Monday Morning Music Ministry

11-18-24

Lately, every time I log on to the web, I see pop-ups. Well, that’s not lately – the Internet is always one big commercial, dishing up propaganda, spooky algorithms (“How did it know I was thinking about sandals made in Brazil???”), and invasive seductions, with occasional bits of news and useful information. At least there is a pause in political pop-ups, but they will resume soon.

However, two categories of messages glom up my in-box lately, and not to my regret. Past and future, in a manner of speaking. I am inundated with videos about prehistoric architecture, pyramids around the world, and ancient civilizations. Fascinating discoveries and intriguing questions. And the other category on the web… I should say Webb, because we are continuously seeing more galaxies, probing deeper into outer space, and learning more about what we don’t know as humankind. Thanks to the James Webb Space Telescope.

We not only “see” farther and more clearly than ever before, but lenses, filters, and spectrometry – and pinpoint transmissions – provide indications of where things are, what they are made of, and, ultimately, myriad things we don’t know.

look up

Being a city boy, I am always awestruck by clear night skies in sparse areas of the world where I have visited and looked up. Not the points of constellations observed by the Ancients and given names because they vaguely resembled objects – a primitive connect-the-dots exercise. No, the thousands of stars that blanket the night sky. But now we begin to know what the first humans who looked Up only guessed at.

There are more than thousands of stars. There are trillions of stars.

There are more than trillions of stars, because those “stars” often are entire galaxies with trillions of their own suns and stars.

There are more than suns and stars, because, as in “our” solar system, there are planets and moons too.

The very tiniest dot of light we now see in Webb’s image-captures might in itself be a distant but gargantuan galaxy with its own trillions of constituent members. “Universes” by themselves, metaphorically speaking. The “heavens.”

Where does the universe stop? Does it have an “end,” a wall? … and then, what is on the other side of that wall? When will it end? Ever? When did it begin? And How?

If your brain is hurting, as mine is, it means not that you have special insight or an enlightened curiosity; it means that you have a pulse. “Primitive” cultures and squads of PhDs alike, and all of us in between, wonder about those generic conundrums – where we are, how we got here, what’s out there, and such. It is why myriad superstitions and belief systems and religions have sprouted. The basic but inchoate wonderment has inspired thinkers and poets and, thank God, now even governments and entrepreneurs to employ technology and reach “out.”

Whether archaeologists and anthropologists explore the past, or scientists and philosophers speculate on the present and future, mistakes have been made. Well-meaning, often; presumptuous, frequently; foolish, occasionally. The latest explanation of the what-when-where-and-how of the universe’s origin is the “Big Bang” theory.

Speaking personally, my brain doesn’t hurt about the Big Bang theory. My face does, from laughing so much about it. Skeptics and presumptuous atheists challenge Bible-believers on the matter that the Bible has the answers to the questions asked above. “Where you there when the universe began?” they challenge. Of course not, is the answer. But my God was, and He has told us all about it.

Back to that Big Bang, we can ask the same questions – what was before the Big Bang? Just where in this “empty universe” did the Bang happen? If it is still happening at its extremities, where can it end; whether its expansion is linear or 360-degree, and (the latest speculation) if it is forever growing and contracting… we are no closer to answering the what-when-where-and-how of it all.

Notice that there is no Who in that set of questions. Humankind – or much of it – in its arrogance and, ultimately, foolishness insists on reaching for and embracing every answer but the God Answer. Oh, it gets close: blathering about the “God Particle” and Intelligent Design, and such. They are deflections; euphemisms.

“All the saints and sages who discussed [Omar the Tentmaker wrote centuries ago] /of the Two Worlds so learnedly are thrust / Like foolish prophets forth; their words to scorn are scattered; / Their mouths are stopped with dust.”

The scoffers go further when they use the recent cascading discoveries of this virtually unfathomable universe to challenge our faith: There must be uncountable other planets with life and life-forms and civilizations out there… if there is a God, why would He place us in a faraway corner of an unimportant universe and galaxy?… When we realize the vastness of space, don’t we realize how insignificant we are???

• Well. We do realize certain things. If there is creation… there must be a Creator.
• Read Genesis. That is the Big Bang, explained in step-by-step fashion.
• Uncountable other explanations of creation (including scientific answers) have been abandoned or discredited or superseded by other theories. Yes… we do note that this current “answer” is nevertheless termed by its proponents a theory.
• The God of the Bible – excuse me, the Creator of the Universe – has been so reliable through every other detail of history, prophecy, and fulfillment, that we can be assured that “the earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof”… but, more, that the heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims His handiwork (Psalm 19:1). And if there were “other” worlds, as with the superstition about reincarnation, the Bible would have told us. Not so.

Who, What, When, Where, and How? God, God, God, God, and God. His Creation pleases Him. But let us ask the other “standard” question – WHY? We – you and I – are His children, the apples of His eye, a purpose of His Creation, we are told.

We look at these images of a crazy-vast universe; of its unending space and its parts; of its wonders and beauty and mysteries… and do we feel insignificant, as scientists and skeptics tell us we should feel?

NO! As grateful believers in the Creator God… we feel anything but insignificant. As His children, we are His creations too! And we are special. We are significant. Let us respond every day in every way as we should. Our “brains may hurt,” but our souls are at peace.

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Click: The Love of God Is Greater Far

10-28-24

The week ahead includes the day we celebrate — or should celebrate, and commemorate; a good time to re-dedicate — Reformation Day. October 31 is the anniversary of the day Dr Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the church door at Wittenburg, Germany.

These 95 points of “Contention” with policies of the Pope and the Vatican establishment are regarded as the sparks that ignited the Reformation and the Protestant movement. There were theological protests and reformers before Luther – preachers, theologians and Bible translators who were persecuted, tortured, and killed. The Englishman John Wycliffe died a century before Luther’s activity. Murderous hatred against him was borne of his daring to translate the Bible to English, the language of the worshipers. The Catholic Church even disinterred his bones and burned them after his death. The Bohemian reformer Jan Hus was burned at the stake for his reformist beliefs. His last words, tied to the stake before the flames consumed him, were “in a hundred years, God will raise up a man whose calls for reform can not be suppressed.”

A photo I took in Prague, Czech Republic, of a statue noting the martyrdom of Jan Hus, hangs on my wall.

It was 102 year later that Luther nailed his spiritual challenges to that church door.
Luther was persecuted, chased, excommunicated, stripped of his priestly office and kicked out of the Church. He went into hiding, and translated the Bible into the language of his people, the Germans.

He sought reform, not revolution, yet revolution occurred: half of Europe caught fire with the belief that faith alone, by God’s grace, actuated salvation; and that people needed no intercessor with God except Christ. The Vatican resisted any objection to the concept that initially inspired Luther’s objections – that the Church could charge money and influence God to rescue people from hell (“indulgences”). The practice, which was invented to raise funds for the construction of St Peter’s in Rome, is nowhere to be found in the Bible. Neither is Purgatory or other adornments to the marketing of indulgences. Luther championed sola fide – Faith Alone, no middlemen between us and the Godhead, by Grace to be assured of justification and salvation. Reform? Revolutionary? No, Biblical, after almost 1500 years.

Outside the Church but with a growing following throughout Europe, he married, preached, wrote lessons, and composed hymns. Largely because of Luther’s principled resistance, a fire spread across Germany, and ultimately the Western world, that burns yet today: independence; literacy; democracy; resistance to authority. Yet… Luther defended the “divine right of kings”; he sought to reform the Church, not leave it; and he saw himself as the last of the Medievalists, not the first Modernist. In fact he argued that “Reason is the enemy of Faith.”

As a pilgrim of sorts I traveled to Germany and on the 500^th anniversary of his birth I worshiped in the Augsburg Cathedral, not where he was born but a city with which he was associated. It was 1983. I had expected a large crowd of Christians, perhaps major celebrations or observances. But that morning there were a handful of worshipers in a chapel served by an ancient, portable organ. Had the Reformation prevailed, or was it defeated, lost, subsumed?

It is my belief that, 500 years after the Reformation, the church – at least the Western Church, certainly the American church in virtually all its corners – is in dire need of reformation again. It is commercial, its theology is malleable, its witness is weak – running the gamut from heresy back to the old Works Doctrine.

More than that, we need to look to Martin Luther as a Hero of Conscience. He said when he was called on trial to recant his beliefs and writings:

Unless I am convinced by proofs from Scriptures or by plain and clear reasons and arguments, I can not and will not recant. For it is neither wise nor safe to do anything against conscience. Here I stand. I can do no other. God help me.

The time is coming in this contemporary world when Christians have it demanded of them to renounce their faith. That this is already a time of anti-Christian persecution, is abundantly clear. Believers already suffer daily indignities and are asked to compromise their principles and forced to sublimate their voices. Recently, Vice President Harris ridiculed someone at a rally who called out, “Jesus is Lord.” She replied – amid catcalls and insulting laughter – that the person was in the wrong place, and that there was a smaller rally somewhere else where she might feel at home.

Some days soon Christians will have to suffer no longer in silence, or have the luxury of withdrawing into small groups and communities of believers. The Bible does not merely warn… prophets did not just threaten… but God promised this holy challenge to the saints of God in the End Times.

Can we, like Luther, have the spiritual strength to say: “For it is neither safe nor wise to do anything against conscience. Here I stand. I can do no other”?

For persecution is coming.
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I have two brief clips for Reformation Day: the first is a short compilation from three biographical movies about Luther: powerful actors portraying Luther’s powerful stands:

Here I Stand(three actors portraying Luther)

The second is known as the “Battle Hymn of the Reformation,” composed by Luther and sung a capella by Steve Green. I can never sing “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” myself without choking up. Its final lines describe Luther’s trial… and foreshadow our own:

Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also;
The body they may kill: God’s Truth abideth still,
His kingdom is forever!

Click: A Mighty Fortress Is Our God

10-21-24

A message tuned to the baseball playoffs and the imminent World Series. And, a personal note about how God views the sport of baseball. I am persuaded that He anoints the National Pastime in a special way. You ask, What makes me think that? How about the very first words in the Bible itself?

“In the Big Inning…”

OK, Strike One… or an error? Play ball:

Athletes are not on pedestals – it would be hard to pitch a slider or shag fly balls if they were – yet often are perceived as role models. The problems and sins and suspensions or penalties make the news, but a high percentage of baseball players are committed Christians. Every team has a branch of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, and after games (although TV cameras turn away) players can be seen uniting in prayer… not the least impressive when you see that they are from opposing teams.

Some teams – once again seldom even acknowledged on secular TV and radio – have regularly scheduled “Faith Nights,” with special promotions for church groups and dedicated post-game performances.

A recent development at baseball games is the favorite music of a player heard via loudspeakers as a batter approaches the plate. Players can choose their “theme music,” and many players have chosen Christian songs, to inspire them and to witness to fans in the stands. Brandon Nimmo of the New York Mets is one such player.

Many fans know that Billy Sunday played professional baseball for eight years before becoming one of America’s most prominent, and effective evangelists.

Among baseball players of the recent past and currently on teams, who have been open about their love of Jesus Christ are Todd Zeile, Steven Matz, Daniel Murphy, Andrew McCutchen, Anthony Rendon, Chase Headley, Mariano Rivera, Corey Dickerson, Aaron Nola, Matt Holliday, J T Realmuto, Rajai Davis, Albert Pujols, Clayton Kershaw, R A Dickey, Brian Dozier, Dansby Swanson, Curt Schilling, Pedro Martinez, Freddie Freeman, Paul Goldschmidt, James McCann, John Smoltz, Aaron Judge, J D Martinez, Nolan Arenado, Ronald Acuña Jr., Jose Altune, Gunnar Henderson, Francisco Alvarez, Francisco Lindor, and the recent minor-leaguer (former football star) Tim Tebow. Managers like Dusty Baker and Dave Roberts specifically praise God for the success they have enjoyed. This is only a partial list, praise God.

The New York Mets’ utility phenom Jose Iglesias is also a songwriter and singer whose stage name is “Candelita.” He recorded a song that shot, this season, the Number One in the Spanish pop charts… and has become theme song of his team’s remarkable successes this year, played not only when he strides to the plate, but after every player’s home run and the team’s victories: OMG. It stands for “Oh My God” and opens with these lines, “OMG, throw all the bad things away from here! OMG, give me health and prosperity.”

Skeptics and cynics often ridicule players who thank God or give Jesus the glory after a win. It is notable, even when overlooked (once again, TV cameras focused elsewhere), that many players thank God too for their health, integrity on the field, and fans’ enjoyment… for we are to thank Him for all things, in all things.

Winning or losing? Very important.

“How you play the game”? More important.

Praising God in all things? Most important!

Play Ball!!!

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A song about baseball, memories, dads, competition, integrity, fathers, and our Father. By a friend-of-a-friend, Bob Bennett.

Click: A Song About Baseball

10-14-24

When I was younger I was part of the “Love Generation.” Or so I was told. It did not seem so at the time. Without answering the burning question “How old is Marschall???” I will just say that it was during the era of campus unrest, street riots, assassinations, political turmoil, and protests. 

I thought then, and think now, that the generation’s “Love” kind of passed me by. I gratefully recognize now that society has calmed down, matured, and gotten to a point where love, not hate, now prevails. I direct the jury’s attention to today’s spate of campus unrest, street riots, assassinations, political turmoil, and protests. In my best broken French I will say, Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose – The more things change, the more they stay the same.

This rule of life is… a rule of life. Recent archaeological discoveries reveal tremendous engineering achievements in what we otherwise call “pre-history,” by unknown peoples and forgotten civilizations. Ancient societies might not have had video games and fast food, but many of our ancestors assayed the stars, produced fine art, and were sophisticated in their understanding of human nature. (I wish we understood humans half as well.)

Of course this applies to Revealed Truth as well, in fact better than any other applications. God’s Word has never changed. You are near, Oh Lord, and all Your commandments are true (Psalm 119:151). His Words are true, cannot change, must be righteous, and beneficial, in all times and in all places. He would not be God otherwise. Our tastes change – styles of music, forms of worship, flavors of ice cream – but if there is anything we need in life, it is the constancy, reliability, and integrity of God’s Word.

… the “good with the bad.” Of course I cannot suggest anything is “bad” about God’s Word and his commandments and promises. But – back to understanding “human nature” – we bristle at some things. Inconvenient truths. Rules of conduct and morality. Warnings about disobedience; sinning.

One thing that the “world,” and many Christians, do not well understand – or maybe do not want to understand – is that once we become Children of God, accept Jesus, and follow those Commandments the best we can… the promise of paradise seems to grow dimmer, or further away. Heaven will be our home, but “Heaven on Earth?” It is not promised in the Bible.

In fact, just the opposite is promised, predicted, and prophesied. The Bible’s many heroes and heroines comprise a gallery of persecution. Hebrews Chapter 11 is nicknamed the Hall of Fame of Faith – names of many saints and noble souls who endured much… and never reached their various Promised Lands. We honor them, but they sustained calumny, abuse, and rejection in their days.

Jesus Himself told His disciples, and, through them, us that we can expect such treatment. From the world, from society, even our families. He went further: He said the world would hate us. And He drove home the point by saying that if the world will hate us (and if we cannot understand such treatment), we must remember that the world hated Him first. And worse. To the point past persecution, abuse, rejection, betrayal, and slander; the world hated Him to death.

As we navigate this life, through this world, how willing are we to withstand opposition? Mild, wouldn’t you say, compared to what Jesus endured?… what His followers through the years faced?… Friends and family, Jesus told us, might become as enemies in their hatred toward us.

These reminders are harsh, but remember that God’s Word does not change. Whether the issues are the election’s; or the family squabbles are about your values and life choices; or… anything at all, God’s Word did not allow for loopholes. No free passes. No rule changes late in the game.

The world hates us. Sorry, Christians – you will experience many blessings, but if you are true disciples, you will also go through hell on earth. If the world, the devil, and evil people leave you alone, you might not be doing your job as a follower of Christ. If it were not so, He would have told you. So… have a fun election, and a good Thanksgiving get-together, and some robust debates. Heaven does await. The “Love Generation” – Eternity – will be ours.

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Click: Tulsi Gabbard sings ‘Amazing Grace’ With Her Parents

10-7-24

Whether it is the logic of the issue’s presentation, or the frequent statements by Pro-Choice people, I have changed my attitude, and my stance, on the matter of Abortion. Count me as favoring the procedure.

This might surprise people who have known me, and are familiar with my views, but henceforth I will advocate against the so-called “Pro-Life” positions. In deference to people who have joined these contentious debates with me, as well as readers who might be interested in arguments that have changed – for they have, in society, for many people in many ways – I will present my reasons.

They are not new with me, for the Abortion debate has been engaged uncountable times. But I will summarize the salient points of my new home, Pro-Choice.

• In a democracy, the majority rules. And these days Abortion is accepted by many people; it is urged upon everybody; and is no longer a taboo procedure to be ashamed of. It seems like “Pro-Life” is in the minority.

• Besides the change in public “morals,” there are the advances in birth control. Abortion has been made easy, cheap, and widely available. And now, technology has brought us pills and liquids and various abortifacients that will do the job just as well as surgery.

• Since birth control is no longer a matter of opprobrium in society, Abortion ought be regarded as another, maybe after-the-fact, form of birth control. Over and done.

• In that view, we know from the scientific community that the earth is over-populated, and resources are being stretched thin. Going forward as a species, we need fewer, not more, people.

• There are many couples, married and unmarried, who simply are not ready to start a family. If we are free to express mutual love, we ought to be free of the burdens of parenthood. If you hated your parents, don’t become one yourself. Stop that life.

• In practical terms, again speaking of over-crowding, limited resources, and the convenience of family situations, we must frankly embrace the woman who inspired the contemporary Abortion and Family Planning “Enlightenment,” Margaret Sanger. She taught us that the lower rungs of society – especially the poor, the chronically unhealthy, and inferior groups like African-Americans in her view – ought to be thinned out.

• Not excluding teen pregnancies and “extra-marital” affairs, the majority of Abortions, and a higher percentage of Abortion clinics, are in neighborhoods of the poor, underprivileged, and African-Americans, already. This is a start, and should be encouraged.

• “Freedom” is an attractive, compelling word. It has persuaded me, and many others, in the context of the Abortion debate. Except for matters like murder and “hate speech,” the government should not adopt restrictive laws and regulations. Legalize Abortion, drugs, “mercy killings”; and then begin to restrict outworn traditional practices.

• Speaking of “hate speech,” all the familiar views and traditions of many cultures and peoples – views from Aborting babies to personal religious expression – ought to be banned too. Some enlightened countries imprison people who maintain cherished customs and practices, and we can look forward to doing so here, too.

On second thought…

Of course these are not my views. But separately or together, they are the views of many people in the United States. And only a few of those concepts are old, “outdated.” For instance, Margaret Sanger warred against “Negroes” who, she believed, had too many children. Today her followers might sound compassionate but still embrace the idea of thinning the “under-served.”

The American culture of consumerism, our throw-away mentality, and the ethos of Life Is Cheap, seduce many people to subscribe to the ideas I listed. “Everybody does it”; “Mind your own damn business”; and “Who does it harm?” have supplanted the 10 Commandments.

“Who does it harm?” is, of course, a dishonest question that many people are happy to ignore. Of course, Abortion harms the unborn baby. Pretty severely. It is easy to ignore the silent screams, isn’t it?

As to the points above:

… Democracy does not determine right and wrong. Too often it is a weapon to mask the evil that men do. God does not depend on our opinions of His Commandments.

… As to easy forms of birth control (hmmm, why is it not called “fetus control” or “blob control”?): Even if government imposed legality, why must the public pay for others’ Abortions-on-Demand? Why force doctors and nurses with consciences to participate in killing babies?

… Over-population can be addressed by resource-management. If a woman “gets in trouble” (what a bizarre phrase) perhaps kids can learn to stop screwing; perhaps parents, and schools, and oh yeah, the church, can remember how to wisely counsel decent behavior.

… The not-so-veiled racism of Sanger’s spawn merely proves the French saying that “the more things change, the more they stay the same.”

… In the end, we realize that Freedom is fungible, at least as we employ it. Freedom to kill babies is literally selective, partial-freedom at best. The Aborted baby is given no “Choice.”

How often do people think these things through? If a woman kills her baby, and the father objects, is it “fair” that he has no say in the matter… especially as the Law says he is obligated for Child Support otherwise. If a baby was aborted, do the parents wonder, years afterward, where and what their child would be like, be doing? A vast majority of babies with birth “defects” are Aborted these days… but have you seen a mother’s life that has been transformed, loving for that child she bore?

We have become a Culture of Death, no better than those “primitive” societies we read about in faraway places and ancient times, that practiced infant sacrifice. Today we sacrifice our children to the gods of convenience and pleasure. Science breaks its back searching for the Origin of Life… discovering new life-forms… and desperate to find evidence of Life in the universe. But science – and so many of us – have become callous to the practice of killing babies, snuffing out Life.

No matter the circumstances, God’s Word tells us that every child was known and “formed” by Him in the womb. His ways are mysterious to us, sometimes, but He is sovereign. Did Jesus come to earth to save souls, yet we destroy them first? That is the devil’s job, and joy. And our curse.

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By the way, if you are a reader, or have had this message passed to you, and are somewhere near my pretend-position here – and if you have been wracked with confusion or guilt or regrets – you must remember that even Abortion is something that God forgives. Repentance and cries for forgiveness “God will not despise.” He is the Lord and Giver of Life (yes, a reason we must not play God) and He yearns for fellowship with you… and helping minister to your problems.

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Click: I Hear Your Voice

9-23-24

Readers of these essays know that one of my favorite poems is “A Psalm of Life” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Its subtitle is “What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist.” It is a short poem whose first quatrains are:

Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day.

“Life is real! Life is earnest!” – those lines ought to be written over every newborn’s crib; on every grade-school’s wall; ought to be recited at graduations, weddings, and, yes, even funerals. The sentiment has special urgency for contemporary America, where avoidance of reality, commitment, and earnest work is the mode.

When I was a boy, “labor-saving device” was a catchword in advertisements for appliances. Yes, families desired to escape the drudgery of winding, polishing, cleaning, prepping, cutting, mowing, whatever. Then… such imperatives became necessities themselves… and then obsessions. The next step was “planned obsolescence” – “Why fix something, when you can just buy a new one?” which seduced us all to become wastrels, unskilled, and lazy.

Related: this leisure-obsessed society was fed sugar waters and fatty snacks until obesity became epidemic. A “Life is real! Life is earnest” culture would take note of the situation, and stop poisoning itself. But America chooses to spend billions of dollars on diet pills, exercise machines, surgery, health clubs, and psychiatrists instead of simply stopping to gobble junk.

Related: how addicted are we? Try to imagine a world without TV remotes. Big deal, you say? How many complaints would rise up in every household if we had to get out of our chairs, walk across the room, to change channels or adjust the volume all evening? (Well, at least it would provide some exercise…)

Edwin Markham, another poet, wrote other favorite lines of mine:

For all your days prepare,

And meet them ever alike:

When you are the anvil, bear –

When you are the hammer, strike.

Both poems address fundamental challenges we face, or should, in the human family. Snack foods and TV remotes seem trivial, but they are symptoms of basic requirements, or not, of people who navigate life. There is an order to life; a structure that we recognize, even subliminally, that leads to stability, that leads to happiness.

