boy and girl in the process of getting undressed together. It's clear they're standing outside, but not clear at first where they are. The nervous couple exchanges hesitant, intimate words, such as, "This is your first time, right?", planting a clear idea in the viewer's mind of what is about to happen.

The commercial takes a bold turn with a close-up of each teen opening the button-fly on their Levi's jeans and pulling them down.

Just when it seems the kids are headed the rest of the way, they embrace side by side and jump off the pier on which we now see they've been standing, splashing happily into the water below, where they enjoy a swim in their skivvies.

Pretty shocking? No doubt.

Imagine the effects of these images planted in the soft soil of your child's mind.

Imagine the conscience of someone who would create and broadcast such an image, unconcerned for its potential effect on your child. But, how would that person respond, if confronted by you or me? The answer would be quick and brutal: Your child is your responsibility. Making money for my company is my responsibility. Wherever these interests might be in conflict is your responsibility.

A brutal response, but ultimately, true.

Not morally right, but technically accurate.

The haunting fact is: If you don't protect your child's innocence, who will? We no longer live in a world in which merchants are concerned with your child's upbringing. (Was there ever a world like that anyway, outside of our imaginations? Or, has that envelope been steadily pushed all along, shocking each successive generation of parents?)

So, how should the Christian parent respond to such an ad?

*Boycott Levi's? -- Nothing wrong with that, if it makes you feel better.

*Write an angry letter to NBC? -- Again, fine, and who knows? Someone important enough might actually be influenced.

*Cut off TV service to your house? -- Definitely an aggressive strategy, but is it throwing out the baby with the bathwater?

*Aggressively "inform" your child that such an image is bad, and he/she better not ever...yada, yada, yada...? -- OK, but who ends up feeling guilty and alienated from you? Levi's, NBC, or your kid?

*Go to bed in utter dismay over the state of the world, feeling bitter, attacked, and alone? -- No comment.

Any of these reactions might come naturally to Christian parents who love their children and desperately want a Godly life for them. And, if Christian parents feel as though they are at war for the hearts and minds of their children, they are correctly perceiving reality: We are. We always have been. Even back in the good ol' days. To have ever had faith that a secular world would care as much for your child's soul as you do was utter foolishness, even when Ed Sullivan wouldn't show Elvis from the waist down. The problem is not 2008, as opposed to 1958. The problem is sin, in all times, and in all places. The sands shift, but the battle is the same.

But there is still something missing in the parental responses listed above.

King David wrote a beautiful passage in Psalm 101:3: "I will set no worthless thing before my eyes; I hate the work of those who fall away; It shall not fasten its grip on me." Show this to anyone trying to justify pornography. Read this and remind yourself of the value of remaining "unspotted from the world", in the words of James 1:27.

However, as fervently as David and James would undoubtedly speak about the value of purity, neither man, especially not David the warrior, would ever overlook the necessity of one vital element of success in warfare, and one vital element missing in many Christian parents' reactions to the popular culture: Reconnaissance.

Recon, surveillance, scouting, combat intelligence. Call it what you will, no military commander would ever enter into battle without it. To do so would be folly, and suicide. Before committing troops to an objective, what must be known, at least to the degree possible? The lay of the land, an accurate assessment of enemy numbers and positions, enemy fortifications and armaments, possible routes of escape, weather conditions, and so on. All this, on top of a thorough, honest assessment of the state of your own side's capabilities.

The key words in the previous paragraph are "accurate" and "honest". True recon is not concerned with what anyone wants to be true, or hopes to be true. It isn't afraid of reality, or insistent that reality fit a mold of what anyone thinks it should be or used to be. Recon insists on being accurate, conveying the truth of what really is, in order to provide for effective planning that will preserve life. It does no soldier any good for a commander to be unaware of reality. In fact, a nation would be outraged at troops needlessly jeopardized because of a commander's ignorance of recon or refusal to be informed by it.

Most Christian parents are pretty good at their own personal purity, but many ignore cultural reconnaissance on behalf of their children altogether. Would you not be outraged at troops put in harm's way due to the ignorance of those sending them? How is it any different to send your child out into a world with which you're hopelessly unfamiliar and in which you're increasingly irrelevant?

In case you're getting nervous:

*A few things we are not talking about:

Putting your children in harm's way for the sake of exposure.

Sinning for the sake of being familiar with sin.

Immersing yourself in popular culture in order to be the "cool" parent.

Giving financial support to sinful influence. (The web is the ultimate tool, allowing the Christian parent
to scout popular culture without necessarily having to buy it.)

*But, seriously:

Do you know the names and material of any popular music artist today?

Have you ever read a novel your child is reading?

Are you familiar with any slang terminology your child hears at school? Have you ever asked?

Do you know what your child thinks about sex?

Do you have the kind of rapport with your child that will allow for these conversations to happen without your child
feeling like he or she is in trouble?

Is there some element of risk involved in a Christian parent's commitment to cultural recon? Yes, it's possible for a parent and a home to be led astray by cultural influence. But, this occurrence will be rare in comparison to the numbers of children led astray by the culture, right under the noses of Christian parents who had their heads buried in the sand and never had a clue.

If you're too afraid or bashful to speak up, you're the only one in your child's life who is. This world is not afraid of you, is not the least bit bashful, and it will speak up so your child will hear.

Soldier, where are your binoculars?

"I Just Snapped!"

2008-11-16T23:10:00.006-06:00

"Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom." -- Viktor E. Frankl

We had quite a moment at our house a couple months back.

I don't recall exactly what was going on, but our then-19-month old son wanted to do or get something that just wasn't going to work at that moment, so the answer to his request was "No", or "Later", or something to that effect.

Unfortunately, little Jonathan wasn't at all pleased with this response, and let it show by falling to the floor and wailing to the heavens, in hopes that someone, somewhere would care enough to intervene on his behalf. This display didn't work as he hoped it would; in fact, it only cemented the "No" from his original request.

There's nothing out of the ordinary here. Every household with children has been blessed with scenes just like this one.

But, to the close observer, there was something highly instructive to be found in one slight detail of Jonathan's tantrum.

At the precise moment Jonathan received the bad news that buckled his knees, he and I were standing on the hard tile floor of our home's entryway, but only a foot or two away from the nice, soft carpet of the living room.

Looking at the replay in slow motion: When Jonathan took the "No" response, and "lost" control, he bent forward at the waist to begin his "uncontrolled" freefall. Just before crossing the point of no return, he paused, took a full step to his right to position himself within range of the carpet, and then resumed his fall, landing safely away from the tile, where his fit could continue, injury-free.

I'm not sure what my familiarity with this maneuver says about me, but I did recognize it right away:

*Making a statement, but making sure it won't hurt.

*Carefully controlling the "loss" of control.

*Trying to have it both ways.

In Galatians 5:19-21, Paul lists several behaviors that characterize the lifestyle of those living according to the flesh rather than the Spirit. Listed among these sins are "outbursts of wrath", or "fits of rage". While Paul's list includes many items that most of us would know only in the abstract, such as murder, witchcraft, and orgies, his mention of uncontrolled anger hits a lot of us pretty close to home.

And, as common as this problem is, there is an excuse for it that is every bit as prevalent: "I don't know what happened. I just snapped!"

Without judging the sincerity of anyone's apology, there lies within this statement an attempt to refuse responsibility for one's actions. If I did indeed just "snap", then I didn't really choose to do whatever it was I did. And, while I can then be sorry that it happened, or sorry for how someone took it, it's not really the same as saying, yes, I did it, I chose to do it, I was wrong, and I'm sorry. The difference is subtle, and many don't even perceive it. But, it's an important difference.

It's so easy to claim a loss of control. So easy to say, "I just snapped!"

But, really, now. Come on.

Have you ever...

*Cursed at your boss?

*Yelled at your spouse in a crowded restaurant?

*Berated your child in front of his teacher?

*Thrown a fit in your front yard?

*Peeled out of your own driveway?

*Knocked over a grocery basket on your way out of the store?

I'm guessing you answered "No" to all these questions, and either laughed at them, or found them offensive. And, why wouldn't you ever do these things, besides the fact that they're just wrong? Because you know full well that doing so would be very risky for you. You would probably get hurt. There would be painful consequences that you would very much like to avoid.

So, somehow, some way, even in the face of serious provocation, we all dig down deep and find the patience and self-control needed to avoid these risky behaviors. Somehow, with this much at stake, we manage never to "snap".

But, then, there are other times, when the immediate risk doesn't seem so great. Times when our sense of entitlement outweighs our good judgment and our love:

*An athlete, coach, or fan disagrees with an official's call.

*One driver doesn't like the actions of another.

*A wife hears the beginning of the same old excuse from her husband.

*A husband hears the beginning of the same old criticism from his wife.

*A child hears the beginning of the same old correction from a parent.

*A parent hears the beginning of the same old nonsense from a child.

*The TV remote has vanished.

*Someone forgot to buy more sodas.

*The toilet seat was left in the wrong position again.

And, there are yet other times when we bottle up our anger in public, only to shake the bottle and pop the cork once safely behind the closed doors of home, not unlike little Jonathan carefully targeting the safest place to fall while "helplessly" losing control.

Is this really the best we can do?

That's actually the wrong question. The question should be: "Is this the conduct of people who have the Spirit of God in them?"

Paul, in the same passage in Galatians, describes the result of being Spirit-filled. He uses the analogy of fruit that grows by the power of God. The fruit, or result, of being filled with His Spirit will take many forms, including patience and self-control, the very opposite of the fits of rage so common to the sinful nature.

A person who would truly "snap" and act without control would do so in any situation, regardless of the risk.

People like that do exist, but it's not likely that you're one of them.

Falling Down

2008-11-08T01:16:00.005-06:00

Who hasn't joked about the infamous TV commercial: "I've fallen, and I can't get up!"?

Of course, falling down is no laughing matter; not when it's for real, and someone is hurt.

Who hasn't cringed at a story of an elderly person breaking a hip in a random fall? Or, a story of someone who suffers an incapacitating fall, and isn't found for hours or days? For that matter, who hasn't dreaded the thought of dying in a fall from a great height?

This article details the reality of how devastating a fall can be, especially for the elderly.

Two quotes from the article are especially relevant:

"Falls Merit Complex Care" (from the headline)

It's not likely anyone would fail to appreciate the need for care and rehabilitation for someone who has fallen, either physically or spiritually. But, do we really understand what "complex care" entails? Not likely, until the need for it arises. The difficult, ongoing therapy described in the article is likely to be news to anyone who hasn't been through it, or had a loved one go through it. Healing the wounds of a physical fall involves a great deal more than a bandage and an aspirin. And, the injuries suffered in a fall often go deeper and spread wider than anyone would have thought.

So it is with a spiritual fall as well.

When a Christian falls into sin, the effects can be just as far-reaching, and the healing and restoration that are needed require more time and attention than can be given in a brief conversation at the end of a sermon. Are we prepared to give the time and attention it takes to provide loving accountability to one another in our daily lives? Are we willing to help a struggling Christian overcome sin Monday through Saturday?

The second quote is even more critical, perhaps even haunting:

"For some people...admitting that they fall is tantamount to admitting that they are no longer competent to take care of themselves."

We've all heard sad stories of elderly people struggling to come to terms with their need for assistance. My wife and I know an aging farmer who we learned had suffered repeated falls out on his land, each time warning his farm hands not to breathe a word of it to his wife. Finally, thankfully, one of them did.

How true is this of most of us?

Admitting we fall means admitting we're not self-sufficient.

But, we all know we're not self-sufficient, right? Who would ever claim to be? We're not even supposed to be!

Maybe it's fear of being an imposition. Or, embarrassment over what exactly we've fallen into. Maybe too much of our identity wrapped up in an image of having it "together". Or, an unwillingness to jeopardize our social standing.

Whatever the reason, a Christian who falls into sin and keeps the matter quiet has handed Satan a double victory.

Falling down doesn't have to result in death.

But, how often do we allow it to?

"Looks like you've been shot a few times there..."

2008-11-02T17:15:00.003-06:00

Kristi and I were watching one of those "ER" reality shows, where a TV camera crew follows a doctor around.

One patient who visited the ER left a memorable impression.

He was an elderly man complaining of lingering pain in his collarbone area. He had fallen a week or so before, but had not sought medical attention, thinking the pain would just go away. It hadn't, so the man wondered whether he had broken his collarbone.

The doctor felt the area and seemed fairly certain the collarbone was either broken or dislocated, but wanted to see an x-ray to determine for sure what to do.

When he asked the patient about any past medical issues, the only item offered was a stroke some years back.

This answer in particular provided a moment of shock and off-beat comedy when the doctor actually viewed the x-ray. Clearly visible on the x-ray were four distinct, completely intact bullets lodged in various places within this poor man's body.

At some risk of appearing insensitive, the doctor chuckled at this unexpected sight. "Well, I asked if there were any past medical issues, so I guess he didn't think this was any big deal. In all fairness, I didn't ask him specifically whether he had ever been shot four times..."

No explanation was given as to the nature of these wounds, or even how old they were. What is certain is how fortunate this man was to be alive, having sustained such trauma to his body, and apparently without sufficient medical treatment.

It's interesting how this can happen. Something that appears so out of place to an outsider or a newcomer can be just another forgotten part of the landscape to the person who has learned to accommodate it for enough time.

How on earth could a person carry bullets lodged in his body for years, and not bother to mention it to a doctor before an x-ray?

Oh, I don't know...

How could a Christian rarely pray?

How could a Bible gather dust?

How could someone bear a grudge for a lifetime?

How could a married couple live together without intimacy for years on end?

How could a habit become more important than a family?

How could a once-vibrant faith become a time card?

These scenarios are every bit as real as the bullets in that old man's body. And, they are certainly much more common. To anyone on the outside looking in, the bullet is plain to see, glaring back boldly from the x-ray, even if the wounded soul has made peace with it, or has forgotten its presence altogether.

What wounds do you carry?

What bullets are still lodged in your soul?

Why carry these things, when Jesus is so near?

Shifting Sands, Solid Rock

2008-10-25T09:43:00.007-05:00

It was sometime in the mid-80s.

A Los Angeles TV news station ran a story about an up-and-coming heavy metal band called Poison, that was beginning to emerge as a popular act in town, and seemed to be on the brink of making it big.

The reporter questioned the band members about the name of their group, wondering why they would choose a name as seemingly unappealing as "Poison". One of the members answered, describing the band's struggles against parents who accused them of "poisoning our youth" with their music. Fed up with all the negative vibes, the band chose its name in defiance of these very parents and their concerns.

The quote given in the interview was: "Cut the crap, we're Poison!"

Nothing noteworthy in the quote itself, but there was something interesting that occurred in the broadcast of this interview:

The word "crap" was bleeped.

Let that sink in for a second...

Sounds quaint, doesn't it?

Times change.

Any adult could tell stories just like this one, stories of a more innocent time. A time when people cared about what was good and decent. A time when people took greater care to preserve the innocence of children. A time when right was right and wrong was wrong.

And, who could argue with these observations?

Yet, those same "good old days" included many plagues better left in the history books. Really, is anyone up for a return to segregation? Pre-suffrage politics? Primitive medicine? The chamber pot?

Perhaps that's some of the wisdom behind King Solomon's words:

"Do not say, 'Why were the old days better than these?' For it is not wise to ask such questions." (Ecclesiastes 7:10)

Solomon doesn't elaborate on this thought. He doesn't say exactly why it's so unwise to dwell on the good old days and look with scorn upon the present. He just says it's unwise.

Perhaps he knew people's tendency to exaggerate, making the good better and the bad worse than either really was.

Or, maybe people in his day were just as prone as we are to airbrushing the problems out of our fondest memories, creating in our minds a past so perfect, the present can't measure up to it.

Then again, it could just be that people in Solomon's time were just as troubled by shifting sands as we are today.

As long as people walk the earth, times will continue to change. The world's concerns will evolve and shift. Words will go unbleeped that were bleeped a generation before, while at the very same time, other matters will be treated with greater sensitivity than they had been previously, leaving us wondering how we ever overlooked them before.

In the end, will one generation's landscape prove to be categorically better than another?

Or, is every disciple called to be salt and light, right there in the very present time, regardless of when that happens to be?

Could it be that you live today, because God wants you here?

Times change, but Christ doesn't. (Hebrews 13:8)

Stand on the Rock and let the sand shift around you.

Don't love the sand, or hate the sand, or wish it would stand still. Or that it would go back to the way it used to be.

Certainly don't blow away with it.

Just stand on the Rock, and let not your heart be troubled.

"Oh, no, you didn't!"

2008-10-12T16:04:00.004-05:00

Are you familiar with this phrase?

It's an expression of shock or anger at something provocative that another person has just done; something, in fact, that is about to meet an equally forceful response from the person saying, "Oh, no, you didn't!"

This TV commercial for a new video game is a great example of how this expression is used today:

The main character in this video game is a mercenary who was denied the money he was owed by whoever hired him, and so now, it's on.

(Well, there's another one. If you're not familiar with "on", it's pronounced somewhere between "own" and "awn", and it basically means the fight has started.)

I seriously doubt I'll never play Mercenaries 2, because in the world of video games, I never graduated beyond the Atari 2600. I couldn't even tell you what machine you have to have to play this game. But, regardless of your video game skill, the sentiment involved in this TV commercial is something that is all too familiar in human experience, and completely at odds with the will of God for His people.

"Payback is a comin', you will be runnin' forevahhh!"

"Beloved, do not avenge yourselves, but rather give place to wrath; for it is written, 'Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,' says the Lord." -- Romans 12:19

"Until I get my vengeance, I will never end this mayhem."

"For we know Him who said, 'Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,' says the Lord. And again, 'The Lord will judge His people.'" -- Hebrews 10:30

It's doubtful anyone would seriously dispute God's command against taking personal vengeance on another person, although it can't be assumed every believer is aware of it. On the other hand, human emotions can wreak havoc on a person's commitment to remain true to God's commands. John Grisham's novel A Time to Kill is a fictitious example of a person convincing himself that personal vengeance is justified, even to the point of committing murder in retaliation for an unpunished crime.

