Category Archives: God

Jun 29 2012
2 Comments
Christianity, God, Grace, Jesus Christ, Loving God, Repentance, Worship

The Kingdom of God Is Like A Game Of Catch

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Great thoughts from Carolyn Arends in her pleasantly moving book, “Theology In Aisle Seven”:

I suspect I have sometimes unconsciously used spiritual disciplines as smoke signals to get God’s attention. Now I am learning that they are simply ways of letting him capture mine…

…The other day I was trying to describe this shift in my understanding to my friend Roy Salmond. He ran to pull out an article he’d read in Time magazine more than a decade ago. It’s an eloquent piece called “The Game of Catch,” by Roger Rosenblatt, about baseball, parenthood, and the wordless communication between a father and son tossing the ball around. While the article is in no way religious, one thought in particular has permanently changed Roy’s view of life with God.

“They do not call it a game of throw,” Roy quoted, grinning. “They call it catch.”

Oddly enough, I understood exactly what he meant. Spiritually speaking, I’ve been preoccupied with throwing the ball; this turns out to be a case in which it would be better to receive than to give.

God is the initiator. We love because he first loved us. We’re here because he thought of us and welcomed us into his world. Yes, he stands at the doors to our hearts and knocks, but we need only let him in. We don’t have to summon him from another country or galaxy. The kingdom of God is already near.

Repent. It’s time to play catch.

Mar 05 2012
11 Comments
Christianity, Gospel, Worship, Purity, Repentance, Sandy, Deception, God, Marriage, Grace, Scripture, Intimacy with Christ, Authentic Christianity, Fellowship, Adoration, Joy, Holiness

O Be Careful Little Heart What You Believe

Hey fellow believer, what do you say about the popular notion,

there is nothing I can do that would make God love me any more or any less

?

If I said that I believe that is a false statement, if only partly, I know some would fight me on it. Others might even say, “well, it’s been good while it lasted, Green P@stures, but this is where I get off.”

Christianity is filled with platitudes and proverbs that need holding up to the light of scripture.

The Jews of old loved the scriptures but if a rabbi taught something that extrapolated or bent their meaning, the people went with the rabbi’s interpretation. There are religions in the world that have a long-held tradition of canonizing their popes’ or imams’ word over against their holy books – the very teachings their faiths are founded upon.

Do we do it too?

What if I showed a scripture that (for me) clearly debunks the sentiment above? Jude, who kinda knew Messiah pretty well since they grew up together under the same roof, said, “keep yourselves in the love of God.” (v21) His own half-brother, of whom all the scriptures testify, said, “if you keep My commands, you will abide in My love.” (see John 15:9-10)

So there is a possibility that we can fall out of God’s favor?

What would Jesus say about our NOT keeping His commands? What would we abide in then?

Same thing? Really?

Now I’m not suggesting that we are going to have the rug of our salvation jerked out from beneath our feet when we screw up. Our standing as sons and daughters remains, but the issue of fellowship becomes a white elephant in the room.

Can we displease the Holy Spirit? Can we grieve* Him?

Are there scriptural accounts that we may reference where the Lord struck down a believer for lying to Him? Did Jesus rebuke his Twelve sharply on separate occasions? Is there a church whom Christ will vomit out of His mouth?

Do these references sound nice?

Far from what you’re thinking, no, I am most definitely not trying to paint our King as a mean-spirited, vindictive potentate who cannot wait to chew us up and spit us out. I have found a Father and Lover of my soul who craves my adoring and returns in exponential kind.

Sorry, but I don’t approach Him every day cowering and quaking. He is absolutely precious! Our relationship is everything to me and getting more personal and richer as I move along.

I am only concerned here with a draft of grace that is floating around that hates anything to do with effort**, repentance, or striving for holiness. Its appeal is to our modern penchant for self-idolization; for our embracing the lie that God exists only for our benefit, and is preoccupied with making me happy and feeling good about myself.

I’m not ashamed that of the beautiful things that are part of my love affair with Jesus, one of them is a healthy fear of displeasing Him. I don’t like it when I’m at odds with Sandy, when there’s knife-cutting-the-air tension between us. I despise the gulf that exists though the marriage bonds still hold strong. I love her way too much.

