Monday Morning Music Ministry

1-28-13

I have been thinking lately of insights that my wife shared during her period of ministry. Some I have “swiped” and used in my blogs and other writing; just as any Christian wisdom we all gain has been similarly swiped from the Holy Spirit, after all. One of the Holy Ghost’s job descriptions is to guide us in all ways spiritual.

She once observed that the devil doesn’t hate us for ourselves – he doesn’t give a fig for us – but hates the Jesus in us. And that hatred is in direct proportion to the amount of Jesus we have invited into our hearts; that is, the Christ who lives in our lives, and we display and exercise. Just so. This is why Jesus warned that believers would have trouble in this world, and face persecution from all sources, even from family.

She also once observed that before every major event in Jesus’s life and ministry that is recorded in scripture, He went aside to pray. Here was the Son of God – the Incarnate God, in that great mystery – who nevertheless needed to pray. He prayed in private; He prayed long; He prayed often; and He prayed fervently. Surely an example we must not ignore.

And then, Christ’s many references to Heaven. He did good works, and He encouraged others to do good works; certainly. But He focused on Heaven. It should be our goal. It is our natural home. It is where we will find peace… where we will receive treasures… where we will dwell with the Most High. But Jesus did not try to bribe His followers with glimpses of a dreamy theme park: eternal life should be our goal. It is gained by believing that Jesus is the Son of God, in your heart, and confessing this Truth by your words.

There is a movement in contemporary church circles to denigrate the place of Heaven. A gaggle of propositions is maintained chiefly by the “emergent” church, who merely comprise the shock troops; philosophies have also infected mainstream and many evangelical churches. The simple Gospel message is too, well, simple, in their eyes.

It amuses me that the vocabulary of the movement invests it with a secret-society entre-nous aura that is the spiritual equivalence of certain door-knocks to enter speakeasies or secret handshakes in fraternal societies. Let’s see: it is not a church; it is a “conversation.” They are not Christians; they are “Christ-followers.” It is not about answers; it is about “questions” (many of the proponents deny Absolute Truth). It is not about the destination, but about the “journey.”

When the destination is Heaven, this last emergent commandment stubs its spiritual toe. Recent emergent cardinals or popes have dismissed the relevance of Heaven, and some reject the existence of Heaven and/or hell. The real importance, if I can apply a generous patina to their reasoning, is to do Heaven’s work on earth. That is, charity, caring, assistance, and service to others. It is what Jesus would do if He were now, we are told.

Yes, He would. Yes, He did. But He never missed the opportunity to be up-front about a person’s heart, faith, and eternal life. Salvation. Heaven. The place Jesus talked about, and pointed us towards. It was His priority, to be every person’s priority.

It is simple, really – Christ’s concern was our own salvation, one by one, so that after our standing is sure, we might properly serve others. And for the proper reasons. It is ironic that after 500 years, the “works doctrine” asserts itself again. The same with this modern version of relativism, which has polluted the church for 2000 years. If good deeds earn us eternal life, be prepared to meet a lot of government bureaucrats who otherwise despise the Bible, and Communist commissars who dictate food allotments but who shut down churches.

Our righteousness – the “good deeds” we do, our pumped-up conceits of the works we perform – are as dirty rags to God. The Bible tells me so. Practically speaking, these acts might be worthless, and are surely worth less, in God’s eyes, if we neglect our own salvation and do not preach it to others.

The sixth chapter of Matthew has words about these things. It is one of the Bible’s chapters that fairly overflows with elemental wisdom. The Lord’s Prayer; not letting your left hand know what the right does; the lilies of the field; today’s troubles being sufficient to themselves. And “Seek ye first the Kingdom of God.” Read it when you have a chance. Here are some excerpts:

Don’t do your good deeds publicly, to be admired by others, for you will lose the reward from your Father in heaven. When you give to someone in need, don’t do as the hypocrites do—blowing trumpets in the synagogues and streets to call attention to their acts of charity! I tell you the truth, they have received all the reward they will ever get. But when you give to someone in need, don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing….