If there is one theme – and there are several – that is woven through the Bible, it is the foundational aspect of the family… the idea that God ordained the Family… the roles, with rules and injunctions, for fathers, mothers, and children, husbands and wives. We are called “children” of God. We are invited to the Marriage Feast of the Lamb in End Times. The Church in many places is likened to the Bride of Christ. These references, and many in between, fill the Scriptures from Genesis to Revelation.

This is not a message about cohabitation or the prevalence of divorce but, if I may, a lament for what happens, and doesn’t, in American families today while they are together.

At one time in America, we know from accounts and descriptions, members of a family, perhaps in a buggy or a streetcar, would be seen all reading their Bibles. Today? How often do you see every member of a family, maybe waiting for their dinners at a restaurant, all bent over, intent on their cell phones? It is not so much the individual reading that I notice, but what they read, and don’t. Many churches have full programs of kids’ church and Women’s Bible Study and Men’s Groups… but few have Family Studies. Oh, “that’s what church is for”? No… church is for worship, not fellowship and discussion. How many families dedicate time for fellowship and discussion?

These bees in my bonnet were buzzing this week because a dear friend whose daughter had an aneurysm many years ago and has lingered, bedridden, for decades; and the daughter died this week. I think of the prayers and networks of support… and how precious families are.

I think of my own sister, who gave birth to a cerebral palsy girl predicted to live a couple years but lived into her mid-20s. My sister led a somewhat aimless life until her daughter’s condition gave her life purpose. I think – I know – that God does not send disease, but He blesses those who call on Him to meet life’s challenges.

I think of a friend whose wife and children constituted a family unit that could have been painted by Norman Rockwell. But in “Twilight Years” he is widowed and one child has not spoken to him in years over some perceived slight; another lives overseas and seldom speaks to him – and he has four grandchildren who he might not recognize if they passed on the street – and another who sustained a life-threatening situation but did not call his father for three weeks, “not wanting to bother him.”

My friend seriously wonders whether that “nuclear” family is in fact happier, or closer, than families riven by divorce or infidelity. Has he been a failure as a father? (May I ask that you pray for the people I have mentioned here?)

Finally… Related. Yes, related. At this time of year, with kids going off to schools or careers, I sometimes remember the (secular) song “Letting Go.” Not as gloomy as the situations I have just described, it is a sweet song about a daughter going off to college. Parents can shed tears in those moments. But… there are cycles in life. Priorities change. Perspectives adjust. Time heals. I have said, with children, “Days drag on, but the years whiz by.” Don’t stand there and watch.

I pray that you don’t have to say “Good-bye” too often. But Letting Go, as hard as it is, comes to all of us, and also can be sweet. Choose those moments, those reactions.

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Click: Letting Go

9-16-24

Daylight Savings Time is about to end, and I never have been able to figure out whether to be grateful or regretful – you know, “gaining” or losing an hour of sleep. Just go to sleep, like my mother used to say. It’s like the “glass half-empty vs half-full” discussions. Just drink it, or re-fill it, and be quiet. Well, there are many things I don’t understand.

I do know that Autumn, that imminent change of season, traditionally has been regarded in poetry and art as the gloomiest of the four seasons. It seems odd, but among the testimonies of not regarding cold, dead Winter as gloomy (a host of happy outdoor activities and holidays have already sprung to your mind) is the long narrative poem by John Greenleaf Whittier, Snowbound. A 19th-century family is stuck in the house after a tremendous blizzard, and possible feelings of dread or fear are replaced by bonding, reminiscences, humor. Outside, all is frozen and every living thing looks dead, but warmth and life glow in the family circle. Winter = not so bad.

Autumn is the only season, at least in the English language, that has more than one name. Among its traditional names was Harvest – before urban living made that concept somewhat abstract. Then there is the familiar Fall whose origin philologists have not been able to trace, but there is the obvious association with “fallen leaves.”

As I say, and despite the warm associations we might have with colorful leaves and familiar smells in the air, in literature and art Fall is often the basis of melancholia. Some psychologists say that Fall outpaces Winter as the season of peoples’ dark depression. Perhaps, after sunny and bright summertime, the palpable signs of death surround us. Dying and falling leaves. Bare trees. Wilted flower-beds. Field animals looking for shelter. Earlier dusk and darkness descends. Colder air drives us indoors.

The adagio from Antonio Vivaldi’s “Autumn” in his iconic concerti grossi The Four Seasons is beautiful – but covers us in a sad, melancholy cloak.

If we might feel overshadowed by vague signs of dying and death, however, don’t blame it all on nature. In a larger sense, humankind – the post-Christian West especially – is at a point where we choose Death at almost every opportunity. In many way we live in a Culture of Death.

Yes, there have always been wars and rumors of wars… but today they are deadlier than ever, a fact that encourages rather than deters the war parties running governments. A Culture of Death.

We have developed new scientific means to extend life and confront diseases… but today, Science also aggressively pursues ways to end lives. A vast majority of birth “defects” are “terminated” – that is to say, babies are killed. A majority of unwed mothers arrange for their babies to be killed – something that politicians call “health care.” A Culture of Death.

The various surgical and “psychological” imperatives toward lower birth rates, “transgender” advocacy, homosexual relationships, genital mutilation – even denying parental notifications and obligating taxpayers to support – resist procreation and the furtherance of life. A Culture of Death.

The most obvious contemporary versions of human sacrifice and infanticide – the American spin on practices we condemn in ancient societies and pagan tribes – are “mercy killings” and, of course, abortion. Now I myself once was quite inured to the concept and practice; I viewed abortion as a calendar-skewed version of birth control. I now feel like I have blood on my hands. So you can jump on my “conversion,” but don’t jump ugly; many of us have seen the light. Along my personal Road to Damascus, I scored one of the rare interviews with the lady who was “Roe” of Roe vs Wade… and who became bitterly regretful about her role. Beyond that, I cannot understand those who endlessly bemoan the accounts Jews deemed “inconvenient” by Nazis, yet are quite comfortable with 63.5-million “inconvenient” babies killed since Roe. A Culture of Death.

And people feel depressed by Signs of Death that accompany the return of Autumn? What an insult, if I may say, to Mother Nature and (properly) Father God. Maybe that “glass half-empty or half-full” metaphor has resonance after all. Maybe Harvest-Autumn-Fall is entirely different than many people are wont to perceive.

Rejoice! Leaves die, but before they happily flutter among us, they clothe themselves with brilliant reds and yellows and orange colors that painters can hardly capture. The aromas of Autumn are unique, almost romantic. (I hope your neighborhoods still allow the burning of raked leaves.) Yes… harvests! Vegetables and fruits that were nurtured through the Summer can now be enjoyed – different colors and flavors associated only with Fall. Crisp air? Invigorating; time to huddle and cuddle; and to experience a new aspect of nature… not a dying one.

And if trees go bare, and crops are harvested, and things superficially look bleak… we cannot forget that many things go dormant, but do not die. Seeds will sprout, even through cracks in cement. Flowers will bloom in deserts and other unexpected places. Woodland animals are born, blink, and open their eyes.

Landscapes are resplendent with color. “Dead” wildflowers and Indian corn grace our homes. Seashells and periwinkles, so unique and colorful, are, after all, virtual external skeletons and husks of dead life; but beautiful. The sun, they tell us, is dying… but it gives life and warmth. My go-to source of wise comments (after the Bible), many of you know, is Theodore Roosevelt. On these subjects he once wrote, “Both life and death are part of the Great Adventure,” and it surely is so.

Finally let us remember, always remember, the One who tasted death… yet overcame it. Jesus died, so that our souls escape eternity in hell where there is no life. We, like our Savior, can overcome sin, death, and the grave, and know eternal life.

A Culture of Life!
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Click: I’ll Have A New Life

9-9-24

“Something is happening in our world, and I want to be part of it!”

My friend said that to me as we recently discussed current events (“current” as in “high voltage”), and she took the words from my mouth, as it were. Our common point of view is not unalloyed, and I wonder how many readers agree. That is, some things are happening – many things are changing – and few of them are to our liking… but. We want to, we need to, be part of understanding them, resisting many of them, and rescuing our society. We can make things happen too.

Redeem our culture, that is. Protect our families. Defend our faith.

This will not be a political column. As politics have invaded every sphere of life these days, however, we must contend when necessary. Goliath challenged King Saul for 40 days until David stepped up. He recognized that the Philistines were a threat; he accepted that giants were real; and he acted. Neither politeness nor cowardice nor prudence nor excuses nor pride were availed: it was time to act.

Some things are happening in our world. I will list a few. Join me on a 30,000-feet view.

For all of Western civilization’s “progress,” a lot of our intelligence is artificial. I am turning that phrase around, to mean that myriad assumptions are swindles, despite our smug arrogance. After generations of societal life in many places and varied conditions, we believe that our world has evolved to a place where families are no longer sacred foundation-stones; where men and women do not have essential characteristics and functions; where faith must not play a vital role in peoples’ lives; where respect, sexual fidelity, and civility are irrelevancies; where traditions are not valuable tools for moving forward.

This nonsense is palpable, and dangerous. When we review history – which is a taskmaster, not merely a teacher; certainly not a gentle persuader – we see that every civilization that has veered toward these heresies has perished. Often in ugly and brutal fashion. Seldom has a culture chosen to embrace these suicidal tendencies as lustily as ours is doing.

Some other things are happening in our world. As I assured you, I am not getting political, but I will list some facts – largely obscure at the moment, even from a 30,000-foot overview.

Quietly but quickly there are changes afoot. They might be harbingers of a revolution of redemption; or they might be blips on the screen of the cultural decline; or they might be death throes of a world doomed to join past civilizations on the trash-heap of history.

In the major Western nations there are extreme shake-ups in politics (unavoidable to mention, except as “politics” represents many aspects within societies). During the US elections, former Democrats named Trump and Kennedy and Musk and Gabbard now control the Republican Party, or at least the presidential campaign. The Blue-Collar Billionaire and his new allies (and supporters) largely have embraced an agenda that embraces Christian values and conservative priorities.

In the United Kingdom, a four-month-old party named Reform garnered almost as many votes as the victorious Labor Party in recent Parliamentary elections. It is, like the new GOP, similarly small-government, low-tax, anti-immigrant in its focus. The rise of the National Front in France tells the same story. As the leaders of these parties have split from the mainstream and are political renegades, so does the popular leader of Hungary; he shares their platform views, and is a former ally (strongly former!) of George Soros.

In Germany, in recent days the rise of new parties – AfD (Alternative for Germany) and the months-old party of Sahra Wagenknecht – have captured almost half of the votes in two large states, Saxony and Thuringia. The new movements are in certain aspects right and left, respectively, yet they share general free-market, anti-censorship, foreign-policy views (including skepticism about Ukraine) that have observers foreseeing an eventual alliance.

“Horseshoe Politics,” it is being called – where right and left ultimately and nearly meet. New labels are applied – Protest; Populism; Common-Sense – but “Something is happening in our world, and we want to be part of it!”

What place is all this in a Christian essay, one that offers to “put a song in our hearts” to start our week? Well, nothing – if we think we are in fact doomed, too far down the tubes. I can be gloomier, by the way: I believe God has held His hand; that America and the West have rebelled and sinned to an extent that we deserve His severe judgment; that, searching End-Times prophecy, we discern no hint that there will be an America in the world’s last days…

Yet God has held His hand. We are called to repent, and not surrender. As we, individual sinners, may be redeemed, so can our nation find salvation. (I have learned this week that a new book, Write and Live His Answer Now, will reprint an essay I wrote challenging Christians not to plead for Revival, but rather to generate Revival.)

Regarding the political realignments I listed – is the Lord “shaking the nations”? Spiritual revival plays varied roles in all this turmoil, but… there are strange things happ’nin’ every day, as the old Spiritual goes. For instance, without assuming too much, the recent, and frequent, God-affirming testimonies of Robert F Kennedy Jr are surprising and encouraging.

Scripture tells us that especially in times like these we can’t feel at home in the world anymore. But something is happening in our world. We need to discern: maybe something new, and good. And we need to be a part of it!

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Click: This World Is Not My Home

9-2-24

Recently in these essays I have, without (my own) planning, shared thoughts on our personal interactions with God. “Be still and know that I am God.” Sharing the Good News. Keeping silence at retreats. Listening for His voice. “When God might say, ‘Shut Up!’”

Variations on a theme, I suppose. And I pray the messages might have inspired you, or prompted thoughts or actions, or (so to speak) less action and more contemplation. Anyway, I believe the Holy Spirit has me in this mode, and as some Christians like to say, there are no coincidences, only God-incidences.

I also have realized that my meditations have focused on being a “hearer of the Word”; seeking God’s will for my life (in fact, the title of a book that my friend and I have been discussing); finding new ways to listen and learn from all He has for me.

But then, in a manner of speaking, all this is only half of communion with the Lord.

Yes, there are myriad ways to hear from God. He sent the Holy Spirit to be Jesus living within us. He speaks to our hearts. We have His written Word. We have testimony of saints and martyrs and prophets through the ages. We are blessed with ministers, teachers, preachers, evangelists. We have the testimony of animate Creation. Humankind has been visited by anointed and yielded servants who – you have heard the saying – share the Gospel sometimes even with words.

But. Are these manifestations only half of the story? Half of our fellowship with the Lord? Half of… communication with God?

All the ways we are blessed to hear from God indeed add up to only half of the story. One of Scripture’s strongest and foundational themes is that God desires to hear from us, too. God did not only talk to Adam and Eve and Noah and Abraham and Moses and Ruth and David and Jonah and Daniel… He had conversations. Many times, through the Bible, in fact, He virtually chatted: not always thundering commands and lightning-bolts. The Book of Job – the first-written of all books in the Bible – is a virtual transcript of prayers and answers; discussions and pleadings. And so with prophets.

And so it also was with Jesus – He came to earth to teach and instruct; but also to listen and reason and encourage and persuade. Do we have examples of Christ with people shutting down an argument or attack? No, the Savior of Humankind listened, responded thoughtfully, and had conversations. As the old Gospel song reminds us, “He walks with me, and He talks with me.”

Why should it be different today? Is it? Of course I am referring to prayer.

What a gift prayer is! I could certainly imagine the Creator of the universe being so august that, yes, He might bless us with many things, even sweet salvation… but not necessarily a god lowering Himself to hear (much less solicit) our prayers. How many other religions through history and around the world have invented gods that invite conversations with them? Demands, yes. Threats, yes. Sacrifices, yes. But… chats?

Can we all take a survey of our own prayer lives? Do you pray every day? Did your children say bed-time prayers, and say grace at meals? If you attend a liturgical church, have you memorized prayers and creeds – if so, do you find yourself praying the words, sometimes, without “thinking” them any more? These questions might not have right-or-wrong answers, but can have regrets attached to them.

I similarly am troubled when I see clergymen on television read their prayers at events: it seems to me that addressing God seems less sincere in such cases than spontaneous, from-the-heart. I wonder, when I see athletes cross themselves, whether they actually pray the names of the father, Son, and Holy Ghost every one of those moments. I am not criticizing when I ask these questions! Too often, I myself have assured someone “I’ll pray for you” – when it would be just as easy, and more sincere, to take that moment and pray with them right there.

It seems sometimes that prayer is becoming a lost language in our culture. When I was in elementary school, we prayed in class (and read the Bible each week. Yes, in public school). Oh, what we have been saved from as a society… or see what we have become. Do we pray with our spouses? With strangers? – wouldn’t a quick prayer be more heartfelt, and efficacious with the Lord, than uttering “good luck to you”?

My daughter Heather used to pray, aloud, when doing housework or chores, but not formal prayers as most of us know them. She would have conversations with God – about her day, or challenges at work, “little” things – as if she were talking to her best friend. Which, of course, God is. What a wonderful prayer mode. “Pray without ceasing,” the Bible urges. And it’s not always about ASKING.

The Bible tells us that God can be a jealous God. Literally, he is jealous of our time and attention. He desires to hear from us. He wants to hear what He knows already – our burdens, our needs, even our gratitude – so we can be drawn closer.

It’s what friends do.

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Click: I Just Came To Talk with You, Lord

8-12-24

We all have a way of anesthetizing ourselves about things in life – and not only the unpleasant matters. We “go through hell” after this or that experience; and we describe a “little taste of Heaven” when something sweet happens.

In truth, whether you think a bit, or read Scripture, we have no conception of how horrible hell will be, or how rapturous Heaven will be. Why do we humans want to avoid warnings and lessons, and under-appreciate the rewards and blessings that we will meet.

Ah, skeptics may say: it is all metaphoric anyway. We don’t believe, deep down, that there is a Heaven or a hell, they say.

Good luck playing those odds. You will find out; or maybe you won’t. But those kinds of bets – about your life; your soul; your place in eternity – are awful tools with which to navigate your existence. The choices you make. The effects you have on others. The joy you may experience; or not.

There is a God, of course. He did not create robots but children with free will, and with that freedom we choose to defy Him, resist Him often, and sin against His ways. He still loved us (while we rebelled, in fact) and offered His earthly Incarnation, Jesus, to be a sacrifice for sin on our behalf. And if we still rebel, He allows us to believe in that “sin offering,” Jesus, who He overcame death as we can do, in order to be reconciled and deserve a place in that Heaven we mentioned above. Even more, He provides His Holy Spirit to work in our lives to enlighten our way and strengthen our faith.

The simple Gospel. What about that deal, how about those odds?

Yet many people reject God and such a salvation (in spite of the alternative, the “hell” that people risk). There are uncountable ways to reject God… or a million excuses. And there are uncountable options people cling too, ridiculously desperate to find the alternative to Jesus Christ. False gods; dashed hopes; pagan rites; bizarre rituals; broken promises; disproved theories; silly philosophies. And – of course – many plausible philosophies and logical-sounding “faiths.” And let’s not forget the many people who actually admit that their lives’ standards are likely baseless but “they work for them.” They’ll wake up dead some day, having deluded themselves and maybe kept from being awful neighbors… but left the world no better. And, tragically, wasted their lives.

Using words like “uncountable” ways and “millions” of excuses, I want to remind us that on the “God side” of such discussions there are not myriad ways to Heaven. Salvation is not a multiple-choice quiz. All of God’s great workings with humanity points to one Messiah. His revealed Word asserts that Jesus is the only way to eternal life. Jesus claimed it Himself.

There are no loopholes.

People might seek in vain – they do; they have – and, well, we get back to Playing the Odds. How tragic. History is replete with people who think they have discovered a better way; who think, frankly, that they are smarter then God. Lots of folks are smarter than I am, but show me someone who is smarter than God.

Is it arrogant for people like me to believe such things, and to plead with others to believe them? Naw, I just peek at the cheat sheets – the Bible; the testimony of saints (that is, average people who have met the Savior); the accounts of miracles; the smiles of babies; the eyes of the healed; the changed lives. My own changed life.

Those are ways God “proves” Himself. To skeptics reading this – or Christians who might need fresh encouragement – don’t believe me. That is the point! Don’t believe me, or other mortals or traditions or philosophies or those who sell beads and amulets or show lists of junior-gods and counterfeit doctrines. Put your faith in “sure things”?

Believe Jesus, not any of them unless they embody, point to, reflect, and embrace Jesus against any other version of “truth.”

Whether people have debated about (or with) Jesus… or avoided Him all their lives… or ignore Him at every turn… it is futile to say that you have not “met” Him. He is, in fact, closer to you than a shadow. He is with you, whether you want Him there or not, because He wants to be with you.

The comedian Orson Bean abandoned secularism and atheism, he said, when he realized that the “hole in our hearts” we all feel, deep down, can only be filled by Jesus. That’s how God made us. And why He sent His Son.

Every person on earth already has a relationship with Jesus. It is just everyone’s choice whether it is an empty, frustrated relationship, or a beautiful, fulfilling, joyful friendship with Him.

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Click: Blessed Assurance

8-5-24

Back in time. I recall Martin Luther’s brave defiance of a hostile court of the Holy Roman Empire and the Vatican, where his death sentence seemed certain. Indeed, he had written his will and testament the previous night in his cell (the original is on display at the Museum of the Bible in Washington DC).

He was summoned to defend – no: in fact to deny and recant – things he had written and said that challenged doctrine and corruption in the Catholic Church. A priest himself, knowing that for a century other reform-minded clergymen had been martyred, he said, “Even if the Emperor calls… in order to kill me, or to declare me an enemy of the Empire, I shall offer to come. With Christ helping me, I shall not run away, nor shall I abandon God’s Word in this struggle.”

Political princes as well as princes of the church gathered at this momentous trial. Responding to direct demands and threats, Luther declared,

Unless I am convinced by the testimony of the Holy Scriptures or by evident reason – for I can believe neither pope nor councils alone, as it is clear that they have erred repeatedly and contradicted themselves – I consider myself convicted by the testimony of Holy Scripture, which is my basis; my conscience is captive to the Word of God. Thus I cannot and will not recant, because acting against one’s conscience is neither safe nor sound. God help me.

Here I stand. I can do no other.

This moment was a nexus in the history of Western civilization. Luther was spared the murderous intentions of the Vatican as he was kidnapped and hidden by rebellious German princes. He translated the Bible into German – one of his other imputed offenses; the public was increasingly literate but could not read Latin, and was forbidden to read Scripture in any version – and his spirit in large measure sparked democratic reforms in all spheres of life.

The Reformation is commemorated around All Saints’ Day, and that is not my specific focus here. (Besides, the “protests” of the “Protestants” have so reverted today to the relativism and Works Doctrine that motivated Luther in the first place to… oh, another day, another time…)

What I do want to ask is How many Luthers are there among us today?

Here I stand. I can do no other.

How many Believers – let me for the moment say, believers in anything – willingly compromise their beliefs these days? Or just stay silent? Or adopt alternate standards? And I don’t mean issues like turning neighbors over to the state police (although we have read of many people who otherwise look and act like us have done such things…) but seizing, rather, on euphemisms and phony values to ease their consciences.

Do you let you kids get away with things you know are harmful or immoral out of fear of offending them? Do you stay in a church with which you disagree, because friends attend, or it is in your tradition? Do you vote a certain way – or, worse, tell people you don’t vote a certain way – to avoid arguments? These days we hear a lot of “Thanksgiving Dinner disputes” over issues – do you take a stand and defend it, and try to convince people you love, or do you… pass the gravy?

These mostly are matters less weighty than those facing Luther. For the moment, anyway (things are growing more intense these days). So, consider one of (sadly) scores of more consequential issues these days:

If you believe that abortion is murder, do you speak and act against it? Or are you one of many who choose not to “hurt the feelings” of “pro-choice” people? Do you consider the “feelings” of the murdered baby? Do you discuss the “choice” the baby had? Whether in a family circle, or among neighbors, or in councils, if you have strong personal beliefs about murder… why keep them personal? Or would you say,

Here I stand. I can do no other.

In a larger but not any more abstract sense, Jesus Christ challenges us every day of our lives. To make choices. To be His representatives to the world. To… take a stand.

I have a PowerPoint lecture where I show photos I have taken around the world of brilliant, colorful skies with the sun at horizon over oceans, forests, and deserts. Showing no other landmarks, I challenge audiences to identify the images as sunrises or sunsets. It is impossible to tell. Unless… you know where you stand.

The Bible tell us to “stand on the solid rock” which is Jesus, but humans often stray and trust to their own feelings. The Medieval castle of Dunluce on the Northern Irish coast in County Antrim was a magnificent structure overlooking the wild North Atlantic Ocean. Secure and impregnable… until half of it collapsed down the cliffs into the ocean centuries ago. Now, magnificent ruins.

