Monday Morning Music Ministry

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

10-14-24

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

9-16-24

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

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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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

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

5-27-24

Last week’s message inspired more responses from readers than we usually receive. It was a Guest essay by Christine Eves, a story about wanting to share her love of Jesus with some repairmen – more properly, I should say, her story of wanting to share the love Jesus has for them.

Readers reported having “been there” – wanting to “witness,” or invite, or pray with someone… but sometimes being reluctant. Well, her story was testimony of how God provides the circumstances, and gives us the words, when we seek such help.

That’s how God works. He is “our ever-present help in time of trouble”… and even when “trouble” is not a crisis but a desire to do His will. You might say it is a job description of the Holy Spirit.

I want to have us remind ourselves that, as with prayer and so many other things in God’s kingdom, “story” is a two-way street.

We want to tell God’s story, to share His goodness and His admonitions and His promises. We should ache to do so; we should be overflowing with passion to tell the story of Jesus.

But no less – do you know this? do you believe this? – God is just as excited to tell our story.

The Bible is full of stories about His people. How they might have struggled, even grievously sinned, but overcame. How the faithful were blessed… and how even harlots and murderers found salvation. Hebrews Chapter 11 is called the “Hall of Fame of Faith” – recounting the stories of notable figures who persevered and came through. The Disciples were a ragtag, average bunch who eventually changed the world.

In a real way, the entire Bible is an album of average people having common challenges and experiencing supernatural breakthroughs in their lives. Remember the Bible verse – and picture it – that “all of Heaven rejoices when a sinner is saved”!

A church I attended in Philadelphia, a large congregation that attracted many visitors each Sunday, ended its services with an invitation for anyone who was moved by the message to come forward and confess a desire for salvation, and receive prayer. The pastor sometimes waited. And, occasionally, waited and waited. The worshipers did too. But when someone went forward, the church erupted in applause and cheers, holy encouragement. What a picture of Heaven!

So, I am talking about the “other side of the coin” of the desire to share the story of Jesus. In uncountable ways, God desires to tell our stories too. Jesus invites. The Holy Spirit moves. We respond. And Heaven rejoices.

Another confirmation of this point of view: we are assured that, when confessing Christ, “our names are written in the Lamb’s Book of Life.” In that sense, the Gospel Story never has a “The End.” In another sense, we read the exposition of the Gospel Message in many of the Epistles; but it is legitimate to substitute your name, your town, maybe your church, where in the New Testament those books begin, “The letter to…”

I want to tell you about two servants of God who had passions to both hear and tell the Story of Jesus… and in so doing, their stories have become blessings to millions.

Frances J Crosby, born in the 1800s, was blinded as an infant by the application of bad topical medicine to an eye ailment. “Fanny” was talented and industrious and worked in several jobs, including at a home for blind children (her secretary was a young Stephen G Cleveland, who, as Grover Cleveland, became US President many years later). When she was past 60 years old she began to write poetry and hymn lyrics. By the time she died, into her 90s, she wrote more than 8000 poems and hymns. Many of them are in every denomination’s hymnals today.

This remarkable lady could not stop telling – and wanting to be told – the Story of Jesus. Now we tell her story, an inspiration to us all.

Katherine Hankey was a rough contemporary of Fanny Crosby but lived in England, where she was a follower of William Wilberforce, active in anti-slavery crusades. Unlike Fanny, she was born into a wealthy family, and similarly preached on street corners; but she too was afflicted, not losing her sight but her strength. Doctors eventually confined her to bed and she was distraught that she could not share Jesus on city streets and docksides. Eventually, before she died, groups of visitors appeared at her house to hear her messages.

Emblems of their faith, Fanny wrote the classic song Tell Me the Story of Jesus; and Kate wrote the memorable I Love To Tell the Story. Now we tell their stories as well as Jesus’s: different ways to share His love and how He works in our lives.

Is there a story you can tell that you would change your life to do? Would you risk health and doctors’ orders to tell strangers, maybe for their first times, the Story of Jesus? Is there anything in your life important enough that you would re-tell… 8000 times?

“Two-way streets.” As we tell God’s Story – I should say His many Stories – He rejoices in us! And He will tell our stories, as we do here, to the host of Heaven. And He rejoices not only in what we say or share, but who we are, what we have become. And isn’t that humbling? You and I, as chapters and verses in the Story, “the greatest that ever was told.”

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Click: Tell Me the Story of Jesus / I Love to Tell the Story

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

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

11-9-20

Yes, we need to be praying more than ever. And some of us have been, lately. We have been reminded that the best position from which to advance is from our knees.

We pray “believing,” as the Bible instructs. “The fervent prayer of the righteous avails much,” we are told. Yet if a billion of us – or merely two of us – pray for different results, can God grace us with the same answer? Or if two pray alike, will God’s response be the same for each?

We should pray for God’s Will to be done – His righteousness – and that our desires may then be pleasing to Him, and right for us, in return.

Sometimes, when we pray over an imminent event, God might say, You think the crisis is nigh, but wait; it is yet coming.

That is, we should trust in His timing. And realize that things can get even worse. And maybe we created our own crises!

Sometimes, in His wisdom, He sees that we only turn to Him in times of crisis. Shudder to think: would that persuade God to keep crises before us, so we turn to Him more? He desires our communion.

Sometimes God says I hear your prayers! But I will answer… in time.
We must learn to trust His timing, not our agendas. Maybe “no” is “not yet.”

“But God,” we cry, “Your enemies are loosed! Help us to fight them!”

Vengeance is Mine, saith the Lord. So are justice and righteousness. We are in His army; He is not our servant.

“God! You don’t understand! We are in the midst of a STORM!”

He understands. Better than we do. Must we endure more? Maybe. Storms are part of life; and God sends them, or allows them, sometimes. They clear the air; they wash away dead things; they rearrange things on earth. Sometimes He calms the storm. Sometimes He shows us shelter. All the time He is with us in the midst.

And behind the darkest storm clouds the sun shines. As bright as ever.

I would hasten to my place of refuge From the stormy wind and tempest. – Psalm 55:8

The Lord is slow to anger and great in power, And the Lord will by no means leave the guilty unpunished. The whirlwind and storm are His way, And clouds are the dust beneath His feet. – Nahum 1:3

Then the Lord rained on Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone, and fire from the Lord out of heaven. – Genesis 19:24

When the whirlwind will pass, the wicked will be no more; the righteous have an everlasting foundation. – Proverbs 10:25

And remember, fellow believers and voters and warriors – not from the Bible, but good advice:

When Satan whispers to the warrior, “You cannot withstand the storm,” the warrior whispers back – “I AM the storm.”

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(For readers with hand-held devices, click (if clickable) or copy and paste: https://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=GrcvXUvyn44 )

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Click: Till the Storm Passes By