Should it be any less of a motivation with regard to my heart’s King?

To know that I can cause Him grief, and to make every effort to avoid doing that (though I fail often), is not legalism. It moves me to love Him more and enjoy Him more fully because He is worthy of my highest love. It is…a beautiful goad.***

Let us stop subscribing to sentiments because they sound good, look good on Facebook status’ and make us feel better about ourselves, but held up to the Light show signs of questionable origins (re: satan). And, while we’re at it, let’s not dismiss those “other” passages that should give us pause. In a good way.

That’s all I’m saying.

_____________________________________________

*The word ‘grief‘ found in Eph 4:30 is ‘lupeo’ and points to an intense pain inflicted upon by another. It means a “wounding.” It is not a quick snort of saying “good grief!” at someone’s ridiculousness, but a sharp and recurrent, debilitating pain; used of a woman in throes of childbirth, disciples vexed by prophecies of Messiah’s own death, and the rich young ruler who went away from Jesus in great emotional distress.

**Not self-effort, but those holy works we are re-created to do in the divine grace that empowers us.

***A “goad” is a catalyst, prod, incentive

Aug 22 2011
6 Comments
Christianity, God, Hearing God, History, Humor, Hunger

Manna!

The children of Israel, wandering in the wilderness, were taken aback by a strange food falling from the sky all around them.

“What is it, Moses? Manna?’

Then the Lord spake unto them from heaven saying, “Nay. I like to calleth it Hot Krispy Kreme Donuts.”

Read it. It’s there. I’m sure of it.

Jun 18 2011
4 Comments
Christianity, Encouragement, Father's Day, Forgiveness, God, Inspiration, Leadership, Loving God, Praise, Sovereignty of God, Tony Evans, Trusting God

Who’s Your Daddy?

Let Priscilla Shirer motivate you in this appropriate clip for Father’s Day. Priscilla’s dad is Tony Evans and it is markedly clear that his imprint has been passed on to her.

I should add, I’ve met her mom…I think she has had a lot to do with imprinting on her as well!

Jul 10 2009
12 Comments
Encouragement, Faithfulness, God, Humor, Wheelchairs

Deja Vu With Pancakes

It happened again recently.NT1594883

“Again” as in too many times to remember through the years.

I was strolling into one of my favorite breakfast hangouts and passed by a woman who was waiting for her take-out order. I smiled and offered a cheery good morning greeting and she decided to take that as an invite for conversation. Lady, I may be a morning person, but I do like my morning’s alone.

Here went the gist of the conversation:

“I was in a wheelchair once,” she proffered without solicitation.

The hidden eyeballs inside my mind started to roll big time.

“Oh? Is that right?” I replied, feigning amazement.

“Yes. It was the worst three years of my life.”

At least it wasn’t two weeks or four months, as I am accustomed to hearing. Or an afternoon (“just goofing around in  Grandma’s chair”)…

But before I could recall them, the words were already coming out of my mouth and there were legislative powers within desperately trying to repeal them. But, tragically, to no avail.

“What happened?”

I have to admit, her story was legit. And quite possibly even horrible.

“I got my foot caught in a conveyer and nearly twisted it off.” She held out a bare leg which revealed a nasty discoloration to her foot.

“Ew…that must’ve hurt!” Scott, would you just stop?

“Oh, you have no idea…”

No ma’am, I don’t guess I would.

She rose from the bench she was seated on and I inched away, hoping for closure by saying, “glad you can walk.” And truly meant it. I am not about to begrudge.

“Yeah, me too.” She gaited over to the register without so much as a limp while her order was brought to the counter. My wheelchair and I rolled into the dining room to our very own table. I am sure somewhere deep inside she wanted to know about my situation but I didn’t offer it up.

No way could I say these had been the “worst” twenty-seven years in my life. Not by a long shot.

I wouldn’t wish them on her, either. They are my gift.