Here I stand? Be careful!

“Life ain’t nohow permanent,” if I may quote Pogo Possum. And it is the case, except for the eternal life we have in Christ Jesus. What is anything worth, outside the things of God, what He offers, and what He promises?

“Life is real; life is earnest” – this time I quote my favorite Longfellow poem, which ends: “Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate.”

Let us be encouraged to stand. To stand for something. To stand for Jesus.

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Click: Stand Up

8-26-24

I invite you today to swim with me in a Stream of Consciousness. Or float downstream. Maybe to swim a little bit against the current… but it is a gentle current. Choose the analogy. Random thoughts, but in the same stream, so to speak.

I have visions of a gentle mountain stream, not of riding on roaring waves or fighting strong billows or tacking through surface winds. Rough seas are exciting, even when dangerous. These are busy times… and loud, and fast, and demanding. But calm waters have a place in our lives too, even metaphorically. So I have been longing lately for quiet times. Respite. Even solitude.

Some Christians are suspicious of “meditation,” but that is because it sometimes has been hijacked by secular and pagan folks. The Bible, however, tells us to mediate on God’s word. Contemplate. Reflect. Do we do that, often enough, in the year of our Lord 2024?

Let us remember the Scriptural injunction, “Be still and know that I am God.” Whew! What power and wisdom in that quiet command. Softly and tenderly Jesus calls to us. To be still… before anything else.

One of the most profound experiences of my life was spent at an abbey in California. I signed up for a week of silence – no lessons or leading or programs; just a room in a rural monastery with monks. No phones, no electricity, no talking allowed except for one common meal of the day… when, actually, very few brothers or visitors spoke anyway beyond prayers and a brief homily. Overnight there was a library lit by candles if one chose not to sleep. On the spacious grounds there were pathways, benches, and Stations of the Cross.

I thought by the end of the week, between my Bible, notebook, and myself, I would have new insights about God. I did not, really. However I felt incredibly closer to Him. I cannot explain that, other than receiving blessings from Being Still… and knowing He is God. Softly and tenderly He called to me.

At the other end of the spectrum, perhaps, I recall a friend, the heir to a giant industrial fortune, who adopted a Discipline of Silence, wherewith he chose to not speak a peep for one day a week despite conducting his routine activities. It was not a spiritual (that is, Biblical or Christian) exercise but something closer to, in fact, an aspect of a character in one episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm. I am not sure of its efficacy, but the last I heard of him, he made the news for twice taking a pick-axe to Donald Trump’s stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Strange. I suppose he did not speak in his own defense in court either, but otherwise I saw no blessings or insights from wearing his virtual Cone of Silence.

Back to the other extreme. Also in a Catholic setting, I was invited once to an ancient priory (nunnery) in rural France. In the evening service lit by candles, the sisters and novitiates chanted for a full four hours. Whether in Latin or French or ancient French I do not remember, or could not distinguish: I was a visitor, not a participant. It was equivalent, therefore, to a form of enforced silence, accompanied by quiet a capella chants, as I was alone with my thoughts.

I also cannot explain it, but the soft and tender musical solitude had me thinking, and meditating, and contemplating, and praying, and reflecting. I found myself smiling and crying, sobbing and refreshed, convicted and liberated, guilty and free. All in all, closer to God that evening than I could have planned or imagined. Softly and tenderly He called to me.

Back in the 1800s Henry Adams wrote about visiting a world’s fair where a main attraction was something called The Dynamo. This was at the dawn of what we now call the Industrial Age, and the Dynamo dominated an exhibition hall; several stories high, it was a busy conglomeration of valves and pistons. It shook and made noise and… did nothing, produced nothing. It was a form of industrial performance-art, meant to represent the coming Machine Age.

And so it did. Adams went further, in his mind, seeing it as a modern version of the cathedral: a symbol of society’s hope and faith and trust and devotion. And so it proved to be. It was also something he could not anticipate. It was huge; noisy; overwhelming – just as our life, today, has manifested those characteristics, totally eclipsing our privacy. Our own space. Our solitude. The nearly extinct qualities of contemporary life!

“Be still.” How hard has that become? When sometimes we might feel the need of the Holy Spirit to shout at us – to remind us of God’s Truth, Jesus’s love – the Word gets through to us best when it comes, instead, softly and tenderly. Father knows best.

Be creative; be intentional. Find a quiet time… get to a quiet space… savor a quiet moment. And be still, knowing of great things, softly and tenderly.

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Click: Softly & Tenderly

7-29-24

Many of you know the Gospel songs “The Sweetest Gift, A Mother’s Smile” and “Where Could I Go But To the Lord” and “Winging My Way Back Home.” I know them as precious songs in some hymnals, also as Gospel, folk, and country classics that recording artists have sung for a generation or two. They have touched millions, as have hundreds of other compositions by their composer J B Coats.

In turn, I know J B Coats’s grandson as a friend, an Ole Miss graduate who loves the Lord and loves comics (two of my loves, too!). I am not going to link to J B Coats song this week, but some week I will focus on his music ministry. In the meantime: Daryl Coats the grandson recently shared something that could sound like a mere Internet meme… but got me to thinking deeper. He wrote –

When you hear someone say, “the last thing I wanna do is hurt you” – it suggests there’s a list, and that hurting you is on that list.

Right? That is not the same as saying, “I never want to hurt you,” or “I can’t imagine ever hurting you.” Is it a subtle difference… or big difference? The “last thing”? The person seems to be saying, “I do want to hurt you, but it’s not my main priority.”

Here is what it reminded me of: Paul wrote in II Timothy 1:7 –

God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

In the same way as Daryl parsed the words, I think St Paul meant: There IS a spirit of fear… but, remember, it does come from God. That is the similarity I see. Some Christians, “eternal optimists,” are tempted to claim that fear is something that does not exist, or have to exist. (Like the intention to hurt someone, or not). Christian-Lite celebrities like Norman Vincent Peale and Joel Osteen preach that fear is a false emotion, casually to be wished away.

Well, fear is real.

Safety comes from recognizing and respecting fear. Not yielding, but dealing. Note that the Bible does not say “There is no such thing as fear.” It says rather clearly, that there is a spirit of fear; sure enough.

… we see truth, and take heart, and overcome fear by realizing that there is a spirit of fear in this world, this life; but that God is not its author. We can fear certain things in life – let us start a list, as suggested by Daryl’s aphorism. As a nation we can fear pandemics; foreign wars; economic disruption; political corruption; assassinations; crime; personal tragedies… We can fear such things. Or we can anticipate them. Or we can work against them. Or we can plan.

We can see similarities, as I suggested above, or we can see great differences indeed when we confront “fear” – by any of its manifestations and nuances.

So we can “translate” Paul – it is called exegesis, or apologetics – and make our list:
1. There is such a thing as Fear
2. There is a Spirit of Fear that can affect people
3. God is not the author of that Spirit of Fear
4. The author, then, is the devil, or people who hate us, or we ourselves
5. We do not have to yield to that Spirit of Fear.

There is another Spirit, and that is the Spirit of God. The Holy Ghost was sent to encourage us, comfort us, and strengthen us.

And speaking of power, and love, and a sound mind (weren’t we?), do you realize that Jesus Christ said “Fear Not” almost as often as He said “Hello”? In fact, the Bible counts 365 times the phrase “fear not” appears. If you want to see it this way – once for every day of the year!

Where do you keep your lists? On the fridge? On your computer screen’s frame? On Post-It notes? Keep this list in your hearts and minds.

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Click: No Depression in Heaven

7- 22 -24

I have received many responses to last week’s blog essay that addressed the old saying that a picture is worth a thousand words. I have always been sensitive about the proposition because I can make quick sketches, but (as regular readers here know too well) I tend to be prolix. Talkative-by-keypad. (My excuse is that I seldom have the time to write shorter…)

The blog inspired many readers to declare themselves in the camp of either representational art (paintings and sculpture) or writing (prose and poetry) as the higher mode of expression.

It is an open question – ultimately a question that is neither silly nor intractable, but, rather, impossible definitively to answer. It clearly is subjective, but it stimulates worthwhile thoughts. Which “speaks” to you more, pictures or words? Art or story? Visuals or concepts? Which mode leads to fulfillment as a creator or an appreciator?

…all those reflections and discussions are collateral to composers, performers, or lovers of music joining the debate!

I have a friend in Ireland whom technically – no, literally – I have not yet met; but we have many mutual friends including my daughter Emily, and through his paintings I feel I know better than I do many lifelong friends. Fergus Ryan is an artist who works in some ancient traditions, both in media and themes. His images are ultra-realistic, and so are his subjects… until they both frequently invoke golden moods and motifs, whether in subjects’ eyes – which seldom meet the viewers’ – or what is seen through the mists over seas and fields.

Fergus’s work has been compared, favorably, with that of Andrew Wyeth. Many of his subjects could be relatives of Helga; and many of his landscapes could be those of Winslow Homer or (to me) scenes reminiscent of Edward Hopper. His media are egg tempera (ancient of days) and oil; and his surfaces include silk besides traditional canvas.

Fergus is a Christian whose beliefs do not directly inspire individual works but in a much larger sense inform his work, his love of the natural world and its inhabitants: human and otherwise. Embracing this larger appreciation of God’s world led him recently to share an affinity with another great artist, Michelangelo:

“Neither painting nor sculpture will be able any longer to calm my soul, now turned toward that Divine Love that opened His arms on the cross to take us in” (from The Voyage of My Life, 1555).

This was the man (I mean Michelangelo Buonarroti, not Fergus Ryan), a contemporary of Leonardo and Raphael, who sculpted the Pieta when barely into his twenties; later David and Moses; and painted the Sistine Chapel; who made holy figures and holy things relatable to humanity… who yet declared sublimation to the overwhelming message of the Cross. The “agony and the ecstasy”? To Michelangelo the simple and profound were one: the power and the glory.

To my theme here, however, about words, art, creativity: when Fergus shared the quotation by Michelangelo, a self-important skeptic – I should say an aggressive denier of God and anything faintly Biblical or religious – peppered him with allegations of Biblical forgeries and historical hoaxes. No proof, just ad hoc claims that only the stupidcould be seduced by “obvious nonsense.” Fergus, God (or Whoever) bless him, patiently debated the delusional correspondent online.

The Bible talks about “itching ears” – people who seek out the arguments they need to feed their prejudices. To quickly, and seriously, switch to the principal crisis in the lives of such people: Scripture lists many sins, and the Lord holds out mercy and forgiveness for them all… except one: Blaspheming the Holy Spirit. Willfully ignoring the Truth; ascribing God’s miracles to luck or (worse) one’s self; beholding the things of God but denying the Power thereof… these are things, to me, that might be called blaspheming the Holy Spirit.

Finally, to visit one bit of ignorance that was thrown at Fergus is one that skeptics, atheists, blasphemers often bray: that the creative genius of a Michelangelo, or the music of a Bach, or the kindness of a mother’s smile… have nothing to do with the Divine Spark. Individuals create, compose, and love on their own, these people say: a God has nothing to do with it.

I don’t know whether to have contempt or pity for people who harbor such bankruptcies of emotion. Knowing that God is in the midst of tender creativity is so much more profound than any notion of human origination! Don’t you agree?

Well. If you do – or if not – I will get off my soapbox and return to living-room discussions and debates. I ask (as my title says) a Question with No Right Answer. But it is fun, and worthwhile, to think about. It is, perhaps, about the nub of Creativity, and what is special to humankind when we create and perceive.

Let us say that you adore the Pieta of Michelangelo; or have been moved by the Magnificat by Bach; or have been reduced to tears by “How Do I Love Thee” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Which choice would make them more special to you? – if you could only have experienced them once in your life… and then you retained their memories; embraced the special ways they touched you; and you sought to recapture the meanings and emotions forever after?

Or… to see, hear, and read them over and over? Whenever you wanted? To dial-up the moods; to feed impulses; to memorize every one of their details? Would “familiarity breed contempt”?

No right or wrong answers? In either case, cherish the expressions of creativity… in others, and in yourself. May I suggest that God graces all His children with creative talents. But it is no less a Gift of God to have the taste, curiosity, and sensitivity to hold such things dear. That may be the answer: to let Him work through us and in us. Outward and inward.

Catch the Divine Spark.

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Click: All Things Bright And Beautiful

7-15-24

My old and dear friend Mark Dittmar shares wonderful, brief but profound spiritual thoughts every day through e-mail blasts he calls “Nuggets.”

Recently one of his messages spoke to me more than usual, and on several levels. His title was a question – “How Much Is a Picture Worth?” and the old saying was turned around:

An artist and a writer were arguing about whose work was more significant. “Well,” said the artist smugly, “one picture is worth a thousand words.”

“Hey, that’s good. Who wrote that?” countered the writer.

As someone who is a writer and an artist (come to think of it, so is Mark) I appreciated the points of view. Throughout most of human history, works of art and narratives were inextricably related. The creative expressions had virtually common functions. From cave paintings through scrolls and tapestries, paintings and stained-glass windows, pictures told stories. In the same fashion, as writing became codified, alphabets and books revealed themselves through more than letters and words: illuminated manuscripts; decorative scrolls; fabulous works like The Book of Kells.

Words and pictures – narratives and images – underwent a Great Divorce with the invention of the printing press. Almost overnight, words were“liberated.” Books comprised of only printed type were the norm; and artists were seduced, in a manner of speaking, to be “non-representational,” no longer obliged to tell stories or depict scenes with narrative import.

But at the turn of the 20^th century there was reconciliation of sorts. Stories and graphics, aided by technology and ingenuity and commercialism, discovered each other again in movies, comics, animation, and other plastic arts and expressions.

Again, it could be stated, or argued: “A picture is worth a thousand words.” I think it is creative delight that the proposition is an insoluble mystery. But one manifestation I have not yet mentioned is the age-old literary form of the fable… myths… epic poems and sagas… what storytellers and troubadours have done. That is, melding different artistic forms of expression.

Jesus called them “parables.”

Post-modernists think they have invented the “Power of Story,” but they merely have rediscovered, or try to, the mode of “painting word pictures.” He did not say anything to them without using a parable (Mark 4:34). Jesus, maybe more than Aesop or Confucius, dealt in word-pictures.

Mark – my friend, not the ancient Apostle – made reference to a painting that is making the rounds of the Internet. It illustrates a familiar parable, a well-known story: Jesus’s description of the Lost Sheep.

If a shepherd has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go in search of the one that went astray? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray (Matthew 8:12,13).

The parable presents a picture partly because it poses a moral dilemma; at least a “practical” challenge. Would you jeopardize the whole flock to search for one sheep? Would the owner of the flock approve? Did the lost sheep deserve its fate by straying from the flock? These are legitimate questions.

… unless you are that lost sheep.

The Savior of our souls is willing – He was willing; we have the record of it – to sacrifice all, even His own life, so the lost sheep might be saved. The point of the parable, in fact the point of view of God’s plan of salvation, is that He cares for us. He seeks us out. I believe that if the entirety of the human race had been sinless except for one person – let’s say you – Jesus would still have gone to the cross.

Speaking of the cross, we know that Jesus was beaten and whipped and nailed to that cross. But, in truth (imagine this as a picture) He virtually climbed and scrambled up the cross, and invited those spikes… so willing was He to die for you and me, taking our punishment upon Himself.

In the same way, the painting that’s going around the Internet really brought tears to my eyes. It depicts the sheep not merely lost but stuck in mud and muck, struggling. And it depicts the Good Shepherd. He is not viewing the distressed sheep from afar, or calling its name, or tip-toeing in its direction.

No, the Good Shepherd is running, trudging, muddy Himself, desperate to save the Lost Sheep. Picture the scene.

One more artistic expression to add to the miracle of creativity. This parable, this word-picture, this painting, has a holy counterpart in many hymns and Gospel songs. We have “sermons in song,” just as pictures can tell stories. One that moves me the most is “The Ninety and Nine.”

“Lord, Thou hast here Thy ninety and nine; Are they not enough for Thee?” But the Shepherd made answer: “This of Mine Has wandered away from Me. And although the road be rough and steep, I go to the desert to find My sheep.”

And all through the mountains, thunder-riv’n, And up from the rocky steep, There arose a glad cry to the gate of Heav’n, “Rejoice! I have found My sheep!” And the angels echoed around the throne, “Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His own!”

What a picture.

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If any readers are interested in receiving Mark’s “Daily Nuggets,” contact him at mdittmar65@yahoo.com and ask to be put on the circulation list by putting “Interested in Receiving Nuggets” in the subject line.

Click: The Ninety and Nine

7-8-24

Sin. It might have different names (or euphemisms or disguises) but it is something – a challenge, a problem, an incipient cancer – about which all humans are aware. All peoples in all ages in all ways have dealt with it; almost always censoriously, of course, because our core instincts have recognition of right and wrong. When societies stray from these inherent beliefs – and rules that follow – they deteriorate. And fall.

A corrupted respect for sin’s effects has not prevented entire cultures from occasionally – in fact, more than occasionally – dismissing its dangers, lying to themselves. We see it in history. We see it today. We see it in our midst.

That’s “human nature.” People of both the Christian and non-Christian traditions, societies calling themselves religious, and even aggressively pagan or secular cultures, fall prey to sinfulness. Usually they nominally are opposed to what we call sin.

But, you know, you can be against things like boredom and forgetfulness and even cancer, too, but these things visit us all anyway. I frequently parry arguments from secularists and agnostics and atheists about sin (and other aspects of reality like fatal diseases or natural disasters or school shootings) – variations of “How can a loving God permit such things?”

I always remind myself that people who complain in such fashion are (even subconsciously) not arguing that there is no God; they are, in effect, confessing an inability to understand His ways. One of many answers, of course, is that God could have created a world of robots with no free will; where there would be no reason to challenge and be challenged, to “advance” and better oneself; where impulses of love and charity would be needless. Boring?

In a larger sense, a world where there is no such thing as sin would be a world where forgiveness, redemption, and salvation would be unknown qualities; where songs like “Amazing Grace, How Sweet the Sound” would be useless and confusing; where the desire to embrace joy would be, well, superfluous.

This is all academic, if not rhetorical, because such a world does not exist. In the meantime – excuse me while I thank God – uncountable lives through history have been ennobled by artistic expression that praises God; music that exalts God; charity that serves God. Ah, how about all the hatred and killings and wars in the name of religion, those secularists and agnostics and atheists ask. Thank you for the distinctions, I reply: they have been in the names of religion, not God – two very different sources of love and hate. Now go to your rooms.

So… there is the problem of sin. And sin is not yielded to, by definition, except by temptation. In the 1970s the TV comedian Flip Wilson made people howl with laughter when one of his characters would scream, “The devil made me do it!” Humor’s foundation is a sense of recognition, and in this case it is not true that the devil makes us do anything. We can recognize that the devil may tempt (one of his job descriptions) but cannot make us do anything.

The recognition comes with acknowledging that we blame the devil – or a thousand other “tempters” – but seldom ourselves. “Everybody does it.” “It’s no big thing.” “Who does it hurt?” and so forth.

That part of the Lord’s Prayer, “Lead us not into temptation,” has always stumped me somewhat. The Bible assures us elsewhere that God will never tempt us beyond that which we cannot endure (I Corinthians 10:13) and outside what is common to mankind. So, right before petitioning God to deliver from evil, why suppose that God would “lead us” into temptation; and therefore pray to be delivered from that situation? In the meantime – please give us “daily bread” and forgive us our trespasses…

Yes; why?

Speaking very personally, I regard Biblical conundrums like this not as flaws nor contradictions nor spiritual “gotchas.” There are some points – for instance, when the Rapture will take place – where I think God wants us to think and pray and think and pray some more, to keep us on our toes. Thinking and praying about sinning, it is useful to note that in one sense the entire Bible is a family album of sinners. Take a look – murderers; cheats; whores; adulterers; liars; betrayers… and those are just the heroes.

Well… take heart, sinners. That fact is a message that you are not alone. More importantly, do not enter the realms of self-condemnation. Do not hide your faces from God. Do not act like all is lost – least of all, that YOU are “lost” without hope. God hates sin, but loves the sinner. And He loves repentance and redemption most of all.

Among the Bible’s great sinners (don’t be surprised at the list), Job learned humility and obedience; Jonah learned grace; Abraham learned to be willing to sacrifice; Moses learned responsibility; David learned about confession and the need for forgiveness; Elijah learned to seek Heavenly guidance; Peter learned what the Holy Spirit could provide.

… all these people – every one a sinner – and so many names in the Bible, we properly regard as saints. And they are.

And we can be on that honor-roll, too. We were all sinners; and all may be redeemed. Remember that Christ died for us… “while we were yet sinners.” The sweetest thing in life, as we interact with friends, even strangers, is to greet and be greeted as “former sinner!”

God, our loving Father, does not lead us into temptation. In fact… neither does the devil. We lead ourselves; we yield because, basically, we want to; nothing compels us. We can resist – and when we need a little help, that’s why the Holy Spirit was sent. One of His Biblical names is The Helper.

No temptation, no sin, is greater than the great One who lives in our hearts. Lead yourself not into temptation.

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Click: Temptation

7-1-24

Easter has passed; and Pentecost – the “birth-day of the Church,” the day on which the Holy Spirit descended upon believers in the Upper Room – which is observed so many days after the Resurrection of Jesus, has likewise been celebrated.

I pray in your lives that Pentecost has been observed and celebrated. Let us distinguish between the Church and denominations; and let us always cherish the gift, and Gifts, of the Holy Spirit from our Father. (After all, what children would neglect or reject gifts from their loving parents???)

I am going to imagine an encounter between two of the Disciples during those momentous days in Jerusalem. Its details are fictional: I am compressing and conflating events between Jesus’s Crucifixion and the Day of Pentecost; these two men could not have had this face-to-face encounter. But aspects are nonetheless true: their actions, motivations, and reactions are true.

In imagining this dialog, I am confident of its verisimilitude, because we each have a little of these two Disciples, Judas and Peter, within us. I do.

Peter: The Lord was taken from us, betrayed to be accused by the Jews and turned over to the Romans, and…

Judas: I know! I was the one who betrayed Him… Surely you know.

Peter: Yes, of course. We knew that you slipped away during the Last Supper and accepted a bribe of 30 pieces of silver to betray Him. At the moment we had wondered what Jesus meant when He said, “What you are going to do, do quickly.”

Judas: It was my decision, but we all heard Jesus say, “One of you will betray me.” You all asked, “Is it I, Lord?” and I even asked, “Is it I?” and Jesus looked at me and answered, “You have said so.”

Peter: So how could you do it? Was that not a warning? You had the chance to resist that temptation, to change your plan! You lived and walked and talked with the Lord, as we all did. You knew He was the Messiah!

Judas: Yes! We all lived and worked together as brothers for three years! So how do you explain that you betrayed Him too? You failed Him likewise!

Peter: Yes… I did betray Him too. But my sins did not lead to His Jesus’ death…

Judas: So your life was more precious than Jesus’s? More than mine, I suppose? You thought you would save your neck by denying you even knew Him?

Peter: Yes… I always was impulsive. It is no excuse. And, as with you, the Lord also looked into my face and prophesied what I would do. In my pride, I protested that “Even if they all fall away, I will never fall away…”

Judas: And the Lord was even more specific about you, that before the rooster would crow, you would deny knowing Him not once but three times…!

