Monday Morning Music Ministry

10-30-23a

I recently have had cause to “describe what I do.” Because of a flurry of interviews and articles, I am being asked to list the activities and high points, such as they might be, of my career.

Some books, various jobs, a few awards, and lengthy prison terms (= three truths and a lie) routinely have been accepted, but I have had “pushback,” occasionally, about activities I label as “Christian apologetics.” Apologetics is something that has been exercised since the Resurrection of Jesus, and this blog site’s fare – my 14 years or so of sharing these thoughts every week – is an example of the form.

Some people evidently misunderstand the term, which infrequently is used except in the religious context; and less often even in that case. Because of similarity to “apology,” the word can carry the connotation of being defensive about our faith. Or whining about elements of theology. Or making excuses for Christians who commit offenses. No.

Christian apologetics is derived from the Greek word apologia, which simply means offering an explanation or a defense. In other words, it is a method of presenting the Gospel. One might think that all sermons or religious writing does that, yet that is hardly the case. Since the Disciples’ time (“the Apostolic Age”) and down through the centuries, writers and speakers also (or alternatively) have concentrated on teaching, or exhortations, or correction, or evangelism, or social action, or…

I have chosen in several books and these blog messages to know Christ and to make Him known, in the words of the motto of a church in which I worshiped years ago in Connecticut. This “calling” motivates me perhaps because that is what I needed most at points in my life – and still, often today. That is why in these essays I share my thoughts more than preach from a platform. I sometimes am encouraged to collect some of these essays in a book, and I would title that book Eavesdropping on God, because I have learned His truths by paying attention when He acts; and then sharing (“experiential apologetics,” to be precise).

Beyond the basics, no form of sharing the Gospel (“Good News”) is superior to the others – their utility and efficacy depend more upon the hearer than the speaker. Yet some of the great giants of the faith over 2000 years have been apologists: St Paul at times; early saints of the church, cited by the amazing historian Eusebius, who defended the faith during days of Roman persecution; Justin Martyr; Origen; Augustine of course; Anselm. History tends to persuade people today that philosophers and scientists of the Enlightenment were “enlightened” because they developed intellectual arguments against Christianity, but the opposite was true: they largely discovered scientific proofs and arguments for the truth of the Gospel.

The philosopher, scientist, and essayist Blaise Pascal was one who defended the form of apologetics when he wrote: Men despise religion; they hate it [because they] fear it is true. To remedy this, we must begin by showing that religion is not contrary to reason; that it is venerable, to inspire respect for it; then we must make it lovable, to make good men hope it is true; finally, we must prove it is true.

In our day, perhaps because the world is desperate for it, many have chosen to help people know Jesus by adopting methods of apologetics. C S Lewis, most powerfully; G K Chesterton; Francis Schaeffer; my old friend Mike Yaconelli; Josh McDowell; John MacArthur; R C Sproul; Father Robert Barron; Jimmy Swaggart; and of course Billy and Franklin Graham.

Having explained the explainers and explanation, however, there are some who wonder why God Almighty does not make Himself known more directly. I have a friend who is a fervent Christian, but going through some personal crises. She cries out – as we all have in certain moments – why God does not make Himself appear to us, perhaps physically or audibly. Why faith is required when, for instance, the Disciples could see and talk to Jesus. “The Gospel of Jesus is easy to understand; but the person of Jesus sometimes is hard to know…”

Sharing the Gospel, employing apologetics, is the challenge and the privilege afforded to those of us who serve Him when dealing with such “assignments.”

• One reason I cherish story is because we can only “explain” and “defend” so much; ultimately the person of Christ, has to be met, not only described. We try, but there is no substitution.
• Do you yearn to see a physical Jesus? His Disciples walked with Him for three and a half years, yet when things got dicey, they denied knowing Him, and scattered. Would we be any different, in the midst of our problems?
• Thomas literally could not believe his eyes when the risen Savior approached him. When he beheld the wounds, Jesus said, “You believe because you see. But blessed are those who believe in me but who have not seen.”
• I employ apologetics when I bypass theological arguments and fire-and-brimstone, and simply explain to people that “I know that I know that I know.” We all can identify with such inner assurances. I have met Him – no; He has met me – in times of trouble and crisis. And no less in times of confusion and anguish. And joy. A difference between head-knowledge and heart-knowledge.
• I have witnessed miracles. And for all the glorious physical mysteries I cannot explain, least of all can I explain what He brings – “the peace that passeth all understanding.” The world can’t give that; the world can’t take it away.