I get to do this…(yes, you heard that correctly)…

…Until I’m sitting on an IHOP bench, waiting for my take out order, and I can walk up to a counter, pay, then jump into my SUV and drive away.

Even then, I don’t think I’ll say to someone on wheels:

“”I was in a wheelchair once…”

Oct 21 2007
7 Comments
Apologetics, Christianity, Deception, Discipleship, Encouragement, God, Hope, Kingdom of God

We Don’t Know

“It is the glory of God to conceal a matter but the glory of kings to search out a matter.”
(Proverbs 25:2)

“To you it has been granted to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been granted.  For whoever has, to him more shall be given, and he will have an abundance; but whoever does not have, even what he has shall be taken away from him.  Therefore I speak to them in parables; because while seeing they do not see, and while hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand.”
(Matthew 13:11-13) 

“The secret things belong to the Lord our God…”
(Deuteronomy 29:29)

A hmmmmm moment just now.

I clicked on the NRB (National Religious Broadcasters) channel a bit ago and caught the tail end of a Q&A with Ravi Zacharias.  Just knowing that is enough to glue me to the boob tube for a while!  He had just recommended Os Guinness’ book God In The Dark: The Assurance of Faith Beyond A Shadow of Doubt to a young man whose question reflected concern for those who had felt let down by God.  Then he broke off the session with a parable that has me going hmmmm, isn’t that something?

It seems that Elijah was traveling the countryside with a rabbi when they happened upon a dilapidated lean-to owned by a poor man and his ailing wife.  Outside the shack was a skinny cow whose ribs were poking through its hide.  The couple let Elijah and guest to spend the night with them, offering them the best of their cupboard: a cake of bread, some butter and milk.  During the night, suddenly and sadly, a wall collapsed in the poor couple’s humble cottage but Elijah had no miracle for them, despite their hospitality.

Later that day they happened upon a very rich man who entertained them and allowed them to spend the night.  The evening’s fare he spread before them included rich, fat morsels and a feast fit for kings.  What a bounty!  The next morning, a wall also fell in the rich man’s house and Elijah immediately performed a miracle and restored the wall.

As the two travelers continued their journey together the rabbi could not wait to ask the burning question: why would you restore that rich man’s wall and let the poor couple suffer their fate without intervening?

Elijah said, “Ah sir, the Lord showed me the poor man’s wife was going to die the next day and I interceded for her and she was healed.  She and her husband are so grateful to God for His overshadowing miracle they will gladly rebuild the wall together out of joy of being restored to each other.”

“As for the rich man,” Elijah continued, “he is so bound to his greed.  He is held captive to it.  Behind his wall is a pot of gold and because I performed such a miracle for him, he will never know it, never touch it, and never be bound to it.”

Ravi ended the parable by saying that we have many questions as to why this wall fell and that wall stayed up, why this one was left in rubble and the next is miraculously restored.  His point was, quite obviously, God has a perspective on all things we do not have and He sees the end from the beginning.  He can also see through the wall that looms large and unexplained before us and He holds our tomorrow in His great big Hands.  We bow to the supreme great God who will answer our questions one day but we would be well served to remember that our time is but a “speck in a sea of eternity.” 

Have you had any hmmmmmmm or aha! moments of late? 

Jul 31 2007
7 Comments
Christianity, Compassion, Encouragement, Faithfulness, God, Hearing God, Miracles, Obedience, Trials

Life In The Gas Lane

Don’t you just love God?

What a faithful Friend He is.  I had recently ‘bragged’ on my God to a friend that throughout my twenty-five years of disability, and with everything that can go wrong with that, there has never been a time gas-lines.jpgHe has abandoned me when I’ve been caught in a desperate situation.  Have I felt abandoned duringgas-lines.jpggas-lines.jpg those years?  Well, yes, of course, but that does not change the fixed truth of the matter.  Not one iota.

