Monday Morning Music Ministry

8-29-22

Many physicists and indeed many average folk are agog over the first images from the James Webb Telescope. I personally have almost exhausted my supply of agogs, and I am not even sure what an agog is.

In fact, the more that the newest of humankind’s massive, far-flung telescopic cameras shows us… the more it does not show us. Quickly I explain: the pictures reveal more stars – indeed more galaxies and nebulae – than we knew existed. (“We,” meaning everyone from early humans Ug and Glug looking up at the night skies and scratching their heads, to egghead professors only months ago.)

But at the same time, scientists mix their astonishment and excited discoveries with questions. There are not only new pin-points on charts of the heavens, but anomalies, contradictions, challenges. More questions than answers? Maybe.

It is all galvanic, of course. I find it satisfying to see Americans revive a little bit of the amazement that spread across the land during those early space shots. What I do not see is what I am experiencing: the translation of these staggering mysteries – their scope, their extent, their significance – to increased confirmations of belief in God. Further proof, we might say.

The Creator God. In ancient tongues, among many names ascribed to God, Elohim.

The statistics and explanations, inadequate as they are, rekindle thoughts from the Ug-and-Glug stage of my own sentience.

• We have a new, seemingly tangible, awareness of how big the Universe is. But do we? What is beyond the farthest we can see? Where does it end? Can it end? What is on the “other side” of the end?
• We are told that the old estimate of the Universe having a sextillion planets might be a modest estimate (one sextillion is even larger than the latest inflation numbers). How, really, did the planets all form?
• We have measurements of the “farthest” galaxies – the newest discovery estimated at 13.5-billion light-years from earth. A light-year is the distance that light travels in one year; that is 186,000 miles per second or 5.88-trillion miles a year. If correct, that’s 13.5-billion x 5.88-trillion. Years. You do the arithmetic; my brain hurts. These are scientists’ numbers. How old is old?

You might see where I am sidling. It amuses me to hear scientists talk about the Big Bang (often omitting that is the Big Bang Theory) and I wonder why their brains don’t get cramps, as they invent and rely on elaborate denials of a Creator God. Certainly it is the case that the increasingly erudite explanations of the Big Bang increasingly resemble the first chapters of the Book of Genesis. Hmmm… The Webb’s snapshots incite in me, too, more questions. At random:

• If there was a “moment” of the Big Bang, Who or what caused it… and what was “there” previously? And for how long back in time?
• In every other aspect of life, something that has been created had a creator. Why does the scientific mafia think that life, itself, is the exception?
• Every one of the sextillion (give or take a skillion) planets in the perceived Universe is spherical (or generally so: oblate spheroids, given isostatic adjustments). Why? Friction? No, there nearly is no matter in empty space that would wear them down. “Gravity” is the agreed-upon culprit.

We have “theories” of Relativity and Evolution; and “laws” of Gravity… but I do not need the “what” of Gravity explained as much as the “why.” With virtual shrugs of shoulders, scientists call Gravity an “invisible force.” As a former Editor at Marvel Comics, I confess that this sounds more like the Silver Surfer than Albert Einstein.

Yes, Einstein postulated that Gravity pulls on light as well as mass. That’s the “meta” explanation; the “micro” evidence is the moon pulling on mighty oceans. Gravity pulls “downward,” essentially inward, which explains planets being spheres (but not why we have never observed an evolving “new” planet still in the shape of, say, SpongeBob SquarePants); but my brain hurts again. We still don’t know the How of all this. Or Why.

And that’s Okay.

The Big Bang Theory initially sounded silly to me; now it is discussed with gravity (sorry) by professors. The latest quest – to formulate a “Theory of Everything,” I kid you not – sounds sillier.

And yet the skeptics challenge us: “Because you can’t explain something you just say, ‘Oh, it’s God’.” (My friend Gary Adams has reminded me that Dr Frank Turek calls this the “God in the Gaps” argument.)

My response: Yes, pretty often. Now that we understand that, let’s move on.

My further response: “You folks, when you can’t explain something that generations of people have trusted, but challenges your ways of thinking… when your “accepted facts” of science are disproven, overturned, or superseded in the face of factors like architectural and anatomical discoveries… when things you dismissed as legends are revealed as actual history… you just say, ‘Oh, those are anything but God’.”