Peter: I know, I know. But Judas, after your betrayal, after Jesus was taken and falsely accused, and beaten and tortured and sentenced to death… did you repent?

Judas: I was bitterly sorry. I grieved. I gave the Master over to be killed. I went to the Jews and returned the pieces of silver… But they laughed at me, and threw the coins to the ground. They mocked me.

Peter: You could have…

Judas: I did the only thing I could think of doing. I had betrayed the Savior. He in Whom no sin was found. Whose only crime was Love…

Peter: You hanged yourself.

Judas: No one to mourn. I was alone, despising myself. I did what I deserved. But… you…? After you denied knowing Jesus when He was being persecuted? Not standing up for Him? What did you do?

Peter: I was remorseful too! Especially when I was present in Jerusalem when they tortured Him and spat on Him and whipped Him and nailed His wrists and feet to a cross and…

Judas: Did you go to Golgotha? Were you there when He died?

Peter. … No. I hid. I was afraid for my life. We all huddled together. Those days, after Jesus died and was buried… were the darkest days you could imagine. He left us. We were alone. And none of us had spoken up for Him…

Judas: Did you think to hang yourself? You betrayed Him too!

Peter: Maybe it was my impulsive nature… but… I prayed to God. I needed to be forgiven. I begged for mercy. I was lost, confused… and had sinned against the Savior of humankind. I prayed for God to help me, to forgive me, to renew my faith. What else could I do?

Two sinners. Judas and Peter. “What else could they do?”

You know “the rest of the story.” The three women who had gone to the tomb to anoint Jesus’s body became the first evangelists! He had risen from the dead, and they ran to find the cowering Disciples and share the news.

Peter – the unhanged traitor – remained impulsive some more days. The Disciples beheld Jesus, some even incredulous. Thomas had to feel the wounds in Jesus’s side to know He was indeed the Savior in their midst. Some went with Jesus to the Mount of Transfiguration to see Him bodily rise to Heaven… the final confirmation of His divinity.

Then the Disciples returned to the Upper Room and – impulsively – argued a bit about how to organize things, or not, going forward. But… the Holy Spirit that Jesus promised came upon them, and on others gathered with them. They spoke in “other tongues.” Thereafter they received spiritual gifts, supernatural powers promised forever after to all Believers.

And – miracle of miracles? – Peter was no longer impulsive, immature, foolish. He became a “rock,” the leader of the Church, strong in faith.

This story is not about sins we are capable of committing. It is a lesson in how we should respond when we sin. We know how God will respond if we approach in true faith. He is the God of mercies who heals and forgives. We can pray, always; and we can pray for each other.

We all are, in one way or another at times, a Judas or a Peter. With whom do you identify? And let me ask a serious question, not fictional: What if Judas and Peter had sought each other out, to pray together, instead of facing their dilemmas alone…?

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Click: Can I Pray For You

6-24-24

“The wisdom of the ages.” “Wise words, tested by time.” “Worldly advice, from the mouths of wise thinkers.”

People tend to think that because sayings are old, they must be true, if not “wise.” To some degree, almost everyone casually, or often earnestly, has sought after, believed, or acted upon the advice from horoscopes to dreams. And in between, from fortune cookies, the sayings of Confucius, or tea leaves.

Like a broken clock that is correct twice a day, occasionally there is beneficial advice, if not wisdom, that flows from such sources. But not many people stop and realize that much of the “wisdom” we know sounds like good advice but… contradicts another “time-tested” piece of wisdom that is also universally accepted.

“He who hesitates is lost” is canceled by “Look before you leap!”

“A watched pot never boils” is contradicted by “Strike while the iron is hot.”

“An unexamined life is not worth living,” although “Curiosity kills the cat.”

Perhaps all accumulated wisdom is not so wise after all. But maybe the exception proves the rule. (Whoops!) We can pair-up many of the history’s famous sayings and adages and bywords and make a parlor game of Contradictions.

But. This is not the case when it comes to the Word of God. The Lord “is not the Author of Confusion” (I Corinthians 14:33).

“My thoughts are not your thoughts, saith the Lord; neither are your ways My ways” Isaiah 55:8).

“My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. …My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of My Father’s hand” (John 10:27–29).

To Christians reading these words, I pray you recognize His promises if you are at a point in your life where you need His quiet reassurance.

But I also pray that the eyes of secularists and skeptics fall upon this message too, because it is essential to know more than whether God Almighty stacks up well against ancient meme-writers. God indeed asserted the infallibility of His words, “spake by the prophets’: as His incarnate Son did when on Earth. We have record of the Bible, and history, where God’s promises never were proven false; where myriad prophesies were fulfilled; the recorded acts of Jesus. And, above and beyond documentary evidence and raw data, we know of the testimony of uncountable souls who have experienced profound change in their lives, of miracles, of healings, of spiritual, supernatural blessings.

But we may wander in a spiritual desert if we only obsess over points of evidence, as in a trial, when all the evidence that Children of God ever needed is right there, in their hearts. Even when it comes to making decisions about tomorrow or the rest of your life, it is faith that is required; not facts. God says – in effect; and I accept this metaphor about physical evidence – “take it or leave it, my Children.” Could we possibly need more, from the Creator of the Universe?

The astonishing aspect of God’s promises is how utterly rich they are. Jesus’s greatest sermon, containing the Beatitudes, did not only share God’s point of view… and offer advice on how to live… and recommend ways to live… but also made promises: of Blessings. “Blessed are the meek…” “Blessed are the poor in spirit,…” “Blessed are those who are persecuted…”

There is a doctrine that describes this realization: Self-attestation. Scripture affirms itself. It is kind of a holy syllogism. Let its truth be a blessing.

One of the Bible’s greatest promises, in fact, provides exegetical blessing without reliance on other verses from other books. It is from Psalm 46:10a, Be still and know that I am God. Let its words parse themselves:

Meditate on these words and what they imply – God’s recognition of us; God setting the mood; an invitation to self-awareness; God’s calming assurance; a reminder of His sovereignty.

Comes a Blessing. And, to recall two familiar sayings we all know, we find ourselves not needing a leap of faith… but rather, we find ourselves standing on the solid rock.

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Just as we presented two versions of some old sayings… this week we offer two songs on music videos that may be separate, or double, blessings to you:

Click: Peace Be Still

and

Click: Be Still My Soul

6-17-24

“Making a list, checking it twice…”

No, this is not a Christmas message gone astray. We all make lists… check our lists… are watched by others – bosses, teachers, coaches – according to lists. We “check the boxes.” We keep lists on our smart phones, i-Phones, tablets, laptops, desktops, and – if you are like me – on various corners of paper bags and Post-It notes, even if we cannot read them the next day, if we can find where we left them…

Items on lists can be trivial; or, of course, important. I will challenge us to consider starting some lists.

Have you ever wondered how many times you sin? This list may comprise of all the things God considers sinning. So if you can remember all the people you have murdered over, say, the last week, jot them down. The same with grand theft auto and major bank heists. Then, since all sins are offensive in the eyes of a Holy God, you can move down the list to incidents of fibs, “white lies,” outright lies and other euphemisms. Jealousy? Insults? Hate speech? Gossip? Check, check, check…

Items on that list can add up pretty quickly. “Great and small,” how many? One a day? Well… maybe more a few more than that. Maybe half a dozen in all categories, if nit-pickers (um, like God) would be checking it twice.

Big deal. Six a day. Or – hang on, I stink at math – that would be, like 40 or 50 a week? Gee, that’s like 2500 a year. Sins. You know, transgressions. That adds up to 25 thousand a decade. In an average lifespan that would be…

OK, OK, I’ll change the subject. We can stay in the religious realm but try to be more esoteric. Make a list of the times you have asked God to forgive you of something. I’ll bet a lot of people, even devout Christians, hope God will forgive them of this-or-that, but don’t always bother to plead their case in prayer. All right, then, try to calculate how often you think you need to ask God’s forgiveness over something. Large or small. Even when we fool ourselves in that regard, how lengthy would that list be, say, in an average week?

Or. Turn it around. How often have you forgiven someone when they have wronged you? Even, or especially, if they have not asked your forgiveness?

Is the portion of the Lord’s Prayer, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,” coming to mind?

Which lists of these, and similar categories, have a multitude of check-boxes in your life; and which are short lists? Are they in the right proportion? We might find it hard to “populate” such lists; to remember everything; to try and keep count. But we know that God in Heaven sees all, knows all, and “checks” things like when sparrows fall to earth… heck, God even knows every tear that falls from your eyes. The hairs on your head. Your “comings and goings.” He knew us “before we were formed in our mother’s wombs.”

Let me share one more thing about lists – specifically about a God who does make a list and no doubt checks it twice, not that He needs to. The list with your name on it will be to your credit when you have accepted Christ; and the list with the Xs will not be used against you – will be wiped clean – when you have, instead, accepted Christ. God’s grace.

A loving God knows everything about you – He knows your name, so to speak – and that should not make you paranoid as you go through life, over those hours and days and years and decades. He catches you when you fall; He forgives you when you ask; yes, He knows your name.

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Click: He Knows Your Name

6-3-24

… OK, don’t rush to your concordance, or a God-Goes-Google if such a thing exists. I am not quoting chapter or even verse. But I believe I am citing the gist of what I honestly believe must be on His mind, sometimes. Or – stick with me – the essence of a lot of the Gospel message.

The Lord would not be so rude, but we know that His Son Jesus occasionally lost His temper.

It is bad enough that we, His children, tend to sin and rebel. But, for Christ’s sake (I am being literal) – when He promises the Truth, gives us the Truth, proves the Truth, and by His Holy Spirit guides us to all Truth… why do we sometimes act in ignorance of the Truth?

Many Christians, “baby” believers and longtime believers both, often begin their prayers by telling God how undeserving they are. In what they believe is humility, they confess their unworthiness. They paint a picture of approaching God nervously, conscious of their shortcomings. In their dirty robes, timidly approaching the Throne of a Holy God…

I suggest that God hardly sees you at all when you pray like that. In the first place, people who pray in that attitude are not humble at all, but stupid. Well-meaning, perhaps, but mistaken. In fact, it insults God rather than honors Him. The Bible tells us that when we have Jesus – when we are “covered in the Blood” of His sacrifice on the cross; when the Holy Spirit lives in our hearts – He does not see us first, but sees Jesus! He sees the Blood! He recognizes the Holy Ghost, which He sent as part of Godhead to, yes, dwell within us! And then there we are, children of the Living God.

Do you think that the Creator of the Universe, having spoken trillions of galaxies into existence, brought you into this world, knew your name since conception and counts the hairs on your head; that He desires that you commune with Him in worship, and grieves when you choose to sin; and Who, as a Holy God, cannot abide sin, yet – even before you repented – became flesh and dwelt among us… and was willing to have His incarnate Son suffer and die, taking our punishment on Himself… and then took the form of the Holy Spirit to live in our hearts… do you really think that God would like to see you groveling before Him? Acting as if we are not the “apples of His eye,” the joy of His creation???

Scripture tells us that when we have been saved and confess our sins, God tosses our transgressions, sins, and unworthiness into the “Sea of Forgetfulness.” Those dirty rags are now robes of white. God could remember all that makes us “unworthy” but He promises not to.

… so why do we want to keep reminding Him?

Get up on your feet… “boldly approach the Throne of Grace”… and let us act like we know who we are! Do we still fight the tendency to sin? Of course – but now we have the power, and the right, to approach God, confess, and be refreshed and forgiven. Even angels cannot savor that! God looks at us, but sees His Son.

I loved the way the old evangelist R W Schambach used to refer to the Savior – “My elder Brother, Jesus!” Another reminder (read your Bible!) that we do not need intercessors to approach that Throne of Glory – not a Mary, not a Saint, not our dead relatives. YOU are worthy!

Stand up… look at those beautiful robes you are wearing, and run to the presence of Almighty God! I’m sure you will understand, if our Heavenly Father would hear you talkin’ like you used to, He shouts a loving “Shut up, My child… and come to Me!”

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Click: Who Am I

5-20-24

One of my daughters was very young when my father died. On hearing the news, she cried, “Oh, no! I never had the chance to tell him about Jesus!” Her beautiful naïveté illustrated a proper priority of love (and was misplaced, for he knew the Lord) yet her childlike expression taught me a lesson.

We always have the chance to share, or say, or do the important things. How often in life, however, do we take the chances?

My friend Christine Martin, a beautiful poet and writer and singer, has addressed this topic, and she is our Guest today:

Recently our pastor talked about having boldness to talk about God to others. He mentioned how easy it is for us to talk about the weather or politics or anything else, really, but how hard we make talking about God. It shouldn’t be that way. God literally saved our lives and we should be overflowing with gratitude, and want to share that with others.

I too struggle to talk about God sometimes. It can seem awkward or scary. We often talk ourselves out of it by thinking we might turn people away from God or say the wrong thing. This is the devil playing with our minds! When we talk about God, He gives us the right words to say. We do not need to worry about this. Our pastor encouraged us to pray about an opportunity to talk about God to someone; and he encouraged us to be bold.

I prayed for such an opportunity. Recently, locksmiths came to fix our doors, and were here for nearly three and a half hours. During this time I prayed that God would help me speak up about Him.

I had to make muffins for a get-together and although I didn’t need to make them in the morning, I decided to go ahead and make them so that I could offer some to the locksmiths. Maybe this could be a great way to talk about God…. All the while, I was praying that God would help me to be bold and say something about Him. Well, they left and I went to the window thinking maybe I could still go out and say something, but I saw that they were already in their van.

I said to myself, “Christine, you blew it.” Then I prayed, “God, please let them have forgotten a tool or something so they will come back and I can talk about You.” I glanced around the room to see if they maybe forgot a tool but I didn’t see anything. A split-second later, there was a knock on the front door. They were back!

God had answered my prayer and I was so excited and thankful and surprised at how quickly He answered and at how He answered. I opened the door and the locksmith was holding the key ring from my old house key. They had made me new keys and the old one didn’t work anymore and he asked if I wanted my old key ring. God gave me the courage to say, “Yes, thank you. By the way, if you like good food (since they loved the muffins) and music, our church is having a 5th Sunday potluck…” And that was the beginning of our Church conversation.

The man was interested and said that he and his mom were looking for a church. I was able to give him a card to our church with the address, and shared with him how welcoming they are and how they have really been a blessing to my husband Daniel and me. When he left with the card and I closed my door, I was so full of joy and thanked God for answering my prayer and giving me the boldness to open my mouth and talk about Him.

When we ask God for opportunities, He gives them to us, and when we ask God for the right words to say, He gives them to us. I have been discouraged as of late. You know, sometimes we get caught up in thinking that God isn’t hearing us or has forgotten about us. It just isn’t true. God hadn’t forgotten me and He was listening. He showed me that by answering my prayer in such a neat way. You will be amazed at the ways God works through you and in your life. Oh, what joy it is to serve a living God who is always at work!

I put my new house key on that old key ring, so that when I see it or hold it in my hand, I can remember that God answers our prayers, that He is still at work, that He has not forgotten me; and that He will give me boldness to talk about Him. What a great reminder. Who would ever have guessed?

God works in mysterious ways and He can use something as simple as a key ring to remind us of so much, to encourage us, and to open that door… to plant a seed in someone’s heart.

Thank you, Christine. I have another friend, Gordon Pennington, who is so gifted (and so prolific in exercising) the sharing of Jesus with strangers, that I have encouraged him to write a book – a “user’s manual” for witnessing to people. A “How-To” book can be useful, but as Christine has shown us, we always have opportunities… and God will set the stage and write the script for us!

(By the way, you may be encouraged, and follow Christine’s thoughts, through her website Tea Cups and Roses)

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Click: A Beautiful Bystander

4-29-24

I have come to the conclusion that a lot of things they say about Jesus Christ are not true. Especially hearing all that Jesus-stuff around Easter, you know? Enough! What bothers me, really, is that we’re not hearing about that other Jesus, as I call Him.

Oh, He was serene and holy, like the peaceful face we see in stories about the Shroud. And I’m sure He smiled a lot, and sometimes wore perfectly starched robes, and went around patting children on the head, like I saw on the covers of all those Sunday-School pamphlets.

And if I remember correctly we have stories of Him preaching and dispensing wisdom and then moving on to the next town, other river banks. Like in the Chosen TV series. Yes, He was misunderstood; people were jealous of Him or threatened by Him; and He was an innocent victim of persecution. I understand all that.

But why can’t He just leave me alone with those images? Messiah, I get it. Died for my sins, fine. Shouldn’t that be enough, like at Christmas and Easter? A lot of people think that’s the whole package… but it turns out that’s not the case.

Which is what makes me annoyed, drives me crazy.

A Jesus who smiles all the time? No… I see Him otherwise. Sometimes He is angry. Sometimes He is disappointed and looks sad. Sometimes I see tears in His eyes. In those moments He confronts me. He reminds me that I make mistakes and even sin, that I am lost in this crazy world. He pleads with me to make a choice. To change. To believe in Him. To replace the junk in my heart with the goodness He promises. I’ve heard it. I hear it.

The annoying thing: He never shuts up. I wish there were a fishing village down the road, or some little group of followers that He would move on to. He persists. He won’t let me go, leave me alone. Those paintings of Jesus standing at the door and knocking? Don’t let that kid you. He knocks at the front door. The back door. He scratches at the windows. He is like an alarm clock; like virtual phone calls and texts. “Why do you ignore Me, reject Me?” is what He seems to be saying. “I love you! Don’t you understand? I love you! Let me in!”

And how annoying is this? – I’m getting the feeling that Christmas and Easter are not enough for Him. Or church once in a while. Or even every Sunday morning. He wants me, not my schedule or my habits or my family’s customs. But don’t I pray… or think about praying… or tell people I will pray… when someone is sick, or I’m having another crisis? What does He want from me, anyhow???

Why, why can’t Jesus be like the guys in those other religions? A wise man, a powerful teacher, a prophet, a role model… those are good enough gods for all those other followers, and their lives are OK. Well, maybe not, but at least those religions are sensible. I mean, Buddha and Mohamed and Confucius and the rest didn’t ever claim they were sons of God, or “God With Us.”

Isn’t it just like Jesus, though, to be the only One claiming that this is exactly who He is? That accepting Him is the way, the only way, to experience forgiveness, to have eternal life? It gets annoying, doesn’t it?

Because if it’s true… I’m fried. If that persistent, sincere, earnest, holy, logical, annoying Person called Jesus is telling the truth, I should be scared crazy. I heard that Bono recently said, “Jesus isn’t lettin’ you off the hook… When people say, you know, ‘Good teacher,’ ‘Prophet,’ ‘Really nice guy’… this is not how Jesus thought of Himself. So you’re left with a challenge: either Jesus was who He said He was, or He’s a complete and utter nutcase… You have to make a choice about that.”

Annoying! “Make a choice!” First Jesus says it; and then all those people who died as martyrs, embracing Him; and then these guys like C S Lewis and Bono, laying it out so logically; and then… then… then I know I do have to make a choice. Annoying!

Everything else in life these days frees us from having to make choices. Or, if we make bad choices, someone is right there to say “No worries” and “It’s OK” and “No problem.” That’s what is great about modern life, right? But… “Make a choice, make a choice!”

It’s not like my life depended on it. Can’t you see how annoying this Jesus is? Why? WHY?

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The simplest Sunday-School song, maybe the very first hymn a lot us remember hearing, answers the question of Why Jesus is so… well, annoying, sometimes. But Jesus loves me, this I know.

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Click: Yes, Jesus Loves Me

4-8-24

America once was called the Land of Many Churches. In many places, it still looks like that.

Whether it is the Land of Many Christians, compared to the past, however, is an open question. I will not count or recite statistics about how previous standards have fallen, or that fewer people believe in God these days. But the dissolution of traditional faith among the general population is one matter. That traditional faith has declined in many churches and denominations is something to note with alarm.

Whether the decline in faith has brought societal decay, or vice versa, is open to question. It ultimately is a silly question… or I should say frightening, because it is a condition, not a riddle, that confronts us. Nevertheless it is interesting, especially considering the historical sweep of Christianity, that the Christian faith might be retreating in Europe, the UK, and America; but it is growing and thriving south of the Equator. Contrary to common belief, it is, for instance, growing faster in Africa than Islam is.

Further, it is the case that African churches are sending missionaries to Europe, the UK, and America – the opposite of centuries-old paradigms – seeing mission-fields needing to learn about Christ.

This situation in America occurs to me when I receive letters or when people talk to me, usually in response to blog essays I write. I am eager to talk to people who have fallen away from their faith; reaching such people is one of my goals. Sometimes when people have spiritual crises, it is not because of intellectual debate, or other varieties of belief, or the siren-calls of the world’s temptations. It grieves me that there are people, and I’m afraid a lot of people, who have been turned off by… churches themselves, and other Christians.

Many churches, and whole denominations, have abandoned the essentials of the faith. Relativism, secular values, and the denial of Biblical truths – even the Virgin birth and Christ’s divinity – have crept into pulpits. Many churches conform to the world instead of trying to redeem the world. Of course people will begin to wonder, “What’s the point?” and children will ask, “What’s so special about Christianity?”

Is this not everywhere? No, it is not. But it should be nowhere.

Worst of all, however, is an age-old cancer on the church that is virulent today. Its adherents think they are defending orthodoxy and spiritual purity – and sometimes they do – but very often they show themselves as judgmental, censorious, exclusionary, and hateful. In our midst as Christians, we have today some very learned and influential leaders who argue – yes, sometimes, hatefully – about fine points of theology.

Quickly, I say that matters of faith – regarding salvation, sin, sacraments – are essential. But angels dance on the heads of pins when Christian leaders thunderously intone against “wayward” beliefs about when the Tribulation will take place… whether History unfolds as literal Dispensation we can discern from Bible study… whether the Gifts of the Spirit were valid only in Apostolic days. None of these things – or, more pertinent to many people, social policies and current events – affects anyone’s salvation. That is, knowing Christ, and knowing that your eternal home will be in Heaven.

A letter I received, responding to a recent Easter essay here, illustrates how these malignant attitudes are repelling people, not drawing them, to Jesus. I summarize the heartfelt letter:

The Old Testament followers rejected him because they were expecting a military-type leader, not a forgiving, all-inclusive loving teacher. I’m afraid many so-called Christians today have reverted to the earlier kind of thinking. They say Jesus of the New Testament is too wimpy and “woke”. They are not following Christ. I realize I am opening myself up to angry criticism. So, bring it on, Haters. I hope, rather, that you may immerse yourself in serious introspective thought with the utmost of humility and God’s Grace.

I was compelled to respond. Summary:

My own experience through all the years is that there are probably roughly equal percentages of people who love Jesus but can be “mean,” even haters, and those who hate Jesus and can be “nice,” each by the world’s definitions.

One problem with religion is that people frequently use it as a tool – or a weapon – to attack others according to their settled prejudices. As if they know, or really care, about what Christ said, or taught, or died for, or Who He was. One-tenth of the effort to criticize the “other” side in such arguments, if channeled instead to love, would lead to a better world and better people, more harmony. More forgiveness, more understanding.

But life (literally) is about more than peace and understanding. It is “all about,” or should be, what Jesus said, and Who He is: not what people want to weaponize, even friendly tools like social harmony. Another Easter comes and goes with so many people using Jesus… instead of surrendering themselves to be used BY Him.