And when you fast, don’t make it obvious, as the hypocrites do, for they try to look miserable and disheveled so people will admire them for their fasting. I tell you the truth, that is the only reward they will ever get. But when you fast, comb your hair and wash your face. Then no one will notice that you are fasting, except your Father, who knows what you do in private. And your Father, who sees everything, will reward you.

Your eye is a lamp that provides light for your body. When your eye is good, your whole body is filled with light. But when your eye is bad, your whole body is filled with darkness. And if the light you think you have is actually darkness, how deep that darkness is! …why worry about your clothing? Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith?

So don’t worry about these things, saying, “What will we eat? What will we drink? What will we wear?” These things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers, but your heavenly Father already knows all your needs. Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously….

All pointing to Heaven. To earnestly desire Heaven, we will, as our hearts overflow with godliness, serve others. To do service work as a way of earning Heaven – or, worse, to not care whether we will have eternal life with God or not – is the abrogation of faith, of love, and of obedience.

As we think of Heaven – as I believe Jesus wants us to do, continuously – we also look forward to experiencing the joy of fellowship with the saints, communion with God, friendship with Jesus; and the grandest of all reunions. What a meeting in the air!

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Click: What a Meeting In the Air

1-21-13

On January 20, 2013, less than a month shy of the day we met 40 years ago, Nancy Marschall was taken off life support. My wife was a strong Christian, an amazing mother, and possessor of a modest personality that everyone loved. Her shyness masked a robust faith that touched and inspired uncountable people. Many of us would have defined ourselves by the ailments she endured: a diabetic since 13, she sustained several heart attacks, a heart and kidney transplant, thyroid cancer, legal blindness, toe amputation, broken bones, celiac disease, several strokes, dialysis, and, last week, a ruptured stomach ulcer that saw her lose 14 units of blood, outpacing transfusions. She experienced miraculous healings, and some healings by doctors’ hands. Other healings, she is experiencing right now.

For a long time she was unable to exercise, as you might imagine. But she exercised her faith. While waiting 18 weeks for a heart and kidney transplant, she overcame her shyness to pray with patients waiting with her at Temple University Hospital. Then she held services. I assisted, and she recruited our children Heather, Ted, and Emily, to participate in the services and room visitations, and pray with our counterparts in recipients’ families. Our faith was strengthened too as we dealt with heartache, unanswerable questions, grief, and shared joy. We witnessed healings, and helped lead people to conversions, in a ministry that lasted more than six years.

I could write many tributes to Nancy… or share how her life was a tribute to her Savior. Rather, recalling the “great cloud of witnesses” in Heaven who watch us, according to Hebrews chapter 11, I will quote from one of the many articles and media stories about Nancy, additional witnesses so to speak, and her affect on people on behalf of Christ.

“Giving Heart To Those Awaiting A New Life At Temple University Hospital, Nancy Marschall Leads Weekly Prayers For Patients On The Heart-Transplant List. Not Long Ago, She Was In Their Place,” was the headline in the Philadelphia Inquirer, Feb. 28, 1999. By Ellen O’Brien:

Nancy Marschall got a new heart and a new kidney on Valentine’s Day, 1996. Naturally, this is not something she would forget.

But Marschall does more than remember, when she wakes up every morning, that she’s still around at 45, and that – yes, again – she has a whole new day to live. Once a week for the last three years… she goes back to the seventh floor of Temple University Hospital, where she spent what may have been the longest 18 weeks of her life – the floor known officially as the Heart-Failure Care Unit….

“We’re just trying to open ourselves up to what God would have us do,” Marschall said, by way of explanation. “He’s just leading us.” Last Sunday, 14 patients and family members piled in to the prayer service, filling the little room to bursting – white, African American, West African and Asian, all of them speaking of life in very, very simple terms. “Our health is out of our hands. There’s nothing we can do any more,” Marschall said.

But still, she said, there is God to rely on: “He’s here. He’s with us, and nobody can separate us.” She was sitting in a wheelchair near the door, with one foot propped up in a plaster cast. She’s had diabetes for 30 years, which can numb the extremities, so when she broke a bone in her foot, she continued to limp around on it for an extra week, unaware of the injury.

