Monday Morning Music Ministry

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

10-5-20

How many of our mothers tried to teach us about wise choices with that time-tested question: “I suppose if so-and-so jumped off a bridge, you would too?” Remember?

Well, either a lot of Americans don’t remember, or they are quite happy these days to follow every so-and-so and jump off bridges.

The bridge-jumpers are either self-destructive at heart, or somehow happily survive the dares and the leaps. The so-and-sos go beyond those who commit vandalism and rioting in the streets, even when as serious as arson and murder, heinous as those acts are. More consequential is the fact that these things have become normalized.

It is not so much the graffiti and burning of churches… but that few pastors and priests condemn the acts.

It is not so much the destruction of statues and looting of shops… but the fact that those acts go virtually unpunished.

It is not so much the occupation of police departments and hundreds of fires… but that officials excuse (and thereby encourage) such activities.

Since Antifa “is not an organization, but an idea,” according to a major presidential candidate, aspiring leaders virtually admit that there is no manner of countering anarchy, otherwise than gradual surrender. In the American civilization, this is not temporary insanity; it is a suicidal tendency.

Returning to our moms’ finger-wagging lecture – it was not a rhetorical question. Yes, the rioters jump off bridges. And, no matter how large or small a percentage they are of the population, America has started jumping off too. Many think they would not; but our society is doing so.

The secularized culture has not substituted new standards for traditional standards. It has substituted NO standards. The concept of standards – right and wrong; codes of conduct; Absolute Truth – is anathema. Unacceptable. Unfair. Fascistic. So we are told.

Seen in that light, the black-hooded army can operate as it pleases, and so can we… unless we object, or are harmed by, their operations. How can there be right or wrong, when you deny any value-system of standards… except by the imposition of their opinions? Lo and behold, we are face-to-face with the totalitarian impulse they claim to hate.

Very much like as in the French Revolution, when the bloodthirsty street-roaming rioters wanted to abolish even calendars and ways of telling time – not only killing middle-class people and gutting churches – the anarchists will be crushed between the really serious totalitarians from above, and the traditionalists and religious classes from below. That is in the future, surely. Sadly, but surely, to come.

The road to “No Standards” has been gradual, but the changing of opinions (once called Hypocrisy) in fact has been resolute. Views of abortion is one instance.

Respect for human life has been a mantra, as never before in political discourse, for several generations, beginning especially in the aftermath of World War II and the United Nations’ Declaration of Human Rights. It has been underpinning the work of many nations, many organizations, many activists. Or… it has been the window-dressing.

When abortion became a sub-set of convenience, and as Christianity and religion in general was scrubbed from society’s standard operating procedures, the relevance of someone’s conscience became something akin to arrogant bigotry.

Many societies throughout history have exercised child sacrifice and practiced infanticide. On the path to contemporary peoples’ destination of No Standards are road signs labeled “Convenience,” “Privacy,” and the new mantra, “Rights.”

Rights, of course, except for the baby. Many women (and, by the way, the legal system) regard as irrelevant the fact that men too can have anguish and bitter regrets over abortions. They have obligations when their babies are carried to term, but no role if their babies are murdered before birth.

“Murder” is a harsh term – but less so, for instance to those who currently are wishing that President Trump and his family die (a tsunami on Facebook); or that police must be murdered; or, in gated Hollywood mansions, where they make fortunes by producing movies and TV shows featuring unrelenting violence. So “murder” is a malleable term, too – another case of Standards melting into No Standards. Whatever is right for them is… right for them.

Life is tough. Women who want to recast their biological realities are rescued by a culture whose lack of standards offers them the drugs or forgiveness and acceptance. Suddenly the culture wants us to play football without rules, yard-markers, or goalposts. Like changing the definitions of test scores so idiots can feel like geniuses; or awarding sports trophies for every participant – life might be tough, but is being made easier.

In America 2020, however, easier is getting harder every day.

There is no escaping the fact that God wrote the Ten Commandments. Not the Ten Suggestions.

The platforms of political parties… the pronouncements of cable-news pundits… the preaching of liberal pastors and priests… mean Absolutely nothing to the God of the Universe.

God’s standards do not depend on our own standards, nor lack of them. And surely He does not wait upon our opinion of His standards.

And that truth, even more than riots in the streets and loony political platforms, will shake the foundations of this Republic.

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Click: I Don’t Want To Get Adjusted

12-30-13

When I have visited Bologna through the years, mostly to attend the International Children’s Book Fair, I stayed at an ancient villa outside the city. Its site went back to pre-Christian Roman days; it is named “Torre di Iano” – Tower (or castle or fortress) of Janus, the Roman god of new beginnings; of transitions; of endings and commencements. The grounds were beautiful, patrolled, believe it or not, by peacocks. The twenty-somethings who bought the decaying structure restored it to a comfortable hotel and restaurant status one room at a time, one floor tile at a time.