My final response: The Creator God, Elohim, has revealed Himself in uncountable ways. His fingerprints are on all of animate and inanimate creation. He has redeemed you through the Blood of His Son Jesus Christ, telling you that you are the most precious of His creations – including bright stars and colorful planets. With those photos from an outer-space telescope, He chooses to remind us of His sovereignty and majesty. I know these things because I see them; because He told us; and because I personally have been blessed by that Creator God. His Son, you see, is my best friend. And He reassured us: “If it were not so, I would have told you.”

We don’t need a “Theory of Everything” when the Bible already provides us the Answer to Everything.

I close with a quatrain I memorized as a kid, from the Rubaiyat, but that expresses my message here:

All the saints and sages who have discussed

Of the two worlds so learnedly are thrust

Like foolish prophets forth;

Their words to scorn are scattered; their mouths are stopped with dust.

It’s a big universe, after all. But there’s no place like Home.

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An old Gospel song with a spoken reference to God flinging the stars across Creation:

Video Click: When All God’s Singers Get Home

8-22-22

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

My high-school English teacher, Mr Edward-Peter FitzSimmons, occasionally reminded us of people’s curious reliance on (ultimately futile) ancient wisdom, time-honored sayings, and fortune-cookie guidance.

He pointed out that virtually every wise word of advice had an equally wise (-sounding) opposite. Sort of like a rhetorical version of Newton’s Third Law of Physics.

“He who hesitates is lost” contradicts “Look before you leap.”

“Strike while the iron is hot” is challenged by “Better late than never.”

“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” is confronted by “To thine own self be true.”

When all is said and done, a stitch in time saves nine. Um, I know that has an origin, but it is lost on me, just as many proverbs – and, today, internet memes – are lost on me. I think the most reliable proverbs are the ancient Proverbs written by King Solomon. The passage above was from his book of Ecclesiastes, Chapter 3: 1-8.

Those paired sentiments, the apposites of each line, separated by semi-colons, are not contradictory, as in Mr FitzSimmons’ examples. They remind us of the “both sides of life”; the unity of all the circumstances that God has charted for our journeys; the “turn, turn, turn” of the folk-song lyrics that were inspired by this passage.

We savor – or we should – every time of life, because every time has its unique blessings; youth, middle age, old age. When my three children were growing up and I was asked by someone how old he-or-she was, my stock answer was to cite the age and then say it was my favorite year for children. I’ll admit I was trying to sound a little Solomonic, if not solemnic; but I believed it, and do believe it.

At the recent funeral of a good friend who died in his 80s, there were many church friends and neighbors, and many of his family members who had moved to Texas through the years. Two who could not attend were on their honeymoon; recently married! The only factor making the scene more life-lesson symbolic would have been the birth of a grandchild on the day of the funeral.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.

Much of the small-talk I overheard in the Fellowship lunch afterward centered on children, being the end of Summer – going back to school, leaving for college, even going into the military. These happy, exciting, or melancholy events also are locations on that wheel of life. “Seasons.”

I have written these weekly messages now for about a dozen years, and I seldom repeat messages or music videos, but this is one song I love to share every few years at this time. (As you go through life, you realize that a few things tend to repeat themselves: history; bad sauerkraut; and old bloggers).

I hope you will take a moment to watch the little video. It is a secular song about a mom “sending” her daughter off to college. I first heard it before my first daughter left for college almost 25 years ago; and it made me weep. Now… she graduated… my other children two subsequently went off to college… all have careers… and ol’ Pop has four grandchildren. I still weep because every Good-bye is never fully nullified by the occasional Hello.

Parents, of course, can never “regret” any empty-nest situation. It is a part of being a parent. “Seasons” – as the days drag on, the years speed by. Bittersweet, we say, sometimes forgetting the “sweet” part of such moments. If our tears seem bitter, we are reminded in Scripture that God provides a “balm in Gilead” — healing reminders of his sovereignty, His will for our lives, His love.

And His Seasons.

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Video Click: It’s Never Easy Letting Go

8-15-22

A friend and neighbor of mine, Gary Mueller, died this week. He was in his 80s – a sweet, enthusiastic, generous white-haired gentleman of my church who became a buddy when I was a newcomer. We shared a hundred coffees in McDonald’s; we shuffled around farmer’s markets together; we talked religion and politics (agreeing, happily); I have laughed endlessly with his wife Edith; and I met his grandson Matt from Texas. We worked grills at many VBS days.