So I bring no apologies for bringing apologetics to you. I can attempt the methods of historicity and theology and teleology and familiar threats of eternal damnation and promises of eternal life in Paradise – all courses of the same meal, as it were. But I have chosen to know Jesus and make Him known by sharing what He shows me, and what He has done in my life, and what I see He does in the lives of others.

Can I introduce you to my best friend? I’ve got a story or two to tell you…

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Click: Do You Know My Jesus?

10-23-23

Two weeks in a row, a “life story” with a practical message and a spiritual meaning. This one obviously is personal, so I should get it right, despite being barely conscious during some of it.

Some of you know that I write more than a weekly blog. Other blogs; roughly one magazine article a month; newspaper columns and op-eds; and books. It was my seventy-fifth published book that took me to New York last week. I have been doing interviews, recently the Charlie Kirk and Rita Cosby national radio shows / podcasts. The semi-official Book Launch of The Most Interesting American, Post Hill Press, my third book on Theodore Roosevelt, was scheduled on the campus of Long Island University / C W Post College. Close to Sagamore Hill, the Oyster Bay home of TR.

In addition to LIU, the events – press conference, reception, book signing, speech, public Q&A – was to be covered by C-SPAN for broadcast on its Presidential Books series. The events were co-sponsored by Theodore’s Books, the terrific Oyster Bay shop run by former congressman Steve Israel. For all the resourceful people involved, the real angel was Bernadette Castro, one of the nation’s great natural resources – furniture heiress; onetime New York candidate for the US Senate; 12 years the New York State Parks Commissioner in charge of historic preservation; and an amazing role-model of civic virtue and activism.

In short: I woke up woozy the morning of the events (forgive the technical and medical terms), but I had not eaten much in several days except for a grand dinner the previous evening; I had flown a hurried trip the week before; deadlines plagued me… who knows. It could not have been “stress” about my speech, because I have always said that I could talk about Theodore Roosevelt in my sleep. Inadvertently, here was to be my chance.

At the event, I stumbled in late; I half-realized I was signing my name one and a half times, or just scribbling; I needed help getting to the dining room. It was all a strange sensation, but more so for those who beheld this, ahem, esteemed author. I am sure that the guests (many and distinguished) thought I was drunk or having a stroke. Bernadette assured them that I was quite sober, and if I were sentient I could have assured them… well, in fact, I was not sentient. Medics arrived; then an ambulance; and I blinked back to consciousness in the loving arms of St Francis (the wonderful hospital bearing his name in Port Washington, NY).

When the dust had settled, so to speak, the consensus was not demon rum (I scarcely drink) nor a stroke but a “simple” case of hypoglycemia. My blood-sugar level had dropped to 37. I am on two meds as a pre-diabetic (“pre”? I am never early for anything) and maybe the disruptions of the previous days put those meds into overdrive.

(I only had problems with hypoglycemia once before, but that was in a spelling bee in sixth grade. Seriously, my late wife had diabetes since age 13, so I should be aware of some of the collateral issues. I am more aware, again. I am dropping jokes here as often as nurses who wake you up to ask if you are asleep… but for the first time in my life I thought I was going to die.)

Several days in the hospital; canceled appointments to see old friends and hoped-for business partners; and, having been rushed from my events, no books or papers or laptop or even a phone-charger. But the word had gotten out, and almost 700 well-wishers reached out, between phone calls and texts and e-mails I eventually received. In my case, “well-wisher” usually means people who wish I would fall down a well; but this was very special, really touching.

Among all the outreach, my daughter Emily called from Ireland, once for 45 minutes. And my son Ted drove up from Washington DC, where he is a TV news producer, to “hang with Pop,” and drive me to the airport after a day in Manhattan, just like old times.