Does God really prohibit us from taking vengeance in every case?

Yes.

Doesn't He allow for any exceptions?

No.

Not even if your pre-teen daughter is raped by two men and left unable to conceive, and you fear her unrepentant attackers will be acquitted by a racist jury. (This is the main plot of A Time to Kill.)

Not even then. Not even when every emotion in your mind tells you the wrong has to be made right. In fact, especially then.

God reserves the business of vengeance for Himself alone. Funny how most of us wouldn't be bold enough to walk into our boss's office and sit down at the desk, out of respect for that person's territory. Yet, vengeance, as clearly as God has marked it as His own, is a place where many people are willing to tread without fear.

Vengeance is God's place. Don't go there. Make this commitment now, while all is well. Get this anchor in the water before waves begin to swell. If not, if you wait until you've been wronged, you can't trust what your mind will work out on its own.

But, even if we manage to resist the temptation to take vengeance when we've been wronged, is this really all God is looking for?

What was the standard Jesus taught during His ministry?

When Jesus spoke on the subjects of adultery and murder (Matthew 5:21-30), He took the discussion to a higher level than the people were accustomed to. No longer could righteousness be found in the mere avoidance of the full-blown, completed, physical act. Jesus challenged the people to consider the state of their hearts and minds, and made it clear to them that the fantasies of their minds had just the same spiritual consequence as the actual deed would have had.

Should we not apply the same principle to the discussion of vengeance?

Can we consider ourselves Christ-like for turning the other cheek, if all the while we're imagining carrying out our full vengeance against the offender?

"Create in me a clean heart, O God, And renew a steadfast spirit within me." -- Psalm 51:10

Ordinary Heroes

2008-10-12T13:19:00.003-05:00

Foo Fighters' 1997 hit "My Hero" has long been a favorite of mine.

In the artists' own words, the song is "a celebration of the common man and his extraordinary potential". The lyrics certainly back up this message: "There goes my hero; watch him as he goes! There goes my hero; he's ordinary!"

In my own experience, this song has evolved from a great tune to play loud in the car, to a thought-provoking 4 minutes.

Check out the video:

If that's a little too hard for your taste, try this live acoustic version:

So, what's the difference now? Why does this song mean so much more to me now than it did when it was brand new?

The answer: The eyes of my two sons when they look at me.

Whether I deserve it or not, whether I live up to it or not, in the eyes of these two innocent children, I am a hero. Along with my wife, I define normal for them. I demonstrate habits they will either pick up without thinking, or make a point of avoiding; either way, specifically because those habits are mine. Decades from now, these boys will remember moments, words, and deeds that I will have long since forgotten. They will be impacted by all I do, and all I don't do.

They will see how a Christian husband treats his wife. How he treats his children. How he acts in the privacy of his home. His real attitude toward everything he shows the world in public.

They will see, in living color, whether the Christian life is really a daily lifestyle, or whether it's a weekly time card.

Ultimately, they will learn whether a Christian man means it when he says he is a slave to Christ.

They will learn all this from me, because to them, I am a hero. Yet, in my own eyes, I am quite ordinary. Any honest parent feels the same way. And, not just parents. Every Christian is an example to someone in this world who notices and remembers. Any Christian can be a hero to someone out there who is trying to find the way.

Why would God actually entrust something this powerful to us, when we are clearly so ordinary?

Simply put, because it's not about us. It's not about how ordinary we are. It's not up to our own strength. It's all a matter of who lives within us, and who directs the ones looked upon as heroes by others.

A life lived in submission to Christ does indeed have "extraordinary potential". And, a soul in submission to Christ will be a worthy example for anyone to follow.

Most children will, at some point, admire a super-hero, a professional athlete, or an entertainer of some kind. However, these heroes are not likely to stand the test of time or truly influence a soul's eternal destiny.

That privilege is reserved for ordinary heroes, just like you.

A Good Day

2008-10-03T19:11:00.003-05:00

Stayed a little late at work today.

On my way out, the building was pretty much silent, but for the sound of custodians running vacuums off in the distance.

The door to the custodians' empty office was standing open as I passed by, and from inside I heard the sound of a radio, and vaguely recognized the song playing. It was a rap song from the early 90s, entitled, "It Was a Good Day".

In a way it was fitting, but it also provided food for thought.

This song's lyrics do not convey godliness in any sense.

The "good day" described in this song involves getting up around 10 am, eating breakfast cooked by "mama", packing a gun but not having to use it, driving around town on hydraulic shocks without being pulled over, winning money at dice and dominoes, committing fornication, celebrating a Lakers' victory, not losing any friends to murder, and enjoying a Fat Burger at 2 am on the drunk drive home.

What a day.

Besides the poignant note about the commonness of murder in a gang-infested area, this song describes a day in the life of a person living only for himself, thinking he is independent, but not realizing he is owned; he is under the sway of Satan.

Reflecting on this song prompted me to think back on my own activities of the day, and what I thought made today a good day.

Last night, the Dodgers beat the Cubs to take a 2-0 lead in the National League Division Series. This morning, I beat the traffic under the overpass and had a quiet morning drive. At work, I was able to finish the tasks I hoped to get done today, along with the unpredictable stuff that always happens. I helped a teacher, a student, and a parent patch things up after trust between them had been ruined. I found out we have a brand-new nephew in New Mexico. (Congratulations, Dan & Syndi!) No major problems among the student body today. And, tonight, Taco Bueno!

I gotta say, it was a good day.

But, I'm left unsatisfied with my thinking on what a good day really is.

Did I, today, at any moment, with any deliberate attention, give glory to God?

Did I remember the sacrifice of Jesus Christ for me?

Did I humble myself before God and acknowledge my dependence upon Him?

Did I give my wife a moment of my best attention, a moment she might remember someday after I'm gone?

Did I give my sons a piece of me today, something to mold their understanding of what a Christian man is? Did I do or say anything to turn their eyes to the Lord?

Did my colleagues see Christ at work today, or did they see me?

What is it we hope to accomplish when we get up in the morning? What are we satisfied with when we go to sleep at night?

What is our standard for our use of the time we have? Are we happy as long as our goals and desires are met, we manage to avoid disaster, and we pick up some fast food on the way home?

Or, are we mindful of eternity as our days pass us by?

All in the Packaging

2008-09-28T15:39:00.003-05:00

*A knife through the heart of your best friend, and the end of your child's innocence.

*Rent due, but money gone.

*Your boss gets over the disbelief, and makes peace with firing a trusted employee.

*A relationship so distant and cold you can't make yourself open the door.

*A life in ruins over a habit you never dreamed of having.

Not very appealing images, are they?

Try these instead:

*Just a fling, just for fun. Won't mean anything, won't hurt anyone. No one will know. You're attractive. You deserve it.

*You're sure to win! Just think of what you can do with all the money you'll bring home!

*It's just a little bit. You'll pay it back, and it won't happen again. He really owes you anyway, with all the extra time you put in.

*Pray later. He'll always be there. You're just not in the right frame of mind right now. You don't want to be a hypocrite, do you? If you really aren't feeling it, you shouldn't say it.

*What's the harm? Everyone says this is fun. You need to be more of a risk-taker, after all. You've been under a lot of stress, you know.

Now, those are images that appeal to people every day.

Don't underestimate temptation.

The evil one knows what makes you tick, and he knows it as well as you do, probably better. He knows what packages you're most likely to unwrap, and he's not likely to waste his time wrapping those you won't open. He will hit you with what he thinks will work, and he'll make it look awfully good.

"No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bear it." I Corinthians 10:13

"It Still Hurts, David."

2008-09-19T21:27:00.005-05:00

It wasn't one of my finest moments as a school administrator.

I was fed up with one particular student and his mother. The student was one of my office's frequent fliers, and his mother was one of the most combative and accusatory I had ever dealt with.

Normally, this kind of thing is fairly easy for me to keep in perspective and take in stride, but this time, this student, and this parent, had really gotten under my skin. My thoughts regarding them were not kind, and my manner toward them was becoming less cordial by the incident.

Then, one day in the spring semester, after this student had been through the wringer with me several times, the parent sat down for a lengthy conference with the student's teachers, a conference I did not attend. The teachers reported to me later about how the conference had gone, and I didn't hide my feelings regarding this mother and her son.

But, this conference was different.

The teachers told me that this mother had broken down in the meeting and cried. She wept over her son's foolishness, defiance, and refusal to learn. She mourned the consequences he had already suffered, as well as the unknown consequences to come in a future that appeared to be heading south in a hurry. She had no more answers, no more accusations, no more defenses. It was all gone, and all she had left for her son were tears.

The moment I'm not proud of came when these teachers told me this story.

My initial reaction was anger. Anger, mixed with resentment and disgust, at this mother who had taken me on a joyride to Hades, who had so confidently defended her son, who had so boldly accused me of being racist and deceitful, now breaking down to someone else and admitting she was out of gas. Now, after all this, asking for help. Now, after creating the problem herself, laying it at our feet and weeping over it. Where in the world does she get off crying now? Where was this humility several months ago when there might have been some hope? Doesn't she know this is her own fault? Doesn't she understand she created this herself?

I don't remember what my exact words to the teachers were, but those were the thoughts I communicated. I'm not proud of it, but it's the truth.

What I do remember, though, was Mr. Mims' response.

He looked at me kindly, with the wisdom I respected so much about him, with a face that said he understood both my feelings and the mother's, and said, "It still hurts, David. It still hurts." I remember the nod of his head, the slight narrowing of his eyes, and the smile that conveyed sympathy both to me and this mother. I remember his genuine respect for me, but also his awareness that I was still a pretty young guy whose back had never felt the canvas. And, he was giving me an insight into life that would only become real for me later on.

Once Mr. Mims said that, I ran out of gas myself. There was no more to fuss about. Yes, this poor woman had caused her own grief. Yes, everything I was saying was accurate, in the sense of being provable in court, but it just didn't matter. Her pain was still real, her outcry was still genuine, and our job was to be bigger than our feelings about how we had been treated.

In a recent television interview, a celebrity wept over his young son whom he rarely sees, due to the child living a great distance away with the celebrity's ex-wife. This father's genuine pain and guilt came through in the interview, along with the tears.

The background to this interview is the fact that this celebrity destroyed his marriage to his ex-wife by having an affair with another woman, whom he later married, and with whom he now has two children. So, this man lives on one coast with his second wife and their two kids, while feeling guilty over his dramatically reduced contact with his son from his first marriage, who lives on the opposite coast.

Again, my first reaction was judgment. Didn't this guy cause his own grief? Didn't he see any of this coming? And, what in the world is anyone supposed to do about it now? What can be done?

And again, Mr. Mims' kind words reminded me: "It still hurts, David. It still hurts."

Isn't that the nature of sin? Not only can it take us places we never dreamed we would go, but it can leave us with problems, messes, and dilemmas that defy any resolution and cause lingering pain. And Satan loves every minute of watching us weep over it.

Take King David as an example.

One look at his most grief-stricken moment brings all these same questions and feelings to the surface:

"Then the king was deeply moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept. And as he went, he said: "O my son Absalom--my son, my son Absalom--if only I had died in your place! O Absalom my son, my son!" (II Samuel 18:33)

"But the king covered his face, and the king cried out with a loud voice, "O my son Absalom! O Absalom, my son, my son!" (II Samuel 19:4)

David's grief over his son Absalom's death was beyond his ability to contain. It spilled out for all to see.

But, what led up to this moment?

Absalom, the son of the king, briefly overthrew his father and assumed the throne, forcing David and those loyal to him to flee the city that became synonymous with his name.

But, prior to that?

Absalom had only recently returned to Jerusalem after spending three years in exile after murdering his brother Amnon, over Amnon's rape of their sister Tamar.

But, before that?

David had been informed of the rape of Tamar, and had become angry over it, but apparently did nothing to resolve the matter, allowing Absalom to develop the vengeful heart that led to his plot to murder Amnon.

And, before that?

David had sent his entire family into a tailspin by committing adultery with Bathsheba and having her husband Uriah killed in his attempt to cover it all up. The issues that plagued David's family and reign found their origin in what David assumed would be just another roll in the hay.

As the saying goes, there is no free lunch.

*********************************************************

Maybe you've had a moment like this. A moment when the bomb you built, and defended building, finally blew up in your face and left you hurt and scarred. A moment when your pet rattlesnake finally decided it had had enough of you, and bit.

Maybe it was a moment of pleasure that seemed not to cost much at the time.

Maybe a moment of anger that seemed like a justified release at the time.

Maybe a lie that no one was ever going to discover.

Maybe years of misplaced priorities that finally issued a massive bill.

Maybe a habit of neglect in an area that finally refused to be ignored any longer.

It could be any number of things, and will likely be different in every person's life.

How do we want to be treated by others when we are finally forced to pay the piper? When we finally see it all for what it is? When we are hurting, bleeding, and we admit, at long last, that we caused it all ourselves?

What do we need from our loved ones? From those who tried to warn us?

We need them to understand that it still hurts. Even though we're to blame, even though we were warned, even though we have no legitimate claim on their sympathy, the end result is that it still hurts.

And, in that moment, only Jesus Christ can help.

"Brethren, if a man is overtaken in any trespass, you who are spiritual restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness, considering yourself lest you also be tempted." Galatians 6:1

A "Looking-For" Face

2008-09-08T20:00:00.011-05:00

Our 3 year-old son Benjamin has recently shown great interest in people's facial expressions, and he likes to practice his knowledge of them. Frequently, Benjamin will ask me or Kristi to "Show me a happy face," or "Show me a sad face," or a mad face, surprised face, and so on.

But, the last time we played this game, Benjamin threw me a curve. As we worked our way down the list of faces to make, he asked for a new one. He said, "Show me a looking-for face."

Well, I had never heard of that face before, but I guessed it must have meant the face of someone looking for something, so I gave Benjamin my most curious, eye-darting expression, in hopes of conveying what he wanted.

A "Looking-For" Face. What an interesting request.

Benjamin isn't the only one hoping to see this expression.

"But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him." -- Hebrews 11:6

"He has made from one blood every nation of men to dwell on all the face of the earth, and has determined their preappointed times and the boundaries of their dwellings, so that they should seek the Lord, in the hope that they might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us; for in Him we live and move and have our being." -- Acts 17:26-28

"But from there you will seek the Lord your God, and you will find Him if you seek Him with all your heart and with all your soul."
-- Deuteronomy 4:29

Struggling for answers in life?

Are you seeking the Lord?

Thinking you have all the answers in life?

Are you seeking the Lord?

How often does our God look at us and see a "Looking-For Face"?

How often does He wish He did?

Attention, Uncluttered

2008-09-06T10:15:00.003-05:00

A recent pair of moments led me to question seriously how my mind works.

The first moment came when my wife Kristi picked up one of her Brighton necklaces, commenting on how much she loves it, especially since it was a gift from me on the first Christmas of our marriage. I acknowledged her comment, agreeing on how special the necklace is, all the while realizing with some sense of doom that, had she not mentioned it, I would not likely have ever remembered the connection between that necklace and that Christmas. I'm not even sure I would have remembered the necklace came from me. (I know, I'm terrible...)

Once I concentrated and thought about it some more, I actually did remember getting that necklace for Kristi, at a store in the Mall of Abilene. I even remembered that the lady who rang up my purchase was also a member of our church. I even remembered later that I had also picked up a Brighton ink pen for Kristi at the same time, although the pen has disappeared somewhere over the last five years and two moves.

The memory was there, buried under five years of clutter. It just needed to be found, dug out, and brushed off.

But, any satisfaction I felt at my delayed recollection of a special gift given to my wife was short-lived. Not long after this conversation with Kristi, on a random day, at a random moment, for no reason I can fathom, something popped into my mind.

It was a television commercial from the mid-80s, a commercial for a life-like doll of Mr. T. Do you remember it?

The jingle went like this:

"Mis-tuh Tee! He's got legs that move! He's 12 inches hi-high!
Mis-tuh Tee! He's got a real cool haircut, and a mean, mean look in his eye-eye!
He's got arms that move, and fists full of rings!
You can pretend that Mis-tuh Tee is real tough and mean!
Mis-tuh Tee!"

I remembered it vividly, word for word, note for note. It was as if the jingle had been playing on the radio right then. And, I wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

A special gift given to my wife at a special time becomes a buried memory, unearthed only by her comment, but I can count on a useless TV jingle from a quarter century ago to snap to my memory at a moment's notice?

I began to see a disturbing scenario: Me, on my deathbed, looking up at my loving wife, who is wearing a necklace I don't remember giving her, and my mind enjoying one last chorus of "Mis-tuh Tee!" before heading off to eternity. How pathetic.

So, why would my mind work this way? Allowing something I'd rather not waste the "little grey cells" on to be burned forever into my mind, while also allowing something I really treasure to be as slippery as Jell-O to hang onto?

I'm no brain surgeon, but I did come up with a theory.

Obviously, the commercial for the Mr. T doll crossed my path when I was a young kid, with virtually no responsibilities and few cares in all the world. At the time, I was also a big fan of The A-Team, which featured Mr. T, so I thought the doll was pretty cool. There wasn't a whole lot else going on for me at that point, so the deck was pretty much clear for this jingle to carve itself right into the wood, so to speak.

Contrast that with where I was in life at Christmas 2002. I was a busy adult with a thousand concerns, a new marriage, a demanding job, and thoughts of moving to another city percolating in the back of my mind. It wasn't that I didn't care about Kristi's necklace, because I did. It wasn't that I didn't give it much thought or effort, because I did. I gave it the best I had at the time.

It was just that the thought and effort I gave it were similar to what you might give trying to complete a task while riding up and down in a crowded elevator. You still get it done, you still care, but there's a difference between doing that and really clearing the deck to concentrate on something and give it your whole attention.

I realized that I might be making the wrong comparison.