There are Christian haters, sure. As with the religious leaders in Jesus’s day, they can be as vipers. Whited sepulchers. I have often stated that organized religion, not only self-righteous leaders, might have sent more people to hell than half of Satan’s demons. Hypocrites abound in our churches.

But… there is always room for one more. It is a tragedy when it becomes easier to hear the Haters than to see the Loving Savior.

Do not reject Christ because some of His followers are flawed. Do not avoid faith when some people practice their faith badly. Do not cheat yourself of the blessings of walking with the Savior when you might feel so empty… and He is opening His loving arms

Remember the words of Jesus, who still suffers abuse in His name:

A new commandment I give unto you, That you love one another as I have loved you. By this shall all people know that you are my followers (John 13: 34,35).

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Click: They Will Know We Are Christians By Our Love

Easter, 2024

Every Christmas, Handel’s Messiah is Top-Ten in peoples’ lives. In concert halls, churches, and community sings; on radio and TV we hear the oratorio, or at least the familiar “For Unto Us a Child Is Born” and the “Hallelujah” Chorus. Even if only once a year, this is a good thing, culturally and spiritually.

Handel’s masterpiece encompasses, as its simple title proclaims, the entire life of the Savior, from prophesy to Resurrection. Handel lived his life in Germany, in Italy, and thence to England where he generally is embraced as a British composer. Messiah actually was first performed in Dublin. I was privileged to see his writing desk on display in the Writers Museum in the Irish capital.

More provincial than Handel was his landsman Johann Sebastian Bach, born the same year, 1685, only a few miles away, although the two musical titans never met. Bach’s musical reach, however, arguably is greater than Handel’s geographical realms; as great as that of any mortal who ever hummed a tune or wrote a melody.

They may be compared – just as Christmas and Easter may be compared in the business of our lives – but if their works may be compared, it is unfortunate that Bach’s supernal religious works probably are less celebrated than Handel’s Messiah. Anyway, less “familiar” to the ears of average folks, especially during holidays. This is regrettable, because Bach wrote music of astonishing power, musically and of deep emotional import. The B minor Mass; Magnificat; more than 200 cantatas; motets; and two Passions, St John’s and St Matthew’s.

It might seem like I have begun with a predictable tangent before I have even begun this Easter message. But, no; I want to draw attention to the amazing way the human race’s greatest composer presented the Easter story. I wish it were better known to people: more familiar.

For Holy Week vespers services in Leipzig, Germany, Bach wrote the St Matthew Passion and the St John Passion, which were each performed in the St Thomas and St Nicholas churches on alternate years for decades. Three other Passions apparently have been lost. Bach wrote about 1800 pieces of music in his lifetime, and about 1200 are extant. Approximately half of his output was Christian music.

His Passions were series of cantatas to be performed during Holy Week, and in parts during services. They were similar to oratorios or operas but without costumes or drama – singers were assigned roles, and there was a musical “narrator.” The straight biblical narrative was distributed among soloists (evangelists and individual figures including Jesus, Peter, and Pilate) and choirs (various crowds, high priests, Roman soldiers, and Jews). We can appreciate the spectacle that the congregation beheld: a combination of church and theater, Greek-style drama and opera, music and voice, emotive performances.

Two broad categories commend Bach’s favored Passion (possibly the work of which he was proudest of all his compositions), The Passion According to St Matthew.

Musically, it is a succession of amazing melodies, alternating gentle beauty, then tense drama, then profound emotion. It has musical motifs and phrases interlaced, reflecting the underlying themes and meanings of events during Holy Week. The combinations of solo instruments and voices; unique combinations and harmonies; and grand choruses of voices and full orchestral power are impressive.

All is outpaced, of course, by the spiritual message, the meaning of every scene and biblical phrase, and the skill of dramatization – the masterful presentation of the events – and the spiritual significance of every element. This is not a mere recitation of happenings, or a reading of Bible verses. The “Narrator” guides us, but Bach’s composition is a stunning re-creation of the agony and ecstasy of the Crucifixion story. By the verses and voices, the St Matthew Passion provides the points of view of all the participants and observers – including God, by quoted Bible prophesies; Jesus, by His words; and even us, dramatically through the eyes of the crowds in Jerusalem.

History came to call Bach “The Fifth Evangelist,” the accolade bypassing even his spiritual mentor Martin Luther, because of his clarity of spiritual understanding and the power of his musical talent. Some 15 years ago I wrote a major biography of Johann Sebastian Bach, and with every fact I researched, every work I listened to (and listened again and again) my awe increased. He was, in the end, a theologian who could write music, the greatest that humankind has produced or heard. It will be savored as long as men have ears, in the words of H L Mencken.

My friend the Pulitzer Prize-winning biographer Edmund Morris wrote me a note wherein he called my Bach biography superior to his own study of Beethoven, if you will permit me a little boast (well, I don’t give you a choice). However, he averred that I painted a portrait of Bach as being too much of a Christian; that spirituality was not a major component of Bach’s character. I am afraid that this opinion reflected more of Edmund than it did of Johann. For all of the old German’s success, Bach confessed that he was proudest of being a follower of Christ; then, a husband and father in his community; then, a music-maker.

And here we meet the Easter theme. We must all be proudest – first importance in our lives; the focus of all we do – of “knowing Christ and Him crucified.” The Easter story, the dramatic Passions, should be read and listened to and meditated upon, every week of the year, not only during Holy Week.

Indeed, the message of the cross, the Resurrection, the Ascension, should be the themes of our lives. Church “days” are useful to help us focus, motivating our faith and devotion, reminding us of how the Savior of our souls suffered on our behalf. His sorrows and pain were endured to fully identify with broken humanity. His death was a substitute for the punishment we deserve as sinners.

God became flesh and dwelt among us, a sublime mystery. And – you know the story – His Incarnate Son’s resurrection from the dead is to show the promise of our eternal life. Unspeakable glory awaits us.

You can experience the story in what may be a new way. I recommend that you set apart a couple hours, open the link to the music video below, and let the story of Passion Week, the genius of J S Bach, and the mastery of conductor Karl Richter bathe your soul. The artistry of the performance matches the innovative music of Bach. Orchestra and choir are in a stark setting here. A giant cross above and behind the musicians changes its position amid bright and dark lighting, reflecting the tones of the unfolding Biblical text. I pray that you find the time to savor this.

And have an even more blessed Easter.

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Click: Bach St Matthew Passion BWV 244 Karl Richter in parts

3-25-24

Mama, I just don’t understand the things in Jerusalem this week. There are strange things happening every day. I am scared, very scared. And just a week ago, on the Sabbath, I was wild with joy, as I wrote you afterward. I write to you now about more recent events.

Maybe you have heard all these things. Or maybe not; maybe it will all be forgotten in a fortnight. I don’t know.

You remember how I wrote about this man called Jesus, the preacher and healer everybody talked about – some called the Messiah, including himself – how he finally entered Jerusalem. I wrote how the people, almost the whole city it seemed, welcomed him and cheered him.

Yes, I was in that happy crowd. I called his name. I put my cloak on the ground before him. I waved palms to honor him. Maybe you heard – he rode on a donkey. Some thought it strange, but you and I talked about how many ancient words and prophecies were fulfilled in his life and the things he did. Too many to number! And this was one of them, the humble king choosing to come as a servant.

Then. Day after day, it was like a nightmare. The Jewish elders accused him of blasphemy. Some people started to doubt who Jesus said he was, and made up stories about the miracles. The religious leaders made demands that the Roman rulers arrest Jesus. They threatened a revolt in the streets.

Pontius Pilate went along with their demands, and the people became a mob, convinced of all the lies being told. The Romans arrested Jesus, but that was not enough. Pilate offered the mob to pardon Jesus, but that was not enough. Jesus was thrown in jail, but that was not enough. In the public square, Jesus was stripped and whipped until the skin on his back was like bloody ribbons, but that was not enough. Usually, for the Romans, that is a virtual substitute for the death penalty, but that was not enough. The religious leaders and the mob screamed that Jesus be nailed to a cross until dead.

Pilate made a show, washing his hands of responsibility… but that was not enough.

No one spoke for Jesus. His mother wept, but all his friends scattered and claimed they never knew him. I am ashamed to say that I hid, too, and was silent. You know who else was silent? Jesus himself – he just quietly suffered. Mama, I just don’t understand.

I did watch as he carried that heavy cross to the Hill of the Skull outside Jerusalem. I watched as they nailed his wrists and his ankles to the wooden cross and raised it. I watched for three hours as he writhed in pain. He finally spoke a few words. You will be interested in things he said – he prayed to God that his tormentors be forgiven, for they know not what they do.

There were two other crosses, one on each side – condemned men. One mocked Jesus; the other called him Messiah, and begged forgiveness. Jesus uttered that the man would be with him in Paradise.

Jesus looked down on his mother, and said “Behold, your son.” Her sorrow was wrenching. Then he looked, it seemed, into my eyes too! And it was like he saw into my soul. It was like he saw all humanity. It was like he looked toward eternity.

Just before he died, he said, “It is finished,” and I wondered whether he meant his life… or his mission, his purpose. Maybe we will never know. Will this all be forgotten? It looks like the religious leaders, the government, maybe Satan himself, have won.

Mama, I don’t understand any of this. A week ago, the only things that many of us could think of were his teachings, his miracles, his healing. His love. And now… this. Please don’t condemn me. I went along with the crowd. They couldn’t all be wrong, could they? I went along with the government rulers. They couldn’t all be wrong, could they? I went along with the religious leaders. They couldn’t all be wrong, could they?

I must go to you, and let us search the scriptures together. For I seem to remember that he foretold that he would overcome death. And we have been taught that the Messiah would suffer the punishments for sin that we deserve. And he said he would rise again.

But, Mama, I have to tell you that he did die. I saw it. The skies turned dark and the earth trembled. It felt like all of creation groaned. A Roman centurion looked up and called him the Son of God. But they took his dead body from the cross. They prepared it for burial. They put him in a tomb, and they sealed it.

Mama, two days have passed, and he has not come back to life.

There are strange things happening every day, but Jesus rising from the dead is not one of them. Mama, I just don’t understand.

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Click: O Sacred Head, Now Wounded – Bach’s St Matthew Passion

3-4-24

Jesus.

Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.

Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.

Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.

Jesus.

Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.

Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.

Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.

Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.

Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.

Jesus.

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Immediately after a devastating tornado hit his house, but with his family safe, a Kentucky man was able to praise the Name of Jesus.

Click: There’s Something About That Name

2-19-24

This essay is published mid-way between the birth day of Abraham Lincoln and the homogenized American consumer-holiday called Presidents Day.

The imports and legacies of great Americans like Lincoln and Washington cannot be ameliorated by the elevation of three-day weekends and used-car commercials with buffoons dressed in stovepipe hats. But the unrelenting trashing of American traditions continues in uncountable ways, from legislation and court decisions, to entertainment and media content, to re-branding the formerly solemn regard once paid to icons of our heritage.

Yet figures like Abraham Lincoln survive.

Lincoln is the closest we have had to a civic saint: certainly a secular saint for his wisdom, words, and actions. I think so partly because he was not exalted, except by ballots, but more as he was the simplest of men; common; honest. Literally, a typical American.

Theodore Roosevelt (whom readers know I also revere) framed his assessment of Lincoln (and George Washington): “There have been other men as great and other men as good; but in all the history of mankind there are no other two great men as good as these.”

More than anything, we are struck by Lincoln’s humanity. He was forever patient. He arrived at policies amid anguish, but he executed them firmly. He knew firsthand the turmoil of broken families, brothers fighting brothers; he suffered all these painful tests and duties. We know he kept his sense of humor. But what I have come to admire as much as any other trait is Lincoln’s faith.

It is a matter of debate how “religious” Lincoln was; whether he accepted Jesus as the Son of God; whether he believed in salvation or the need of personal salvation. It is not a matter of debate that he seldom attended or joined churches. It is a matter of record that he read the Bible his entire life, quoted even obscure verses often, and laced his speeches and writing with Bible quotations, scriptural allusions, King James cadences.

We cannot judge most of these things: some close friends like his longtime Illinois law partner Billy Herndon claimed that Lincoln was a gnarly heathen – but Herndon’s relationship was always rocky, and he wrote a biography of Lincoln after the assassination that sniped at a hundred minor particulars. However, Lincoln’s personal secretary John Hay (another hero of mine, by the way; a neglected figure in history), testified to Lincoln’s spiritual struggles, and his reliance on prayer in the White House. This was a time, generally, of private expressions of faith, when many Christians thought that respecting Christ’s teachings was more important than publicly affirming His divinity (this is not a recent phenomenon!), and when Old Testament lessons were preached more than New Testament parables. And many babies received Hebrew names.

Yet it was also a time, despite these anomalies of private beliefs and public expressions, of latter-day “Great Awakenings” as they are called, when waves of revivals spread throughout America, and when conversions to Christianity led to movements like Abolitionism, against slavery.

There are aspects of Lincoln’s faith in Christ that are beyond doubt. The pressures of holding a country together, and prosecuting a horrendous war, coincided with Lincoln’s growing faith. It is inspiring to read of this evolution (and I have read more than 65 books on Lincoln, including his complete letters and all his speeches), but most inspiring is to read his own words.

Lincoln, during his last years, displayed a steady progression of appeals to God… invocations of Providence… references to Jesus as Savior… seeking the Lord’s guidance… biblical quotations… allusions to Bible history… setting aside national days of prayer, as well as fasting, humiliation, and thanksgiving; a multitude of times; and with increasing clarity and spiritual contexts. By the end of the war, the speeches and proclamations of President Lincoln resembled actual sermons, always beseeching God in humility, never presumption; always inspiring.

It is this Abraham Lincoln we remember today.

Some of his quotations included his reference in the first inaugural address to “a firm reliance on Him who has never yet forsaken this favored land.” In the second address, “the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.” And of course his reference in the Gettysburg Address that this “nation shall under God have a new birth of freedom.”

A proclamation:
It is fit and becoming in all people, at all times, to acknowledge and revere the Supreme Government of God; to bow in humble submission to His chastisement; to confess and deplore their sins and transgressions in the full conviction that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; and to pray, with all fervency and contrition, for the pardon of their past offenses, and for a blessing upon their present and prospective action. And whereas when our own beloved country, once, by the blessings of God, united, prosperous and happy, is now afflicted with faction and civil war, it is peculiarly fit for us to recognize the hand of God in this terrible visitation, and in sorrowful remembrance of our own faults and crimes as a nation and as individuals, to humble ourselves before Him and to pray for His mercy.

In private communication, 1862:
We are indeed going through a great trial – a fiery trial. In the very responsible position in which I happened to be placed, being a humble instrument in the hands of our Heavenly Father, as I am, and as we all are, to work out His great purposes, I have desired that all my works and acts may be according to His will, and that it might be so, I have sought His aid.

About his “dark” moments when Lee’s army invaded Pennsylvania, Lincoln wrote:
When everyone seemed panic-stricken… I went to my room… and got down on my knees before Almighty God and prayed… Soon a sweet comfort crept into my soul that God Almighty had taken the whole business into His own hands….

During the war, Lincoln responded to someone’s wish that “the Lord was on the Union’s side.” Lincoln responded:
I am not at all concerned about that, for I know that the Lord is always on the side of the right. But it is my constant anxiety and prayer that I and this nation should be on the Lord’s side.

Lincoln said about the Bible:
In regard to this Great Book, I have but to say I believe the Bible is the best gift God has given to man. All the good Savior gave to the world was communicated through this Book.

And other reflections:
I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go. My own wisdom and that of all about me seemed insufficient for that day.

God loves us the way we are, but too much to leave us that way. I have held many things in my hands, and I have lost them all; but whatever I have placed in God’s hands, that I still possess.

Imagine, if you will – and we ought to – an American president who would write or speak, or believe, such things today. Lincoln was reviled then, and often now, as an “agnostic, deist, infidel.” But by their fruits ye shall know them.

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A country-flavored version of a favorite hymn – well, Lincoln WAS from Kentucky – but with a true story of the President’s exercise of Christ-like compassion:

Click: Abraham Lincoln – What a Friend We Have in Jesus

2-12-24

It seems lately that I have a disproportionate number of friends (Don’t stop there! Keep reading…) a lot of friends who are going through tough times. Hard times, financially; various personal crises; health challenges. It is everyone’s lot to endure such things, and maybe I am just more aware of conditions – not that I am immune, either. Believe me.

The Bible, for all of its wonderful promises, tells us – assures us; warns us; almost promises us – that tribulation will come. “The rain falls on the just and the unjust.” In fact, in the short run and the long run, the righteous shall experience persecution and tribulation.

Nevertheless it is proper to ask relief from such things in life. Of course. And we learn from suffering. God never sends sickness or disease, but there is sin and corruption in this world. In general and in particular, we bring many things upon ourselves. As we overcome, God is glorified. “All things work for good to those who love God and are called according to His purposes.” It doesn’t mean all things are good; we must work to make things right. To turn the devil’s oppression back on him; to redeem aspects of those tough situations; to glorify God. By relying on Him, more than ourselves.

This is His plan. We must see this through our moments of torment and pressure. There is a mystery, therefore, in suffering. “Redemption draweth nigh.”

Don’t take my word for it. Nature itself, all around us, provides examples.

The beautiful, iridescent pearl, so rare and lovely and prized in jewelry and fashion, begins its life as an irritant – a speck of sand that worked its way into an oyster and attracts mineral coating. What began as an annoying invader ends as a precious thing of rare beauty.

Then there is that empty oyster shell itself, or other colorful or mother-of-pearl or iridescent shells like conch and abalone and cowrie and sunshine shells and volutes and miters and snail shells and varieties of scallop shells and complex, wondrous nautilus shells… all are, simply, empty husks of what they once were. They housed living mollusks, and are now dead skeletal remnants. Yet we prize them for their beauty, their new lives. What they became.

The greatest example of this principle, this view of new life, second chances, redemption, and benefiting from great pressure, is the diamond. Those rare and precious and beautiful gems all began their lives as chunks of coal. What plays some of the roles in their transformation? Time and… pressure.

It matters not at all whether we bring problems and crises and pressure upon ourselves, or not. Tough times are tough times. It is not having been in the Dark House, but having left it, that counts, a wise man once said. God has told us to be more than “overcomers.”

Listen. I surely am aware of the cautions, and the implications, in the story of Winston Churchill during the London blitz. Probably apocryphal, but as the bombs were falling on the burning city, an aide supposedly said: “This might be a blessing in disguise.” Churchill’s legendary response: “Some blessing. Some disguise.” A reaffirmation: we are to look beyond circumstances, past our tough times.

We can be “more than conquerors.” Billy Joe Shaver put it in a song – “I’m just an old chunk of coal… but I’m gonna be a diamond some day!”

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Click: I’m Just an Old Chunk of Coal

2-5-24

I was pulled over on the Interstate recently, according to the officer, for “going 75 in a 55 zone.” My defense was futile but worth a try: “Isn’t 75 the new 55?” Actually this is a parable; it didn’t happen.

Technically, it is a fib, not a parable, but at my age that’s the best I can do. Speaking of age, I have just passed that “milestone,” the three-quarters of a century mark. For those of you not blessed enough to have gone down life’s pathway that far, I can share that I almost had, not a Senior Moment, but a Typo Moment. That is, some milestones seem like millstones.

Actually, that is another fib. I move a little slower, and my joints, when they move or bend at all, sometimes creak and moan. Oh, I forget things occasionally, but I always have; don’t we all? Maybe it’s been more frequent lately. I asked my doctor if I should be concerned and I related three instances. “How long has this been going on?” he asked. “How long has what been going on?” I responded.

We all have moments in the supermarket when we forget why we drove there (Right? Don’t we? Please say Yes!) but I have to admit it is worrying when I find myself in the bathroom and forget why I’m there.

But God has blessed me with reasonably good health. As for my “mind,” I might have just exploded, here, any claims to clarity and sanity. But I am as busy as I ever have been in the fields the Lord has assigned: writing, reading, drawing and painting, researching. The coincidence of having just published my 75^th book in, now, my 75^th year is a convenient coincidence: When I forget one number, I simply recall the other.

The apocryphal “Chinese Curse” – “May you live in interesting times” – has always seemed like a blessing to me. My curiosity and numerous interests have made me a polymath (as well as a pauper) but I continue to discover old things that are refreshingly new, and I turn new things into old friends, as a reader and collector. God has led me to accomplish a few things; I am proud of my children; I have met many of my heroes and even encountered colorful scoundrels along the way. Travel, jobs, hobbies – a rich mosaic.

I have learned that repeated readings of God’s Word, and ever more intimate praying, make my relationship with the Savior more alive, not old and tired. He created the universe, yet He cares for me, enough to sacrifice His life. I have grievously sinned in uncountable ways, yet I have repented and asked forgiveness, and He has forgiven me. In the words of the Gospel song – it is all richer, deeper, fuller, sweeter as the days go by.

And the days do go by.

My old friend, the late cartoonist Dik Browne (Hagar the Horrible) and I had a mutual friend about whom Dik would quietly say, “That boy hears voices.” It was an old-fashioned and polite way to say that the fellow was a little odd at times. Delusional folks can claim inspiration from phantoms, but it can be otherwise. Joan of Arc heard voices, or claimed to; and people held her in reverence.

My late wife Nancy, in our moments of grief when we lost our first child, heard God’s voice, seemingly audible: “You will have multiple healthy children.” A peace came over her and, despite her fragile health, we subsequently had three healthy children. The voice, and that peace, were as much miracles as the healthy births.

One last story (I can hear “hoorays,” almost audible) – a parable, finally, along these lines.

A guy heard a voice he believed to be from the Lord: “You are going to live a long, long life!” The fellow was so convinced it was from Heaven that he went into overdrive, preparing to live it up. Or long-live it up. He got a new wardrobe of slick duds to impress the chicks; he got a tummy tuck; a dentist gave him capped teeth; a doctor gave him a facelift; he colored the hair that was his own, and some miracle-worker gave him hair plugs. Then when he was slick enough to hit the town, he got behind the wheel of his expensive new sports car, and…

… he was killed when a big dump truck ran into him. Up in Heaven, he looked for God and asked, “Lord, you said I would live a long life…”

He received this answer: “Frankly, I didn’t recognize you anymore!” The guy had remembered the promise, but forgotten the Promise-Maker. God forbid that any of us let that happen in our lives.

Life must be about quality, not quantity… or length. All the learning I have accumulated in my 75 years, and all the exciting things I still yearn to discover have, in the end, not fogged my vision. I have learned a lot – book-lessons and life-lessons – but when it comes to God Almighty, who created me and even knows the number of hairs on my head, He knows “what is needful and best” for me, and that is fine. It is good to know God’s Ways; I don’t need to know His Whys.

What fills in the (many) gaps when our understanding is faulty? God provides… Jesus teaches… and the Holy Spirit gifts us… with Faith. Walking with my Savior is like a 24/7 birthday party. Only better. In fact richer, deeper, fuller, sweeter. Life with Jesus is like a long, long party. How’s that for a parable?
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Click: Sweeter As The Days Go By

1-22-24

Quick: Word-Association. I say “Life,” you think – what? An old magazine? A prison sentence? A breakfast cereal?

This week the annual March For Life occurred in Washington. Somewhat ironically it was held during a brutal, raging snowstorm – thousands and thousands of people figuratively shaking their fists at Cold Death, and affirming Life.