But mostly (in my memory, now) Gary loved Jesus. And it showed: he “reflected” the Savior. Gerhard was born in Jaegerndorf in central Europe; his German family had been separated and passed through West German towns, escaping Communism, working as they could; then to the United States. He met Edith, who had a similar life-path, and they were grateful to God and to America for the freedoms wherewith they were blessed.

Gary was always hale and healthy, on his jobs and especially, after retirement, in our church – anything that needed doing, it seemed that Gary was there before pros were called. But he got sick recently, and had a cancerous kidney removed. My late wife had a kidney transplant, so my prayers were focused (not that God requires the use of medical terms and medicines). As I understand it, he returned home somewhat uncomfortable and requested a follow-up. Cancerous tumors were found elsewhere through his body. All so quickly, Gary died.

It might seem odd that my grieving over Gary’s death brought me to think about selfishness, but please stick with me – and be merciful to me, as I have asked of God. I honor Gary; I grieve for Edith; I am grateful for our friendship. In fact, a week ago I wanted to hand-write a letter to Gary telling him (reminding him) of how I loved him, and what he has meant to me as a friend. But I never got around to writing that, much less mailing it (e-mails pretend to be personal, but never will be).

I have book deadlines. I had meetings. Yada yada, I had “things to do.” Hours turn into days; days turn into weeks; weeks…

When you are too busy to write a friend, or call; when you are too busy to connect with a friend, or to re-connect with an old friend; when you are too busy to “just say Hi”; when you are too busy to say you appreciate someone, or share a Jesus-moment, or ask “How are you?” and really mean it…

… you are TOO busy.

But this is not about scolding myself or anyone. Gary is gone, and maybe he never would have seen that note anyway. I was not trying to impress Edi. No, I found myself consumed about MY thoughts, MY regrets, MY tardiness. And eventually, MY grief, MY loss that I will feel. I realized I was being selfish. “Why are MY feelings so important?”

As I prayed for wisdom, I realized how strange grief and mourning are – when our loved ones are in the arms of Jesus, healed and glorified. Isn’t our grief, somehow, actually a bit of mourning for ourselves? How we will miss the husband, the grandfather, the friend?

And if so… is that bad?

Self. This life is not a dichotomy of self versus the rest of humanity. Not “either/or.” Not us and everyone else. God wants His children to be thinking of us AND everyone else. When Jesus went to the cross it was for all of humanity; all of the sins of “whosoever.” He looked into your eyes and mine. We as individuals were as important to Him as… all the other individuals! We should not feel guilty about our feelings, hurts, regrets in that view, because Jesus did not lay that on us. We must bear each other’s burdens, as He bore ours.

I am not talking about sins of omission. I am talking about a proper discernment of what God would have us do. That is, to DO — not obsess over what was missed. “Look out for Number One”? If we are effective ambassadors of Christ, we cannot drag baggage around on our missions.

We can be faithful stewards if we serve God by serving others. And rely on the Bible, not Rules of Etiquette. I am talking about being bold for Christ who lives within you.

Think ahead and imagine the end of your life, without being morbid of course. I mean – do not let yourself be in a position where you had been too busy to to write a friend, or call; or you were too busy to connect with a friend, or re-connect with an old friend; or when you were too busy to “just say Hi”; when you were too busy to have said that you appreciate someone, or shared a Jesus-moment, or had asked “How are you?” and really meant it…

Jesus cares for you, not only “humanity.” Take heart, and take action.

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Please watch and be blessed —

Video Click: Does Jesus Care

8-8-22

I am risking censure to say that I am not an automatic fan of NGOs and a type of charity work that has become prevalent in our society. In fact I have a major problem with it.

So I must explain: first, I am not against charity per se, the impulse that God planted in our souls, Jesus taught us to act upon, and the Holy Spirit encourages. There are myriad commands, and many examples, of common people and sainted people in the Bible extending love.

Saint Augustine’s interpretation of “the poor ye always shall have with you” is not accepting the plight of unfortunate folks, but a reminder that others will always need our attention and compassion and action. And love.

We can find those folks in our very neighborhoods. And usually within our circles of friends, even our families. If we feel led to reach out to the lame, the halt, the blind; the needy, the sick, the endangered in other countries, there are amazing mission groups and charities that we can locate with little trouble. We can be Samaritans walking paths and encountering the abused and abandoned. Of course, vulnerable people are our neighbors in faraway lands too.

I have grown uncomfortable with corporations and governments, however, who decide on charitable works – perhaps quite commendable ones – without asking us. Sometimes there might be causes we decline to support; often they are handled by agencies without accountability; frequently we “donors” know little where the funds and efforts end up.