For instance, my memories of my first date with Kristi are vivid, and always have been. I remember getting my truck cleaner than it had ever been, in preparation for our date. I remember thinking to myself, "I'm glad I'm going this," just as I rang her doorbell to pick her up. I can tell you what we both were wearing, where we went, what we talked about. I remember trying to make sure she saw me leave a generous tip after dinner. I remember exactly how I worded my suggestion that we go to another place for dessert. I remember how perfect it all was, and how we both knew we wanted to spend more time together.

Really, the comparison should not be between Kristi's necklace and the Mr. T commercial. The comparison should be between Kristi's necklace and our first date. The difference is plain to see. The first date was a moment prepared for, a moment taken seriously enough to clear off everything else in advance. That moment is saved on the hard drive. The necklace, unfortunately, was crowded into a tight elevator with everything else I was trying to juggle at the time. It was still saved, but on a disk in a drawer, buried under clutter, not readily available, no longer a part of daily operations.

Relationships are easy to take for granted, especially the most intimate and important relationships we have. We are vulnerable to the temptation of thinking we can skate along, squeezing our most important relationships into an otherwise overcrowded mind. The divorce rate in our nation should tell us this idea is completely false. It takes time and attention, uncluttered attention, to keep important relationships strong and thriving.

What about our relationship with God?

Which of the moments above does this relationship more closely resemble? Is our relationship with God something to which we give our undivided attention? Do we deliberately clear away the clutter to engage with God on a personal level? Or, do we try to pack Him into a mind already filled with daily trivia? Is our time with God His alone? Or do we multi-task at the expense of our intimacy with God?

Jesus, in a brief passage so easy to overlook, provides the perfect example for us, for all time:

"Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed." -- Luke 5:16

How did Jesus manage this? He, of all people, would have been in demand for some need, somewhere, at virtually every minute of the day. His time could have been entirely at the mercy of the people around him, if he had allowed it to be. But instead, the Son of God made time for his relationship with the Father by clearing the deck on a regular basis, physically removing himself from distraction and giving full, uncluttered attention to the relationship that mattered most, but could most easily have been lost in the shuffle.

If the Son of God felt compelled to take such deliberate measures to ensure uncluttered time with God, how could we be any different? Why do we assume we can squeeze God in, when His Son made no such assumption, but instead demonstrated the total opposite?

Jesus' example of deliberate intimacy is the only way to establish God's place in our minds and hearts. Anything less will leave our relationship with God vulnerable to being drowned out by the jingles and crowded elevators of life.

May our moments with God, and the memories they create, be richer and more vivid than any earthly experience could ever be.

Trying to Impress

2008-08-28T22:45:00.004-05:00

*The following story is true. The names have been changed for privacy.

I'll never forget the day Coach Garza brought Jason to my office.

I was an Assistant Principal at the time, a role which offers a close-up view of the good, the bad, and the ugly of everyday life in American households. And, a lot of the strangest things happening in those households walk through the school doors with the students each morning.

Once Coach Garza and Jason were seated in my office across from my desk, the scene went something like this:

"Mr. Dominguez, we've got a problem. I'm getting reports that Jason here has been telling the other kids in PE that he smokes crack."

Without even having to communicate, Coach Garza and I knew we were both about to fall over laughing. Jason did not exactly fit the "crackhead" mold, to say the least. In addition, I had already worked with Jason's mother on previous occasions, and knew her to be a caring mom who tried her best to stay on top of Jason's comings and goings. But, we carried on. I took up the questioning from there.

"So, Jason, you smoke crack?"

"Yes."

"How often?"

"26 times."

"You've smoked crack 26 times?"

"Yes."

"Who is giving you crack?"

"My uncle."

"What's his name?"

"Freddy."

"What's Freddy's last name?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know your uncle's last name?"

"I've been trying to find out, but no one ever tells me!"

At this point in the conversation, Coach Garza and I made eye contact, and we both knew it was time for a break. I excused myself, stepped out of the office for a few moments, had a good laugh in the hall, and returned to resume my interview with troubled young Jason.

"So, Jason, do you mean to tell me that your uncle Freddy, whose last name you don't know, has smoked crack with you 26 times, and your mom has never found out?"

"Yes, but the last time we did it, my older brother caught us."

"What happened then?"

"They fought."

"Who fought?"

"My uncle and my brother."

"So, you've smoked crack with your uncle 26 times, and on the 26th time, your brother and your uncle had a big fight, and after all this, your mom still doesn't know anything happened?"

Jason ran out of answers at that point. His story was circling the drain, and couldn't be retrieved.

Coach Garza took Jason back to the locker room to change out of his gym clothes while I called Jason's mom.

It took me a little bit to explain this whole story to her, but her reaction still rings in my ears:

"I told him to stop trying to impress those kids!!"

I was able to establish with whatever certainty I could get in that situation that Jason's story was, indeed, completely false, totally made up in an effort to look tough in front of his peers. I couldn't help but feel sorry for the kid, especially considering his mother's immediate assessment of his reason for saying what he said. She knew her son, had probably been over this before with him, and had a good sense of what motivated him.

It's easy to chuckle at Jason's story. I know I do when I recall it.

But it's worth pointing out that young Jason is not alone. He's certainly not the only young adolescent to care more about his peers' perceptions than his own well-being. But, he also has good company in any age group.

How many times have we all struggled with this tendency, well into our adult lives? Haven't we all worried too much about people's opinions? Haven't we all been motivated by a desire to impress?

Scripture addresses this issue plainly:

"Take heed that you do not do your charitable deeds before men, to be seen by them." (Matthew 6:1)

"[The hypocrites] love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the corners of the streets, that they may be seen by men." (Matthew 6:5)

"...they disfigure their faces that they may appear to men to be fasting." (Matthew 6:16)

"...they loved the praise of men more than the praise of God." (John 12:43)

Your relationship with Christ is the only thing that will matter when your heart stops beating.

Not what a neighbor thought about your house. Not what a friend thought of your wardrobe. Not what a motorist thought of your car. Not what a colleague thought of your career. Not what folks thought of your wild and wooly days before you became a Christian. Not what those same folks thought of your repentance. Not what a brother or sister in Christ thought of your work in the church.

Paul takes it a step further by boldly stating that living in Christ and trying to impress others are mutually exclusive: "If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a bond-servant of Christ." (Galatians 1:10)

Live in Christ, or live to impress people. You can't do both.

To be sure, none of this should be taken as a license to disregard other people's rights or feelings, or to be rude or inconsiderate. The point is to do what we know to be right, and not to be distracted from this by a desire to gain the approval or admiration of other people.

Our worst sins, our greatest triumphs, and all we do in between are opportunities to pull closer to Jesus. They are also opportunities to make a splash in front of our peers.

Why do you do the things you do?

2008-2009

2008-08-24T15:35:00.004-05:00

At 8 am tomorrow morning, I will address my campus's student body and launch the 2008-2009 school year.

One of the reasons I love working in education is the cycle of each year's beginning, ending, and new beginning. Each year has a personality and feel all its own. Each group of students has a chemistry all its own. And, each year brings joys and sorrows, triumphs and challenges no one could have foreseen.

My prayers for this school year are:

*That our campus will be safe.

*That our students will truly experience what I will be promising them tomorrow morning: A Fresh Start.

*That our students will learn and enjoy success.

*That every adult who works with our students will do so with a loving spirit, even when they don't feel like it.

*That our focus will remain on students first.

I love the phrase "Times of Refreshing" from Acts 3:19. May tomorrow morning be a refreshing start to a successful year.

Replacing & Being Replaced

2008-08-11T20:30:00.008-05:00

I'm not a Packers fan, but I'm rooting for Aaron Rodgers this NFL season. This young man will tread the minefield of replacing the immortal Brett Favre as Packers quarterback, after serving as Favre's backup the last three seasons.

I have a soft spot in my heart for anyone called upon to replace a legend. For that matter, anyone coming into any organization to replace someone faces a difficult challenge. So does the person who is leaving. So does every other stakeholder affected by the transition.

So far in my career, I have come in as the "new guy" seven times. I've moved on and been replaced by someone else six times.

On some of these occasions, I replaced someone who walked on water. Other times, I replaced someone not as highly esteemed. Either way, it's tricky.

In the first case, there is no shortcut to bypass the time it takes to win over the grieving fans mourning the loss of your predecessor, whose legend only becomes more golden with the passage of time. ("There just haven't been times like those since...[sniff]...I'm sorry, I just get so emotional....")

In the latter case, a ticker-tape parade is thrown for you at least once a week, and the no-good louse you replaced ("Oh, thank GOD for you!!!") becomes lazier and even more grossly incompetent in people's memories with every passing day. (This can go to your head if you're not careful.)

I'll never forget my arrival at my second teaching job. I took over in mid-year for a saintly teacher who left for another job. A fellow teacher showed me around the school, introducing me to everyone, and we came upon a parent volunteer in the workroom. Knowing this parent had a child in what was soon to be my class, my tourguide decided to introduce me to her.

"Mrs. ______________, this is Mr. Dominguez. He's the new teacher taking Mrs. _____________'s place."

It was suddenly clear Mrs. ________________ had not seen the memo about Mrs. _____________'s departure.

It was as if my tourguide had told this woman that her son had been caught with a thermos full of vodka. Her cheeks flushed. Her eyes bulged in horror and welled with tears. Then, right in front of me, Mrs. ______________ blurted to my tourguide, "But, I don't want Mrs. ____________ to leave!"

Welcome aboard.

Through these experiences, I've developed a sort of etiquette to abide by whenever these transitions take place. These rules have kept me out of hot water so far:

*When you're the new guy:

Ask a lot of questions and do a lot of listening.
Do the very best work you can do, quietly.
Be honest about your shortcomings.
Speak of your predecessor only when it is unavoidable to do so, and only in positive terms.
Overlook the insensitive remarks of those who fault you for not being just like your predecessor.
Call upon your predecessor for help or advice if needed. Don't let your pride get in the way.
Have faith. Time is the only cure.

*When you're the one leaving:

If you get to meet your successor, be kind and express confidence in his/her ability. Share all relevant information.
Understate your importance, but make yourself available, just to your successor, should he/she desire contact.
Praise your successor in the presence of your grieving fans.
Unless your successor requests otherwise, clear out and stay out. Don't haunt the place.
Do not allow yourself to become a depository for complaints from your grieving fans about your successor.

*When you're the grieving fan:

Grow up! Prepare your mind for a mature transition.
Be kind.
Never say, do, or even think, anything that would harm the new guy's chances. Make a special commitment to this.
Do not remind the new guy how the predecessor did things, unless you are asked for this input.

*When you're the one who celebrated the predecessor's departure:

Keep it in perspective. The new guy isn't perfect, either.
Don't badmouth the predecessor or exaggerate the new guy's greatness.
Take a look in the mirror. Any chance you were part of the problem with the predecessor?

What all this comes down to is the matter of how we treat others, and how we want to be treated, when we are at our most exposed and vulnerable. Every rule listed above is directed against the temptation to take advantage of someone else's vulnerability, and serves as a reminder that we're all likely to be vulnerable sometime.

No matter how many times we conquer new territory, no matter how confident we become in our ability, we will all face a moment sometime, somewhere, when we are made to feel like this:

"The scribes and Pharisees brought to Him a woman caught in adultery. And when they had set her in the
midst, they said to Him, "Teacher, this woman was caught in adultery, in the very act. Now, Moses, in the
law, commanded us that such should be stoned. But what do you say?" -- John 8:3-5

Of course, this story condemns self-righteous hypocrisy, and the men who brought this woman to Jesus did so out of false motive, but imagine how the woman felt at this moment. Does the word "humiliation" even suffice here? Yes, she was indeed engaged in sin, but she didn't deserve this treatment. She was vulnerable. She was exposed. She was alone, although she should not have been. (Where was the man she was in bed with, again?)

Consider how she was treated at her most vulnerable moment. The men who brought her to Jesus took advantage of this woman's vulnerability to use her for their own purposes. Jesus, on the other hand, restored dignity in a moment of shame. He did not allow the sin to pass unchallenged, but neither did he allow a soul to be abused.

How did you feel in your moment of unflattering exposure? That time when your faults were on display for the world to see and judge? That time when you threw the interception that cemented the opponents' victory, that interception your predecessor never would have thrown?

If you've lived through a moment like that, did it change your approach to moments when the shoe is on the other foot? When it is you with the advantage, and someone else who is exposed? When you are the interviewer asking the questions, instead of the nervous job-seeker scrambling for the right answers?

How do we treat people who are vulnerable? How did Jesus treat them?

"Brethren, if a man is overtaken in any trespass, you who are spiritual restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness, considering yourself lest you also be tempted."-- Galatians 6:1

"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." -- Matthew 5:7

Common Ground, Across the Centuries

2008-08-09T23:58:00.007-05:00

It's human nature to seek familiar company.

Some people can relate to each other because of a specific experience they share. War veterans are a prime example.

But, not everyone can be a war veteran. So, how does a civilian who loves his country find common ground with a veteran who fought to defend it? First, by showing gratitude, and by openly acknowledging his inability to understand firsthand the experience known only to the veteran. False familiarity with a veteran's experience would be just as insulting as any failure to respect the veteran's sacrifice. A grateful civilian will appreciate and thank a veteran, and a gracious veteran will accept these warm thoughts, and consider his civilian friend just as much his countryman as any fellow veteran.

Deeper than all this, however, lies the most important way a civilian honors a veteran's sacrifice. A truly appreciative civilian will live in such a way as never to bring dishonor upon the sacrifice of the veteran. A grateful citizen will live up to all the ideals for which the veteran fought, and never treat the veteran's experience as commonplace. Then the veteran can enjoy the peace of knowing his sacrifice was appreciated.

Common ground is found in shared allegiance, even when experience differs from person to person, and even between people separated by decades or centuries of time.

Hebrews 11 is a source of inspiration for any Christian. The tales of God's faithful from centuries past serve to motivate today's Christian to strengthen his own faith and demonstrate that faith in action. Every Christian reading Hebrews 11 should feel a sense of familiarity with the people cited in the text. These people are not just historical figures; they are family. They lived and died before our time, but we will meet them in a time yet to come.

Imagine the stories they will tell us!

Along with several major figures listed in Hebrews 11, such as Abraham, Joseph, and Moses, are other believers, unnamed personally, but immortalized for their faith, in particular for the way in which they died.

Easy to overlook, disturbing to contemplate:

"...others were tortured, not accepting deliverance...they were stoned, they were sawn in two...they were slain with the sword...they wandered in deserts and mountains, in dens and caves of the earth." -- Hebrews 11:35, 37, 38

How does a Christian today, in a developed nation, enjoying the protection of the law rather than the persecution of the government, relate to a brother or sister whose last sensation in this life was the terror of flesh and organs being ripped apart by the teeth of a saw? How does a Christian concerned with keeping his house cool in the summer relate to one of God's children driven to take refuge in a cave?

Of course, every person's experience is different, and no one is expected, in any area of life, to have lived firsthand the experience of every other person he knows. And, no one should expect to comprehend fully the life and experiences of people from another time.

But still, we have to wonder: Would our lives and concerns make any sense at all to our nameless family in Hebrews 11? More importantly, would our faith be recognizable to them? Would they understand, as people who were murdered for their faith, how hard we try to avoid even being made socially uncomfortable for ours?

Not everyone can be a martyr, any more than everyone could be a war veteran. It's not possible, nor is it necessary, or even helpful to the cause. But, today's Christian must take something from the stories of these unknown martyrs. The thought to be taken is the utmost necessity of today's Christian living a life that would bring honor upon these people's sacrifice, and that would never treat their sacrifice as commonplace.

While it is Jesus' sacrifice that saves us, these sacrifices of our spiritual ancestors also serve to inspire us to be less attached to this world and more attached to Him.

Common ground between an ancient martyr, and a 21st century Christian? It can be found only in allegiance to Christ, even if it should cost everything else.

The Cost

2008-08-06T23:20:00.003-05:00

I never thought I would be happy to see gasoline priced at $3.69 a gallon.

But I saw it today, and I was happy. A few months ago, I was horrified at this price. But, after riding gas prices up to $3.99 (So far, I've managed never to pay $4), I've been glad to see a 30-cent drop, at least where I live, over the last few weeks.

Someday, we'll all be telling these stories to our kids, but I remember paying a little over $1 a gallon in the early 90s, when I owned my first vehicle. At that time, gasoline was a modest portion of my monthly expenses, not even something I had to watch very closely.

Today, of course, it's a whole different story. Just about everyone in America has had to rearrange the household budget to accommodate the cost of fuel.

As frustrating as it is, and as unfair as it feels, it just costs what it costs, and we all have to drive, so we all find a way to pay.

I've spent most of this week interviewing candidates for open teaching positions at my campus.

One of the qualities I look for most in a teaching candidate is the commitment to remain positive and joyful, even when things get tough and people complain. Especially when things get tough and people complain. I'll take a joyful rookie over a grouchy veteran any day. I'm not easily impressed by years in the business. I'm impressed by the spirit that makes for good years in the business.

Teaching is a joy, but it's tough. Kids of any age require a deep well of patience. Anyone considering the teaching field must understand this.

Effective teachers have an inner source of renewable joy that allows them to remain positive in the face of constant challenges to their patience. Ineffective teachers lack this quality, thinking someone, somewhere is supposed to be doing something to keep them happy. They don't realize no one can do that for them.

A great teaching career costs a lot. It takes all the patience and love you have, and then some.

Is it fair that it costs this much? Maybe, maybe not. But, that's just what it costs, and anyone who desires the role must commit to paying the cost in full.

Consider these words from Jesus:

"If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters -- yes, even his own life -- he cannot be my disciple. And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple...any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple." -- Luke 14:26-27, 33.

Who could ever claim to be comfortable with these words?

We so often focus on what we receive as Christians, and rightly so, because we receive a lot.

But, do we think often enough about what it costs to follow Jesus?

There are deeper waters in which to dive for more complete answers to what Jesus says in Luke 14, but the bottom line is this: Being a disciple of Jesus means living a life in which you are no longer the center. Your wishes and preferences are no longer the rules that govern your world. Your pleasure is no longer the goal.