Half a century ago Roe vs Wade became the law of the land – or, more properly, it swept away many laws of this land. It was consequential, and the Supreme Court ruling can be seen as defining an “era.” Then, recently, another ruling reversed much of Roe’s finding, and now we live in a Post-Roe Age.

Rather than outlawing abortion, the recent Dobbs Decision essentially lets the individual states decide policies regarding abortion – matters of sanctions, “pain thresholds,” gestational life and viability, coercion of medical staffs, etc. It was inevitable that fifty, or more, bitter debates would emerge from Dobbs. As people dispute the beginning and the end of life, the debates about abortion will not end.

It was recently calculated that the Dobbs decision likely has resulted in more than 50,000 births that otherwise would have been ended. In the political numbers games, that will be compared to millions of babies murdered (excuse me, “terminated”) under Roe. Having just employed both euphemisms and incendiary words, I am aware of the emotionalism that inevitably attends this discussion. Like many people, from President Trump to neighbors and relatives, I once was pro-abortion, or indifferent to its horrors; and have repented. Some of those neighbors and relatives gave birth instead of aborting. Some, in fact, are people whose mothers decided against aborting them at the last moments.

“Life.”

It is more – we need to remind ourselves above the din and clamor of political debates – than magazine titles or breakfast cereals; and surely more than merely escaping the abortionist’s tools. But when we cheapen Life amid arguments about scientific data, and “hardships on pregnant woman,” and a mother’s right to privacy vs a baby’s right to life, etc, we also cheapen the value of Life-beyond-birth. It is no coincidence that during the Roe era there was a precipitous rise in child abuse; neglect and abandonment; the dissolution of the nuclear family; and, at the other end of the line, growing acceptance of elder abuse and neglect, and (call in more euphemisms!) “mercy killings.”

Twenty years ago I interviewed Norma McCorvey, the woman who was the “Roe” of Roe vs Wade. The simple and shy women seldom granted interviews, so I was fortunate to glean first-hand impressions of her crises, the manipulation she endured, and her transformation to anti-abortion advocacy.

My late wife Nancy became an expert on Life, so to speak – having received, at death’s door, a transplanted heart. She also received a kidney transplant, and endured diabetes, strokes, cancer, celiac disease, amputations, and other challenges. She wrote about her encounters with Life:

I was diagnosed with heart disease when my three children were 15, 14, and 11. After three heart attacks in 10 months the doctors told me that I would not survive a fourth. This news came on my 42nd birthday. Within the month I was transferred from our local hospital to Temple University Hospital in Philadelphia and put on the transplant list for a heart; and for my failing kidney as well.

Events moved quickly, and I really didn’t have much time to think about what was ahead. As a diabetic, I had assumed that at some time I might need a kidney transplant – I had never thought about needing a new heart! I also assumed that the whole process was like changing a battery: take out the old and put in the new.

Not quite. Because my doctors could not guarantee my survival at home for longer than two weeks, I had to stay in the hospital, with heart monitors attached to my chest, and an IV tube continuously feeding me medicines that kept my heart working at its maximum possible efficiency.

In the beginning of this process, I think most patients in my “group” of potential organ recipients were, like me, a bit naive. We didn’t know about some of the complications associated with the surgery. Strokes, blood clots causing the loss of limbs, and blindness were just some of the potential problems. Our group of approximately 16 patients was relatively healthy or at least stable, but every now and then reality would strike.

Without warning, people “coded” (heart stopping); sometimes they could not be revived. Other times those who had received transplanted organs would return to the hospital with rejection (the body fighting the new organ).

We all know there are no guarantees in life, but no matter how young or old, we tend to take some things for granted. However, when hospitalized in a heart-failure unit, never knowing what the next minutes might bring, I developed a deeper sense of what was important to me.

I prayed for more time – time to be a mother to my children, for us to be together as a family. I cried out to God, “How much longer?” He answered in the words of I Peter 5:6,7: Humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, casting all your care upon Him; for He cares for you.

And I learned to trust Him. Just as He was taking care of me, He would take care of my family. And each time I asked “How much longer?” He would remind me of a promise I made to Him that I would stay for as long as He wanted me to. And God gave me His total peace.

In all ways my hospital stay – eight weeks before organs became available; then three weeks after the operation, until I could go home – was a good experience. I came to know God in a more intimate way, to learn to trust Him and His ways, and to appreciate all that He has given me. I began praying for the other patients on the floor; first for those on their way to the ER, then weekly Bible studies, then prayer-support groups. We started a family ministry that lasted more than seven years.

I have seen all three of my children grow up. Heather became a youth minister; Ted is a television news producer [now in Washington DC] and Emily moved to Ireland after doing missions work [and has started her own business of American-style foods]. And I have four beautiful grandchildren. I am very proud of them all.

At one time I did not have real hope, leaning on my own view of life. But as Psalm 119:50 says:

My comfort in my suffering was this: “Your promise preserves my life!”

Nancy lived 16 years after her new heart and new life. There’s life and there’s Life. There’s Life, and there is Living. There is extended life… and there is Eternal Life. Go ahead and embrace the euphemisms! God lives in them and we can too.

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Click: I’ll Have a New Life

1-15-24

I have shared the story many times, but not here, of my mother’s passing; or to skirt the euphemism, her death. She would have been a hundred years old next year, and died a couple decades ago. The circumstances attending her death were fairly remarkable, but all the times I have shared the story my contexts were medical, statistical, and with emotions bouncing like a pinball between sad and astonishing and humorous.

But a friend recently saw them in a spiritual context. Through the years I certainly appreciated the spiritual component, but not the lessons worth sharing. Cue Paul Harvey’s “Now you’ll know the rest of the story…”

My parents had moved to Florida as many retirees are wont to do; my two sisters and I remained up north, visiting on occasion. The occasions grew frequent, however, when Mom’s health slipped precipitously. She had been a lifelong Christian, church-going and always devoted to Jesus. Not affecting her salvation but affecting her health were also unfortunate lifelong devotions to cigarettes and booze.

Smoking and drinking accelerated her decline from various ailments, although, oddly, her lungs and liver were about the only things that worked right as she eventually was placed on a hospice list. I hope it is not a “spoiler” to any reader to share that hospice is not a get-well regimen: it is, formally, a recognition that the patient is dying, and is designed to make those final days or months comfortable, not expecting a cure.

Mom was put in home-hospice care with visiting nurses; my sisters and I rotated visits to Florida to help Dad and say our good-byes. Stubbornly, it seemed, my mother got weaker, and stronger; she grew foggy, then lucid; she wasted away but hung on. Each of our “good-byes” were in fact “so longs,” as my sisters and I returned again and again.

During one of my visits a kindly neighbor said, “It must be hard to lose your mother…” I replied: “It’s almost impossible!”

However Mom did go downhill until she was barely conscious. In a virtual coma. We were able to put a chip of ice or bit of Jell-O between her lips, only a few times a day. She exhibited several of the “signs of impending death” the Hospice booklet listed. Finally for two solid days there was not a sign of life from her beyond a weak pulse.

Then one night – I slept on the living-room sofa next to her hospital bed – she made a faint gurgling sound. No other signs or movement. Almost 24 hours later, she mumbled; no discernible words, but an apparent attempt. On the next morning, there were words, but random and unconnected.

Over the next days she managed more ice chips and Jell-O and even broth. And she spoke words. Sentences. They made sense. I’ll tell you how much sense: they were Bible verses. Fragments at first, then random, then full verses, but as if in her sleep.

Bible verses! Mom was not opening her eyes or making eye contact at first; but she was reciting passages from the Bible. Soon she recognized us, spoke our names… but rather than asking where she was, or why we looked so concerned, she just recited Bible verses. Eventually, lines from hymns.

I will leap ahead, so to speak. Mom recovered her strength. The bed was put aside. She resumed a life, slowly (she moved around the house, but with a walker). She gained some weight. She never had eaten much, but now she did eat and even cooked – we all had a Florida Thanksgiving reunion where she prepared a full meal. She did not resume drinking, and I was grateful that my kids were able finally to know their Oma – sober, and tender and funny, as I had known her in my own childhood.

She lived almost a full “bonus” year before a natural death overtook her. Hospice nurses said that patients were known to live maybe six months after being “listed,” but they scarcely knew of bounce-backs like Mom’s, much less of a full year.

But when I told Mom of her “bounce-back” while she seemingly was unconscious… she was as incredulous as nurses or neighbors were. I have said that she was religious all her life, but she knew that she never had committed all those Bible verses to memory.

“Rick, some of them I know, of course. And I’m sure I heard them all in Sunday School and church, or have read them, but I never memorized all of them! I never tried to!” I read to her the verses she recited from that deathbed… and try as she might, she could not recite them from memory again. But there had been many, and they had risen from her lips, complete and correct.

This was the story I often have told – shame on me, almost like describing magic tricks or a trained-seal act. My friend refreshed me with the spiritual lesson. What had sustained Mom when medicines did not? What “filled those empty spaces”? We witnessed an example of “the Lord worketh in mysterious ways His wonders to perform.” What lessons should the rest of us learn from this?

Psalm 119 talks about “hiding the Word in our hearts.”

I had known that verse, and always assumed it was a recommendation to memorize Bible verses. It is. But more than that, it tells us (in Isaiah 55) that “My Word that goeth forth out of My mouth shall not return unto Me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please.”

The power of God’s Word blessed my mother, even when it had been heard and processed casually. It accomplished things in her. It blessed us, and may it bless those who hear this story.

“Faith comes by hearing…” There is no seed that when planted cannot grow in mighty ways, multiply, and feed others. Let us just be the fertile soil. God will plant; the Spirit will nurture; Jesus will be glorified. Please be encouraged to keep the things of God close, even in “casual” ways, whether words, messages, songs; open to lessons the Bible offers, or Christian music you can listen to. Absorb. Share. Hide in your heart.

In the end, it wasn’t hard to lose my mother. She was ready, after a few more tasks – even if she did not fully know the assignments – at the End of the Way.

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Click: When I Get To the End Of the Way

1-8-24

Some cultural critics and many traditional Christians lament the state of things today. “Things”? Maybe almost everything… everywhere we look… even the future is despaired of. Believers “know the end of the story,” the glorious promises of God, yet among those promises are trials and tribulations, we know. “What kind of world are we leaving for our children?” is often asked.

This angst and pessimism – or realism? – is not exclusive to the traditionalists and religious people, however. This is an age of discontent: radicals, revolutionaries, the “Woke” armies likewise are weary, or rebellious, against the current System and what brought societies to this point.

It is the Age of Discontent, which term is the title of a book of observations by Sigmund Freud. More pertinent is the earlier essay by Brooks Adams, The Law of Civilization and Decay.

Of all the isms that plague us these days, and no matter your place on the philosophical and political spectrums, the strongest is Incrementalism. Surely it is the most insidious. Most of the things that upset most of us were not advocated by us, not designed, not forecast. Yet often we act surprised that certain identifiable decisions were wrong, horribly wrong.

Our temples gradually have crumbled; our swamps quietly have risen and spread. Surely, we – all of us – have been blind and careless, we have grown sloppy about commitments, and dismissive of standards. Like fallen civilizations of the past, we have a subliminal sense of security that we somehow are immune from decline and self-destruction.

In this we are, of course, fools.

If analysis might be useful and lead to course-correction, we should reject the idea that we (let us focus on “Christendom,” so-called Western Civilization) have “lost faith.” It is a point of view automatic among the religious; and it is mistaken. Oh, church attendance is down, and we are confronted by statistics that are alarms to those of who work to resist the drift. But a recent book The Secular Age cited polls claiming that more than half the population does not belong to an organized religion, only a third believe in life after death, 16 per cent in reincarnation, and only half believe in a higher power. (And of course “higher power” these days can mean gods invented on the spot. Or as my daughter says about the current pathology of those who switch genders every week, “choosing to be, or believe in, a hairbrush.”) And so forth, as we all know.

Nature abhors a vacuum. Our problems do not stem from our peoples’ lack of faith, but the situation that people hold to faith in many, many, many things. Indiscriminately. Irresponsibly. Incrementally.

Of course my critique is that Christendom has abandoned Christianity. The “Faith of our fathers” has largely become as attractive to broad swaths of contemporary society as the ties and dresses, dance steps and home décor of previous generations. Christian dogma is seldom asserted in many of our churches. Worship conforms to the latest (and changeable) tastes and demands of audiences. The Biblical “givens” that underlay government, schools, courts, even the entertainment media… are no longer a priori assumptions.

Indeed, Biblical standards routinely are rejected, mocked, and suppressed. So what should we expect? People who believe in everything… effectively believe in nothing. When a society has no standards, we must expect that even “right” and “wrong” are obsolete concepts.

We have a natural tendency to feel overwhelmed by the forces of evil. We are tempted, despite our faith in Jesus and the promises of God, to fear that all is hopeless, at least outside our own spheres. I am reminded that when the Communist Whittaker Chambers found Christ and became a patriot, he wrote that he believed in God, but that – as a citizen in a decaying American society – he was joining the “losing side.” His soul would live in Heaven but his country was doomed. Do you have those feelings?

What I cling to, among many truths and revelations, are the verses about God adorning the lilies of the field, and caring even for small sparrows. Yes, we must know the Truth. Yes, we must fight for our faith and families and future. Yes, the enemies of Christ are many, and are wily and vicious.

It is worthwhile, and daunting I know, to resist. But how often do we stop and remember that it is His fight? God will equip us; the Holy Spirit was sent to strengthen our… faith. Faith. We cannot cast about to find new faith in new remedies. God’s answers are in front of us. If your simple faith in God and His promises sometime go weak, remember that the Gift of Faith is one of the Spiritual Gifts that He has promised, and we can access at any time.

Asking God for more faith, purer faith, mighty faith in Him, is not a sign of weakness. His provision of the Holy Spirit must not be treated as a futile act unless you respond feebly.

Our world might be drifting, and in directions we hate. As we do battle – for we must! – how typical of God that He can encourage us with the simplest, gentlest assurance that His eye is on the sparrow, and we know He watches us too. Let us be happy warriors. The battle is the Lord’s!

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Click: His Eye Is On the Sparrow

1-1-24

I wonder what the “over / under” is with New Year resolutions that are kept; that is, let’s say, kept by most people beyond the third week of the year. Or third day? Most of mine are history by the third hour. Resolutions are stronger than intentions, and I shudder when reminded that the road to hell is paved with the latter…

Nevertheless, many of us make New Years resolutions… or we intend to. If in the process we make an inventory of our shortcomings and prioritize our goals, we have accomplished something after all.

This has prompted me to speculate on whether God makes Resolutions. Without being presumptuous or blasphemous or outright ignorant (have I headed everyone off at the pass?) I know that everything in the Bible, indeed His workings as revealed in history, from the Commandments to the Incarnation to judgments and miracles, are reflections of His resolutions… but let us wonder for a moment. 

If God would compose a list of resolutions, at least to remind us of how He works, and what He desires, what would they be?

I think God would resolve not to give up on His people. He is swift to judgment, yet long-suffering.

Salvation is free but will continue to be offered at a precious cost; God will ever grieve for those who reject Him.

God, who revealed Himself through Jesus Christ, will continue to act amongst us, and in us, through His Holy Spirit.

The eternal “I am” will resolve as always never to be the “I was.”

Among other resolutions of God, if we might put His will into our words, would be:

He always will be Without end… He will never change… He will keep every promise… He always will be – He only can be – Holy… He will be righteous, compassionate, and just… He will be faithful in His resolutions and promises.

How will He act? God resolves to communicate with His people through prayer… He will be “the God who healeth thee”… He will punish sin but ever remind us that “He chastises those whom He loves”… He will affirm His rules for a satisfied and joy-filled life through Resolutions already shared, from the 10 Commandments to the teachings of Jesus.

God resolves that His character will not change. We may be secure in knowing that He is omniscient, He is omnipresent, He is omnipotent… He does not only love; He is love… He is trustworthy… He is good all the time, and all the time He is good… He extends Grace to those who love Him – while we were yet revels and sinners He provided a way to be reconciled to Him.

You might notice that none of these resolutions are new. I did not have to “stretch” or imagine attributes of our Heavenly Father. He has revealed Himself; He is Unchanging; He is – let us say part of his job description? – “from Everlasting to Everlasting.” 

We make resolutions to correct our mistakes and try to do better.

God has made resolutions, affirming that He cannot make mistakes; when all is said and done, this year and every year, He is the best that we can imagine.

Let us hereby resolve, ourselves, that we praise His Holy Name and dedicate ourselves to serve Him. 

Happy New Year!

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Click: Great Is Thy Faithfulness 

12-25-23

“Wars and rumors of war.”

The Bible foretells of the End Times, and signs of its imminence. God keeps us on our toes, because wars, like the poor, we always have with us. Has there ever been a good war or a bad peace, as many have asked through the ages? I say yes; there may be just wars, and the willingness to do battle is irretrievably part of a nation’s soul.

“If I must choose between peace and righteousness,” Theodore Roosevelt famously said, “I choose righteousness.” Nevertheless, lately I am persuaded to settle for a long wait if people want to find a war to be joined…

Humankind seems not to have “advanced” much through the centuries; neither with children on playgrounds nor adults on battlefields that once were playgrounds. We congratulate each other – that is, fool ourselves – that “progress” is the hallmark of our times. Yet the bloodiest death toll from wars, in any century of the earth’s existence, was in the Twentieth Century, more than in all previous centuries combined. We brag that we – “civilizations” – have finally ended the scourge of slavery; yet there are greater numbers of slaves today than ever in human history. The numbers now are not the faces that flash in our minds: bondservants. But, instead, all manner of children, women, minorities, homeless, voiceless, migrants, the anonymous.

As long as there are power elites; as long as greed outpaces love; as long as hypocrisy can always find a nicer name, humankind will be (in the Bible’s phrase, Proverbs 26:11; II Peter 2:22) like dogs returning to their vomit. Think about what changes have occurred, really, when science develops new ways to save lives… as it also invents new ways to end lives. What a spectacle, when people march to save baby seals and whales, and march for the right to kill babies.

Well, Merry Christmas, anyway. Let the holiday sing.

Some wars are years, or generations, festering; some start on a random morning, or so it seems. But one thing we seldom encounter is peace breaking out. In the midst of a raging war, interrupting a bloody battle. Yet it has happened. Not many people know about the Christmas Truce. It was a virtual miracle during the first Christmas, in 1914, of World War I – the so-called Great War, surely the most useless of history’s many useless wars.

A few months after war was declared in Europe, by almost every big and small nation on the continent, almost a million soldiers already had been slaughtered. Christmastime was come, and soldiers were mired in trenches that were to become so established that for more than two years the battle line never moved more than 30 miles one way or another. In that unlikely hellhole a miracle occurred.

Minor details differ but the dispositive facts are acknowledged: Peace broke out.

Soldiers of Germany, England (Scotland, actually), and France, at night, spontaneously sang Christmas carols… and were joined by their “enemies” who could hear across No Man’s Land… nervous soldiers climbed from trenches to greet their foes, and shake hands… gifts were exchanged, even little trinkets, but also pastries and wine sent from home. They shared pictures of wives and children… more hymn singing… fireworks, intended to illuminate battlefields so to aim the cannons, were now shot skyward in celebration. There were tentative, but successful, attempts to communicate.

Of course they communicated. The languages that night were hymns and Bibles and chocolates and cigars. Handshakes and smiles and tears.

A Merry Christmas. A Holy Christmas. Peace on earth… at least in that narrow 27-mile-long battle line, south of Ypres and east of Armentieres, site of the song about les Mademoiselles, that night.

A British soldier recalled the Christmas Truce almost two decades later: We stuck up a board with a Merry Christmas on it. The enemy had stuck up a similar one. … Two of our men then threw their equipment off and jumped on the parapet with their hands above their heads. Two of the Germans did the same and commenced to walk up the river bank, our two men going to meet them. They met and shook hands and then we all got out of the trench.

We and the Germans met in the middle of No Man’s Land. Their officers were also now out. Our officers exchanged greetings with them.… One of their men, speaking in English, mentioned that he had worked in Brighton for some years and that he was fed up to the neck with this damned war and would be glad when it was all over. We told him that he wasn’t the only one that was fed up with it. (Frank Richards, “Old Soldiers Never Die,” 1933)

Another history records: [The British] Brigadier General G.T. Forrestier-Walker issued a directive forbidding fraternization: “For it discourages initiative in commanders, and destroys offensive spirit in all ranks. … Friendly intercourse with the enemy, unofficial armistices and exchange of tobacco and other comforts, however tempting and occasionally amusing they may be, are absolutely prohibited.” (Stanley Weintraub, “Silent Night: The Story of the World War I Christmas Truce,” 2001)

How much different would the next day have been – how much different would the world be today – if the Truce had held?

Note that chocolates and cigars were only the presents. The GIFTS were hymns and Bible verses – they brought the soldiers out of trenches; not the prospect of snacks or smokes or a soccer game in the snow.

Christmas. God did not intend for Jesus’s Incarnation, the spirit of that Christmas Truce, to be a one-time miracle, but to be everyday life. He intended that we know-and-show that love and fellowship can be normal, not rare. We can be changed by the Holy Day, not be annoyed by yet another holiday.

“You started it!” “No, you did!!!” Wouldn’t it be great if we all exchanged those words happily, about starting love, sharing affection, and living in Heavenly Peace?

Who “started it”? God did.

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If your YouTube video opens in anything besides a man playing a bagpipe, then you need to switch to a desktop to play the video. There is a problem we have not solved yet with the videos on pads and phones.

Click for an excerpt of the motion picture: Joyeaux Noel

12-11-23

As Christmas celebrations draw closer, people tend to think more about Jesus than they do at most other times of year. … or, anyway, what He might have looked like and acted like during His earthly ministry.

Speaking personally, I am grateful to movies like Passion of the Christ and TV series like The Chosen because, if nothing else, their producers dared show a Jesus who was realistic (as we must assume) – laughing, crying, feeling pain, experiencing betrayal and suffering.

In the Year of our Lord (giving credit where credit is due) 2023, however, the impressions of our childhoods persist. People can be forgiven, to coin a phrase, if their conception of Jesus is of a fair-haired, well-groomed, moon-faced, smiley guy with children always nearby to sit on His lap. Artwork on Sunday-school pamphlets told me so.

Throughout my life I have heard Christians and skeptics alike ask why Jesus “had” to come to earth 2000 years ago – so far back in time, so far away. Believers say their faith would intensify if they could just see Him. Non-believers and agnostics have a similar desire – that if they could just see Jesus, they would believe.

Well, we should remember that the Apostles who lived and ate and walked and talked with Jesus for three years, hearing His teaching, and witnessing miracles… if they betrayed and denied Him, and scattered when things got a little tough, would we be much different? Get real. Remember what Jesus said to Doubting Thomas, “Blessed are those who have not seen, yet believe.”

But Christmas displays have got me to thinking. Not that Jesus is a plastic Savior-figure for sale at the Dollar Store; nor a blow-up plastic baby-in-the-manger for a lawn display; nor a face on T-shirts of the worship band at the new church down the street. But I wonder what Christianity would be like if Jesus had come to earth in our lifetimes. How would Jesus present Himself?