I can recall when Sandy and I were dating some years back.  We were college coeds, heading to see our college basketball team play at another school campus ninety minutes away.  It was a rainy night and especially dangerous on the roads as I remember.  I was traveling around seventy in the far left lane of I-75 when suddenly my right front tire blew.  Somehow I managed to negotiate through the heavy rush-hour traffic all the way to the shoulder of the highway.  When I parked the car, I put my head in my hands and cried.  I felt so helpless.  How could I get out of the car in my wheelchair?  I would certainly have to be at least part way in the lane of oncoming traffic.  Then, even if I could, how am I supposed to change the tire?  I can’t make my new girlfriend get soaking wet doing it.  God, what to do, what to do…

That conversation lasted a full five seconds when headlights swung into the lens of the rear view mirror.  Within moments a gentleman appeared in the window of the passenger side and I rolled it down.  How did this stranger know to pull over?  How would he know the man driving the car would need assistance? These are questions only God can answer, but I have my suspicions.

In minutes the ‘stranger’ had the tire changed and with a salute and smile he was running back to his car where he lurched back into traffic and disappeared into the night.

That kind of stuff happens to me all the time.

Just today I had pulled into the bay of a gas station to fill ‘er up when my van’s wheelchair lift took a notion to cough and quit while I was halfway out and halfway in.  There I sat, suspended somewhat, unable to operate the thing.  I patted my front pocket for my cell and discovered, to my dismay, it was empty.  Turning my head to the dashboard, I remembered I had set the phone in its cradle to charge it up and it was way out of arm’s reach.  God, what to do, what to do…

A young man in a suped-up Caprice Classic pulled in one bay over but the hip-hop wafting from inside his car was so loud he could not hear my “excuse me” over the full-bodied bass.  Besides, whoever was singing was pretty angry about something and growling out obscenities and using a wide range of sexual innuendoes.  No, forget innuendo.  It was hard-core.

But after his car came another, a red SUV, piloted by a gentlemen who, by the look and sound of things, was quite happy with life.  He hopped out of his car whistling, looked at me sitting freeze-framed in mid-air and smiled.  He looked in the direction of the music and frowned and playfully covered his ears, while shaking his head.  I had a sense the Lord parked him there right away.  I spoke to him as he passed by, asking if he wasn’t in too big a hurry would he mind giving a hand.  This stranger, who turned out to be my brother, wheeled quickly and with an enthusiastic “how can I help?” bounded inside the van and in minutes had me on my way.  Rescued again.

Before we parted ways, I felt led to ask the gentleman, “You love the Lord, don’t you sir?”

“He’s my life, my everything,” he said.  I looked to the ceiling of the van and offered up a quick missive of thanks to my Faithful Friend who, once again, came to my rescue with real skin, blood and bones.

I wanted to bless the man and when I asked him for a card, thinking I might send a check or something.  As he headed toward the station’s mart he said that no blessing was needed as I had blessed him with the opportunity.  Still, while he was inside I asked the Lord how he might be blessed.  The answer came: “fill his tank with gas.”  Of course, I only had a debit card, no cash, and he was likely paying for his gas inside.  When he came out again I asked if he had paid for his gas and he told me he had.  I thought to myself, shoot!, but he went on to tell me he was only putting a couple dollars’ worth in the tank.  I knew that wasn’t near enough to pay for a tank these days, so I offered to fill his tank.

“No,” he said.  “I only live around the corner.  I was glad to help.  No thanks necessary.”

I found out my brother was a veteran on fixed income and when I insisted, he finally let me.  We’re family, after all, and family looks out for each other.  I left there this afternoon sensing I had looked into the face of God.  It was a different color than mine, but it was Him nonetheless.  Funny how you can easily find the family likeness on the side of a highway or next to a gas pump.  You just have to look.

Or cry out for assistance.   

Jun 22 2007
14 Comments
Brokenness, Christianity, Confession, Conviction, Crucified Life, Discipleship, Forgiveness, God, Hearing God, Humility, Intimacy, Jesus Christ, Kingdom of God, Marriage, Obedience, Prayer, Reign of Christ, Repentance, Sandy, Surrender

A Woodshed Moment

woodshed.jpg

Ah, there you are. I thought you were dead.