An effective disciple understands the cost in this life, and looks toward heaven. An ineffective disciple is shocked by the cost, and lives in frustration, thinking someone, somewhere is supposed to be doing something to keep him happy.

Jesus has paid our debt and freed us from sin.

Now, all He asks for is everything we are and have.

Are we ready to give it all to Him?

Something I Just Don't Get

2008-08-02T08:31:00.006-05:00

My mother was pregnant with me at the time of the Roe v. Wade decision. Abortions happened before my time, of course, but I've always found it disturbing that my generation was the first to be declared dispensable, and that if my mother had been of a mind to have an abortion at the time, I might never have been born.

The abortion debate is ongoing, but is not particularly hot this election season.

Most everyone has his mind made up about this issue one way or the other, with views ranging from opposition in any circumstance, to opposition with a few exceptions, to support with some exceptions, to support in any circumstance.

Most discussions of this issue dissolve quickly into emotional fiascos, but when rare civil debate occurs, it usually centers around the questions of whose choice outweighs whose, and whether or not we're dealing with actual life in the womb, and at what point in gestation a developing baby should be regarded as a living being with rights of its own that trump the mother's rights and choices. The most informed people on both sides have answers ready for their opponents on all of these points.

Just for the record, I regard a developing baby in utero as a life of its own, from the earliest stage, with rights that override mom's preference as to whether he or she should live. And, just for the record, so does my mom. She has three sons, loves us all dearly, and there was never a chance she would have had an abortion.

We've all heard the arguments on both sides, but there is one aspect of abortion and pregnancy that I've never heard anyone tackle. It is a simple, practical point that doesn't even require faith in God to consider. It's something I just don't get.

I just don't get how 40 weeks outweigh a lifetime.

40 weeks is the length of time of a normal pregnancy, with many pregnancies actually being a little shorter. Most pregnant women, in fact, don't even learn they are pregnant until some of this time has already passed. By the time we celebrate a child's first birthday, that child's lifespan has already exceeded the time he or she spent in the womb.

I know, I know. I'm a man, not a woman. I don't understand what pregnancy is like, and I never will. I'm not claiming I do, nor minimizing the drama and trauma a woman endures in a normal pregnancy and delivery, let alone a childbirth complicated by medical issues. Pregnancy and delivery involve a lot more than watching 40 weeks pass. Of course, an abortion involves a lot more than a mere removal of tissue, to be sure, although few abortion advocates want to talk about this.

The fact is, a pregnant woman faces mental and physical trauma either way, whether she delivers her baby or has an abortion.

Another fact is that a pregnant woman who does not wish to raise her baby has no obligation to do so, and never has. With countless couples longing to adopt a child, even an unhealthy one, it's amazing to me that any woman sees no option but to abort an unwanted baby.

Isn't it funny how different people are when they have to account for their actions face to face, rather than being able to do what they want without explanation? I have found that the "toughest" person, by this world's standards, often becomes nervous, vague, and shifty when faced with an eyeball to eyeball reckoning for his actions. The tough talk in front of his peers disappears in an instant before even the most unassuming and non-threatening questioner.

How different would the abortion debate be if someone choosing an abortion had to explain the choice to the baby, or more intimidating still, to the adult that baby would eventually grow into? Or, even, to the preschooler that baby would be in just a few years?

How would you explain to someone that, for the sake of 40 weeks out of my adult life, you can't have any life at all? (And, no, the fact that I freely received my own mother's 40 weeks makes no difference...)

Who would make such a claim to someone who could respond?

Who would accept the short end of such a trade-off, in any area of life?

For that matter, how many abortion advocates would accept the short end of that stick? I daresay they would run for relief to the same court that gave them Roe v. Wade.

40 weeks vs. a lifetime.

I just don't get it.

Poco a Poco

2008-07-24T20:19:00.005-05:00

One of my favorite Spanish phrases is "poco a poco", meaning "little by little".

In our family, we are seeing this phrase played out in real life. Benjamin is taking swimming lessons, and Jonathan has been walking for about a month.

With both of these new adventures, we are witnessing gradual progress, celebrated every step of the way. Our sons receive praise and encouragement for doing what they can do when they can do it. They are thrilled with the joy of accomplishment every time they stretch their ability a little bit further. And each success breeds the confidence and daring required to push further still, and accomplish a little more.

There's no rush, no pressure, no stress. No comparisons to others, no disappointment with how long these things take. No foot-tapping, clock-watching, or throat-clearing. No sighs or eye rolls. No frowns over the imperfect, partial steps taken in the process of getting to the goal. No despair over the occasional step backward.

We know that one day we will have two boys who walk, run, climb, jump, and swim like anyone else who has the ability to do these things.

Overnight mastery is the last thing we would ever expect. At the same time, the last thing we would ever accept would be no progress at all. We never expected these changes to happen suddenly, quickly, or at our convenience. But, we did, and do, expect them to happen. A child who is not growing or developing is taken to a doctor to figure out what's wrong.

A parent who is impatient with a child's development is seen as unreasonable, if not abusive. A parent who is unconcerned about, or unaware of, delays in development is seen as neglectful.

Either extreme presents danger to a child, and exposes a misguided attitude on the part of a parent.

While it's easy to see these dangers in the upbringing of our children, it's not always easy to remember them in a spiritual context. Christians commonly refer to a newly baptized believer as a "babe in Christ". But, do we take into account the full meaning of that expression?

If you've ever had a newborn, an infant, or a toddler in your home, do you remember what it was like? Do you remember all the things you didn't expect them to do for themselves, all the ways in which you made a special effort to care for and accommodate them, and yet, all the high hopes and dreams you had for what they would do and become in the future? Do you remember refusing to go to the extremes of being too demanding or simply neglectful?

What is the experience of the new Christian in the church?

May it be like the experience of children growing up in a godly home. May a new Christian find the time and space needed to grow and develop, with encouragement every step of the way. Not rushed into maturity, but not left to prolonged immaturity. Not forced into service, but not forgotten, either.

May every new Christian find a spiritual family with the faith to celebrate his progress, "poco a poco".

Are we prepared to provide a safe home for a newcomer?

A Promise Kept

2008-07-18T16:19:00.002-05:00

Jane: "Mary Poppins, you won't ever leave us, will you?"
Michael: "Will you stay if we promise to be good?"
Mary Poppins: "That's a pie-crust promise; easily made, easily broken."

Most of us know the story of the prophet Samuel's birth.

In a sense, every human being owes his existence to his mother, but Samuel in particular owed his life to his mother Hannah's deep faith and heartbroken prayer.

We read the story in the first few chapters of I Samuel.

Hannah lives, as so many women of her era, in a polygamous relationship, with a husband who loves her dearly, but also has another wife. The other wife has borne children, but Hannah has not. In fact, the Scripture says, "the Lord had closed her womb". (1:5)

No explanation is given for this, but it is clear that Hannah's inability to conceive is a source of great pain for her. This fact is not lost on the other wife, who takes advantage of this sore spot to "provoke her severely, to make her miserable, because the Lord had closed her womb." (1:6)

"She was in bitterness of soul, and prayed to the Lord and wept in anguish." (1:10)

Out of this torment comes a request, and a promise.

"O Lord of hosts, if you will indeed look on the affliction of your maidservant, and remember me, and not forget your maidservant, but will give your maidservant a male child, then I will give him to the Lord all the days of his life." (1:11)

Hannah's prayer is granted, and she names her son "Heard by God".

As moving as this part of the story is, it alone does not provide the most compelling point for us today. That is yet to come.

God's intervention in this story is, like most of His deeds, beyond our grasp. How does God take a woman who cannot have children, and bring about whatever change is necessary to allow conception to occur? How or why had He prevented conception from occurring before? We'll never know; we accept that He can and does intervene in such ways, according to His will.

Not to suggest that God's work is not the most remarkable element of this story, but His intervention in this case is similar to innumerable miracles He has performed over the centuries, completely in keeping with who He is and what we have always known Him to do.

The most unusual element of this story is Hannah's promise. More specifically, the fact that she keeps it.

After all the years of torment and depression, after all the wishing and hoping, the son she wondered if she could ever have is finally in her arms. Any mother who has locked eyes with her newborn knows the instant and eternal bond. Everything else is reordered. Previous priorities fade. Nothing is ever the same.

Yet, in spite of all this, as God remembered her, so Hannah remembers her promise. She weans her son, and then takes him, at a very young age, to Eli the priest to begin his life of service to God. And, the course is set for a critical period of Israel's history.

Imagine it. Taking your small child to begin a life apart from your household, willingly giving him up to see him again only once a year thereafter. A tear-jerker of a passage is found in chapter 2, verses 18 - 19: "Samuel ministered before the Lord, even as a child, wearing a linen ephod. And his mother used to make him a little robe, and bring it to him year by year when she came up with her husband to offer the yearly sacrifice."

Can you see Hannah stitching her son a new robe, remembering what he looked like the last time she saw him, wondering what he would look like now? Wondering how much he might have grown? Hoping he'll like his new robe? Can you imagine the annual reunion, with Hannah helping Samuel try it on? Can you imagine how often Samuel thought of his mother throughout the year, every time he wore that robe?

Considering all this, it's truly amazing that Hannah kept this promise. Honestly, if she had failed to keep her promise, would we judge her for it today? Could we blame her? Could any of us keep a promise like this? Would any of us have made such a promise in the first place?

Hannah would have had at her disposal any and every rationalization she would have needed to break her promise to God, and make it all right in her mind. Imagine how the tempter might have worked on Hannah's mind in the few years she had Samuel at home. We're not given any indication that Hannah even struggled with this decision, but if she did, she would have had plenty of help.

While we might not have been inclined to judge Hannah harshly had she failed to keep this promise to God, Scripture indicates God Himself would indeed have taken it seriously. (Ecclesiastes 5:4-5) And while Hannah's story is not entirely equivalent to the story of Jephthah (Judges 11), it serves to illustrate the same point: take seriously what you tell God you're going to do.

Buried beneath all this, lies an often-overlooked fact in Hannah's story.

"And Eli would bless Elkanah and his wife, and say, 'The Lord give you descendants from this woman for the loan that was given to the Lord.' Then they would go to their own home. And the Lord visited Hannah, so that she conceived and bore three sons and two daughters. Meanwhile the child Samuel grew before the Lord." (I Samuel 2:20-21)

Who knew Hannah was going to have more children after she gave Samuel to the Lord?

There is no indication that anyone knew. Hannah's original prayer was for "a male child", not for the ability to have as many children as she and her husband might have wanted to have. It was on her heart to have a son, and once that prayer was granted, it is clear her heart was content. (2:1-10) In fact, we have to assume that Hannah thought she was handing over to the Lord her one and only child, and that she would live the rest of her years on the joy of her short time with her baby Samuel. There was no inkling of future children to numb the pain of giving Samuel up, or to make it any easier to keep that promise. The reward of having five more children must have overwhelmed her heart.

Promises, promises. We live in a world today in which promises don't seem to mean very much. It seems people vow first, and think later. The vow may even be sincere at the time, but changing circumstances provide the back door people use to abandon a promise they no longer wish to keep. Even marriage vows turn out to be pie-crust promises with disturbing regularity.

More than anything else, a Christian is supposed to be different from this world. How seriously do we take our promises to ourselves, let alone others, let alone God?

"This is the year I'm going to exercise again."

"Till death alone separates us."

"You are my God."

Going Too Fast...

2008-07-09T01:39:00.005-05:00

We found a treasure today.

For some time, my wife Kristi and I have been aware, off and on, that we weren't sure where we had put the DVD Kristi made for our older son Benjamin's first birthday party, which has been over two years (and a move) ago now. The DVD is a compilation of photos from Benjamin's first year, set to music, with messages wishing him a happy birthday. As far as treasures go, this DVD is, well, beyond priceless.

When our younger son Jonathan's first birthday rolled around earlier this year, Kristi made a similar DVD for him, and we realized we didn't know where Benjamin's DVD was. In the months since, this missing DVD has been an occasional itch we can't scratch. We felt sure it was somewhere, that we wouldn't have thrown it away, that it would turn up sometime, but we were starting to wonder...

Out of nowhere today, Kristi found the missing DVD, at least one copy of it, at the bottom of a random box from our move a year ago. Needless to say, we dropped everything and watched it.

Let's just say dry eyes were not a problem.

We just couldn't believe what we were seeing, how long ago those moments seemed, yet how fast they all went by. My eyes moved back and forth from the baby on the screen to the three-year old sitting with me, and I just had to shake my head.

David Halberstam wrote a book called Playing for Keeps, centered mainly on the life and career of Michael Jordan, but also exploring the general world of professional basketball during Jordan's career. In one passage in particular, Mr. Halberstam explains that many players desire the security of a long-term contract with guaranteed money, because they realize how very temporary their playing days are. The phrase used to describe the length of the average player's career is a haunting one: "terrifyingly short".

Terrifyingly short.

A professional athlete's career, or the time from my son's first birthday to now, are not the only things that are terrifyingly short.

"What is your life? It is a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away." -- James 4:14

Why be surprised at how fast it seems to be going?

Why keep assuming we have next year?

Why keep assuming we have tomorrow?

Places You Never Dreamed You'd Go

2008-07-06T13:47:00.005-05:00

Maybe you've heard bits and pieces of the story on the news.

Right now, a high-profile couple is going through the trauma of a divorce, made only more painful by the public nature of it. Embarrassing details are being broadcast for all the world to know and discuss, and the parties involved are trying to maintain some degree of composure, as their children are about to have their lives changed forever. Sadly, tragedies just like this happen all the time.

But, there is something different about this story. While it involves the common culprit of adultery, mixed with the newer but equally common threat of internet porn, there is one fact that makes it surprising all this happened. That is the simple fact that the man in this case is, we will soon say "was", married to a super-model, whose name and image have been well-known around the world for many years. Not only this, but it is apparently his infidelity that has led to the pending divorce.

To the outside observer, based only on the most superficial knowledge of this family, wouldn't this be the last thing anyone would expect?

When this man married a super-model, how many men might have envied him, just on the basis of the outside appearance of what he seemed to have? Who would have guessed he would end up seeking the company of other women, both in person and in pictures? Who would have thought he would risk what he had for that? Of course, part of the problem is that we tend to think of sexual intimacy as primarily a physical thing, when it's far more complex than that, but, still, didn't this story surprise you a little, the first time you heard it?

In another recent story, a sports writer details how surprisingly common it is for professional athletes, who earn millions during their playing careers, to end up broke or hopelessly in debt when their playing days are over and the paychecks stop coming. It was actually a heartbreaking story, despite the lack of sympathy so many of us feel for these young men who make more money than we'll ever see, and don't always appear grateful for it.

How many people envy these young, newly wealthy superstars? How many assume these young people are set for life? How many would really have guessed that in many cases, it doesn't happen that way?

More importantly, in both of these stories, what are the chances the actual people involved would have ever guessed the ultimate outcome? It's safe to assume a man marrying a super-model would consider his need for female companionship to be met, and adultery on his part a most far-fetched scenario, if not an utter impossibility. It's not only safe to assume, but fairly easy to prove, that a young athlete signing his first multi-million dollar contract, fancies himself set for life, and the idea of returning to his prior financial status, let alone an even worse situation, to be beyond impossible.

Yet, both of these disasters, and many others like them, do happen, regardless of how unlikely we think they are.

Both of these stories serve to illustrate a spiritual truth: Given the opportunity, Satan can take a person to places he never dreamed he'd go. Places that just don't make sense to the casual observer, given the person and his situation in life. Places that seem to be the total opposite of everything the person is.

The Apostle Peter knew this to be true, from his own experience.

He assured Jesus he would never fall away, even if every other disciple did. He went so far as to tell Jesus he would even die for Him. Yet, later that same night, he fulfilled Jesus' prophecy by denying he even knew who Jesus was.

It's not unlikely he remembered that mistake years later, when he wrote these words in I Peter 5:8: "Be of sober spirit, be on the alert. Your adversary, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour."

Spin a spiritual globe, and point your finger to a random place, a remote, isolated, dangerous island of sin. Say to yourself, "That's somewhere I'll never go!"

At that very moment, Satan stands not far away, smiling at the challenge. He whispers to himself, "You wanna bet?"

"Resist the devil, and he will flee from you." -- James 4:7

232 Years

2008-07-03T21:04:00.004-05:00

Tomorrow we celebrate America's independence.

As we enjoy fellowship and fireworks, let us pray for our country, especially for her current and future leadership, that God's blessing may always be sought, and our future may be bright.

"Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord..."

Psalm 33:12

To be, or not to be...offended.

2008-06-29T13:09:00.009-05:00

"Then Peter came to Him and said, 'Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Up to seven times?' Jesus said to him, 'I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.'" -- Matthew 18:21-22

Most Christians are familiar with Jesus' teaching about forgiveness, specifically with his explanation to Peter that someone wearing Jesus' name should continue to forgive a repentant offender time and again, without keeping count, and without ultimately claiming the well has run dry from overuse.

To answer Peter's question more fully, Jesus gives the example of a servant who is given undeserved, unprecedented grace by his master, only to turn right around and deny a small amount of grace to a fellow servant. The lesson is clear: We are expected to be generous toward others with the forgiveness God has extended to us. In fact, if we fail to do so, we cannot count on God's forgiveness at all (Matthew 18:35).

In addition to these instructions, Jesus lays out the right way to approach someone who has offended us. First, privately, and alone. Second, privately, with a witness or two, and only publicly if the first two approaches fail. Not as much fun as the more-favored approach of telling everyone else but the offender, but it's the only way that comes from God.

So, believers are given the tools they need to resolve conflicts that arise among them.

Needless to say, conflict still oftentimes goes unresolved, as believers oftentimes neglect the tools Jesus left. But, the tools are still there, in perfect working order, for those who choose to pull them out of the shed and use them. Between believers, everything from a dented bumper to a broken heart can be addressed and brought to a peaceful resolution, if the tools Jesus left are used with humility and pure motives.