• We don’t have many “Lords” and “Ladies” any more, so those terms might have to be altered. What is the modern-day equivalent of Lord? It would sound strange – “President God”? Would we be told to address Jesus as “Boss”?
• Very few guilty criminals are put to death these days, and when they are, the Cross is virtually obsolete. Would Christian gift shops sell trinkets of syringes, if that is how Jesus would be put to death, by lethal injection, today?
• Would people wear necklaces with little electric chairs instead of crosses?
• The Great Commission – “Go into all the world and preach the Good News” – would be the same. But today, the spread of communications (and, I’ll admit, employing some 20-20 hindsight in my scenario here) might alter the message of the Apostles and evangelists.
• Today the Disciples would be seen as recruiters and motivational speakers. But if they could know what becoming a follower of Christ entails, even modern sales techniques would present some challenges. Consider:

– Become a Christian! When you commit to follow Jesus, your family might resent you, friends might leave you, strangers might persecute you!

– Become a Christian! Share what you believe and you might lose a job! Neighbors will regard you as nuts!

– Become a Christian! If you heed His call and perhaps go into missions work, you can be harassed, even martyred, like so many Christians in history… and still, today!

– Become a Christian! Among the perks – not certain, but very common – you will be misunderstood, criticized, ridiculed… sometimes by those you love the most!

Those are some of the “perks” of being a Christian. They are not much different than any time in the past 2000 years. But I would suggest, if you think about “Lord” versus “Boss,” and symbols of crosses versus electric chairs, that today’s evangelistic “sales pitch” might be more challenging than in times past.

In fact, everything is more challenging than in times past. As we slouch toward Gomorrah – in the words of the William Butler Yeats poem and the book by the great Robert H Bork – as our culture is ever more engulfed by moral relativism and secularism, the challenges of being a Christ-follower are increasingly stark.

Generally, we live in a post-Christian age. Thank God, literally, the DNA of the twenty-first century church seems to be healthier in the southern hemisphere. Christianity, as it always has, thrives in lands of persecution; believers, that is, one by one, refined by fire. Africa, once the destination of missionaries, now sends missionaries to apostate societies in Europe, the United Kingdom, and North America.

There is hope.

And by the way, regarding the premise I posed at the beginning – “If Jesus were alive today…” Here’s the dirty little secret, which is not so dirty; not so little; not so secret –

Jesus is alive today.

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What does it cost to be a Christian? What DID it cost 2000 years ago, when Jesus was born? Remember the “Slaughter of the Innocents” – the command to slay all baby boys under the age of two; the Establishment’s effort to deny the coming King. Hostility threatened Christianity then… today its stark enemy is indifference.

Click: Rachel’s Lament

11-27-23

We in the United States have celebrated, if not observed, another Thanksgiving. Like other holy days… holidays… long weekends, it has begun to endure the onslaught of secularization. No longer are there widespread expressions of thanks to Almighty God in schools, from the White House, and, yes, even in churches.

It is beneficial for us to remember that Thanksgiving, as a holiday, is not really traced to the Pilgrims, as thankful as they were “24/7,” in many ways formal and informal. It was a lowly politician – in proper view, the closest we have had to a saint in Washington, President Abraham Lincoln – who conceived the idea of setting apart a day for government and citizenry to beseech God for mercy and forgiveness, and literally count our blessings.

His Thanksgiving Proclamation in 1863 began a tradition that held, until recently. He wrote in part after enumerating some of the gifts God bestowed upon America:

No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy. It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently, and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens… to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them… ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings….

We can fast-forward to now, when a supposedly Catholic president dutifully issued a proclamation, but included no mention of God. Even simple logic, if not religion, should have suggested to Biden that if you urge people to be thankful, you should mention to Whom they should be thankful. His 2023 proclamation instead distorted history and denigrated faith by claiming the Pilgrims merely “honored the harvest” and expressed gratitude for the “Wampanoag people who made it possible.”

The current president then stated that Americans would gather this year to “celebrate the love they share and the traditions they built together… grateful for our Nation and the incredible soul of America…. I encourage the people of the United States of America to join together and give thanks for the friends, neighbors, family members, and strangers who have supported each other over the past year in a reflection of goodwill and unity.”

The current White House surely knows how to pinpoint things it advocates or hates. But “being thankful,” a passive, neutered term – instead of giving thanks – is a willful avoidance of a worldview that acknowledges God and His role in our national heritage and current affairs. When Biden gives thanks for “Friends,” he might well be talking about the episode where Joey gave Chandler a goat.

This is a symptom, of course, of the country at large; certainly the popular culture. But also of the Party in power. That party and its allies would be suing or censoring Abraham Lincoln for engaging in “hate speech” in the Proclamation.

This New Ingratitude trickles down to everyday speech and social interaction. Take note, this coming week, to how people express and receive Thanks. Remembering that words mean things and are significant, listen in stores, food counters, and dialogue on TV programs. “Thank you” is still uttered, but usually “Thanks” is the grandest form of sincerity.

Moreover, these days “You’re Welcome” is a virtually obsolete phrase. The response, rather, often is something like: Sure… You bet… No problem, or No prob… You got it… Sure thing… Back atcha…

Words have consequences. To paraphrase William Butler Yeats, we are slouching toward a society of ingratitude, or, worse, indifference. Americans – and I include much of the church – know how to complain; what to hate; whom to resent; when to lose patience. But we have lost the capacity to be grateful; to acknowledge good happenings; to share credit; to… thank God, not just our own work or luck, for blessings.

Almighty God does not demand gratitude and thanks from us… Well, yes, He does, actually. He is a “jealous God” and through the Bible we are told, by Him and His prophets, that gratitude and thanks are due Him. Our worship liturgies remind us that it is “meet, right, and salutary that at all times and in all places we give thanks to Him”… “Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever”… “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus”… “Enter His gates with thanksgiving and His courts with praise; give thanks to Him and praise His name”…

At one time we were a people who knew that God was the source of good things, and that He was worthy of praise and thanks. Now we are a people routinely expecting entitlements.

I want to view the Lord and Thanks-giving in one more way. It is proper that we have an attitude of gratitude. But through the Bible, God does not only demand our thanks, praise, and obligation. We should also recognize that Christianity is a two-way street, so to speak.

What I mean is this: God thanks us, too. His blessings are “thanks” for our faithfulness. His amazing Creation was given, a gift, to humankind. Answered prayers are “thanks” for our devotion and supplications. The Gifts of the Spirit surely are His reaching down to bless us. The very fact that He became incarnate flesh to dwell among us and offer a plan of salvation is a manner of advance-thanks.

God demonstrated His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8).

Was there ever a more heartfelt “Thank You”? The Lord considers us worthy of thanks, this verse says, before we would even deserve it. Thanks for believing on Him; loving Him; serving Him. The challenge to Christians is how we return thanks, how we give life to “You’re Welcome, Lord.”

But respond we must, with sincerity and purpose. Gratitude. And a spirit of giving Thanks.

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Click: Thank You

11-20-23

Our post-Christian culture has become, rather, so anti-Christian that it sometimes has to distort the past to justify the brave new world. Here are examples of notable figures from history whose relationships to Christ have been suppressed, and will surprise some people.

Vincent van Gogh is generally regarded as the greatest of artists, or among the few supernal geniuses who put brush to canvas. His works are respected and valued, yet his private life often is viewed as sad and twisted; that he was a disturbed figure to be pitied; that cutting his ear and committing suicide are evidences of an unbalanced mind.

Vincent’s life was troubled, certainly. Of many hundreds of paintings, he sold only two in his lifetime. He continually relied on friends and his brother for money. Once when especially despondent, he drank too much and was almost institutionalized.

Yet. Vincent was the son of a pastor, and brother of another. He aspired to be a minister himself, but was turned down by a seminary. He visited missions and charity halls, even once traveling to London to minister to the poor. He was almost as beset by what he felt as his inadequate service to Christ, as by his paintings’ lack of acceptance. I have just finished his Complete Letters – three massive volumes; how did he find time to write so much and paint so much? – and they are filled with Christian references. Until recently his Biblical-themed paintings were sublimated, but there are many, and they reveal his profound faith.

His brother Theo was the recipient of most of Vincent’s letters. In one typical example he wrote of his heart and his art: to paint men and women with that something of the Eternal which the halo used to symbolize, and which we seek to convey by the actual radiance and vibration of our coloring. Among Biblical scenes he painted, many people see allegorical compositions in paintings like “Cafe Terrace at Night,” elements of which echo the Last Supper.

To much of the world today, van Gogh is thought of as a crazy man who cut off his ear. Modern studies have concluded that he did not commit suicide but was killed by a stray bullet. But a genius who was passionate about Jesus and wanted to reflect God’s glory in his art? Our age does not want to know that van Gogh!

Another figure from history whose persona is firmly established is Oscar Wilde. Playwright, poet, aesthete, epigramist, he also shocked Victorian England as a homosexual and proud pedophile. Only after the father of Wilde’s most consistent lover grew enraged, was the writer lambasted in public and convicted under Victorian statutes against immorality. Subsequent to a colorful public prosecution, Wilde was thrown in jail.

There (in Reading Jail, or Gaol as the Brits spell it) he might have rotted. Well, in fact he very nearly did rot. But he did not buck the system nor shake his fist at the bench or the heavens. In books like The Ballad of Reading Gaol and De Profundis he reflected a recognition of his sins – personal and social – and evinced a respect for Jesus Christ. He sought out clergy; he expressed his need for absolution.

Wilde wrote, near the end of his life: That is the charm about Christ, when all is said: He is just like a work of art…The little supper with His companions, one of whom has already sold Him for a price; the anguish in the quiet moon-lit garden; the false friend coming close to Him so as to betray Him with a kiss; the friend who still believed in Him, and on whom as on a rock he had hoped to build a house of refuge for Man, denying Him as the bird cried to the dawn; His own utter loneliness, His submission, His acceptance of everything… the crucifixion of the Innocent One before the eyes of His mother… the terrible death by which He gave the world its most eternal symbol; and His final burial in the tomb of the rich man, His body swathed in Egyptian linen with costly spices and perfumes as though He had been a king’s son.

Oscar spent his last days in exile in Paris, destitute and sick. He had not lost his trademark wit, even self-deprecatory. He complained of the cheap boarding-house room in which he lived: “Either that wallpaper goes, or I do.” Modern studies have focused on Wilde’s earlier aggressive iconoclasm and flamboyant homosexuality, but not much on his embrace of the Savior. Oh, not in these times.

I nominate a third person, or people, who can be in the category of “those we didn’t know were Christians.” Myself. I will explain:

I was at a party a number of years ago. Cartoonists and writers, folks I knew fairly well, but I was chatting with a friend’s wife I barely knew. The subject of a recent project was raised, and she said, startled, “Oh! You’re a Christian? I didn’t know!” Now: she was a committed believer too; and the statement was in the mode of “Oh! You’re left-handed?” or “You’re a vegetarian? I didn’t know that!”

I am neither one of those people; however the point is relevant – I immediately was “convicted,” a truth brought home to me. She knew the professional-Rick but not the Christian-Rick… and there should be no difference. Van Gogh and Oscar were, respectively, celebrities wrapped in eccentricities or end-of-life controversies; and whose reputations were “protected” by those who cared little about publicizing their spiritual rebirths.

You and I, on the other hand, are – I hope and assume – alive and kicking. If we are Christians, that fact should not take anybody by surprise. “They’ll know we are Christians by our love,” a song goes. We don’t wear signs around our necks, and should not have to wear jewelry or lapel pins to announce or prove our faith-commitments to anyone.

We must not be ashamed of the Gospel. We can show love. We can forgive. We can share the words of Christ. We can serve the needy and the sick, the broken and hurting. We can – first of all – confess Jesus as the Son of God; believe that He rose from the dead after sacrificing Himself, taking our sins upon Him. The Holy Spirit will then see that we bear fruit as Jesus intended.

… And soon we will be saying to each other: “Oh! You’re a Christian too? I knew it!”

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Click: Vincent – Starry, Starry Night

11-6-23

Christianity was berthed in Jerusalem as a vibrant, living body of believers. It moved to Greece and became a philosophy. It moved to Rome and became an institution. It moved to Europe and became a culture. It moved to America and became a business.

Somewhere in there, Christianity the Religion was corrupted and became synonymous with the Established Order. “Be ye in the world, but not of the world,” a command of Jesus Christ, has become obsolete in the post-Christian West. This week was the observance – scarcely observed any more, actually – of Reformation Day. It has caused me to wonder how many steps forward Christianity has made since Martin Luther’s day… and how many steps back.

In his times, Luther was not the first Christian to dissent from practices, corruption, and wayward theology in the Church. For more than a hundred years, believers had been tortured, imprisoned, and burned alive for questioning doctrinal inventions of Rome, and daring to translate Scripture into languages of the people. Luther, a monk, nailed a list of his complaints to a church door in Wittenberg, Germany. He too was persecuted, excommunicated, chased, went into hiding… and translated the Bible into the language of his people, the Germans.

“Reform” became the Reformation. “Protest” became Protestantism. But what have the movements since become?

Luther sought reform, not revolution, yet revolution occurred: half of Europe caught fire with the belief that faith alone, by God’s grace, actuated salvation; and that people needed no intercessor with God except Christ; not saints (many of whom were fictional inventions), not Marys, not purchased “indulgences.” As doctrines, “Faith Alone,” “Scripture Alone,” “Christ Alone,” and “Grace Alone” were themselves resurrected.

The Reformation finally caught fire after the accumulation of martyrs. Other Reform denominations were founded. Luther, who never intended to break with the Church much less see a denomination established with his name, had to rein in his followers, the radical among whom had begun to destroy statues and Christian art. At the other extreme, Luther rode the wave, often manifested in secular art, of the Renaissance. Because his Reformation respected literacy and inquiry, local ecclesiastical and political control, and the dignity of the individual, the whirlwind he unleashed effectively led to the printing press, the Enlightenment, and Western democracy.

(For another essay we must examine the seeming contradictions in Luther’s rejection of Modernism – he can be seen as the last of the Medievalists – and remember his dictum that “Reason is the enemy of faith.”)

But, for those of us who commemorate the “birth” of the Reformation, let us think about the denominational movements, collectively called Protestant. Historians know what was protested 500 years ago. What do they protest against today? “Christendom” – the Western Church, certainly the American church in virtually all its corners — is in dire need of reformation again.

Many Protestant churches have become as secularized, money-oriented, and social, as the offending Roman churches were 500 years ago.

Many Protestant churches emphasize “works” – rewards, incentives, trying to please God through good deeds – no less than the Papacy did when Luther was disgusted by it all.

Many Protestant churches ignore the tenets of the faith, deny the Divinity of Christ, and question essential doctrines of the faith… to an extent worse than Luther beheld in Rome.

Christians must live in this world protesting – that is, not accepting the world’s standards, not conforming to the ways of the world. We must either offend the world-system or be a sweet savor; but NOT become like the world. Jesus did not “go along”! What does Protestantism protest against any more?

The Reformation succeeded in part because the larger culture enthusiastically embraced, for a time, the melding of Christian and social, civic lifestyles. But now, upon the altars of inclusion, pluralism, and multi-culturalism, Western societies increasingly eschew even mentions of Christianity and its standards, much less respect them.

Martin Luther accepted martyrdom for his beliefs, even to the point of his rescue. A letter on display at the Museum of the Bible, written the night before his trial, displays how accepting he was of his fate… and how ready to defend his conscience, to die for His Lord. He said when he was called on trial to recant his beliefs and writings (under the threat of death), Unless I am convinced by proofs from Scriptures or by plain and clear reasons and arguments, I can not and will not retract [my writings]. For it is neither safe nor wise to do anything against conscience. Here I stand. I can do no other. God help me.

The time is coming in this contemporary world when Christians will have it demanded of them to renounce their faith; in fact, it has begun. That this is already a time of anti-Christian persecution is abundantly clear. Not only in pagan and Communist lands, but our own. Believers daily suffer indignities and are asked to compromise their principles and forced to sublimate their voices.

Some day soon Christians will have to suffer no longer in silence, and will lose the luxury of withdrawing into small groups and communities of believers. The Bible does not merely warn… prophets did not just threaten… but God foretold and promised this holy challenge to the saints of God in the End Times.

We must, like Martin Luther, embrace our faith and moral integrity, at all costs; and find the spiritual strength to say:

It is neither safe nor wise to do anything against conscience. Here I stand. I can do no other.

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A clip of Niall MacGinnis’s iconic portrayal of Martin Luther:

Click: Here I Stand

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?

10-16-23

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

9-25-23

The Holy Bible is comprised of many books written by many hands over many centuries in many locations. Most of the writers did not know each other; neither did they dream of how their texts would be joined or bequeathed through subsequent history.

In fact some of the books were written frankly to record events; some were written to inform and instruct other believers; some were written in the clear belief of writers that they were transcribing God’s words and warnings and commandments.

All the writers, however, were inspired. Consider that word literally: in-spired; as per respiration and other words, the root is “breathing.” So the Holy Spirit of God, by common belief of all the scribes, believed that the Lord “breathed in” to their hearts. As our Creator-God, He did such things. In these later times and by other ways, He still whispers His truths to us… He speaks to us in answered prayer, and inspired thoughts. Like no other deity in other “religions,” His words are confirmed multiplied times over, through the ages.

The “harmony of Scripture” and “unity of the Gospel” are therefore truths that reassure believers, and astonish mathematicians, among others. Think about the probabilities of disparate people agreeing with others whom they did not know; or confirming facts about which they had no tangible clues; or sharing predictions and prophecies that happened, as it turned out, “to the letter.”

These people “recorded” as the Spirit of God dictated to their hearts, things that sometimes made no sense, or seemed irrelevant at the times… but of course have powerful relevance to humankind. Scientists and archaeologists today are discovering places and persons in ancient Scripture that were recently thought to be poetry or fantasy or fiction… but – we discover that those kings, those battles, those cities were real.

The Bible tells us so.

So, despite the stubborn secularists and agnostics who regard it all as a fable or insider-conspiracy or poetic nonsense, we stand in awe of the Holy Bible as history (“His story”); as wisdom and guidance; as a Love Letter from God Almighty. Between its covers are not random contents and disputes and admonitions, but exceedingly precise, intentional words for our comings-and-goings. And for our lives.

There are nit-pickers, some of whom seem sincere, and some of whom have huff-and-puff scholarly manners, who tell of minute differences between, say, accounts in the Gospels – just how many things did Jesus say when hanging on the cross? Or renewed skepticism when their “proofs” against, say, a Great Flood or the actual existence of an ancient Biblical kingdom, have been upended. If they spent one one-thousandth of the time studying the truths in God’s Word, as they do searching for contradictions…

They, and the world, might be better off.

If we look hard enough, anyone can see what they want to see, or miss what they want to miss. I was on the editorial team of the republication of the 1599 Geneva Bible, which was in fact the translation of John Calvin that (among other significance) Pilgrims brought to the colonies; not the King James version. It lives in history as the “Breeches” Bible because translators handled the account in Genesis 3:7, where Adam sewed fig leaves together to cover his nakedness, and called the garment “breeches.” Somehow mankind seemed to pay as much attention to that, as to the entirety of Scripture.

There are other tempests in teapots – or angels dancing on heads of pins. The Apocrypha is, or is not, regarded as canon; and portions of Daniel and Esther are regarded by some Christians as “Deuterocanonical” – added or discovered at dates later than “accepted” Scripture. Martin Luther doubted the authority of the Book of James. I recently have been studying the movement of the early church father Marcion, who held unorthodox views on the relevance of the Old Testament, and establishment of the Apostolic church, to Christ’s mission and message. Some view him as heretical, but without his movement, we might not have some of New Testament Scripture and traditions.

Again, my point – and my willingness to raise such issues – is that we as humankind are face-to-face with God’s existence, Jesus’s reality, and the Holy Spirit’s essential role in our lives. Yes… the devil can be in details, sometimes.

We need to keep our eyes on Heaven, and our feet on the ground.

I know Jesus is real because I have met Him. He mightily has intervened in my life, and that of my family. He has worked miracles that no other person, no other power, could do. Can I explain this to skeptics. No, not really… it is for everyone to experience. And I would say that it is not so important that we love Him – it is to our salvation; yes, but what is most important to grasp is that He loves us.

If we had to order a priority (and it is not really a priority: both things are true and essential), but I would plead to those who have not yet accepted Salvation to grasp the fact that God so loved the world that He allowed His Son to take our sins upon Him… that we may be one with the Father. That makes the Bible – however else the world debates it – a thousand translations; the source of debates; the essence of holy wisdom; a handbook for conducting one’s life; a record of miracles; prophecies of end times – when all is said and done, a love story.

I think we cannot fall in love with God fully until we are aware of the awesome fact that the Creator of the Universe knows and loves you and me. The Bible is God’s love letter to us; love is in every word, every verse, every chapter, every book.

Yes, Jesus Loves Me. The Bible tells me so.

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Click: Jesus Loves Me

9-18-23

There have been a few small denominations that discouraged music in worship, just as there were sects that outlawed sex. For similar reasons those groups seemed to perish, disappear… and are missed by few.

Music is a part of humans’ souls. Mysterious in its way because not everybody has the talent to create tunes… or perform well… yet we all respond to music. Those who “can’t carry a tune” (and some people cannot) still enjoy listening. The most hardened people find their hearts softened when they hear a familiar melody. Songs are composed to win lovers and to send boys to war; to bond and to bind; to remember… and, by diversion, to heal and forget.

I am not aware of a survey, but I figure that 95 per cent of songs are love songs. Tennessee Ernie Ford once was asked why he sang so many Gospel songs and not more love songs, and he answered, “Gospel songs are the greatest love songs of all.”

Instrumental music is, to me, the most mysterious, and profound, of all music… all of all the arts. Abstract, yet specific in intent. And musical notation is a language all its own – a universal language. Composers who begin their work with blank staves… and finish with “sounds” that can move us literally and also move us to tears and smiles… perform a kind of miracle.

Johann Sebastian Bach took those blank pages, and before beginning to compose any work, wrote “Jesus, help me” at the top of the first page. When the composition was finished, he wrote “Thanks be to God” on the last page, acknowledging his source and strength of inspiration.

Quirky denominations aside, all cultures, in their social and religious practices, have relied on musical expression. The Bible overflows with descriptions, and endorsements, of joyful music. In Genesis 4 Jubal is identified as the ancestor of “all those who play the lyre and pipe.” Elsewhere, Elisha commanded, “Get me a musician,” wherewith a blessing was delivered. David, the “Sweet Singer of Israel,” ministered to Saul by playing music at night, much as Bach’s Goldberg Variations were composed to soothe those who sought rest.

Martin Luther, the great reformer and preacher, was also a composer (for instance of A Mighty Fortress Is Our God) and he defended music in church: “The devil does not need all the good tunes to himself!”

Some of the most important American historians are those who have studied and recorded (including literally) the folklore and folk music of the American past. I was privileged to know (and play music with, even past his 100^th birthday!) the legendary Wade Mainer, whose banjo-picking style influenced Earl Scruggs years before the Bluegrass Sound was born. To hear his stories of rural North Carolina, and hear the songs he and his wife Julia (whose stage name back in the day was Hillbilly Lilly) sang together was like walking through history.

A friend recently reminded me of the excellent book and movie Songcatcher, about those who kept those musical traditions alive. One of the characters mused about the “thread” of a favorite song, perhaps “a touchstone with the past – a remembrance of all the singers who had ever kept a story alive on the strength of their music, and that singing the ballad was a chance to join that chain of voices stretching all the way back to across the ocean to the place where the families began.”