So I was thinking all the way through south Georgia yesterday afternoon. Actually, the ghost of my “old man” spooked me a couple times this week. Earlier in the week someone close to me spoke a hard word into my life and my self went into self-defense mode immediately. I wouldn’t even take it to the Lord to see if this was Him. I knew it wasn’t. Couldn’t be. Not from this person. Flames shot from the orbs of my eyes and smoke billowed from flared nostrils. I told my wife about it and promptly opened the screen of my laptop intending to write them the mother of all emails.

“Don’t do it, Scott,” the Holy Spirit warned.

How strange that He looks a lot like Sandy, I thought to myself.

“If you can’t support me, then leave!” I commanded Him (her).

“I’m telling you, you’ll regret it.”

“No I won’t. Now leave me alone!”

Out she walked. I fumed. Pecking out a string of words, I could feel the evil rise up in me. A mirror of sorts materialized and I saw my old self grinning devilishly, egging me on. Oh, he’ll pay, it said. And you will feel so much better. That gave inspiration for another phrase or two and yet another niggling unsettledness prompting me to go “Pac-Man” on them with my backspace key. Y’ever get so mad you don’t know who you’re mad at? That’s the place I was in. Although I never sent the email my mirrored image was dying for me to send, my heart was wrong. And the anger only festered. Yeah, I ‘obeyed’ the Spirit, but there was no life in it. The Lord had me dead to rights and was setting me up.

I suppose that ire was bubbling away inside me still as I came upon the shaved-headed so-and-so in the red car outside of Tifton, Georgia yesterday afternoon. He was in the left lane and traveling slower than Christmas so I flashed him. Immediately I saw his fist go to the air and watched it sprout a middle digit. About this time, Sandy looked up from her book when she heard me snort. Just in time, I add ruefully, to see the middle finger and me hitched to his rear bumper. It was then she looked over at me and gave me the finger, albeit with her stare.

“What are you doing?”

“I want this…this…JERK to get out of the way. Can you believe him?” my voice shrilled, looking for sympathy from my beloved.

Alas, there was none.

“Stop it, Scott!”

“What?!?” I could see immediately it was going to be my issue.

“Slow down, you’re going to get us all killed!”

“All? I think this bozo needs to die.” The words came out like toothpaste from a tube. Too late.

Sandy went back to her book. I sulked. I fumed. God bided His time. No one was speaking, not for the longest time. I’d turn to God in my thoughts with a C’mon, give me a break! Can’t you see how crappy this week has been? And I’m the innocent one in all this, but I could feel Him looking down at whatever He was reading too.

A few hours ago, the Lord summoned me. They were the first words I’d heard Him speak in my direction for some time, so I was glad. What I didn’t know was He had opened the door to a woodshed and invited me in. I was so delighted with the attention I gaited merrily inside, thinking it’s about time. I opened my journal and began pouring out my heart to him, defending myself from the get go, reminding Him I was His man and this must be persecution and all that. Instantly, He went into silent mode again. I wasn’t listening. I was doing all the talking and defending, so He quietly shut the door behind Him and cleared His throat.

I stopped. Looking around, I could tell I didn’t like this room at all. Then I had the strange sensation I’d been here before. Many times. I sat still as a stone, knowing I’d best listen as what I was about to hear was going to be the answer to my cry for so long: Lord, whatever is in me that needs to die, painful as it is, do it. Do me, Lord!

The one thing about God, He doesn’t tap dance very often. Mostly, He gets right to the point.

“You were wrong, Scott.”

“You mean, the other day? Well, I know I was yesterday. But, Lord…”

“You were wrong. I sent My servant to tell you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“If you continue to reject his word, you reject Me.”

He showed me this in the context of 1 Samuel 2:30 (the very end of the passage). The clarity was unmistakable.

“I’m sorry, Lord.”

“Not that easy. Not to Me. To him.”

He told me I was to write this person, humiliating myself in the process, telling him I was wrong, he was right and (gulp) asking his forgiveness. He also told me what to say, no more, no less. But still I found a way to obey God and get an old man ‘dig’ in as well. That should do it, I thought somewhat satisfactorily. I wanted to save a little face at least, to hold onto some measure of dignity. Ah, but that’s the stuff of self.