But, dented bumpers and broken hearts are rare occurrences, aren't they?

What kinds of issues are frequently at the heart of conflict between Christians? Do we reserve getting our dander up only for serious matters of faith and conscience? Or, are we prone to becoming agitated, even angry, over incidents and issues in which the only thing at stake is our convenience, opinion, or pride?

When Jesus gave us the tools of reconciliation, did He envision us having to use them all the time, for all manner of insults and hurts, real and perceived? The same question, in another way: Do you anticipate having to jack up your car and change a flat tire on any kind of regular basis?

Or, is it possible we are expected to grow, mature, and gain the perspective that allows us to avoid taking offense in the first place, whenever possible?

What example did Jesus Himself set? Can you imagine how often the people around Jesus must have failed Him? We are told in Scripture about several instances, but it doesn't seem likely that every disappointment Jesus felt with His followers (and naysayers, for that matter) was recorded for us to read. But, in the Scriptural accounts in which Jesus openly takes issue with other people's words or deeds, what is typically at stake?

From the clearing of the temple, to the woman caught in adultery, to the storm He calmed on the sea, to Peter's attempted rebuke of Jesus as He foretold His death, to Peter's assault on Malchus, Jesus' rebukes involve critical, foundational issues of identity for Him and definition for His mission. He clarified purposes. He exposed hypocrisy. He challenged His followers' faith. He established His place and preeminence. He thwarted attempts to redefine His mission. Nothing here involving fleeting emotions, personal convenience, irritability, stubbornness, or pride. Just a focus on the Father, the mission, and the things that mattered most.

Few would claim to have the kind of perspective Jesus had, but there is hope for us as we strive to reduce unnecessary conflict, and reserve confrontation for things that really matter.

"If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men." -- Romans 12:18

Just how much does depend on you, when it comes to being at peace with your neighbors? Your family? Your spiritual family? It would be interesting to see how far many of us are willing to go in applying this verse to our lives. Just how generously do we tend to interpret this command? Does "as much as depends on you" involve anything beyond simply showing up and making our feelings known? Anything more than a moment's patience before giving in to anger and the feeling that the offender owes us something?

How did Paul himself interpret what he wrote? In another context, Paul discusses the issue of Christians taking one another to court over personal conflicts. Here, he makes clear just how far he assumes a Christian would want to go in order to maintain peace within the body of Christ, and to prevent the church from being discredited before unbelievers:

"Actually, then, it is already a defeat for you, that you have lawsuits with one another. Why not rather be wronged? Why not rather be defrauded?" -- I Corinthians 6:7

Paul believes a Christian who values the body of Christ would prefer to be defrauded by a brother, rather than risking the unforeseeable consequences of a public conflict. The mission of the church is of far greater importance to Paul than a personal loss suffered because of a brother's inconsideration, oversight, or outright sin.

Moving beyond Paul's specific context of lawsuits, can we not apply this concept to our daily dealings with our brothers and sisters in Christ? If we truly value peace in the body, in order to have a more effective body, should we not adopt Paul's mindset? Should we not prefer personal loss, in whatever form, over an avoidable conflict that could carry with it consequences we can't foresee or imagine?

It's worth pointing out, however, that the same Paul who wrote these admonitions against unnecessary conflict, was not afraid to initiate conflict himself, as long as the issues at stake warranted it. In his letter to the Galatians, Paul tells his readers the story of a confrontation he initiated with Peter, over Peter's initial hesitance to publicly fellowship with Gentile Christians (Galatians 2:11-21). He also admonishes the church in Corinth for their tolerance of open immorality among their members, and reminds them of their duty to confront that sin for the sake of the body (I Corinthians 5).

When Paul reminds us to do all we can to avoid conflict, and to prefer personal loss over discredit to the church, he's not saying a conflict should never happen. He's simply pointing us back to Jesus' standard of what is and is not worthy of conflict among brethren. And, in so doing, he reminds us of how often we create conflict among ourselves over issues that are more about us, and less about Christ.

So, what is the Christian to do? Where can the Christian find practical advice to help sort these matters out?

Some of the best advice can be found back in the Old Testament, in the book of Ecclesiastes. King Solomon, blessed with wisdom beyond any other man, gives today's Christian a pair of seemingly contradictory tools that will get us a long way toward doing "as much as depends on" us to avoid unnecessary conflict in the church.

"Do not take to heart everything people say, lest you hear your servant cursing you. For many times, your own heart has known that even you have cursed others." -- Ecclesiastes 7:21

"Do not curse the king, even in your thought. Do not curse the rich, even in your bedroom. For a bird of the air may carry your voice, and a bird in flight may tell the matter." -- Ecclesiastes 10:20

Such an interesting, practical pair of messages here. On the one hand, words are to be kept in perspective, not taken too much to heart. On the other hand, words are of deadly consequence, carrying significant weight. Which is true? Of course, both. And, therein lies a way in which today's Christian can be a peacemaker rather than a fire-starter.

The first passage from Ecclesiastes encourages us to adopt a forgiving, understanding, "cooler head" attitude toward the things other people say. A mindset ready to overlook an offense and extend forgiveness for any offense taken. And, why is such a mindset possible? Because the Christian knows that he is just as guilty as anyone else of saying things that were hurtful or offensive to other people. We want grace for those mistakes, so we should readily extend grace to others who make the same mistakes. We also understand that people often say things without thinking or out of frustration, and we know this because we've done it.

The second passage from Ecclesiastes, however, encourages quite the opposite attitude toward words, but in this case the words we ourselves use, and the things we say about other people. How differently we would speak if we knew everything we said would be repeated to the person we were talking about! Yet, how often do we speak carelessly about one another, despite knowing full well that stray words have a way of reaching the ears of the person we never meant to hurt. The Christian following Solomon's admonition will hold himself to an entirely different standard than that which he applies to everyone else around him. He will be as careful with words as he wishes others would be.

Imagine a church in which every member applied these two passages from Solomon to their everyday words and deeds.
Imagine every member holding himself to the highest standard, but being ready to extend grace when others fail. Imagine Christians truly finding it their glory, whenever possible, to "overlook a transgression" (Proverbs 19:11). Imagine a spiritual family that knows how to use Jesus' tools for confrontation and reconciliation, but that also reserves those tools for matters weighty enough to warrant them. Imagine all of us focused like Jesus on His priorities rather than our own feelings.

Think of someone who frequently annoys, aggravates, or angers you, and imagine choosing not to be offended.

Imagine choosing grace over grievance.

Is it to be, or not to be?

Restore such a one...

2008-06-15T23:14:00.006-05:00

I made a late-night Wal-Mart run recently, and, on my way to the register, I had the misfortune of passing by a woman dressed in an outfit that didn't leave a lot to the imagination, and that didn't flatter the woman in any way whatsoever.

She just looked awful, bless her heart.

(Having lived in Texas for 17 years, I've learned that you can say the most derogatory things about a person, but if you follow up your criticism with "bless his/her heart", it's no longer considered harsh, slanderous, malicious, or evil in any way. Once you "bless" someone's "heart", why, anything you say about that person is meant in good faith and should cause no offense to anyone.)

But, I digress.

I have to admit that somewhere inside, I cringed as I passed by this woman at Wal-Mart. Her appearance alone was not the best, and the outfit really made me wonder what on earth she was thinking.

But, as much as I cringed inside at the sight of this shopper, I had to cringe even more at what happened next.

At the very moment this woman passed me on the left and disappeared behind me, another shopper appeared on my right, a few yards ahead of me, coming out from a side aisle. This shopper was a young man, maybe 18 - 20 years old. He was with a small group of friends his age. It was obvious this young man had noticed the same woman, and his reaction was instant. With a contorted facial expression, he loudly blurted out, "Oh, my God, that's disGUSTing!" As he and his group walked away, this young man continued to groan loudly and comment to his friends as he looked back over his shoulder at the woman in the aisle.

I hoped that somehow, mercifully, the woman had not heard the young man's reaction to her appearance. But, that's not likely. Odds are, she heard it, and will carry it with her long after the young man has forgotten all about it.

As obviously inappropriate as the woman's clothing was, she didn't deserve that. Even without a spiritual perspective, it is easy to see how out of line the young man was in publicly mocking a complete stranger whose story he did not know.

I didn't know the woman's story, either, but I got to wondering.

Maybe she was extremely naive, innocently oblivious to her impropriety.

Maybe she was painfully aware of how she looked, but for whatever reason, wore the outfit anyway, despite the shame.

Maybe she was truly a rebel, daring the world to see if she gave a rip what anyone thought.

Maybe she was deluded enough to think she actually looked good.

Maybe she was a prostitute past her prime. (Yes, the outfit was really that bad...)

Who knows? I didn't. Neither did the young man who belittled her. If any of these possibilities were true, or if the truth were something else altogether, in which situation would this young man's reaction have been appropriate?

Obviously, none. There's no scenario in which this reaction would be godly. And, it's easy to see that in this case. But, what about cases in which it's not so easy to see? What about cases in which the offender is not a stranger? Or, when the offense is not as clearly defined? Or, perhaps, when the offense is much more serious and personal than a stranger's attire in a public place?

Do we as Christians know how God expects us to respond when our brothers and sisters make mistakes?

According to Galatians 6:1, "Brethren, if anyone is caught in any trespass, you who are spiritual, restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness; each one looking to yourself, so that you too will not be tempted."

Think of all that has to come into play in order for the Christian to put into practice the teaching of this passage:

*Gentleness: the patience to be kind, even tender, toward a person whose conduct may have stepped on your
last nerve, or may have seriously offended or hurt you.

*Humility: the ability to see that the offender's mistake is not something to which you are magically immune.

*Restoration: the commitment to rebuild something when you might just as soon burn it to the ground.

*Maturity: this admonition is given to "you who are spiritual"; if you can't deal with this command and put it into
practice, you're not spiritual; you're worldly, still a child.

Compare these qualities, and the response God wants, to the response the young man in Wal-Mart gave to the woman dressed inappropriately in public. Instead of being marked by gentleness, it was very harsh. Instead of coming from a humble heart, the young man's comment came from pride, not considering his own weaknesses, which were just as evident as the woman's were. Instead of showing a desire to rebuild or restore, the young man's comment was destructive and served no positive purpose at all. Instead of being guided by a mature spirit, the young man showed tremendous immaturity in his careless and hurtful response.

But, it's easy to tear down this young man; in fact, just as easy as it was for him to tear down the woman as he did.

What matters is what can be learned from the moment. The challenge lies in the conduct of the Christian toward others when they fall short. The truth lies in the realization that Christians, who profess to be spiritual, may actually be no different from the young man in Wal-Mart.

How often have you seen Christians react to the mistakes and sins of others? How many times have you been the one reacting? And, how many times have you been the one who made the mistake others reacted to?

Do we consistently follow Paul's admonition to restore such a one with a spirit of gentleness? Do we remember that we should also consider ourselves, and how easily tempted we are, when restoring someone who has sinned?

Or, have there been occasions when the response has been harsh, prideful, destructive, and immature? Are there believers in this world, separated from the church for no other reason than the wounds they received at the hands of Christians responding to their mistakes? We need not even ponder the whole world for this question to be relevant. Are there such believers in your own community? Perhaps even from your own congregation?

Of course, every soul is accountable to God, and no one, not even the most unfairly wounded soul, should allow the insensitivity of others to keep him or her away from Christ. They shouldn't. But, we know it happens. May we never be the unwitting instrument of another soul's departure from fellowship with the body of Christ.

There is, however, another extreme to avoid.

If we are to follow the model of Galatians 6:1, and restore a sinning soul with a spirit of gentleness, it is clearly implied that we must also avoid the alternative of not dealing with sin when it occurs. An easy short-term way of avoiding offense is to avoid the confrontation or intervention altogether. "A brother in sin? Leave him alone! We're sure not to offend him that way." May it never be.

In fact, the same Paul who wrote Galatians 6:1 also upbraided the church in Corinth (I Corinthians 5) for tolerating immorality among their members, and even went so far as to say that they should cut themselves off from a so-called believer who would not give up an immoral way of life. He warned them about the nature of leaven, and how dangerous it would be for them to allow the presence of unrepentant sin in their fellowship.

So, clearly, the "Don't ask, don't tell" policy is not the model for how the church should deal with sin. When we know of sin in the life of a brother or sister, just letting the matter go in order to keep the peace is not an option.

It comes down to a conversation, a prayerful response.

When a brother or sister is found to be in sin, loving brothers and sisters must intervene to help the struggling soul get things right again. All the while, the ones intervening must be gentle, humble, and mature if they are to have a chance at rebuilding.

And, they are not the only ones bearing responsibility for the outcome of this conversation.

The sinning Christian must also be responsible for how he or she reacts to the reaction of his concerned spiritual family. It's always a possibility, and ever more likely in today's culture, that he or she will react with indignation: "How dare you judge me?" "What right do you have to tell me......." "I don't have to put up with this..." It's always possible he or she will leave the fellowship in anger, even if the attempted intervention was as loving and kind as possible. In that case, to use current lingo, "It's on him." He has revealed who really owns his heart.

But, even with this possibility, the conversation must happen.

Christians must never assume that a soul struggling with sin is doing so pridefully, stubbornly, or even with full awareness of the danger. The heart beneath the behavior may be ready to repent, just waiting for the right opportunity to do so.

May our response to a sinning soul never be, "Oh my God! That's disGUSTing!"

Instead, let us respond, "Dear God, please use me to help. And, help me not to fall myself."

"You will have your chance..."

2008-06-07T00:26:00.006-05:00

"Pharoah sent for Joseph, and he was quickly brought from the dungeon. When he had shaved and changed his clothes, he came before Pharoah." -- Genesis 41:14

Cars is a special movie in our household. It's an entertaining story with a good message about humility and true friendship.

One of our favorite characters in Cars is Guido, the feisty little forklift, faithful employee of Luigi's Casa Della Tires, whose ultimate dream is to administer a "Peet Stop" to a real race car in a real race. Toward the end of the movie, Guido's dream comes true, as he joins Lightning McQueen's surprise pit crew for the championship race.

A significant moment occurs during this sequence of events. The race begins, and Guido is in high spirits as he arranges his equipment in preparation for Lightning's eventual pit stop. Just then, the pit crew from a rival race car makes fun of Guido, setting off his anger, which he expresses in a barrage of Italian threats and comebacks. Fortunately, Guido's boss, Luigi, intervenes and calms Guido down with the wise words, "You will have your chance, Guido. You will have... your... chance."

Later, Guido does indeed have his chance, and pulls off a miracle four-tire change that keeps McQueen in the race when all appeared lost.

What is significant about this forklift who toiled in obscurity for years, dreaming of something bigger?

Obviously, he kept his dream alive and didn't give up on it. But, that's not especially remarkable. Many people hold onto many dreams for many years.

What sets Guido apart from many other dreamers is the fact that he was ready when his moment arrived, and he responded with his best effort at that pivotal moment. There was no hesitation. Fear was overcome by courage. There was no resentment over how long he had had to wait, how many times he had been overlooked, or how unfairly he had been judged by others who never thought he had it in him. He didn't question whether those depending upon him deserved his help. He simply stepped up and delivered what the moment required, what he had been preparing himself to do, and what he had always dreamed of doing. His service was critical to the cause, and fulfilling for him, the perfect blend of personal achievement and team success.

Guido stands out from the crowd of dreamers because he was ready, and because he delivered.

So does Joseph.

Joseph's moment came without warning on a random day. He was over two years into an unjust prison term, and must have wondered how on earth his life had come to this. Within the space of a few years, he had gone from being his father's favored son, to being a slave sold into Potiphar's house; from bravely resisting the sexual advances of Potiphar's wife, to being falsely accused of sexual assault by the same woman; from accurately interpreting the dreams of fellow inmates, to being totally forgotten by the royal cupbearer, whose release from prison Joseph had predicted. None of this was deserved, but none of it was wasted, either. God was working on Joseph the entire time, molding his character and preparing him for his moment.

Joseph had long dreamed of great things. He had earned his brothers' scorn by sharing with them his dreams of being their leader, of a time that would come in which they would pay homage to him. It's likely that Joseph misunderstood these dreams as much as his brothers did. By the time Joseph actually became a leader, it was no longer in his character to enjoy the thrill of power for power's sake. His heart had been molded into that of a compassionate servant. His power was used for the good of those in need, not for Joseph's glory. It was used to preserve God's people, not to avenge Joseph's wounds. As Joseph said of all his trials, "God meant it for good." (Genesis 50:20).

But, none of this could have come about if not for Joseph's moment. The moment when Joseph had his chance to be God's instrument for good. The moment when Joseph stepped up and delivered.

Unbeknownst to Joseph the inmate, Pharaoh is troubled over two dreams he has had. None of his magicians or wise men can interpret the dreams, and suddenly the royal cupbearer remembers a man he knew in prison, a man who interpreted dreams, and whose interpretations proved to be true. The cupbearer finally does the favor Joseph asked him to do over two years before, and tells Pharaoh about Joseph. And, then, Joseph finally has his chance...

"Pharaoh sent for Joseph, and he was quickly brought from the dungeon. When he had shaved and changed his clothes, he came before Pharaoh." -- Genesis 41:14

The rest is history. Joseph's immediate, accurate interpretations of Pharaoh's dreams, coupled with his recommendations of how to prepare for the coming famine, earn Joseph the lofty position of second-in-command over all Egypt, and the stage is set for the salvation of Joseph's family.

But, there are telling details to be found in Joseph's moment. Especially notable are the things that are absent. There is no hesitation. There is no resentment over how long he had had to wait. There is no self-defense or statement of innocence. There is no question of whether those in need of his help really deserve it. There is no thought of deliberately misleading Pharoah in a selfish act of vengeance. In fact, there is no assurance that he isn't going right back to prison after doing this favor for a Pharaoh who doesn't even worship Jehovah. There is no attempt to pass off this power of interpretation as his own; before he even begins, Joseph gives the disclaimer that this power is not his own, but comes only from God. When Joseph is elevated by Pharaoh, there is no hint of any grudge held over the injustice dealt to Joseph. There are no demands for any type of recompense, or even an apology. Joseph simply accepts the honor and goes to work.