The room where the Marschalls lead their service is small and modern, high off Broad Street, with a line of windows that curve into a bay. Three philodendron plants hang like leafy green globes in the sunlight…. When Marschall was waiting for her heart, patients couldn’t leave their rooms without an intravenous pole – and a hospital nurse to roll a heart-monitor along beside them. But not all the change is good: Now the wait is growing longer because the number of heart-failure cases is increasing every year while the number of heart donors has stayed the same.

“When people would go down for transplant, we’d say we’d pray for them. But did it really happen? . . . I just felt God speaking to me. And Rick had the same call,” Marschall said. “We’re talking about Christ, and the love of God, and the change He can have in our lives,” Marschall said. She added that she prays for guidance in this new missionary role: “I don’t want to mislead people.”

“We try to point everything to a better relationship with Christ,” Rick Marschall added. “We’re Christians, we’re not deists [or mere feel-good cheerleaders].”

In fact, until the transplant, the Marschalls attended services at the Pentecostal Christian Life Center in Bensalem every Sunday, and they still consider themselves part of that congregation, although they’re otherwise engaged now on Sunday mornings. … “I think we’re just like everybody,” Marschall said. “When there are things or burdens upon you, you tend to pray more. When things are going well, you tend to do it less.” Personally, she thinks this is a human trait that God understands.

At Sunday’s prayer service, the last hymn was “Amazing Grace,” but the tape that the Marschalls had brought along – to guide the impromptu choir – failed to include the second verse. This was a verse that Rick Marschall found particularly meaningful. As the tape rolled to the end, he urged everybody on: “Through many dangers, toils and snares I have already come. . . .”

The sound of singing rose, strong and healthy and enthusiastic. You could hear it out in the hall…

Out in the halls, indeed. And far beyond. For the first time in decades, Nancy is now healed and whole and pain-free. I imagine she will look around Heaven for her granddaughter and our own stillborn baby, and the many people she inspired through the years, unless, of course, they see her first. In my picture of Heaven, all those wonderful reunions will have to wait a moment until Jesus stops hugging her as He whispers, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

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Christians often refer to death in a biblical way. It is not a euphemism like “passing away,” but the literal situation – “home-going.” Those of us who remain cannot fail to be a little jealous of sick people who become well, the lonely who embrace their Savior, the troubled who find peace. It is the home prepared for us, a place with many mansions, joy unspeakable and full of glory. This picture finds musical expression in the Negro spiritual based on the tune of the second movement of Dvorak’s “New World Symphony.” Performed here, with beautiful images, by the London churchboy’s choir Libera.

Click: Going Home

1-14-13

We all walk along pathways, sometimes smooth, sometimes rocky – inevitably smooth AND rocky – and, taken together, the pathways are called Life. How we walk or run, how we deal with obstacles on the pathway, and our companions we choose or choose us, all define the journey. Today’s guest message is by my daughter Heather Shaw, sharing profound thoughts about her walk. —

I have been on this path for as long as I can remember – sometimes walking, sometimes running, but always moving forward.

Step, step, step.

For years the path was relatively easy. There had been some unexpected twists and bumps, as well as some detours, that had frustrated me. But overall there wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, and it had been a pleasant path to be on.

After a long, rocky, twisty stretch, the path suddenly turned a corner and in front of me was a smooth, straight path. All around there were signs of springtime. It was a welcome sight after the last twists and turns, and I breathed a sigh of relief. It didn’t happen often to have this kind of an easy path, and I was filled with joy. I ran along happily, excited about all the sights I could see down the way. I couldn’t wait to get to those milestones, and dreamt about what it would be like when I would arrive.

Step, step, step.

Suddenly, without warning, Darkness descended and violently shoved me off my path and onto another path. This new path was not at all like the last path or any I had been on before. I’d done rocky paths before, but this one was covered by sharp, jagged boulders that I had to climb over or around. It was messy – muddy and covered by debris. As I regained my balance and started to move forward again, I realized that I had been severely injured when I had been shoved. I looked down at my legs and saw that both were mangled. Stopping was not an option. I had to keep moving forward on this messy, new path.

Step… step… step…

As I limped forward, I began to hear voices from others who were calling out while traveling on their paths:

“Don’t worry! That must have been the plan for you! It will all turn out good!” Good? I wondered. Darkness shoved me. Does Darkness ever have a good plan?