To the impatient reader who wonders where is the “practical message, the spiritual meaning,” it is here, thicker than a dose of glucose syrup. Jesus was real to me through this. Not only my faith and grounding, nor that I was in a Catholic hospital. He truly was present in myriad ways.

I had a friend who was a professional skeptic (a.k.a. wiseguy) who once challenged me after some troubles I had. He said, “You keep giving Jesus the credit for the help you got. That wasn’t Him… it was all your friends! Wake up!”

OK. Chapter 2: For all of our conversations about politics and TR, and common work on causes like fighting the attack on historic statues… my greatest bond with Bernadette Castro is when we share personal stories, frequently centering on faith. She showed her character again this week.

This week could have been National Anti-Cliché week, because many of those messages and e-mails were from people who left fervent prayers and shared encouraging verses… as we all are to do, sincerely; not throw off Hallmark-like “Feel Betters” in circumstances like these.

A new friend in Michigan had volunteered to drive me to and from the airport (of course not knowing these things would transpire), saving me parking fees for a week and – surely – a shaky solo drive home, otherwise. A blessing. A friend from another state, who had sent a “love offering” to help with expenses… could not have known how useful that card would be. A blessing.

The hospital staff… well, ‘nuff said. I had interaction with so many people those days who showed Jesus, it was a reinforcement about the Healer, our Ever-Present Help in times of trouble. The Holy Spirit, you see, is the means and the motivator when we share the Jesus who lives within us.

So, Chapter 3. To skeptics like my old friend who said it was not Jesus but merely nice friends who show themselves in such crises (and as he, sadly, must have learned by now) –

It is Jesus who “works” in these situations. The Savior often chooses to work through His people. What better way? – win-win for everyone who is touched. I was ministered to; friends yielded themselves to share Christ’s love; and – I pray – others who hear this Gospel message may be blessed.

Yes. Let’s “wake up!” indeed.

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Click: Where No One Stands Alone

10-16-23

This following is not a parable; not at all. It is a true story I heard and pass along with names changed to protect the innocent, and blessed, parties.

I will call the principal figure Charlie, who just observed his 50^th anniversary with his wife Sally, as we will call her. Their sons threw an elaborate and surprise anniversary party. There were guests old and young, from old times and recent, attending from far and wide. There was a lot of love in the restaurant room.

This story – remember where you are reading this – has a spiritual component. This aspect was not planned, nor even noticed by all the guests. But it is an example of how God does not always shout – He often whispers. The Holy Spirit can virtually shove us sometimes! But He can also tenderly, gently tug at our hearts.

Charlie and one of the “farthest drive” guests were college roommates all those years ago, and were not particularly religious. At the party they shared some of the fun times, funny stories, and practical jokes. In the subsequent years Charlie’s friend Rich as we shall call him, has grown in his faith and sometimes shares encouraging messages with people.

Among the memories that popped up was a recollection from those college days about another friend named David, let us say, who in intervening years experienced a crisis; and that Charlie suggested that Rich talk and pray with David. It seems this was an uncharacteristic thing for Charlie to do, at least back in the day. But evidently those prayers had some impact, and since then David has been following Rich’s occasional encouraging messages. Now they are brothers in Christ.

Charlie had, and has, a real brother who could be called George and is known as an impressive brainiac, sharing the love but not the politics nor faith of Charlie. Nevertheless, as Rich learned in surprise, Charlie has been forwarding his messages in those two areas… and George made a point, at this party, of expressing his appreciation and discussing some thoughts. Charlie the evangelist? Some would be surprised.

In another story, or backstory, Charlie and Rich had never met each other’s children through the years. Yet Charlie was so upset at the rupture in the relationship of Rich and one of his daughters that he often volunteered to call her out of the blue and try to heal the situation. Which eventually he did.

That is not the most surprising aspect of that particular story. Charlie’s niece, who could be called Connie, is one of the most active Christians in that family. She works, through her church, with missionaries. Making friends with Rich, she spoke of a concern for Uncle Charlie’s faith. But she was surprised to hear the story of his intervention in the father-daughter problem… and especially her uncle’s reassurance, through the years to Rich, that he “prays for them every night and for their heartache.”

To the extent that Connie was surprised is the main reason I am sharing this story.