Absent is every possible feeling, thought, word, or deed that would have made Joseph the center of the moment. This moment is about God, and only about Him, and Joseph recognizes that he is only God's instrument in the moment. It is this realization that allows Joseph to step up and deliver as he does.

What about the Christian today?

Are you willing to accept the role God has in mind for you? Are you allowing yourself to be molded by God, and prepared for service? Perhaps even service you cannot imagine right now?

Are you alert to moments that could possibly be more than just moments? It could be nothing more than a Bible class that needs a teacher, or a hurting person who needs encouragement. It could be a chance to share faith with a stranger, or a family in need of food or clothing.

It could indeed be an opportunity of great magnitude. A job in another city. An old, wounded relationship restored and begun anew. The abandonment of a habit that used to damage your credibility as a Christian. The long overdue forgiveness extended to someone who hurt you.

Whatever the will of God for your life, there will be a moment. You will have your chance.

Are you prepared to be God's instrument in that moment?

Or, will you squander the opportunity for the sake of smaller things?

The Biggest Wimp of All

2008-05-24T07:19:00.007-05:00

What image does the term "wimp" bring to your mind?

Not hard to guess. All the way back to the "Popeye" cartoons, someone who is characterized by wimpiness is assumed to be weak, lacking in self-confidence, and most importantly, unwilling to fight or unable to defend himself in a confrontation. A wimp, in most people's minds, is a person who is more likely to allow himself to be taken advantage of rather than to stand up for himself. A person who fears a fight more than he fears the loss of respect involved in refusing to fight.

A tough guy, on the other hand, is any member of the A-Team, willing and able to throw a punch and connect over the slightest provocation, knocking people out cold without a thought. A little closer to daily reality, a tough guy is someone who is eager to intimidate, ready to defend himself, and even willing to get physical if necessary (or perhaps when not totally necessary, but fitting with his frame of mind).

At least that is the defense the tough guy will offer for his actions. Unfortunately, our culture has become steeped in a twisted version of toughness, in which many people walk around with ridiculously shaky chips on their shoulders, so eager to confront and fight over almost anything, it makes you wonder how people became so touchy.

Fighting has been a prominent part of my work experience in my nine years of public school administration. Over these years, I have dealt with many students and their parents in the aftermath of fights that break out in school. Parental reactions vary somewhat, but a common theme is this one: "I've taught my child to defend himself, so he shouldn't be punished for fighting!" Of course, the student is punished anyway, despite his sensei's teachings, and learns a hard lesson. Unfortunately, the parent has given the child a weapon and a blessing, but not the judgment to use it properly. Self-defense in a truly life-threatening situation is one thing. Creating a needless melee in a perfectly safe public place is something altogether different.

Most of the time, these disturbances arise from nothing more than gossip. Second, third, even fourth-hand, unsubtantiated rumor is oftentimes the only basis for the confrontation that erupts and turns physical. Oftentimes the root of the problem is an insult perceived when none was intended. A glance or a gesture can also serve as the catalyst for open conflict.

Rarely is the cause for the fight something the students will still feel strongly about the next day, let alone the next week or month. The consequences of the confrontation far outweigh the original spark that set it off.

Sadly, any viewing of the TV show Cops will remind us that this description is not limited to adolescents, but applies to many adults as well.

What does this say about the nature of the wordly "tough guy"? (Or "girl", of course. Our culture is filled with girls and women
who are just as devoted to this way of thinking as any boy or man. You've come a long way, baby.)

This world's tough guy equates respectability with strength, which in his mind means the ability to make sure no one takes advantage of him or gets away with insulting him. Since this is his most dearly held value, he finds insult in daily interactions where none was intended, and he is quick to confront over the slightest violation of his self-imposed code. Pity the poor soul who tells a third party something derogatory about the tough guy, or who pulls out in front of the tough guy on the road, or who even makes eye contact with the tough guy in a way he doesn't like.

You just don't mess with this person, because this person is strong.

As usual, Scripture challenges the commonly held human assumptions about things.

Proverbs 16:32 reads, "He who is slow to anger is better than the mighty, And he who rules his spirit than he who takes a city."

We're accustomed to hearing about being slow to anger, but the phrase "rules his spirit" packs a punch more potent than anything this world's tough guy has in his arsenal. As Scripture reveals, the strength it takes to control oneself is far greater than the strength it takes to intimidate, confront, challenge, and fight another person.

"Ruling the spirit" includes far more than simply avoiding open warfare with other people. What about our reactions to the things people do? Do we react to rumor, rather than demanding facts? What about our thoughts concerning other people's motives? What about our wishes toward others? Do we assume the worst about people? Are we quick to judge our neighbors? Do we bear ill will, and hope for bad things to happen to other people? Do we churn with anger over perceived slights and insults?

Or, are we willing to take every thought captive for Christ? (2 Cor. 10:5). Are we willing to make the mental and emotional effort to keep our neighbors' actions in perspective, and see the good along with the bad? Are we willing to give people the benefit of the doubt, and not allow negative assumptions about their motives? Are we willing to pray for our enemies and refrain from wishing them harm? Do we remember our own faults when rehashing those of people we don't like? Do we keep alive the joy of our salvation, even in the face of inconsiderate acts all around us?

Make no mistake: Christians are not called to be mere pushovers. Jesus Himself took a stand against making His Father's house a house of merchandise, by driving the peddlers out of the temple. Christians, too, may be called upon to display outwardly visible strength for His purposes. But Jesus also instructed His disciples to give to others who ask, and to give more than others ask, and not to worry about being insulted, in order to demonstrate the love of the One we belong to. (Matt. 5:38-42). The glory of God is the important thing. Our personal feelings are not.

Who is the bigger wimp?

The student who avoids a fight at school? Or, the student who throws a punch over a rumored insult?

The wife who ignores criticism of her husband, or the wife who puts her husband in an even more difficult position by making a scene over it?

The man who continues to treat his inconsiderate neighbor with grace, or the man who returns slight for slight, and provocation for provocation?

The husband at home helping put his children to bed, or the shirtless, drunken fool being wrestled to the ground by law enforcement at 2 a.m. on Cops?

In each of these examples, our culture calls the former soft, and the latter tough. In reality, the latter is the wimp, the wuss, the pushover, the milquetoast. He or she is led by the leash by Satan, bent and submissive before the power of the evil one, barking when he says to bark, jumping when he says to jump, shamefully yielding the entire human will to the puppetry of a master manipulator. That's what is really happening behind the intimidating facade we see on the surface of the world's "tough guy".

Here is where the fundamental misunderstanding lies: Toughness or softness is not primarily related to what people see on the outside. It is first a matter of who has control. Do our actions, especially our acts of strength, come from Christ, or do they come from Satan? Whose purposes do they serve?

Peter demonstrated strength when he rejoiced at being "counted worthy to suffer shame for His name" (Acts 5:41), not when he cut a man's ear off with a sword (John 18:12) in an attempt to prevent Jesus's arrest.

The real tough guy is the one with the guts to face down Satan, and, by the power of Christ, cause the coward to flee. (James 4:7) He or she is living in Christ, blessed with the presence of the Spirit, able to look at Satan's temptations, see them for what they really are, and yield no ground to his evil.

So, what will it be, tough guy?

"I will be you."

2008-05-14T23:19:00.025-05:00

Just the other night, I asked our son Benjamin, "What will you be when you grow up?"

His response was both heart-warming and terrifying: "I will be you."

"I will be you"?

You mean, you're thinking you'll be just like me? You mean, I'm the one you think of as a model of what to become? Obviously, he does. Most little boys, in their innocence, think of dad exactly the same way. Fathers should be honored and humbled by this sentiment, but far too many fail to appreciate the gravity of what this means.

Yes, it means many small things: Mannerisms, patterns of speech, trivial habits, loyalties to sports teams, preferences in music, and on and on.

But, many fathers, for a variety of reasons, forget the biggest things at stake in their influence over their children. After everything else has been forgotten, a child's view of God and relationship with Him are subject to tremendous influence at the hands of his parents.

Of course, every soul will stand accountable to God, but there is no doubt that the influence that shaped that soul early in life will have an effect on the ultimate outcome.

Indeed, Jesus Himself cautions against a careless attitude toward the influence we have over not only our own children, but anyone less mature in faith, when He states: "Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in Me to sin, it would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck, and he were drowned in the depth of the sea." (Matt. 18:6)

What a tragedy to be the father whose children learn to take God's name in vain, but not to pray. To seek entertainment, not to read Scripture. To seek vengeance, not forgiveness. To sing along with popular music, but not to worship. To react in anger to small inconvenciences, but not to exercise patience. Every father will teach his children a lifetime's curriculum in bite-size portions, one real-life moment at a time. There is no question about whether the learning will take place. The only question is what will be taught.

Humbling stuff. The kind of stuff that prompts a not-so-confident look in the mirror: "Is this what I want my child to become?"

Is that all there is? Nothing but a frightened realization of how much is at stake, and how unprepared for the task any honest father is likely to feel? Is there anything beyond a son's declaration of intent to imitate his father, and his father's mixed reaction to it? Is there any confidence at all that a Christian father can have?

Paul took his influence very seriously, and very personally. When writing to the Christians in Corinth, he tells them, "For though you might have ten thousand instructors in Christ, yet you do not have many fathers; for in Christ I have begotten you through the gospel." (I Cor. 4:15-16) Later in the same letter, he reminds these Christians, "Imitate me, just as I also imitate Christ." (I Cor. 11:1)

Where does Paul, the self-professed chief of sinners, find the confidence to embrace his role of influence, and boldly instruct less mature Christians to follow his example? After all, this is the same Paul who struggles in Romans 7 with the reality that he often fails to do the good he wants to do, and does the wrong he does not want to do. What Christian father cannot relate to that struggle? Yet, somehow, Paul finds the confidence to lead his less mature brothers and sisters in Christ, actually using the word "imitate" in his instructions to them. How do Christian fathers today find this same confidence when it comes to bringing up our children to love the Lord?

The answer lies in the reason Paul was so confident. Jesus Christ was the only reason Paul could tell his "children" in the faith to imitate him. As the Scripture states, the instruction to imitate Paul is a safe one, only because Paul is imitating Christ. By imitating Paul, these Christians will, in turn, be imitating Jesus Himself.

So, Paul's commitment to Christ makes him confident enough to hold himself up as an example to immature Christians, in spite of his own past conduct. Paul does not allow his haunting memories of past sin to stop him. Paul does not allow his ongoing struggles with sin to stop him. Paul simply strives to imitate Christ.

What does this say about many Christian fathers' feelings of fear and uncertainty about our own example to our children? Why are we afraid? Why do we feel insufficient to the task?

Perhaps the first step to increasing the Christian father's peace of mind is to return to the fundamental statement of who our example is. Perhaps it's a matter of realizing that our feeble ability is not the only factor in the equation. In fact, it's the least important factor.

Our Father, our example of how to be a father, equips us with all we need to provide the example our children need. He can overcome our flaws and make our sinful past an irrelevant memory.

What our Father is looking for are believers who will look to Him with the faith of a child and say, "I want to be just like you!"

What every child needs is a father who will look to God and say, "I want to be the kind of father you are!"

Such a father will be ready, and fully equipped, for a child who looks to him and says, "I will be you!"

And, that child will be safe in imitating such a father.

Dads, who will we be?

A Purpose Bigger Than the Pain

2008-04-21T23:03:00.006-05:00

"The secret things belong to the Lord our God..." (Deuteronomy 29:29)

Pain is universal.

It doesn't take long after birth before a human being begins to suffer feelings of discomfort, even as simple as hunger pains. Everyone, at some point in life, endures pain on the level of:

Common illness.

Rejection.

Disappointment or disillusionment.

Inconvenience or unnecessary delay.

Lack of consideration shown by others.

On another level, certain brands of pain can be understood only by those who have endured them. Those who haven't, can only imagine the feeling of:

A chronic or serious illness that seems beyond cure.

The death of a child.

The betrayal of adultery.

Financial catastrophe.

Unjust punishment.

These and many other trials find their way into people's lives every day. Lives are changed by the impact of these experiences.

The question for the Christian is not whether pain will come, but how to respond when it does. Will the painful trials we endure pull us away from Christ, or motivate us to draw closer to Him? Every Christian must answer this question.

One of the most common questions asked during times of suffering is some variation on the theme of: "Why does God allow bad things to happen?" This question is easy to ask, and hard to answer. While there are deeper waters in which to dive for more complete answers to this question, every Christian should first come to grips with the basic reality of what God has and has not promised His children. God's promises have to do with eternity after this life, and with spiritual peace during our lifetime here on earth. His promises have never included any kind of assurance that we will be exempt from pain, even tragic or undeserved pain, in this lifetime.

Someone might think, "Well, that's easy to say, when you're enjoying peace in your life."

Precisely. That's just it. Times of peace and quiet in life are exactly the times when Christians should revisit God's promises and remind themselves that trouble can come, that it is likely to come, and when it comes, our response will emerge from the depth, or lack of depth, of our faith. Christians cannot afford to wait and wrestle with these questions when they've just been hit by tragic news. That's a wrestling match we won't be likely to win. You can't build a levee in the middle of a hurricane.

But, no matter how much we try to prepare, when tragedy and sorrow do come, the question is also likely to arise: "Why would my God, who could have intervened and prevented this disaster, stand back and allow it to happen?" Even the most seasoned Christian, who has been with God through thick and thin, could be tempted to lose faith because of this question.

To remain faithful in the face of this question, the Christian must make a choice to have faith in a purpose bigger than the pain. Once a Christian determines to have faith in God's purposes, he can respond to pain by living in faith, hope, and love, in spite of whatever pain he might have to endure. The only other choice is to refuse to believe in a larger purpose, and then to suffer bitterly in times of pain, struggling with doubt and frustration.

The ultimate example of choosing faith in pain is Christ on the cross. Jesus would have preferred not to go there, and even asked His Father to find another way. But, the only way to redeem the human race was to follow through with the mission. The mission could not fail. The mission was more important than the pain Jesus would have to endure. So, the answer to Jesus's prayer was "No". He was not spared the pain, but He did not lose faith in the purpose for it. He committed Himself to the mission long before the pain.

How might this concept be played out in the life of the Christian? Is every painful situation so clear in its purpose?

Another concept Christians benefit from accepting is the idea that we may not always know or understand God's will or influence in a situation. We're never promised to be kept in the loop as to why difficult times come our way. We might or might not have the ability or the opportunity to see the purpose that is bigger than our pain. What then? Are we willing to maintain faith in God only when we can see the purpose bigger than our pain? Or, is there a better way?

For the Christian, there are several possible scenarios for times when we are in pain:

*"I see the purpose bigger than my pain, right now." -- The Apostle Paul is a good example of this. When he sat in prison and wrote his letter to the Philippians, he stated right up front that his imprisonment served to further the gospel, because it stirred up other Christians to do the work he was restricted from doing. He also saw his influence on those entrusted with guarding him in prison. Is the Christian prepared to endure pain for the sake of a purpose bigger than himself?

*"I didn't see the purpose bigger than my pain at the time, but I saw it later." -- Joseph is the perfect example of this realization. He didn't see any purpose in being sold into slavery by his brothers, nor in being falsely accused by Potiphar's wife, nor in being imprisoned and forgotten about by a fellow inmate he had helped. But, once it all came full circle, and his long-lost brothers arrived in Egypt seeking food during the famine, everything became clear. The reason for all his suffering was made plain. Is the Christian willing to have faith in suffering, holding out hope that he, like Joseph, might see the purpose for it later on?

*"I never saw the purpose bigger than my pain." -- Is this thought too discouraging to contemplate? It shouldn't be. Job is the prime example of this. Scholars may dispute what might be read between the lines, but the fact is that Scripture never states that Job ever really understood what happened to him. All through his story, he believes wholeheartedly that God, for some unknown reason, has chosen to punish him without cause. In the end, he humbles himself before God, and all is restored, but we're never shown anything more than Job's misunderstanding. He never knew that Satan was really behind it all, and that the cruel test inflicted upon him by Satan served God's purposes in the end. Can the Christian endure the pain of never knowing the purpose being served in his suffering? Will the Christian commit to remaining faithful, and accepting the fact that the answer might not ever come? Will the Christian accept the fact that much suffering exists simply as a result of living in a sinful world influenced by Satan?

In the end, there must be some degree of acceptance of the message of Deuteronomy 29:29. According to this passage, there are some things that are secret, understood only by God Himself. Whatever these things are, they just don't belong to us right now, perhaps not ever. Can the Christian make peace with that? Will the Christian commit to faithfulness till death, even if that means living with questions unanswered? Even if that means suffering pain without seeing the purpose?

Will your anchor hold in a storm?

Will your house stand against the wind?

Will your faith remain strong in times of pain?

Are you preparing your faith now, or waiting for that storm to hit?

What God Has Joined...

2008-04-13T14:33:00.004-05:00

In Matthew 19, the Pharisees test Jesus by posing an insincere question about divorce. Jesus responds by taking the discussion back to the beginning. He explains that the husband and wife have become "one flesh", and includes this admonition: "What God has joined together, let man not separate." (19:6).

This passage is often quoted in wedding ceremonies, and appropriately so. What better occasion to recall these words of Christ?

In a marriage, which person is more important, more necessary? The husband, or the wife? Obviously, this is a foolish question. Neither is more important than the other. The two are equally important, and both are necessary for the marriage to exist.

The concept of God joining two complementary parts together is not limited to marriage alone. There are many facets of the Christian life that include equally important elements joined together to form a complete picture. Too often, Christians gravitate toward one or the other, depending on personality, preference, or upbringing. But, to do so is just as short-sighted and limiting as trying to determine whether a husband or wife is more important to a marriage.