(There you are, you old codger. I thought you were dead.)

“Take that out,” the Lord said. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Yes, Lord.”  And I took it out.

Did it hurt to do it? Oh my, and how. But I could never want to be on the other side of God’s holiness. The woodshed is as far as I want to ever go. Funny thing how it is also such a grace-filled room. There’s some real one-on-one attention in the woodshed, some real heart-to hearts in there.

Even still, I think I’ll steer clear of it for awhile, thank you very much.

Jun 15 2007
12 Comments
Christianity, Confession, Conversion, Culture, Deception, Evangelism, God, Gospel, Healing, Hope, Jesus Christ, Kingdom of God, Reign of Christ, Repentance, Salvation, Suffering

800 Pacos

old-typewriter2.jpg

He was a man’s man. A tough guy.

He lived hard, fast and free, with no discernible moral restraint or conscience.

His colorful life ran the gamut from fighting bulls and running with them to being one of the most influential writers of the twentieth century. His resume popped and sizzled with entries like lion hunter, globe-trotter, war hero, womanizer, Hollywood celebrity, expert fisherman and he could drink you under the table. For a time he was the most well-known figure of the last century and though his oeuvres are canonized in modern literature, his philanders were legendary.

If I told you the man I just described was a miserable wretch, would you believe me? Before you answer, consider these plaintive words, spoken autobiographically:

“I live in a vacuum that is as lonely as a radio tube when the batteries are dead, and there is no current to plug into.”

Alcohol-related depression plagued him and he received shock therapy to reduce the depression and paranoia. Tragically, the therapy caused him to lose his memory and thusly, his writing skills. He left Mayo Clinic one day in the middle of treatments and returned to his home in Ketchum, Idaho. In the early hours of a July Sunday, Ernest Hemingway, the man who had lived such a storied life, decided living was too painful, so he rose from his bed, went to his basement and carefully picked out a shotgun among his collection. When he returned to the upstairs foyer, he found a place to sit down and placed the barrel of the shotgun between his teeth and blew the top of his head off. It was just a few weeks before his 62nd birthday.

What is rarely known about Mr. Hemingway is that he was born to parents who were devout in their relationship with Jesus Christ. He was raised in a home that could adequately be characterized as evangelical. His dad, a doctor who practiced in the suburbs of Chicago, was a personal friend of D.L. Moody, and young Ernest was himself a dedicated churchgoer into his youth.

After leaving home to join the war, Hemingway abandoned his earlier professed faith. So much death and debauchery challenged his thinking about God and his rebellion showed in his writing. His earliest works so horror-struck his parents they returned the volumes to his publisher and all ties were severed.

It is interesting that one of Hemingway’s short stories The Capital of the World hints at the autobiographical. The story deals with the falling out between a father and his teenage son and the son’s resultant flight from home. Over time, the father was so distraught over the broken relationship he searched all over Spain for his boy but to no avail. Finally, he took out an ad in a local newspaper with the words: “Paco, Meet At Montana Hotel Noon Tuesday. All is Forgiven. Papa.”

On Tuesday at noon, as the story goes, over 800 Pacos showed up, looking to be restored to their father. Each had hoped the message was for them.

That story gets me on so many levels. Of course, it can address what Eldredge’s Wild At Heart calls the “father wound” that is found in so many men and boys in today’s society. It is true that men are tragically estranged from their fathers and consequently from the fullness of their own manhood. But in the context of this post, and my futile wish that the story of Ernest Hemingway could have played out differently, I wonder if “Papa” (his nickname) saw himself throughout life not as the main Paco of his story so much as the 800 Pacos who would not be given the satisfaction of forgiveness.

The demons he lived with were unpardonable tyrants. He saw no way out.

And so he reached for a shotgun.

And the blast could not drown the cacophony of 800 plaintive wails released from his dying soul with the single pull of a trigger.

I realize the whole of my limited readership are those who follow Christ but every once in a while someone stumbles across this page who has no idea why they did. Perhaps, just maybe (especially if you’ve read this far) you are not here by some random improbability. And so, before you click off, I want to say…

…Cry Out To Jesus.

