06 Sunday May 2012
Posted in Authentic Christianity, Compassion, Grace, Humility, Jesus Christ, Loving Others, Sacrifice
I wonder if the FBI has ever done a profile on this “man”? I would think the TSA would let him pass through untouched.
I’m especially intrigued by the last line.
17 Tuesday Apr 2012
A.W. Tozer, The Pursuit of God, pp. 15-17
04 Wednesday Apr 2012
"Christ redeemed us from the curse of the Law BY BECOMING A CURSE FOR US."
- Galatians 3:13
I settled a long time ago the matter of Christ’s resurrection from absolute death. I’m so convinced that King Jesus is alive forevermore that I don’t really need any more proof, but I did take note of a sideways or backhanded confirmation the other day. Maybe it was upside down. Or catawampus.
It was, nonetheless profanely convincing.
I was at the theater, cozied in for a Disney-produced movie, mind you, and as I settled in and got lost in the narrative, my reverie was suddenly capsized by the main character’s graphic expletive.
“Jesus Christ!”
There was no middle initial, so I knew the actor was cursing the one and only Jesus Christ of heaven, with whom his character obviously had an issue.
A few moments later, he cussed Him again.
That’s it. That’s all the evidence I need. I know that Jesus is not long-buried in some Middle Eastern grave somewhere. Otherwise, Hollywood wouldn’t give Him the time of day much less all the free advertisement.
Off-track Question: should Hollywood have to pay royalties to Jesus for each reference to Him…or is He public domain? Oh yeah, just remembered: they’ll each pay retribution when they have to face Him on the Day of Reckoning and the books are opened…
Back to the point: Sure we have the scriptural record that testifies to His risenness, the historical record, the testimonies of numerous reliable witnesses, and bookoos of forensic evidence, but I submit into evidence ‘Exhibit E’: the incessant and pervasive taking of our Lord’s Name in vain in every culture, every language, and in every era of human history since He left His footprint on planet earth.
You never hear anyone cursing Buddha or Mohammed or Santa or the Easter Bunny. Have you ever heard “MLK!” or “Mary Baker Eddy!” or “Joseph H. Smith!”? To get that much (sole) attention, Jesus, the Christ of God has got to be a credible, indelible contemporary influence. And with all that cussing and derision…
…how could He be out of sight and gone from public purview?
How, do tell, could He be gone from the context of our lives if He’s dead and buried? Every time someone shouts an invective built around that Blessed Name, I just hang on it the truth that my Jesus is alive and well.
And, conversely, since there’s no censuring of those other guys and gals, I know they’re cold dead. Unless they’re with Jesus, that is. If they’re not, then they’re hot dead. Only Santa and the E.B. get a pass.
Just like today, 2000 years ago angry people shook their fists at Innocence Himself and cursed Him. They wanted Him out of their lives for good. Their insults took on moisture as they spat upon His Holiness. Then they cussed Him some more.
Within hours His lifeless body was BOUND in grave clothes, SEALED behind a rock that weighed a ton, and GUARDED by soldiers who were trained to keep watch. Presumably, they were there to keep others out, and, just in case, to keep the dead Rabbi in.
Enter lightning, thunder and an earthquake. A moved stone. An empty tomb. A humiliated satan. A worshipping woman. Puzzled disciples. An angry prefect. Horrified Sadducees. An ascended Lord. A poured-out Spirit. A Church triumphant. A Coming King.
And you still want to curse Him?
29 Thursday Mar 2012
First off, go ahead and feed your kiddies all the chocolate bunnies and jelly beans their tummies can, um, stomach.
Color those eggs with the wee ones. Hide them in the tall grasses. The eggs, not the children.
I’m not here to pull the plug on all peeps, cadburies and patent leather shoes. If your kids know that all of it is just a side-show to the Main Attraction, have at it.
For me, I don’t much care for the word “Easter” anymore. I’ve dug through some pretty distasteful records of history that show how that celebration came to us and, frankly, it gives me pause. Or a heartache.
I stopped saying “Happy Easter!” years ago. And now I must tell you why. Excuse me while I pull on my history professor’s tweed jacket, complete with those trendy elbow patches. And now while I make my voice sound more professorial.
(clearing throat)
Ok, then.
Our story begins not long after the dawn of human history. Nimrod, evil grandson of Noah, built a temple-tower called Babel in the plains of Shinar, the birthplace of Babylon. Ancient texts tell us he married his female counterpart, a vile woman named Semerimus. Together, they bore a son, Tammuz, whom they claimed to be the divine Child of God.
Semerimus instituted the first in a long line of “mother-child” religions where she was worshipped as the “Queen of Heaven” and son as the “Divine One.” You see, Satan was already setting the stage to obscure the arrival of the True Divine King, Messiah. In Phoenicia, it was Ashteroth and Tammuz. In Egypt, Isis and Horus. In Greece, Aphrodite and Eros. In Rome, Venus and Cupid.
Fact soon gave way to fantasy and, as the story goes, Tammuz went hunting one day and was horrifically killed by a bear. Forty days later, he miraculously rose from the dead! To commemorate this event, temple virgins would fast and weep 40 days (see Ezekiel 8:14) which led to a great feast called ‘Ishtar’ where colored eggs were exchanged as a symbol of fertility.
A risen-from-the-dead deity.
Colored eggs.
Ishtar. Eas-ter.