Friendships endure, or grow cold. Families grow closer, or drift apart. Seeds of faith are planted, and sometimes sprout and grow; in fact that often happens – no surprise. But as all this – for the lack of a better term and for the sake of this story, let us call it life – happens, deepening faith and learning to share Christian love, gets manifested in myriad ways.

This Charlie fellow is not like the cousin of a friend of mine whose own faith has been growing despite (or because?) of a great crisis with her son. My friend’s cousin is a Christian of comfortable means, and gives greatly to charity. How do we know that? He brags about it. Oh, it comes out in small talk, or anecdotes, or references to details… but everyone knows how “good” he is.

The Bible – our Lord Himself – firmly tell us not to be like that man. Have you heard the words? Not to let the left hand know what the right hand is doing (don’t do things for praise). Not to utter the loudest prayers in places of worship. That the widow’s mite is more meaningful than ostentation. When Jesus talked about not hiding one’s light under a bushel, He meant that our faith should shine as a glowing candle; but works, our deeds, may be in secret.

Who sees the good works? The giver, who surely is blessed; the recipients, who benefit; and God, who knows.

Well, as stories were loudly shared during that anniversary party, so also were stories of different sorts — privately, of faith and witness and love. No surprise: that’s how life ought to be. A mosaic of experiences, friendships, memories. Often, memories that bring tears to our eyes.

But it sounds like at that surprise party for Charlie and Sally, there were two kinds of tears flowing. Some of them like showers of blessing. We also have an illustration of the saying that we should always “share the Gospel… sometimes even using words.”

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Click: There Shall Be Showers of Blessing

10-9-23

Toe-stepping alert. Some will be offended here; maybe a greater number of you than usually happens. But as they say in legislative debates, I rise on a Point of Personal Privilege. Or, I don’t know… what cats do with hairballs.

Recently I wrote about how Jesus was treated in the days leading to His crucifixion “by us.” What I mean was that there is no reason to think that any of us would have acted any differently in those horrible days than the people who, just days before, welcomed Him with Hosannas, or even His closest friends who abandoned and denied Him despite three years spent in His entourage, seeing miracles, knowing His love.

Yes, we can be fickle. We often revere the most common things in life. And we often are casual or even dismissive of the holiest.

Exhibit A: It is amazing – and to me, personally, annoying – how many people, even nominal Christians, who refer to God Almighty as “the Man Upstairs.”

It is almost like a superstition, a fear of calling the Most Holy God, Creator of the Universe, Love of our souls, by any of His many proper names. It seems like trying to hold two like-poles of a magnet together. But it is, in reality, an insult.

Would it be much different than God referring to us as “Those little fleas down there”?

Except, maybe, as matter of degree – like physical abuse or cruder insults – disrespect is disrespect, we might be dangerously close to acting like those abusive crowds in Jerusalem. Even those of us who have repented of our sins and asked forgiveness were, as it were, virtually among those crowds who despised and rejected Him, when we choose to continue to live in sin; when we choose to show proper respect before Him. Which we always are: before Him; in His presence.

Do I paint an extreme picture, go too far? You don’t think so? Would you have acted differently back then? Are you as resectful of the Savior… as He deserves? Even His disciples mostly scattered like autumn leaves in a windy street when things got rough, before our Savior was mocked, kicked, and spat upon, betrayed, seized, jailed, accused, tortured, and killed. And then “we” hid in fear for three days until He rose from the dead and had to show Himself to us.

You know, sometimes I wonder – if such a thing could be measured – whether “Jesus Christ” is uttered more as a curse than a blessing or in prayer across the United States every day. Possibly so. Shame on us.

The “Man Upstairs” must be awfully disappointed.

When He comes again in Glory it will be humankind’s second chance. Will He be despised and rejected by us again? Take your pulse, as it were – will we hide our faces from Him? Will you “esteem Him not” (as Isaiah predicted 700 years before Jesus was crucified)? When He returns will He be kicked and punched again? Will you spit on Him?

Will He be called names?

Yes. He will.

Will it be “Son of the Man Upstairs”? Will it be “Je-sus Christ” as in some bitter curse? Or… will we call Him King of kings, Lord of lords; Savior of our souls?