“You’re strong – you must have been chosen to travel your path since you can handle it!” Huh, I think. Sounds like a rotten gift.

“At least you still have your arms!” Someone yelled out. I wonder how in the world that is helpful as I limp along. I liked my legs. They were different from my arms and very much a part of me.

I nodded my head as each voice spoke. I understand. They try to make sense of what happened to me. I wished they would be quiet; they were hurting me more.

Some others ran up closer, rather than calling from a distance. They briefly came near and said, “Wow. That’s a hard path you’re on. You’re doing great!” and then quickly ran back to the safety of their own path. Again I nodded. I understand. They care for me, but don’t know what to do and are possibly scared that the same thing could happen to them.

Some who traveled my path returned again to tell me that it will be OK – there are some spots up ahead that will be better than where I am now. They said that I would slowly learn to walk better and the pain will lessen… but the limp will remain until the end of my path. These people are brave, to have gone back to places they had already struggled through, to encourage me. I admire them.

And then there were those voices I heard through the fog, calling out, “I’m here! I don’t know what to do or how to help, but I’m here, my friend.” And instead of running back to the safety of their paths, they rearrange their paths to be close to mine. They are getting messy right along with me.

Step… step… step…

People ask how I’m doing. They listen to me ramble on about how unfair it is or how in pain I am. They listen to me talk about my old path and how I miss it and what it would be like if I were still on it. They understand if I need to be silent. They let me cry. They don’t try to make up answers to the whys. They spend time with me just being friends. I can see on their faces that being close to my path sometimes makes them uncomfortable, but yet they stay close. They stay right by me, urging me to keep going. To do one more step, and then another, and then another.

Step… step… step…

And then there’s one more Friend. He doesn’t just walk near me – I feel His arm always around me. I don’t – or can’t – hear Him say much other than “I’m here.” I yell at this Friend often: Did He shove me off the path? Was this His idea to bring me, injured, to this muddy, boulder-filled path? Why didn’t He stop the Darkness as it shoved me and injured me? Other times I just cry to Him. I hurt. I’m not supposed to be here. I get no answers. Just, “I’m here.”

Sometimes when I look to my side, I can faintly see my old smooth path through the trees. I see the milestones and the places where I thought I’d get to. I want to jump off my current path and go over there but I know it is impossible. Sometimes I want to curl up and just escape this nightmare of a path and go back to that dream. But my friends, and my Friend, help me keep putting one foot in front of the other. “You are doing great,” someone says, “You’re stronger than you think!” And that helps me keep going.

Step… step… step…

I hate this new path and the new way of walking, but at the same time I am starting to enjoy parts of it. I have learned to appreciate the moments where the path clears up a bit. I pause to look around and I enjoy the beauty that I see around me. I enjoy the small things, not knowing if around the bend Darkness waits for me again. I appreciate those who have gotten messy with me. I know as I watch them traveling close by that it can be uncomfortable for them, but never before have I fully understood or needed true friendship. And I have come to love the arm of my Friend that is always around me.

I used to think my Friend was just traveling the path near me – guiding me and pointing me the right way. But now I understand that His arm has always been tight around me. It is a love unlike any I have ever known.

And I keep walking.

Step…step…step…

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Heather has chosen the wonderful song “All My Praise” by the wonderful trio Selah, a music video with some wonderful graphics, to accompany her wonderful message. “Wonderful.” When Jesus is our companion on the journey, everything, in the end, is indeed filled with wonder. To see more of Heather’s writing, find her blog “Baby Steps – Sarah’s Journey” at http://sarahs-baby-steps.blogspot.com/

Click: All My Praise

1-7-13

Giants of faith do not always act like giants – usually they don’t, not showy – and sometimes don’t look like giants. Pete was a guy in a Saturday morning Bible study, a men’s group I belonged to a couple decades ago in suburban Connecticut. There was not one, but two astonishing aspects of faith he quietly manifested, that have stuck with me through the years.

The group was a mixed lot, as such gatherings probably should be. We had a vice president of a major international corporation. We had a “new Christian” who, bless his heart, in spiritual fervor responded to every comment with “Y’see…” believing he had been graced with all answers to all things. Some of us were hungry for the Word; some felt the need to be hungry all over again.