Just a few examples:

Love/Deeds: I Corinthians 13:1-3 reminds the Christian that all the godly deeds in the world are null and void if not performed in love.

Faith/Deeds: James 2:14-26 issues powerful instruction, detailing how faith is dead without good deeds resulting from it.

How easy it is to fall to either extreme: feeling confident in the depth of our faith, while pretty much keeping it to ourselves, or working like crazy "for God", without nurturing in our hearts the love that God has for those we serve.

Knowledge/Zeal: Proverbs 19:2 states that zeal without knowledge is not good; it causes us to "miss the way". How often do we find a Christian who excels in knowledge, but has lost enthusiasm for Christ? Or, one who is very enthusiastic, yet lacking in knowledge of the Word? Which is better? Can one be better than the other? They must be blended!

Grace/Obedience: Ephesians 2:8 makes clear that we are saved by the grace of God through Christ, and specifically reminds us that we are not saved by our works. We also read in 2 Thessalonians 1:8 that God will punish those who do not obey the gospel of Christ. Our salvation comes by grace, but obedience is a necessary element to receive that grace.

Spirit/Understanding: I Corinthians 14:15 contributes wise counsel to the ongoing discussion about worship. Which is more important? To worship with the spirit? Or to understand what we are doing? According to Paul, both! These elements go together, and should not be separated. Yet, how many discussions of worship have we had in which Christians have camped on either end of this spectrum?

Every Christian must strive to be in submission to the will of God in every aspect of life. The focus should be on understanding and putting into practice the full message of the scriptures, not just the parts that match our personality or way of thinking. In fact, things that are challenging to us deserve that much more attention and prayer, so that we may become fully equipped to serve Him.

What God has joined, let man not separate.

Benjamin's Music

2008-04-12T13:21:00.003-05:00

We had a funny thing happen the other day.

We were at a gas station on the way home from church, when Benjamin began singing a song from the back seat. (Just as a little background: For this to make sense, you need to know that Benjamin was, at the time, keeping a pet "Roly Poly" from the backyard. He has since released it back into "the wild".)

Anyway, out of nowhere, and to no one but himself, Benjamin sang, "Ro-o-ly Polies, get gas, get gas! I-I-In their cars, their cars, their cars!" That was about as far as the song went, but the song was sung to the tune of "The Blue Danube" by Strauss. (Don't be impressed by my quoting that. I had to hum the tune to the Band Director at school to get the title.) We had a good laugh. We're assuming he learned that tune from one of his "Baby Einstein" DVD's.

Later on at home, Benjamin noticed me listening to music on our iPod. Benjamin wanted to listen in as well, so I let him. The song was "No One" by Alicia Keys. (Totally worth a buck on iTunes, by the way....)

I'm not sure if Benjamin had really paid attention to this song before, but he sure picked it up quickly. With headphones in ears, he belted out the chorus, "No one, No one, Noooooo ooooooooonnnne!" with a pretty much blank expression on his face.

We cracked up.

After this, it was the Cars soundtrack, singing along with Chuck Berry to "Route 66". Benjamin's becoming quite the iPod king!

Home Runs & Roller Coasters

2008-04-03T23:32:00.006-05:00

"Why do you look for the living among the dead?" -- Luke 24:5

This question was asked of the women who came to Jesus's tomb on the third day after His death. They found His tomb open and empty, and two angels appeared, challenging them to remember Jesus's words about how He would rise again. These women were looking for the right person, but looking in the wrong place. They weren't going to find Jesus in that tomb.

Have you ever found yourself seeking something good, but looking in the wrong place?

Looking for...

A stable relationship, in a bar?

Intimacy, outside your marriage?

Financial peace, at the scratch-off counter?

Relief from hurt, at the bottom of a bottle?

Self-worth, through neverending hours at work?

What about our worship? Don't we all seek more meaningful worship? Don't we all want a more intimate relationship with God? These are good and noble goals, but where do we look to find these things? Are we looking in the right places?

There are two significant moments in my life that illustrate something important about the nature of worship.

The first occurred in October of 1988. It was Game 1 of the World Series. My beloved Dodgers faced the powerful A's, and weren't given much of a chance to win. The end of Game 1 became a classic ESPN moment, as Kirk Gibson gave the Dodgers the victory with a dramatic home run in the bottom of the ninth inning.

The second occurred in the summer of 1993. I took my first ride on the famous Texas Giant roller coaster at Six Flags. It was an awesome ride! Just intense enough to get your heart pumping, but not scary enough to ruin the experience. I really enjoyed it, and couldn't wait to ride again.

If there were snapshots of my face at both of these moments, I think my expression would be about the same: Jubilation! Smiling, shouting, screaming for joy! All the excitement you would expect for both situations.

But, if you could take these two snapshots and lay them down side by side, the question would be: Are these two moments really the same? Are these identical facial expressions really expressing the same emotions?

The answer is a definite "no". These two moments are actually quite different from each other, and have very little in common, aside from the facial expressions that resulted from them.

October, 1988:

The last pitch of Game 1 of the 1988 World Series was much more to me than just the moment you would have seen had you been with me that night. To this day, I get a lump in my throat just thinking about it. And, seeing the replay is almost more than I can take.

Why is this moment so significant? It's something only a lifelong Dodger fan could understand, and perhaps not even all of those.

To give you a little background...

You didn't hear my dad's stories of the excitement in L.A. when the Dodgers moved to town from Brooklyn in 1958, or of "his" Dodgers of the '60s, led by Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale, pitchers who were nearly unhittable in their prime.

You weren't there with me during the 1981 World Series, feeling the fear I felt when Goose Gossage came to the mound to pitch for the dreaded Yankees.

You never heard me recite the Dodgers' lineup as a child, remembering the players as if I knew them personally.

You weren't lucky enough to enjoy a Dodger Dog with me, sitting in beautiful Dodger Stadium, hearing the organ music.

You didn't see the afternoons I spent in my backyard pitching tennis balls at the house, pretending to be a right-handed Fernando Valenzuela.

You've never seen my autographed baseball from former Dodger first baseman Steve Garvey. It's still on display in my office today.

You don't know about the times I secretly took a transistor radio with me to bed so I could continue listening to the Dodger game after my parents told me to get to sleep.

You didn't hear my childish prayers to God that the Dodgers would rally to win an important game.

You didn't feel my heartbreak in the 1985 National League Championship Series, when the Dodgers lost Game 5 on an unlikely home run by Cardinals' shortstop Ozzie Smith.

You didn't live through the frustration I felt as the Dodgers suffered through miserable seasons in '86 and '87.

You didn't feel the surge of hope I felt as the Dodgers retooled for the '88 campaign, picking up outfielder Kirk Gibson, who would later hit that famous home run.

Your mind is not programmed to hate the Giants.

You can't possibly understand the frustration and disconnect I feel at the Dodgers' inability to return to playoff greatness since that magical 1988 season. This season marks 20 years, and that's a long time.

Devotion is the only word that comes to mind to capture all this history. A lifetime of devotion. That's what came bursting out of me that night in October of 1988 when Gibson's home run cleared the fence. It's also what never could have come bursting out of anyone else who had not loved this team with their whole heart for so long.

How do you package devotion? How do you put it in a jar and hand it to someone? The answer is simple: You don't. You can't. There's no shortcut to it. There's no microwave package that will be ready in a couple of minutes. The only way to experience the joy of devotion is to give yourself to someone or something, without regard for what you might get in return, and maintain that embrace no matter the cost. Ask a couple celebrating a 50th anniversary how to get what they have, and see what they tell you.

Summer, 1993:

So, what about the Texas Giant? What can be said about that? I paid for a ticket to the park, stood in line, and rode the ride. That's about it. It was a great ride, but it was just a ride. I rode it once, maybe twice more, never again finding it as fulfilling as I did the first time. It was just never the same. And, how could it have been?

Our Worship:

"God is spirit, and His worshippers must worship Him in spirit and in truth." -- John 4:24

Again, the question: What about our worship? Many Christians desire something more meaningful than what they currently experience. Something more moving, that touches them deeper.

Of the two moments discussed here, many Christians desire the worship equivalent of Game 1 of the 1988 World Series. That's a good thing to want. But, in our search for that, are we actually climbing aboard the Texas Giant and waiting for something to happen?

By default, most of the discussion surrounding meaningful worship has to do with what is planned and presented up in front of a church audience. The discussions tend to focus on worship format, which songs to sing, how to sing them, type and length of preaching, physical layout of the worship area, lighting, technology, etc.

All these things have their place, and need to be discussed. Every worship assembly should be designed and planned prayerfully, with the goal of glorifying God and keeping the attention on Him. A poorly planned or sloppily executed worship assembly is painful to endure, and draws more attention away from God than turning on ESPN would do.

But, as important as those discussions are, they do not capture the most important question. The question becomes a matter of what our worship really is. Is it something that happens to us, or something we give of ourselves to God?

If it is something that happens to us, then we are right when we think the path to more meaningful worship leads directly to the stage in front of the church audience. Then, it is a matter of who presents what in front of us on Sunday. Then, the way to achieve that elusive experience we're desiring is to get whatever is hip to get, and use it until it is no longer hip. It's someone else's responsibility to give us Game 1 of the 1988 World Series while we climb aboard the Texas Giant.

However, if worship is not something that happens to us, but rather, something we offer to God, then the path to more meaningful worship leads directly to the mirror. Worship becomes a product of the life we live from Monday through Saturday, not just an intake of what someone prepared for us on Sunday. Worship becomes something we offer to God from the depth of our hearts, without the slightest regard for the hipness or non-hipness of anything anyone planned or presented from the stage in front of us. Worship becomes directly linked to the level of devotion to God in our daily lives. It becomes our own responsibility to create the conditions conducive for Game 1 of the 1988 World Series. And, we realize that a ride on the Texas Giant, or any other roller coaster, can never match a home run like that. We give up on that thought entirely.

Are we prepared to take personal responsibility for the worship we offer God?

Will we abandon hope that the Texas Giant can give us Game 1 of the 1988 World Series?

Will we devote ourselves to God every day, and create the personal history with Him that will bring about those home run moments that put a lump in our throats, and bring tears to our eyes?

We have the right destination in mind. Will we understand that there is no shortcut to get us there?

The Narrow Victory

2008-03-29T14:45:00.006-05:00

I've been a Los Angeles Lakers fan my entire life. Well, maybe from age 7 or 8 or so.

My earliest Laker memory was overhearing my dad tell my mom that the Lakers were going to be good again, "because they've got Magic back." This would have been sometime in '81, whenever Magic Johnson returned from the knee injury that sidelined him for most of that season. I was confused by my dad's comment, not understanding who or what he was talking about. He told me who Magic was, and explained the nickname: "He plays so good, it's like magic." A love began that would last a lifetime.

I don't remember the Lakers' championship in '80, but I do remember the one in '82, and every one thereafter. I also recall some bitter defeats and disappointments along the way.

Then, there was the dry spell from '88 - '00, a twelve-year drought in which the Lakers did not win a title. In fact, they weren't always very good at all.

Fortunes turned, and the Lakers rose again. From 2000 - 2002, the Lakers won three consecutive NBA titles, led by the tandem of Shaquille O'Neal and Kobe Bryant.

During this period, I found myself comparing this team to the Lakers' teams that won five titles in the '80s, led by Magic Johnson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. My memories of the earlier squad were much more favorable, their period of dominance being a happy time in my mind, marked by consistent play and team harmony. The more recent championship run, as exciting as it was, was not nearly as happy. This team was marked by inconsistency, up-and-down play, and periodic dissension between the stars of the team. It just wasn't as fun to be a fan.

The main difference, however, came in the nature of the victories of these teams.

The earlier Lakers' teams consistently played to their ability. It took a worthy opponent to test them, and it took a superior opponent to take them down. I remember many lopsided victories over teams that just couldn't keep up, and some epic battles against teams that could. Not often did a lowly team play beyond their ability to challenge these Lakers.

The more recent team, however, was a different story. I can't back this up with any data, but I just don't remember many blowout wins by this team. Sure, there was the time in the spring of 2001, when they demolished San Antonio in a playoff series, but I don't recall many victories like that. I don't remember many 20-point wins. I do remember a lot of 1-point nailbiters and needless overtimes. I remember opponents that should not have been able to challenge these Lakers taking them deep into the late rounds. I was there in person one night in Dallas in 2000, to see the flat-footed Lakers succumb to Shawn Bradley draining endless 20-footers, leading the Mavericks to victory, late in a season in which the Lakers would actually win the title. Why?

It was so frustrating to see a team that should have dominated, never quite giving their opponents what they might have given them. To be sure, much credit is due to the level of talent on opposing teams. It's quite possible that there just wasn't the gap in ability between these Lakers and their opponents, as there was between the '80s Lakers and their opponents. But, watching it as it happened, it just seemed that the effort and focus were not always there, and that that could have made a difference. These Lakers were the masters of the narrow victory, which made for some exciting finishes, but also much needless heartache and heartburn.

I was not alone. The Lakers' General Manager at the time was Jerry West, himself a legendary Laker star. West was seen several times over this three-year period leaving the arena during the late minutes of a game, finding himself unable to watch as these Lakers barely held a slim lead, or tried to regain the lead in the waning minutes. He shared the frustration of many fans who, while appreciative of any victory, wondered if it really had to be so hard.

In the world of sports, a win is a win, and when it comes right down to it, players and fans alike will take a win over a loss any day, regardless of the margin of victory.

However, the margin of victory is important in other areas.

A political candidate who wins an election will be told his mandate to act in the new leadership role is closely tied to the margin of victory he enjoyed on election day. A diligent student will not be happy with simply passing a test, but will hope for a dominating performance. And, a person of faith needs to know that the source of life to which he looks is not merely capable of meeting his needs, but is far and away the best choice available.

God created man. He gave man the free will to love God or not. He redeemed man through His Son Jesus Christ. He lives in His children through His Holy Spirit. The Christian's victory is already won, by a loving God who is merciful toward man, but will have no mercy for Satan on the last day.

Our God is not the God of the narrow victory.

His victory over Satan is total and final. It was never close. Now, it's just a matter of time, and all Satan can do is hurt as many of God's children as he can before he runs out of time. It's a pathetic, last-ditch effort by a bitter, defeated enemy. Yes, potentially lethal to his victims, but hopeless against the power of God.

Have you put your faith in the God who has already won your battle? Or, are you struggling against yourself, trying to eke out a slim, ever-shifting lead against your temptations and shortcomings?

Are you allowing God to dominate sin in your life? Or, is an unworthy opponent needlessly pushing you to your limit?

It really doesn't have to be that hard.

"Do not quarrel on the journey."

2008-03-26T23:26:00.002-05:00

Such a great line.

Joseph, who answers only to Pharoah in Egypt, has revealed himself to his long-lost brothers, who sold him into slavery so many years before. He is gracious and kind to them, not taking the opportunity to repay them for their cruelty, but instead seeing God's hand working through the entire story, placing Joseph in Egypt just for the purpose of saving lives when famine struck. All of his struggles now make sense and serve a purpose.

Joseph, holding all the cards in this new relationship, sends his brothers back home to Canaan to bring their father, Jacob, down to Egypt.

As he sees them off, he gives them this parting word: "Do not quarrel on the journey." (Gen. 45:24)

Even after all the years of separation from them, Joseph must have known his brothers well. Unbeknownst to him, they had squabbled over their initial plan to do away with him, and we can only imagine the heated arguments that must have taken place among them in the years of Joseph's absence, as the brothers hid the truth and allowed their father to believe the lie that Joseph had been killed by a wild animal.

Besides that particular family history, most of us have experienced the correlation between long road trips and short tempers. Put a few brothers together in close quarters for a few hours on the road, and the chemistry will produce equal parts camaraderie and hostility. Some great laughs, and some even greater fights.

Joseph knew his brothers would be even more likely than ever to stoop to infighting now that their world had been turned upside-down by Joseph's reappearance. He knew the larger purpose had already been fulfilled, namely, saving the family through his position of power in Egypt. He knew the blessing the family was about to receive was too important to mar with petty squabbles over who said what, who did what, and who was right or wrong. In fact, if anyone had some quarreling to do, it would have been Joseph. But, he's the first one to realize maintaining the peace at this pivotal point in family history is more important than hashing out every disagreement.

How many of us have been thrown down into a pit by family? Sold into slavery by siblings? Thought dead by our parents? Bought and put to work as a slave? Been lured sexually by the spouse of our owner? Resisted that temptation, only to be rewarded for it with a trip to prison? Helped fellow inmates, only to be forgotten by them upon their release?

Joseph had every opportunity to have a serious chip on his shoulder. He had been dealt unfairness and injustice. And, it all started with his brothers. Yes, he had risen to prominence in Egypt, and was treated with honor, but the worldly mind would still have held a grudge against his brothers for everything they had done and caused. The worldly mind would have taken advantage of the opportunity to pay the brothers back for the pain they had inflicted.

But, Joseph does not have the worldly mind. Through all these experiences, he has been molded by God for His purposes. He understands the glory of overlooking a transgression. (Proverbs 19:11) He understands that there are times when God develops His children through hardship for greater purposes and more challenging tasks. He understands why he is where he is, and why he had to travel the road that got him there. Rather than feeling anger toward his brothers, he pleads with them not to feel anger toward themselves (Gen. 45:5). His mercy toward them gives him the credibility to tell them not to quarrel.

What about us?

What offenses prompt us to quarrel with our neighbors, our families, our brothers and sisters in Christ? Does it take something serious to upset us enough to quarrel? Or, does it take something surprisingly small, even petty, to motivate us to risk a relationship?

Joseph was willing to let go of far more serious offenses than you and I are likely to have to endure, because the big picture was more important. The famine was overcome. The family was saved. Petty differences just didn't deserve a place at the table.

Are we willing to put the big picture ahead of personal offenses? Satan is overcome. Salvation is here. Do petty differences have a place at our table?

Will we quarrel on the journey to heaven?