Yes, music hath charms. It is the case, of course, with mighty hymns as well as humble folk tunes. May I provide an example?

Here is a video of a performance of the hymn Nearer, My God, to Thee, which was composed in 1841. Its meaningful words were set to music by several people through the years, including Sir Arthur Sullivan (of Gilbert and Sullivan fame). Its words were on the lips of President William McKinley as he died of an assassin’s bullet – imagine an American president today having this as his last thought? – and by legend, as The Titanic sank, Theodore Roosevelt’s former military aide Archie Butt directed the ship’s musicians to play it.

In this video, André Rieu conducts his Johann Strauss Orchestra, plus 400 brass players and a hundred singers in a performance of Nearer, My God, to Thee. The audience of thousands is a mixed, international group in an open square in Maastricht – and the hymn is performed without words, the singers chanting. Does the audience miss the significance? Not counted by the emotions, and tears, on listeners’ faces!

To hear this hymn, even once, impresses the powerful words on one’s mind, carried by the music. And the reverence of this elaborate performance… confirms the Power of Music.

In words written in 1697 in William Congreve’s play The Mourning Bride, “Musick hath Charms to soothe the savage Breast, To soften Rocks, or bend a knotted Oak.” And it can lift souls, and carry us somehow Heavenward too:

Nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee! E’en though it be a cross that raiseth me,
Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to thee; Nearer to thee!

Though like the wanderer, the sun gone down, Darkness be over me, my rest a stone;
Yet in my dreams I’d be Nearer, my God, to thee; Nearer to thee!

There let the way appear, steps unto heaven; All that thou sendest me, in mercy given;
Angels to beckon me Nearer, my God, to thee; Nearer to thee!

As Bach, “the Fifth Evangelist,” said, “With devotional music, God is always present in His grace.”

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Click: Nearer My God To Thee

9-4-23

The unofficial end of Summer: This weekend there will be the sounds of parades, the colors of flags, the sights of smiling friends and family, and if nothing else… the aromas of barbecues. Particularly dear to me as, these very weeks, my daughter Emily, who lives in Northern Ireland, is amping up her American-barbecue business in Ireland and the UK; the BBQueen of Derry. Appropriate Cultural Appropriation you can taste!

I have told this story before about summer get-togethers. When I skip it, I get letters asking “Where was that great song you post every summer?” On this Labor Day weekend, I remember a simple barbecue, but one of the most profound days of my life. A holiday far away from my home… but very close to my heart. It happened on a summer holiday almost 30 years ago.

And it always makes me wonder, Is an America we once knew disappearing?

I lived in East Texas back then for a few months, conducting interviews and research for a book I was writing. Once settled, I took out the Yellow Pages (remember them?) to chart the location of nearby Assembly of God churches, intent on visiting as many as I could through the summer. East Texas was in every way new to me, and I wanted to experience everything I could.

Well, the first one I visited was in Cut and Shoot. That’s a town’s name; you can look it up. A small white frame AG church was my first stop that summer… and I never visited another. In that tiny congregation, it was, um, obvious in three minutes that I was not from East Texas. I was born in New York City. Yet I was treated like family as if the folks had known me for decades. A fellow named Dave Gilbert asked me if I’d like to go to his farm for a barbecue where a bunch of people were just going to get together and “do some visitin’.”

I brought the biggest watermelon I could find as my contribution to the pot-luck. There were dozens and dozens of folks. I couldn’t tell which was family and who were friends, because everybody acted like kinfolk. When folks from East Texas ask, “How are you?” they really mean it. There were several monstrous barrel barbecue smokers with chimneys, all slow-cooking beef brisket. (Every region brags about its barbecue traditions, but I’ll fight anyone who doesn’t agree that low-heat, slow-smoked, no sauce, East-Texas barbecue is the best.) There was visitin’, surely; there were delicious side dishes; there was softball and volleyball and kids dirt-biking; and breaks for sweet tea and spontaneous singing of patriotic songs.

I sat back in a folding chair, and I thought, “This is America.”

As the sun set, the same food came out again – smoked brisket galore; all the side dishes; and desserts of all sorts. Better than the first time. Then the Gilberts cleared their house’s porch. People brought instruments out of their cars and trucks. Folks tuned their guitars; some microphones and amps were set up; chairs and blankets dotted the lawn. Dave Gilbert and his brothers, I learned, sang gospel music semi-professionally in the area. Pastor Charles Wigley of that local church, during the summer had opened for Gold City Quartet at a local concert, playing gospel music on the saxophone.

In some churches, in some parts of America, you sing solo every once in a while. You’re not only expected to – you want to. So into the evening, as the sun went down and the moon came up over those farms and fields, everyone at that picnic naturally sang, together or solo or in duets or quartets. Spontaneously, mostly. Far into the night, exuberantly with smiles, or heartfelt with tears, singing unto the Lord.

I sat back in the folding chair, and I thought, “This is Heaven.”

I have grown sad for people who have not experienced the type of worship where singers, and people who pray, do so spontaneously. From the congregation. Moving to the front. Sharing their hearts. Crying tears of joy or conviction. Loving the Lord, and each other, freely. If you have not… then visit a church where this is commonplace. Even witnessing it is an uplifting balm to the soul, where there is freedom and joy in singing spontaneously.

I attach a video that very closely captures the music, and the feeling – the fellowship – of that evening. A wooden ranch house, a barbecue picnic just ended, a campfire, and singers spontaneously worshiping, joining in, clapping, and “taking choruses.” Smiling, hugging. There were cameras at this particular get-together, but it took this city boy back to that holiday weekend, finding himself among a brand-new family, the greatest barbecue I ever tasted before or since… and the sweetest songs I know.

And I think to myself, nervously shedding a tear… “THIS is the America we are losing.”

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Click: The Sweetest Song I Know

8-28-23

Nothing in the Holy Bible is an accident. Every word of Scripture has application to our lives. That we are not nomads or shepherds is irrelevant. Truth, sin, purity, love, and God’s sovereignty are matters as pertinent to us today as to any people through past centuries and many lands. The smallest details are as important as the larger narratives.

In that perspective I invite a look at the first of Jesus’s miracles. In the second chapter of John’s Gospel we have the account of the Wedding Feast at Cana. It is where Jesus turned water into wine as the feast ran short.

This is the first of Jesus’s recorded miracles. We may marvel, as the wedding couple and the guests did. The important point is to focus on the miracle, not specifically the wine (for all its symbolism, I suppose Jesus might have made a miracle at the wedding feast of bread or fish or… wait; that’s for later). But The miracle itself was intended to impress the guests. Jesus’s actions have significance. His presence as a “mere” guest affirms His own humility, the “servant king.” And so forth.

But let us pause with those who focus on the role of wine at this event. Many people – and multiplied-more others – have lives that are scarred by alcohol abuse. It was the case in my family, and probably the same with most of you readers. It is a weakness in the human condition; and although specific to wine and liquor, I am persuaded that many people are basically addicted to being addicted; alcohol is the tendency or “flavor” or option of many self-destructive life-choices.

Virtually every addict, no matter the frequency or pleasure of the “highs,” regrets the addiction… sometimes (or repeatedly) seeks release… grieves over the consequences. Relationships, jobs, family, career, health, life.

Stick with me, please. The focus of the Water-Into-Wine miracle should not be the food or wine, nor even the miracle itself… but the Miracle-Maker.

Let us say that you have an addiction. We all do, in myriad ways, even to the common addictions to sinning, transgressing, pride, not fully serving God. Many believers – and I address well-meaning Christians – often pray that we be freed from bondage to this or that temptation. But those prayers are often in this context: “Help me be strong, Lord, that I can battle these problems. Watch me!”

As God reads our well-meaning hearts, we often mean: “Get me to that point, Lord, where I can resist these challenges on my own.” And it’s likely we really mean: “I want You to be proud of me, Lord. Give me wisdom and strength that I can overcome these temptations by myself.” And we are in effect wanting to get to the point of saying, “Thank you, Lord! I will take over from here!”

That’s spiritual maturity, right?

No, that is spiritual immaturity.

Let us never forget the Biblical reminder that “we can do nothing except through the Christ who strengthens us.” Remember that Jesus wants to run with us, not watch us hand off the baton and then cheer from the bleachers. Why did God send the Holy Spirit except to be our constant Guide and Comforter and Wisdom and Strength?

Was Christ’s work on the cross something that we should regard as “finished” when we think we know how much to receive from it?

In the case of our focus here, sometimes for addicts the greatest miracle is not to be free of the alcohol… but rather to become addicted to Jesus. “I’ll take it from here, God…” is self-swindling. A greater personal “overcoming,” a greater miracle, is to change our lives that we learn to be dependent, not independent. To be dependent on Jesus instead of the bottle, our own wills.

We are impressed by the account of that miracle at the Wedding Feast, turning water into wine. In our own lives it would not be a matter of weakness, but of strength, if we were to plead for a different miracle. Many things we simply cannot do on our own. God, please turn the wines of our lives – our tendencies to sin; our disobedience; our addictions – back into water.

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Click: Wine Into Water

8-21-23

The pictures and videos of the devastating fire in Hawaii, in the city of Lahaina on the island of Maui – much less the bare news and statistics – are nightmarish. Arising spontaneously; whipped by bizarre winds; approximately 3000 structures destroyed almost instantly; many people literally incinerated. Death tolls of more than a hundred folks are sure to rise, as many hundreds are unaccounted.

We tend to use words like “unprecedented” when we hear of such disasters, yet we sadly and too easily can recall other natural disasters like Pompeii 2000 years ago, or the Galveston Hurricane of 1900, when upwards of 8000 people died.

When the news of the fires broke, I called a friend in Seattle. He has a home on Maui, about two miles from the fires, as I learned. He has been reassured that his home was safe, yet he wept as the memories of familiar and favorite neighborhoods – and, of course, possibly many friends and neighbors – might be among the horrific losses.

Our minds might go back to another legendary fire, the Chicago Fire of 1871. Debates still rage, virtually as heated and wild as the flames themselves: Was the fire’s origin of “man-made” causes? How responsible were poor city planning or faulty responses in Chicago… or in Lahaina? Or are such disasters (for instance, in great forested lands) inevitable and cyclical? My webmaster, who is formatting this message, recently was on a car trip half a continent away from a burst pipe in his basement. Family heirlooms and uncountable photos were ruined. That sort of a flood can be as personally tragic as the 1889 Johnstown Flood.

My friend with the house on Maui shed real tears for the disaster in “paradise,” despite his own property being spared. And yet – I am not naming him to protect his privacy – his tears of compassion were being shed despite the immediacy of his current situations. He is dealing with two very serious medical problems; and his wife is very sick, too, at the moment.

How quickly beautiful oases of serenity and security, like Lahaina or suburban Seattle, can become virtual “valleys of the shadow of death…”

A prosperous Chicagoan in 1871 had lost properties and much of his wealth in the legendary fire. Horatio Spafford was further devastated by the Wall Street Panic and Depression of 1873. With meager resources he decided to have his family – his wife and four daughters – live for a spell, frugally, in England. Attending to final arrangements, Spafford sent his wife and daughters ahead, intending to join them soon afterward.

But a cable arrived from England with news that their liner had collided, mid-Atlantic, with a Scottish freighter. His four daughters were among those who drowned; more than 300 souls in all. Even in an ocean there are “valleys of shadows of death.”

As Spafford sailed for England to join his wife who survived, the captain of his vessel slowed the ship at one point and announced to passengers that, as close as he could reckon, they were at the approximate spot where that “famous, recent maritime disaster and loss of life occurred.” Can you imagine the anguish of experiencing fire and flood (so to speak), so personal, and even floating on ocean waters where his dead daughters might have been below?

Spafford, a devout Christian and supporter of the noted Chicago evangelist Dwight L Moody, reacted in a way that only the Holy Spirit could embrace and give strength – anyway, I am not sure I could have had the spiritual courage… to write a poem in reaction. That poem became the words of one of the great hymns of the church: “It Is Well With My Soul.”

When peace like a river attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll, Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, “It is well, it is well, with my soul.”

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, Let this blest assurance control – That Christ has regarded my helpless estate, And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin – oh, the bliss of this glorious thought! – My sin, not in part but the whole, Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more! Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, o my soul!

It is well (it is well) With my soul (with my soul); It is well, it is well with my soul!

It would seem to take superhuman faith to compose such words at that moment. In fact – whether with this background or not; the Hawaiian wildfires on the news, or not – it takes great faith to read these words, sing that hymn, and believe that truth.

Because whatever befalls the believer, it is well with our souls if they are in Jesus. Even in the worst circumstances… health or status… self or family… things of the moment, things of the future… even loss of jobs, of homes, of friends, of lovers… “let goods and kindred go,” in the words of Luther’s “A Mighty Fortress”… God is yet the Captain of our ship, our souls.

Impossible to accept, believe, embrace? That’s what faith is.

• Sometimes friends are revealed as inconstant; and we realize that in a situation, we had hope in a person, instead of faith in God.
• Or we pray and plan, and yet the programs fail; and we realize that we sought direction from everyone and everywhere except the One who orders our steps.
• We know what we want; and then we are reminded that God knows what we need.

There are mysteries in the Ways of God. I do not believe He sends disasters or disease, even to “teach lessons.” He is not a child abuser. Yet there is sin in the world, and our sins have corrupted the beautiful world He created, and sometimes obscure our vision of the beautiful life He promises.

God’s love does not depend upon our understanding of it. Even receiving it does not depend on our total understanding of it! As His ways are mysterious, His love is profoundly without limit. We trust and obey; there’s no other way. And – even in the face of circumstances seemingly to the contrary – it will be well with your soul.

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Click: It Is Well With My Soul

8-14-23

(A guest message by our sometime contributor and all-time friend Leah Morgan)

My apologies to this bee.

I’m so sorry, that’s false fruit. You may be salivating for pollen, but you’ve just received some miscommunication. There’s no nourishment here.

Our own bodies are so magnificently engineered with such heightened perception, they can mistakenly respond to false stimuli too. Our nervous system perceives danger and reverts to a sympathetic condition that propels us in to a fight-or-flight response. High alert! Adrenaline pumping! Physically ready to react! But… it was just political news. Or… it was just someone’s relational chaos we insist on listening to.

The hazards of living in this sympathetic state of perpetual high alert – or stress, as we more commonly know it – are devastating for us physically, mentally, and emotionally. We are meant to immediately revert to operating in a parasympathetic nervous state after dangers pass.

It’s the opposite of fight-or-flight; more like rest-and-digest. But if there are perpetual false alarms, and we continually fatigue our brilliant system, essentially crying wolf, we teach our bodies to never feel safe.

We won’t rest well or digest well, when our nervous system is locked into focusing on danger, real or perceived.

It’s why a particular declaration in Psalm 23 is so profound and such a paradox. He prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies.

Our nervous system downgrades the priority of resting and digesting, when an enemy is present and a threat is imminent. It reserves its energy for allowing us to escape through confrontation or retreat. Fight or flight.

Eating a prepared meal at a table as an enemy lurks nearby, not mindlessly grabbing a snack on the run for our lives, is a startling portrait. It contradicts how we’ve been wired to live. It invites us into a relationship like this with the Good Shepherd who provides for our thriving in every climate, even under duress.

What kind of sheep can rest and digest when a wolf is near? One who is led by love, not driven by fear. A sheep who is confident that every wolf has to first pass through the gate – a sheep with a Shepherd so good he becomes the gate. He positions His body at the entrance and the wolf has to take out the Shepherd before he can ever get to the sheep.

That has been attempted. You might have heard of this great showdown outside the city gate. It commenced at Calvary and culminated in a garden. The mouth of the gate of the tomb was rolled away to reveal the Shepherd still capable of protecting the sheep and defeating the wolf. Hell itself is no competitor against Him.

So when He prepares a table for us, we eat. We are able to eat. To rest and digest. And we never believe it to be our last supper.

(www. Leahcmorgan.com)

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Click: That’s The Power

8-7-23

Alienation.

It is one the most prevalent, and serious, of problems in society today. No… not an “alien nation.” That controversy – or threat, or mystery, or conspiracy of silence – I am persuadable is a manufactured distraction from real, honest, terrestrial dangers.

But we do hear a lot about people who are “alienated” from society, from their families, from neighbors and co-workers. It is ironic and therefore true (irony always derives from truth) that the more crowded our society is… the more “inter-connected”… the more “welcoming,” “accessible,” “integrated” we are – the more alienated people have become.

Alienation, isolation. Many people – again, despite the crush of neighbors and the menu of diversions – are convinced of having arrived at the end of the line. Their lines… their lives. They know nobody; they trust nobody; they have nobody to turn to.

How can they know if we don’t tell them? That situation is a lie from hell – they are not isolated; they don’t have to feel that way.

OK, your family has left you. But Jesus hasn’t.

Your friends have betrayed you. Hey, it happened to Jesus too; He knows. He will not betray.

Counselors have been worthless? Don’t trust in people.

Government outreaches are… Let’s not even go there.

Calling out to God is a prayer that never goes unanswered. Opening a Bible will lead to Comfort. Finding a Christian to talk to, pray with, share things… will never come up empty.

Prayer cancels alienation.

Lonely people already have an answer, even if they do not know it. “When two or three are gathered in My name…” You can be the loneliest person in the Lonely Spot in the middle of Lonelieville… and there will be two gathered when you seek the Lord. The Holy Spirit is promised to be with you in those moments when your heart cries out. You are never alone.

The Bible also talks about the “Great Cloud of Witnesses” in Heaven who watch us… and cheer us on.

In my life, I went through a period of doubt, who hasn’t? and my father said he trusted me. My mother always prayed with me. But my mother’s brother, Ed, and his wife, my Aunt Mildred, had strayed from the family’s Lutheran roots and became “religious nuts” (in my parents’ view) – they went to a Billy Graham crusade. And, horrors, they were more committed Christians.

Aunt Mildred used to phone me out of the blue and encourage me – no “hard sell”; she was praying for me, that’s all. Uncle Ed, when he visited Washington DC when I was in college, arranged lunches and reminded me… that he was praying for me. In the midst of my wise-ass doubting stage, I never was offended, but… I never forgot these gestures either. When my cousin Irene went to college near me outside Chicago the year I worked there, I almost felt like I would catch some strange spiritual disease from her…

Well, eventually I became more of a religious nut than they (um, a Pentecostal reference). Eventually I delivered one of the eulogies at Uncle Ed’s funeral. And Reni is my dearest cousin.

Eventually, you see, I realized the power of prayer… was not always my prayers, but even the prayers of people I didn’t know were praying for me.

Allow Captain Obvious to share this: God is sovereign. He can do what He wants. He does do what He wants. Yet… He has instituted the “channel” of prayer – the language; the means of communication. Can prayer influence God? Well, the Bible has examples of that; yes. Does He answer every prayer? Yes. But… sometimes in “His time.” And sometimes His answer is No.

That’s where faith and trust come in. But it all pleases God. Prayer is the key to Heaven, but faith unlocks the door; do you know that song?

And in the meantime… friends are praying for you. Strangers are praying for you. The hosts of Heaven are watching and cheering. And, as I said, when you pray, you are never alone.

… and, hey – in the meantime, what happened to “alienation”? Praying people are in the Family of God. Not alone. Will never face challenges alone, or problems alone.

Once upon a time there was a group of men, gathered from far and wide, risking their lives to make momentous decisions. Gathered in a hot room – this was in the middle of summer in the 1700s, and they kept the windows closed – but they suddenly felt frustrated, at odds, arguing, almost alone in their deliberations.

It was the Founders of our Nation, the brightest and bravest, but all of a sudden in a confused crisis… can we say alienated, not knowing which way or ways to turn? Benjamin Franklin stood up and suggested that they do something immediately that the group had not done yet… and do it every morning henceforth: Pray together.

The fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much (James 5:16).

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Click: Prayer Is the Key To Heaven

7-31-23

I have been thinking a lot about candles recently. Maybe it’s because it’s the wick-end. Maybe I’m just thinking of an old flame. Perhaps I am just waxing nostalgic…

OK. That’s out of my system. Honestly, I have been thinking about candles. I have a new friend who is “into” candles, for all the right reasons – in these hurried times, they represent serenity; they release fragrance; their glow is peaceful. And with other friends – and in my own moments of meditation lately – I have been longing for traditional, “older” forms of worship. Older for me; older in history’s unfolding.

Candles remind us of when churches were lit by candlelight. Of matins services, of Christmas-Eve candlelight worship, when the soft glow of many candles enveloped us in gentle light. I have been in cathedrals in Europe where the glow of uncountable candles is as central to the spirit of worship as the echoing strains of an organ, and the distant voices of a choir.

… complementing, of course the sharing of the Word, the message of a sermon, the presence of the Lord. No candles or choirs or architecture can substitute, only complement. But, oh, they do!

I increasingly yearn for quiet, reverent, may I say “glowing,” worship these days. I have been blessed by exuberance, unallayed joy, excited praise… but no less by seeking – and finding – the Lord in those quiet places.

There are some religious traditions that use candles in worship. Older faiths turn them into formal elements of service and even offerings. There are newer faiths that almost make fetishes of candles, creating “mystery” environments that are parts of multi-media experiences with video screens, smoke machines, and such. In both cases, worshipers ought be careful not to let candles or any other human-manufactured props substitute for the actual presence of the Holy Spirit; or the real, not symbolic, “mystical presence” of Jesus.

But let us return here to appreciate candles in all their variety and what they bring to our lives. What they can add! Yes, their moods and aromas and beauty; but what they represent too. For instance, it is not necessarily New-Agey to see tens of thousands of candles at a rally, or during a concert’s closing song, or during a patriotic moment, waving in unison. A single candle, placed in honor by a casket or during a memorial event, can be profound. Candles at home, or in a hospital room by a picture of a departed loved one, touch our hearts.

Moreover – you knew this was coming – we easily can see spiritual messages. Jesus told us, recorded in John 8:12, I am the Light of the world, and surely He is. Whoever follows Me will never walk in darkness.

You must know the verse too: Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven (Matthew 5:15,16).

I have always been impressed by this graphic truth: If you were in the blackest of black places, say the darkest night, no moon or stars – “pitch black” – you know that if a single candle, a dime-store candle, were lit, miles away, you would see it flickering, piercing the blackness.

But if you were in a place of blinding light – let’s say a parched desert under a midday sun – and you held up something dark, let’s say an open box on its side, you could not see its dark interior more than a few dozen feet away.

This little light of mine…

Remember that song? Yes, about candles… about light… and what we do with them. In the same way, about the flames of candles, another lesson:

As the wax melts away, candles might go out, but that is a function of the wax, not the flame itself. You can light candle after candle after new candle, “passing along” the flame of that first candle… and those acts do not shorten the life of that flame… nor dim the candle’s glow.

Be candles. Be light. Be the flames. Share your flames. Glow until others are lit too, and warmed. Be fragrant! Light the way for others. Pierce the darkness.

The Holy Spirit would have us do something more than just be lit, so to speak; or to shine only where we are. Step out of your candle-holder, climb down from your candelabra. Walk – no; run – into the darkness.

This world is a dark place, and growing blacker, darker, all the time. People are stumbling, lost; sometimes they simply cannot see. Light their way!

Carry your candle, run to the darkness

Seek out the hopeless, deceived and poor.

Hold out your candle for all to see it,

Take your candle, and go light your world!

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Click: Go Light Your World