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Click: Rise Again

10-2-23

I have come through a stretch where friends, or acquaintances of friends, have died or observed anniversaries of deaths, or have faced serious life-threats. There have even been sad stories of different people’s similar ailments, tempting one to think they are more than coincidences. Have you ever noticed such trends?

We wonder at those times: Is there something in the water? Conspiracies afoot? Phases of the moon?

There is something called apophenia – confirmation bias – that can fool our perceptions; self-fulfilling prophesies in our minds. Examples are when we take note of weather trends like global warming; or crime statistics; or cancer and other diseases – are things changing, or is there only better reporting?

Nevertheless, we sometimes want to toss statistics (whether affirming or contrary) and “expert opinions” out the window. For instance, when we see more children exhibiting signs of autistic behavior; or know of more folks dying of cancer than in, say, Colonial days; or hear about examples of more auto-immune diseases than existed years ago. If these are just perceptions, or heightened awareness, we can point to another adage – what the Romans called omne trium perfectum – that things come in threes. (Like my lists in these previous paragraphs!)

In fact our minds often run in threes. There are sayings that both good things and bad things happen in threes. The Bible, beginning of course with the Trinity, points to 3 as the number of perfection. Writers are taught to have three main “peaks” in a storyline; fewer are dull, more are confusing. Similarly, orators and pastors are taught to hold audiences with three main points. Homiletics: explanation; illustration; and application. (“Tell them what you’re going to tell them; tell them; tell them what you told them.”)

So… our minds want to “see” patterns in myriad ways.

Yet, to return to cancer. The disease does seem to be on the rise, at least in its horrible varieties… more than three, sadly. For all the accounts of “thank God it was detected early” – and we do thank Him in such cases – there are counter-balance stories. In my case, an old church friend whose husband was “opened up” to search for the cause of stomach discomfort… was quickly “stitched up” when many cancers were evident; he died soon thereafter. Another new friend’s son-in-law was diagnosed but surgery seems to have “caught” the suspicious lymphatic glands. But another friend’s husband went from diagnosis of brain cancer to death in five quick weeks. “Mercifully short”? Clichés are of scant comfort…

Cancer – the “Big C” – looms larger in our collective minds than almost all other diseases; perhaps more ominous than international crises or environmental challenges (which, in fact, might be closely related to the cancer epidemic), touching almost every family and neighborhood. The “Big C,” people call it.

It’s a little odd how humankind makes light of dangers. You know, phrases like “acts of God.” Jokes like “The devil made me do it!” Back to cancer again – smokers who cynically call cigarettes “C-sticks.” In fact, if we insist on reverting to shorthand or nicknames, let us adopt another use of the term “the Big C,” and apply it to the real Big C – Christ.

We, the human race, had our chance one time when Christ “became flesh and dwelt among us,” as the Bible refers to His earthly ministry. Seven hundred years before the birth of Christ, the prophet Isaiah prophesied and predicted, and even described what Jesus would look like… and how He would be treated by us: Despised and rejected of men; a Man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. We hid our faces from Him; He was despised, and we esteemed Him not.

Yes, the “Big C” came to earth, to teach and heal but mainly to Save – to offer Himself as the sacrifice for the punishments we deserve as rebels against our Heavenly Father.

He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and by His stripes we are healed. Full circle back to cancers and afflictions? Does Christ, by this, always heal as we would wish? Not as we would wish – my wife was miraculously healed of thyroid cancer… yet despite fervent prayers, she had to receive heart and kidney transplants. However she faithfully believed she was healed by the miracle of surgery, God’s chosen answer in that circumstance. And she was given a testimony to share.

If there are lessons through all these mysteries, it is that God is sovereign. We trust Him to answer prayer as He will. We praise Him at all times: that is faith. God’s “Big C” – our elder brother, Christ Jesus – is bigger than cancer and any other problems we face.

No matter what we call the challenges, we should call Jesus by Who He is – Christ, our Savior.

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A beautiful, pertinent song by cancer survivor Janet Paschal, written by her and her half-sister Charlotte Ahlemann.
Click: You’re Still Lord