Righteous, But Not Salty

2008-03-16T13:34:00.010-05:00

"You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men." -- Matthew 5:13

Influence is an amazing thing. The word in English is derived from a Latin root, in the verb form meaning literally, "to flow in". The spring air that flows in through a window influences the whole house. Of course, we understand the word to have much deeper meaning than simply entering a place. Whatever influences us not only flows in, but changes everything it touches, for good or bad.

The teen whose heart is touched by the gospel as he hears it preached is influenced.

The same teen may also be influenced when he sees porn on a convenience store shelf.

The teen whose heart is touched by the gospel may very well influence another teen to be open to the same message.

The teen who delves into porn will almost certainly influence others to corrupt their minds as well.

Of course, it's not just teens who are subject to influence. It's everyone. Influence is powerful, and carries with it eternal consequences.

The story of Lot is a story of influence. Influence felt, influence squandered, and far-reaching results no one could have foreseen.

Lot was the nephew of Abram (later called Abraham), and his story can be found in Genesis, chapters 13-14 and 18-19. Lot's father, Haran, had already died when Abram was called by God in Genesis 12 to leave his country and move to a land God would show him. Lot accompanied Abram and Sarai on this journey, and remained with them until the time came, in Genesis 13, when Abram and Lot agreed to separate for the sake of their large flocks and herds, which had become so difficult to manage close together that the herdsmen were beginning to squabble with each other. Abram gave Lot the first choice of which direction to go, and Lot chose the best-looking land, the plain of the Jordan, and set the course for the rest of his family's life.

Lot's choice sets in motion a progression of influence that mirrors Psalm 1, which describes first "walking in the counsel of the wicked", then "standing in the way of sinners", then "sitting in the seat of mockers". This is the progression of someone who first finds himself in casual company with the ungodly, then spending more time with them and becoming more accustomed to their ways, before finally becoming one of them.

Genesis 13:12, 14:12, and 19:1, read in succession, reveal the same gradually increasing comfort level in Lot's life concerning his adopted hometown, the infamous Sodom. He first "pitched his tents near Sodom", then is found to be "living in Sodom", and finally is found to be "sitting in the gateway of the city". The final statement indicates some level of prominence in the community, as Lot has apparently become something of an important person in a city God will soon destroy.

When God's angels appear in Sodom to determine whether to destroy the city, Lot greets them at the city gates, and invites them to stay at his house. The "men" initially decline Lot's offer, stating they intend to spend the night in the open square. Lot strongly insists they not do that, but instead come into his house. Finally, the visitors accept Lot's offer and go to his house. Unfortunately, this is Lot's strongest display of will during his time in Sodom.

At nightfall, a bizarre and disturbing scene unfolds, as all the men of Sodom, "young and old", surround Lot's house and demand that he send his two visitors outside, "that we may have sex with them". Lot steps out to plead with his neighbors, saying, "No, my friends. Don't do this wicked thing." Lot continues his plea, "Look, I have two daughters who have never slept with a man." (We later find out they are both engaged to be married.) "Let me bring them out to you, and you can do what you like with them. But, don't do anything to these men, for they have come under the protection of my roof." The men of Sodom totally disregard Lot's plea, and scornfully label him an "alien", assuring Lot he will not be their judge, but will instead be treated worse than his visitors.

Interesting: "I'm going to do whatever I want, and how dare anyone judge me for it?" Does this philosophy sound familiar?

It is also interesting to notice how none of the accommodations Lot had made for the evil people around him were returned in kind. While Lot might have been thinking he would blend in and later on be able to influence his friends, his friends' sole assumption was that Lot approved of them, just the way they were. They were indignant when Lot tried to change that relationship. Despite all the room Lot had made for them in his life, there was no room in their lives for someone trying to please God. Lot proves what Paul says in 1 Corinthians 15:33, "Bad company corrupts good character."

A few questions for Lot:

1. Why are these men your "friends"?

2. Why is it you have no credibility with these men? After all, don't you sit at the city gates? Is this the first time they have
heard you speak out about the conduct your city becomes the name for?

3. Where do you find it within yourself to offer up your daughters to this mob? Surely not even the value of hospitality would
demand this of you. Why must these men be pleased?

4. And, why were you so insistent that the visitors come to your house, even after they declined? Was it just hospitality? Or,
was it that you knew what would happen to them in the open square? You didn't tell them it wasn't safe. You just insisted
they come to your house. Were you trying to hide the true nature of your city?

Perhaps we should not be surprised that Lot offered up his daughters to be raped and murdered by a crowd of maniacs he called friends. By living in Sodom, investing himself in that community, and agreeing to let his daughters marry men from Sodom, he had given them over already, without so much as a fight for their souls.

The story does not end well.

The angelic visitors warn Lot to get his family out of Sodom, as God is about to destroy it. it is then that Lot's lack of influence catches up to him. Lot cannot convince his soon-to-be sons-in-law to heed the warning: They "thought he was joking" (19:14). He cannot ensure that his entire family follows the angels' instructions about fleeing the city: His wife looks back at the carnage, and "became a pillar of salt" (19:26). Lot finally makes it to a cave with his daughters, who secretly concoct a perverted scheme to "preserve our family line" (19:32). On two consecutive nights, the girls get Lot into a drunken stupor and proceed to have sex with him, getting themselves pregnant by their father. The babies born are both boys, whose descendants become great pagan nations at odds with God's people: the Moabites and the Ammonites.

The Genesis account leads the reader to believe that Lot was a man of slim convictions and little courage. In reality, it may be that only the latter is true. A different side of Lot is portrayed in 2 Peter 2:7. In this passage, Lot is described as a "righteous man", who was "distressed by the filthy lives of lawless men"; and "that righteous man, living among them day after day, was tormented in his righteous soul by the lawless deeds he saw and heard". This is an interesting take on the life of Lot, especially in the light of his failures so clearly seen in Genesis.

The question is: What good did Lot's righteousness do? What good did it do for his wife? His children? His community? His descendants? Who was influenced by his righteousness?

Of course, no person's righteousness can guarantee anything. But, we are called to be an influence. To be salt. To be light. To change our surroundings, not to allow our surroundings to change us. Lot's story is one that should cause every Christian to consider his influence. Lot is what Jesus spoke of, the salt that lost its saltiness. Despite everything he believed, in the end, no one in his life was influenced by his righteousness, though they could have been, had Lot been willing to make it a priority.

Consider Lot, and be salt.

What Jesus is Not Ashamed Of

2008-03-08T16:36:00.007-06:00

Have you ever been embarrassed by someone's conduct? Has your conduct ever embarrassed someone else?

This is a common experience, most often related to some breach of etiquette or common courtesy.

But, on a more serious level, is there anyone in your life you wish you didn't even know? Someone you hope your friends don't find out you know? Someone whose conduct or character is so disreputable that you feel tarnished by the association? Maybe even someone in your own family?

Perhaps it's a person you really do love, but simply can't afford to admit you're close to. Wasn't this the case with Peter when he denied even knowing Jesus?

Whatever the circumstances, fair or unfair, there are times when people find certain relationships too problematic to own publicly.

And, as is so often the case, a good, long look in the mirror is a healthy remedy.

In the second chapter of Hebrews, the writer makes the case that Jesus Christ is uniquely qualified to pay the price for the sins of humanity, because he became one of us and knows what it's like to live here. Jesus was made to undergo suffering in the flesh, and through that process was made complete to fill the role of Redeemer for all the world.

"For this reason he had to be made like his brothers in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of all people. Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted." Hebrews 2:17-18

While reading this passage, we naturally focus on Jesus understanding us and being merciful. But, there is a word here that must not be overlooked: "brothers".

Going back to 2:11, "Both the one who makes men holy and those who are made holy are of the same family. So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers."

Of all who would have a right to be ashamed of anyone, Jesus would have a right to be ashamed of me, for my sin and failure to appreciate His gift. Who would not say the same? Yet, he's not ashamed, but instead calls me family. What does this mean for my attitudes toward others?

In Matthew 18:21-35, Jesus tells a story illustrating the need for forgiveness. In the story, a king forgives a servant of a debt so large the servant never could have repaid it in his lifetime. The servant then turns right around and refuses to forgive a fellow servant of a much smaller debt, resulting in the king's anger and reinstatement of the original debt.

The obvious moral of this story is that one child of God has no right to withhold forgiveness from another, when God has already forgiven all his children, cancelling debts so large none of us could have ever repaid them.

The same idea applies to the lesson learned in Hebrews. If Jesus is not ashamed to call me his brother, what right do I have to ostracize or alienate anyone else in his family?

What right does anyone in Jesus's family have to isolate themselves from one another?

Not Our Place

2008-03-05T23:30:00.005-06:00

"Do not rejoice when your enemy falls, and do not let your heart be glad when he stumbles; Lest the Lord see it, and it displease Him, and He turn away His wrath from him." Proverbs 24:17-18

Something about our hearts is revealed in how we react to news of bad things happening to people we don't like.

Maybe it's a co-worker we can't stand, or a neighbor we wish would move away. Or perhaps someone from long ago who wronged us somehow. Whoever it might be, we are tempted to respond to their hardship with satisfaction, vindication, even glee. We've decided that person deserves it. He had it coming, and we are glad to have a front row seat.

Is this the heart God wants us to have? Is this a sign of His Spirit within us?

Your former spouse who left you for someone else has now been left by that person.

Your obnoxious neighbor loses his home to foreclosure.

Your former business partner who cheated you has filed for bankruptcy.

Your dishonest boss is found out and terminated by the company.

The inmate who murdered your loved one is himself murdered in prison.

These are imaginary scenarios for most of us, but they are all too real for more people than we know. In each case, doesn't the offender get what he deserves? We are tempted to say, "Of course!"

May we always be cautious in prescribing what other people deserve. The fact is, there is only one thing every human being deserves, and that is the wrath of God. But by the grace of God, we have the opportunity to be spared that wrath, and instead receive His eternal love.

When will we be called upon to practice mercy toward the undeserving, even if it is only in our thoughts? By the same token, when might I be the one receiving "poetic justice", to the delight of someone who thinks I deserve it?

Looking back at Proverbs 24:17-18, the passage ends with a warning that, if we celebrate the downfall of our enemy, God might turn away His wrath from that enemy. This implies that the calamity befalling our enemy might very well be deserved. The passage is not arguing that offenders should not receive what they deserve. The argument is only that a child of God should not take delight in it when it happens.

It all comes down to knowing your place.

A schoolteacher does not walk into the principal's office and make changes to the staff newsletter.

A worker on a construction site does not make changes to the blueprint.

The clay does not say to the potter, "Don't make me this way."

The child of God does not celebrate when bad things happen to people, even if we believe the person had it coming.

Afraid of Jezebel?

2008-02-27T23:35:00.004-06:00

I KIngs 18 is an exciting read.

The people of God are living in a time of mixed allegiances. In Judah, King Asa is faithful to God, but in Israel, Ahab reigns with his idolatrous wife Jezebel. In Judah, idol worship is being abolished, while in Israel, Ahab "did more to provoke the Lord to anger than did all the kings of Israel before him." (I Kings 16:33)

Enter Elijah.

This courageous prophet of God proclaims a drought in Israel, and vows in God's name that no rain will fall until he gives the word. (I Kings 17:1) The drought indeed occurs, and Elijah rides it out by the brook in the Kerith Ravine, being fed by ravens who bring him food twice a day. When the brook dries up because of the drought, Elijah moves on and meets a widow who supplies him with food. Despite having only enough flour and oil for one last meal, her supplies miraculously never run out, and last until the drought is over. Elijah also raises this woman's son from the dead, by the power of God.

In I Kings 18, Elijah's most memorable moment occurs, when he openly challenges the people of Israel to no longer "waver between two opinions" and to make a choice between God and Baal. Elijah proposes a contest to see whose God responds to a call to burn up a sacrifice left out on an altar.

The stage is set for one of the most powerful moments witnessed by the people of God: Mt. Carmel, with Elijah on one side, opposed by 450 prophets of Baal and 400 prophets of Asherah on the other.

1 vs. 850, with a standing-room-only crowd in attendance, hanging on each moment.

The outcome is an exhilarating victory for God's faithful, and a humiliation for the 850 idol-worshipers. When it's over, Elijah does not spare the prophets of Baal and Asherah, but puts them to death.

Elijah calls an end to the drought and tells King Ahab to hitch up his chariot and get back to the town of Jezreel before the rain comes. Elijah gives Ahab a head start, then runs at a dead sprint, outpacing Ahab's chariot, and beating him back to town.

Up to this point, Elijah's ministry has been a more or less uninterrupted string of successes: Calling and ending a drought, supplying miraculous food, raising a son from the dead, proving God's supremacy in front of an entire nation, going Jesse Owens on King Ahab. No challenge has proven to be too great, not even 850 enemies all gathered together against him at once. He was undefeated, and unbeatable.

Then came Jezebel.

The pagan wife of King Ahab gets wind of what happened to the prophets of Baal and Asherah, and swears in the name of her idols that Elijah will pay with his life by the same time the next day. And...

Elijah laughs with scorn.

Elijah mocks the queen.

Elijah marches straight into the throne room and dares the queen to do her worst.

Elijah counters her idolatrous threat with a threat of his own, in the name of Jehovah.

The queen swallows her threat and drops dead by the power of God.

Israel returns to her faithful Father!

If only....

The fact is, Elijah receives word of Jezebel's threat, and is scared out of his wits. He runs out into the desert alone, sits under a tree, and prays for death. An angel of God leads Elijah another 40 days' walk, until he arrives at Mt. Horeb, the place where God had provided water from a rock for the children of Israel as they escaped Egypt.

Once there, Elijah cries out to God that, after all he has done, he alone is left faithful to God, and that now his life is sought by his enemies.

God shows Elijah His presence, assures him that 7,000 remain faithful to God in Israel, and gives Elijah instructions: Anoint Hazael king over Aram, anoint Jehu king over Israel, and anoint Elisha to replace you as prophet. Not long after, Elijah is taken to heaven in a whirlwind, and Elisha becomes the new prophet of God.

If only one part of this story could be different. If only Elijah had not been afraid of Jezebel! Why was he so afraid of her? Why did he run and avoid the confrontation with her? Why did he not see that the same God who had supplied all his victories, the most recent of which had just occurred that very day, would also supply all his need against this pagan queen?

What is the worst that could have happened? Jezebel could indeed have killed Elijah, and he would have gone to the presence of God, which is exactly where he went anyway. The worst-case scenario still lands him in heaven! Why did he not see this?

It's easy for us to judge, all these years later, but why? Why did he run? Why was he afraid?

Scripture doesn't explain this; we're simply told that he was afraid.

In reality, most of us can relate. Most of us have experienced a fear of something or someone that was so intense, it eclipsed all of God's previous victories on our behalf. A fear that caused a quick reaction to flee, without even a moment's thought of God.

Most of us have Jezebels of our own.

What does it say about us, that we are so prone to fear things God has already overcome in our lives? So prone to forget the strength that comes with having the presence of God in our lives?

How do we explain to God:

*The wrong we refuse to right, because we are afraid of the conversation we would have to have with someone?

*The temptation we refuse to separate ourselves from, because we are afraid of alienating someone?

*The stand we refuse to take, because we are afraid of what people will say?

*The soul we watch destroying itself, because we are afraid of getting involved?

*The victories we forget, and the fears we preserve?

*Listening to Satan more than we listen to Him?

Who is your Jezebel?

Identity

2008-02-23T22:50:00.007-06:00

If you followed college football a few years back, you might have seen Reggie Bush in his heyday at USC, playing running back, scoring touchdowns, and sporting the area code 619 on his eye black in tribute to the area of San Diego he called home.

It looks like he might have started something.

There's a trend emerging to decorate the back window of a car with a decal of the outline of a state map, so the driver can make clear to everyone on the road that he/she is from Georgia, Louisiana, California, etc., just to name a few I've seen in recent weeks. The other main feature of this trendy decoration is to add numeric decals of the telephone area code in which the driver lives or used to live.

For instance, a vehicle I've seen a time or two here in Killeen features an outline of California, with 213 on one side and 310 on the other. I am guessing the driver is from the 213 area code of Los Angeles, while perhaps a significant other came from the 310 area code.

It got me to wondering whether I could recall the area codes from the places where I've lived: (254, 806, 325, 915, 503, 714, 213). That goes back to 1980. Beyond that, I would need some help.

It also got me to thinking about identity, and how important it is for people to know where they belong and who they belong to. People want to be part of something. People want to be part of a group. People want to identify with something larger than themselves.

How else to explain an emotional attachment to an area code? It's three random digits, of no significance in their origin, shared by thousands, if not millions, of people, complete strangers to one another, who will never be involved in each other's lives. Yet, those digits have become, to some people, a symbol of pride and belonging. Yes, possibly just another gang-related attempt at intimidation, but for many people such as Reggie Bush, a way of saying, "Whether or not I'm there right now, that is the place I call home."

What does this say about people today? How could something as insignificant as an area code become an object of emotional identity for people?

There are probably many answers to that question, but another question is actually more important: Do Christians understand that, in Christ, they have all the identity they could ever need?

"The disciples were first called Christians at Antioch." (Acts 11:26) Such a simple term; such a powerful statement of identity. Besides the salvation of the soul, every human need for belonging is fulfilled in wearing the name of Christ and being a part of His body.

We all have sources of pride and belonging in our lives. Who isn't proud of their country? Their alma mater? Their hometown? Their family tree? The question is not whether we take pride in these things. The question is whether we keep them in perspective, and what our main source of identity is. If you had to clear everything else off the table, and identify yourself with only one word, what would it be?

Area codes. Regions. Homes. Careers. Vehicles. Schools. Skin colors. Nationalities. Languages. Sports teams. Music. Hobbies.

All these things and more are neutral in and of themselves, but if allowed to, are capable of becoming a person's identity, separating people from each other, and most of all, from God. Why would anyone allow any of these things to define himself, when there is an open opportunity to define oneself in being a child of God?

And, why would any child of God elevate some other form of identity, when he is already wearing the name of Christ?