Iano. Jano. Janus – the two-faced god invented by the Romans, looking backward and forward. It is where we get the name for the month January, representing the year ending and the year beginning.

Thank God (not Jupiter) that we have a Lord who is never two-faced! He is, on the contrary, the fullness of creation, the Alpha and the Omega – who is, the Bible tells us, “the same yesterday, today, and forever.” He is constant, reliable, the Way, the Truth, and the Life. Remember this on New Year’s Eve, through your New Year’s resolutions, whether (or how soon) you break them. We mortals always do.

In fact the new calendar gives us reason to think of Jesus anew – not because He takes to Himself a new or changing set of characteristics… but because He doesn’t. This is a remarkable attribute. A God who is faithful even when we are not. A God who is invariable. A God who is an ever-present refuge in times of trouble. A God who is just but merciful, and whose promises are forever.

… a God who doesn’t break HIS resolutions, even when, as surely we will, we try and fail, try and fail ourselves. A one-faced God, whom we see through Jesus, the “image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.”

Happy new year!

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The composer Vep Ellis wrote a gospel song with the same title as a beloved ancient hymn, that is no less beloved or impactful. “The Love of God” speaks to the Lord’s never-changing faithfulness and His eternal worthiness as an object of our devotion. The Gaither Vocal Band sings:

Click: The Love of God

8-13-12

Hey, God. It’s Me Again. You know I realize the importance in approaching You in reverence and awe; and I usually do; and it often bothers me when Your people do not. But I need a little more of the way we can also approach You in prayer – I love that you have so many facets! – as if we are on a first-name basis. Which we are.

I have been seeking you hard this week, God. And when I have not prayed, I have the feeling that You have read my heart even better, anyway. And You have answered me in the thousand ways that You always surprise me. Remembering Your promises at odd moments. Hearing from friends who care. Catching an old favorite gospel song on the radio. Thinking of Bible verses I didn’t realize I had memorized… in fact, some of them I KNOW I had not memorized. How do You do that???

And then You spoke to me. No, I can’t tell whether You have a deep voice or a raspy one, or what accent You have. But I found myself KNOWING things, and knowing they were from You. They made sense, they brought me peace, and I could never have such wisdom on my own. Like the other day: I was thinking, with all my problems and frustrations and vulnerability and despair – the day I wanted to just get in a car and drive for three days, with no destination in mind – and, remember?, my cry that I felt like a faulty Christian? It had to come from You that I was not a faulty Christian, but in Your eyes, I was just… a Christian.

And then I felt I knew Your heart that no Christian is “just” a Christian, because that is the best You want for us! And I remembered that Your Word says that problems don’t evaporate when we accept Christ. You tell me they will even increase. I know that. But I have Your arm to lean on, a rod and staff to comfort me, a presence even in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, that You are an ever-present help in times of trouble. God, I realized how cold and alone people who don’t know You must feel.

You have brought me peace. I thought a couple times that I understood it. But, you know, it passes understanding.

But in healing my hurts, in being a God who listens and whispers back, You brought me more than peace. You brought me miracles. You might not know this – well, I guess You do! – but I feel like real miracles have touched me now, at the end of this trial. You know what I mean:

I felt so “down”… and now I am filled with joy.

I have felt so dumb and acted so stupidly… but You gave me knowledge of so many profound truths.

I have been blind, and missed so many things right in front of me… but You made me see. Clearly.

I was not listening to You or Your promises or Your children in so many ways… but now I hear Your words, Your sweet music.

I have been lame, feeling crippled in my “walk” with You… but right about now, God, You have me dancing!

And something that’s hard to understand, and harder to explain to other people, is something else I KNOW is true. This has been a tough week, God, and I thank You for answering my prayers; but slap me silly if I ever pray again that I want to live in a world where these trials simply do not exist. In that kind of world I would never need to turn to You, or want to know You better, or feel Your love, or be touched by Your miracles. I don’t want to get adjusted to THAT world. With You just a prayer away, I’ll keep it right here.

And, God… thanks again.

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North Dakota’s own Mitchel Jon leads a group of singers in a re-creation of a vintage camp meeting. On the grounds of the Billy Graham Conference Center, the Cove, outside Asheville NC. It is the Gaither Homecoming Friends; and, yes, that is George Beverly Shea you see at the video’s end, enjoying every note of this classic song, at age 100+.

Click: I Don’t Want To Get Adjusted