Believe me, you are being lied to. That bottle sitting by your bedside. That strange woman you are bedding. Or want to. That next fix you are dying for. The invitation you received to that wild party. Even your vain philosophy. The code you live by: I’m the Captain of My Soul. The estrangement from your family. The penthouse, the pearls, the pools. The porn, the booze.

Lies. All lies.

Remember what this so-called modern man said of his own piteous life?

“I live in a vacuum that is as lonely as a radio tube when the batteries are dead, and there is no current to plug into.”

You feel like that, don’t you?

You will never find what you’re looking for until you give yourself completely over to the One who can silence the inner cries of your 800 Pacos and set them free. He will set you free and make you a son, a citizen of a new Kingdom. Until you allow the Son of God to reign over your life, you are subjecting yourself to the reign of another, and that is called bondage. Stop kidding yourself. You keep chasing the wind, you’ll reap the whirlwind.

Turn to Christ, not to religion.

Do it now.

800 Pacos are waiting.

Jun 12 2007
5 Comments
Christianity, Confession, Culture, Deception, Evangelism, God, Hypocrisy, Jesus Christ, Kingdom of God, Ministry, Reign of Christ

What Would YOU Say?

You’ve seen and heard it. A rock star or actor stands at a podium and before a global audiencemicrophone.jpg thanks all the little people for their award then adds the obligatory nod in the direction of the “Big Guy” for making it all possible. In the sports arena an MVP or grateful champion might want to “first thank God” for their hard-fought victory.

Immediately after besting the Chicago Bears 29-17 in Super Bowl XLI, Indianapolis Colts coach Tony Dungy said before all the world, “I’m proud to be the first African-American coach to win this, but again, more than anything, Lovie Smith (Bears coach) and I are not only African-American but also Christian coaches, showing you can do it the Lord’s way. We’re more proud of that.”

In fact, it was Lovie Smith, the losing coach who said of the Super Bowl that it was the “perfect stage” for the coaches to confess their faith in Jesus Christ. In a USA Today ad both coaches took out days before the game, they stated, “We’re pro football coaches, but we are also men of faith. A faith that defines who we are. It comforts us in tough times and produces hope in the midst of adversity. It is through our common faith in Jesus Christ that we have individually experienced God’s love and forgiveness.”

That’s pretty clear.

But, there are other cases when a cultural icon has elsewhere professed faith in Christ (not mentioning names) and been given the perfect opportunity to speak for Christ on the world stage but muffs the chance. No witness whatsoever. So, in the interest of all that is at stake, let’s pretend you are given a mike and a platform with an audience of almost every breathing human being looking in.

What would you say?

Jun 10 2007
11 Comments
Christianity, Discipleship, Encouragement, Family, God, Hope, Loving God, Ministry, Mom, Parenting, Trials

Will You Be There?

Jesus said, quoting Himself from the King James, “Lo, I am with you always.”* And that doesn’t just mean when we’re on the ground, either. He also said, “I will never, ever desert you and I will never, ever, ever forsake you.”** (which is how it reads literally in the Greek New Testament).

I just finished a sweet little article by a pastor who listed “The 3 Coolest Things About My Life Right Now” (the list actually cited six things, which was neat what he did) and among those he listed was a little nugget about his four year old daughter who hasn’t quite learned the order of her days of the week just yet, but she knows that her Daddy is home on Saturdays and Mondays. “And so she asks every single day if tomorrow is one of those days,” he writes.

That’s just plain adorable!

Once upon a time, when I was a first-grader at Vandenberg Elementary School in Dolton, Illinois, school was dismissed because of a blizzard. The GREAT Blizzard of ’67. When I had toddled off to school that morning, the ground was visible and the air was (as I remember it) clear. But old man winter came in with a vengeance between those school bells and when I stepped out on the school’s porch and faced a whitened world with snow up to my knobby knees, such fear gripped me that I cried. A lot. How would I get home? I wondered. A most pitiable sight I was.