Enormous sums of government money are sent to victims of hurricanes and diseases, yes; but also as “aid” and “charity” to unknown destinations in unspecified places, with foggy accountability. “Oh, it’s for a good cause…” And how many TV commercials and product labels tell us that “a portion of every purchase…” will be sent who-knows-where; or “every sale will support..” such-and-such.

My objections are those of Augustine, and of Jesus. These myriad and coercive actions by government and the corporate world are as much about their marketing and public relations as about genuine charity.

Basically, day by day, year by year, they rob us of fostering our own charitable impulses. When governments take our money without permission and send it here or there, that is not the act of a caring public but, at best, a lazy public. When corporations earmark a portion of money we pay them, again without asking… it masks a sweet-sounding surcharge for their own tax breaks and image-campaigns.

In both cases people should be allowed to make their own donations as they see fit, and who soon will rediscover the beautiful impulses to give… to act… and to love.

The real definition of “charity,” after all, is love. In I Corinthians 13, Paul wrote: “Now abides faith, hope, and charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.” In the original translations, the word was “love.”

The NGOs (non-government organizations) I question are not the completely independent agencies, or even those who do work on the ground independently (increasingly, governments have bureaucratic and ideological strings attached…) – but there are many individuals and groups who are in all ways independent. They answer to their donors, to their consciences, to the recipients, and to God.

One such is Garden of Innocents which has many local chapters across America. Its volunteers provide dignified burials and memorials – sometimes “naming” ceremonies – for abandoned babies and children. “Dumpster babies” is the distasteful term but is the truth in many cases. The volunteers arrange with local cemeteries to apportion a dedicated area of a cemetery; the volunteers make the custom little wooden caskets themselves; and burials with markers honor those most helpless among us.

Another, of many I know, is Grand Staff Ministries, whose hearts are turned to eSwatini in Africa, the former Swaziland. It is a country of a million people with the highest incidence of AIDS in the world, perhaps half of the population with the disease. About 200,000 children have been stripped of their parents – fending for themselves, often with no adult to feed them or send them to school. Becky Spencer and her husband Tracy visit the land from their home in Kansas, supporting schools, ministering to health needs, and… providing love.

In the United Kingdom there is an organization that promotes awareness, does not engage in high-pressure fund-raising campaigns, but compels our attention… and our hearts. Missing People is a Not-For-Profit organization that focuses on the appalling number of children, who disappear or “go missing,” and the families and communities who miss them. There are hundreds of thousands in England each year, and millions, horrific to say, in the United States. Runaways? Abductions? Trafficking? Violent ends? Mental or emotional issues? Ill-advised escapes from family turmoil? – Any and all of the above.

Anguished loved ones suffer for these Missing every moment, sometimes years and years later. Missing People reaches out to the friends and families, engages in education and publicity, coordinates searches; and helps the “Left Behinds.”

Remembering the charitable/loving impulses we need to discover and cherish, all of us need to feel for abandoned and murdered babies; orphans enduring poverty and AIDS; and the runaways or trafficked, and grieving families. But we ought to extend that charity and love to ongoing needs in our midst, too, that perhaps are more prosaic.

A widowed father whose children have moved away and maintain sparse contact; grandchildren he seldom hears on phone calls or has seen in years despite living close by. His nightly tears are almost as bitter as parents in worse situations. The Gospel song says “Tears Are a Language God Understands,” but every morning is cold.

Troubled children – rather, children in troubled situations – might figure that running away can provide solutions. But we should be just as concerned with bringing peace to families while they are together, as much as grieving when they split apart. And the same should pertain to marriages.

Burying dead, anonymous babies is a precious act. But our society should be just as dedicated to preventing those tragedies; ministering to mothers before they make those decisions. Overseas ministries? Giving – to not-for-profits – is admirable, of course, but most agencies need volunteers too; workers; helpers; prayer partners.

We talk, here, of the vulnerable, the abandoned, the missing. Life. What we need to remember – and not let governments and corporations steal from us – is that our Savior Jesus Christ came to remind us of the same things, the same people.

In fact He came not only to have us love such people, but to see that we ourselves are such people. In so many ways each of us has been, or is in a larger sense, vulnerable, abandoned, missing.

Jesus looks for us. He finds us. He loves us. What is our response?

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Video Click: The Missing People Choir