Pete was the quietest of us all. He was not nervous, nor was he shy. He was just quiet. Short guy, kind of a leprechaun beard. But when he did talk, his faith – the logic of his faith – was memorable.

Once we all shared the moment we came to faith – the new faith, or stronger belief, or committed Christianity, that born-again folks experience. With some of us it had been a gradual process, although the season in our lives, or the year, could be specified. With many there was a “road to Damascus” moment: a crisis, the death of a family member, a career predicament, serious illness, that leads people to look toward Heaven for help, answers, ultimately that new relationship with God.

Pete’s conversion came as no other I have ever heard. At an earlier point in his life everything was “going right.” Unexpected promotions in his job, a windfall salary, affirmation of his professional community, family harmony. He said, one day he stopped to wonder about all his good fortune. “It must be God,” he thought, “who the Bible calls the Author of all good things.” And he decided then, in gratitude and with the light of realization, to dedicate himself to a closer walk with Jesus.

This is NOT the usual path of committed Christians. It should be. It is not.

I have another astonishing memory of Pete. During the course of our Bible studies, things “went south” for him. He lost his job, he had family problems, he was in danger of losing his house, and a passel of other distress. Every week would be grimmer reports as we prayed for him. He set up interviews aplenty, and we prayed with him over every one. And even the “sure shots” came back as disappointments. I would say that many of us wept with him… except that Pete never wept.

He was disappointed, yes; but not discouraged. The high-powered commuter’s enclave outside New York City was more of a pressure-cooker than the average area, and his problems seemed magnified. However, after a while, when he received another rejection letter, or was passed over for a job, we would ask him about discouragement.

Time after time he responded: “No, actually, I feel blessed.” Huh? He said that for a few days there, or a week, whatever, while he waited to hear about a job application, he was able “to experience feelings of hope – and that hope was so sweet, just what I needed in those moments.”

Pete savored the hope, he dismissed the disappointment. That seemed to me supernatural. Our natural spirits do not work that way.

Our natural spirits, even after we come to that level of closer fellowship with God, too often persuade us that we have achieved the level where our faith is sufficient in all situations; that we cannot admit to spiritual inadequacies. Faith IS sufficient, but not always OUR faith. If it were not so, the Holy Spirit would not be the agent of “Gifts of Faith” as promised in I Corinthians. Obviously, the Lord knows that sometimes we need those gifts, and extra spiritual supplies – “I believe; help Thou my unbelief.” God knows all. We should, therefore, admit all.

There is a gospel song, a contemporary classic, that paints this very well. It illustrates Pete’s ability to summon a faith few of us do:

You talk of faith when you’re up on the mountain,
But the talk comes so easy when life’s at its best.

It’s down in the valley of trials and temptations,

That’s where faith is really put to the test.

And, forgive me, but the writer in me wants to point out the songwriter Tracy Dartt’s inspired use of prepositions in the chorus of “God On the Mountain”:

For the God on the mountain is still God in the valley!

When things go wrong, He’ll make them right.

And the God of the good times is still God in the bad times,

And the God of the day is still God in the night.

The lesson of the careful wording is this: all of us, even in darkest moments, will acknowledge that God is God of mountaintops and valleys, good times and bad times – I almost want to say, yada yada. God is God. But this song’s words make a distinction that is exceedingly reassuring during crises: He is God ON the mountain, but we need to embrace the truth that he is also God IN the valley. That is, He is with us.

He is God OF the good times. Many churches these days have replaced the creeds and traditional prayers with the mantra: “God is good – all the time! All the time – God is good!” Which is fine, but this song reminds us of the other side of that spiritual coin: He is not only God OF the good times, but IN the bad times.

Faith, among other things, is acting like you know what you know. Have faith. The faith of a mustard seed, even the faith of Pete, might do you just fine.

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Songwriter Tracy Dartt brought us the classic “God On the Mountain.” A little over a year ago, he walked through his own valleys as he needed a kidney transplant, which came in God’s timing and providence. This song – performed here by the great Lynda Randle, whose brother Michael Tait has been a member of both DC Talk and Newsboys – has touched thousands of people .

Click: God On the Mountain