The sky looked no higher than the top of the roof and the ground was fortuitously catching up. I would not dare step in among those swells of snow. They fairly looked like they would swallow me in an instant, so I held my ground on the school’s steps beneath the awning, snow swirling all around, gales howling. And me, crying my little heart out.

Then, magic. Out of nowhere a voice materialized, one that I well knew and one that immediately set my heart aright and sent every ounce of fear packing: Mom.

“I’m here for you, Scott.”

“M-Mom?” I curved a gloved hand over my brows to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.

She looked from my vantage point to be the Ruler of the Snows and appeared to be walking on top of them! It was a sight to behold for a scared little boy in mittens and goulashes.

“It’s me, honey. Just put your feet inside the boot tracks I make for you. I’ll lead you home.”

And that’s exactly what I did. Step by step, I put mine inside hers, always close behind so as to never lose sight of my Heroine of the Drifts, becoming braver with each plant of my boot; but my bravado wasn’t in my ability to heft my weary legs, it was in the pace she set and the size of her tracks. That, and the fact that she was always looking back, checking on me, smiling her encouragement. While the inches rose all the way home, I took comfort that my Mom’s legs were always taller than the inches in spite of the telling fact that mine weren’t.

You know, my Mom took me to school that morning. She must’ve known the weather might turn, but that’s not the story. She was there for me even as the storms mounted and led me bootprint for bootprint through a scary world and got me home, safe and sound. That’s what’ll get us home, too. This One who made the seas, walks atop them and His legs are always longer and stronger than the worst that life can give us. This journey is taking us to Him and the way is to follow in His steps.

Little kids never need to fret over the days of the week. They never need to wonder, Is tomorrow one of those days, Dad? He is there for them, be it a Saturday, a Monday or a Snow Day.

“Daddy, will you be there?”

He says, “I AM.”

*Matthew 28:20

**Hebrews 13:5

Apr 27 2007
2 Comments
Christianity, God, Hope, Jesus Christ, Miracles, Sacrifice

She Fought Back

She goes by “Sue” publicly now and her story is straight out of a horror flick, only it wasn’t scripted or produced in Hollywood. Some time ago this woman and her seven year old daughter were in their home in the evening, she was cleaning the kitchen and her little girl was playing games on the computer. Suddenly a man in a ski mask and brandishing a gun burst into their home with only evil on his mind.

The horrific events that unfolded are too gruesome to tell but the PG-13 version is that he brutalized and raped the mother. After raping her he held a gun to her head and pulled the trigger. Remarkably and clearly by the grace and providence of God, the gun jammed. When he was finished he told the woman to call for her daughter as he wanted to “have his way” with her too.

This is the point her maternal instincts kicked into overdrive and she boldly refused. Somehow she escaped his clutches and ran into the kitchen where she retrieved a butcher knife and for the next thirty minutes, she fought her attacker with every fiber of her being, all for the sake of her daughter. Sue was stabbed 25 times and as her attacker fell on her to deliver the final, fatal blow, she began praying. The man mocked her, saying, “Where is your God now?” She replied, “He’s right here” and suddenly something lifted the man off of her, an invisible force, and when he lifted, the knife was in her hands and held straight up. The attacker came back down on her but the knife went straight into him and he died.

It’s the only time in the history of this metro Atlanta county where an attacker was killed by his female victim. Sadly, the little girl witnessed most of the attack. You can visit Sue’s website and read more about her terrifying experience and of the Hand of God who delivered her and her daughter.

Tonight I was driving home and listened to her story on a local radio station. While she was being interviewed, someone visited the studio and presented her with an amazing gift. The visitor was an Army Ranger who had fought in both Afghanistan and Iraq and had been wounded and subsequently been awarded two bronze stars for his bravery and sacrifice. He had heard her story and wanted to be there when it was aired so that he could present Sue with one of his bronze stars. It was a truly moving and memorable segment and left this listener gasping and praising almighty God for His sovereign watchcare over this mother and child in their hour of desperation.

NOTE: on her website is a button for contributions and the website will explain Sue and her daughter’s present need.  I have given to the cause and encourage all my readers to do the same. 

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