This little history lesson is not intended to be a rant against Christians who do the dog and pony show of Easter, but a reminder that it was prodigals who thought the whole idea up, and God came to save prodigals. Prodigals mythologized a faux immaculate conception, a would-be heavenly son and fabled a resurrection, but we have all the factual nothing-made-up reality in Christ, hallelujah!
Satan wanted one-upmanship. He thought he’d do an endaround on the Godhead (remember the Lamb was slain before the foundation of the world) and get the world to fall at the feet of an antithesis Christ – one who wouldn’t crush his head! (Gen 3:14,15)
Christ has utterly wiped out the damning evidence of broken laws and commandments which always hung over our heads, and has completely annulled it by nailing it over his own head on the cross. And then having drawn the sting of all the powers ranged against us, he exposed them, shattered, empty and defeated, in his final glorious triumphant act!
- Paul, Colossians 2, JBP
The evil one’s lair was raided by the Stronger Man, Jesus, and the grave’s captives, long held despairingly and hopelessly in chains and leg irons, became a long procession of gloriously redeemed souls, the most awe-inspiring parade you ever saw! Far more beautiful, even, than a field of colored eggs or a church filled with frilly dresses!
Thanks be to God who leads us, wherever we are, on his own triumphant way and makes our knowledge of him spread throughout the world like a lovely perfume! We Christians have the unmistakeable “scent” of Christ, discernible alike to those who are being saved and to those who are heading for death. To the latter it seems like the very smell of doom, to the former it has the fresh fragrance of life itself.
- Paul, 2 Corinthians 2, JBP
Easter came to us via prodigal lore, all wrapped and dyed to keep our focus on things that lead to death, but Jesus came to set the record straight. Which version will your celebration reflect?
27 Tuesday Mar 2012
Posted in Christianity, Gospel of the Kingdom, Jesus Christ, Miracles
Imagine a perfectly smooth glass pavement on which the finest speck can be seen.If that steals your breath, just consider:
from across all that expanse,
all that vastness,
all that eternity,
ventured into our realm that we might join Him in His.
Forever.
_____________________________________________
*Chuck Swindoll, Mind Under Matter. (Publication of the First Evangelical Free Church, Fullerton, CA)
** John 12:46, New Testament in Modern English, J.B. Phillips
26 Monday Mar 2012
Posted in Confession, Discipleship, Encouragement, Endurance, Grace, Hope, Jesus Christ, Ministry, Restoration, Trusting God, Waiting on God, Worship
I was in a conversation with a friend this week. I asked my friend, “If your life is a song, what verse are you on at this point of your life?”
My friend said, “I’m probably on the third verse.”
Then explained, “The first verse usually gives the overall concept of the song’s meaning. The second verse will give more meaning, makes it more personal, and the last verse pretty much wraps it all up.”
“The third verse,” I said, intrigued. “Huh.”
And then a thought popped into my head. In the denomination I belonged to growing up, we didn’t have worship leaders, we had “song leaders” or “music directors”.
Invariably – perhaps because they were trained at the same music schools? – each would have the audience – sorry, congregation – stand at different intervals, these usually being the opening two hymns (that’s with a ‘ymn’ for the young crowd – these were lines of songs with strange symbols above and below) and the song right after announcements, then once more after the offering. Then lastly, during the invitation. This could last as long as the sermon, only ending when someone finally came forward.
As though it were a canonized statement, each song leader would announce the ‘standing’ hymn with the words, “Please rise and sing the first, second, and last stanzas (not verses) of song number 362 in your hymnals (hardback books containing numbered hymns)…”
Never the third verse. That one got skipped.
Who knows why?
Back to my friend: I was hearing that they were at an unsung, forgotten season of their life. What their life was saying was just not important enough for others to notice. Though they had a lot to offer, they just weren’t getting their just due.
At least that’s what I heard.
It’s been my joy to preach a mini-series at my home fellowship on “endurance” these three weeks. It came as no surprise that the passage God gave me is the scripture that got me through my nine weeks of hospitalization, three surgeries, two separate trips to ICU, and coding on my hospital bed. Through everything, God supplied my own third verse
Hebrews 10:36
For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised.
That’s what Hebrews has to say: stand fast, hold your ground, and progress pilgrim, because going back is not worth it. What is worth everything is when your life sings the lyric that was written just for you, that no one else knows, but needs to learn.
So no one sings your verse? You sing it, beloved. Lean back, tip your chin and just belt it out. It’s your story, it’s your song. It’s about praising your Savior all the day long! Make your verse the one the conductor modulates on. Even if it’s in the minor key, that’s okay, because it can raise the hair on the back of people’s necks like you wouldn’t believe!
Fannie Crosby, blinded in infancy by a quack, used her third verse to sing the message of her life: “If I had a choice, I would still choose to remain blind … for when I die; the first face I will ever see will be the face of my blessed Saviour.” All she did was write 8000 songs and a lot of third verses.
Here’s one:
Perfect submission, all is at rest;
I in my Savior am happy and blest.
Watching and waiting, looking above -
Filled with His goodness…lost in His love!
A woman I know well has been a quadriplegic since 1967. Her own ‘third verse’ is: “God’s greatest miracle to me has been His sustaining power in my life.” Amen, Joni.
Yeah, we’re not gonna skip verse three. It has a LOT to say and just as much to offer. That’s what I think Hebrews 10:36 is supposed to be: the missing verse that puts it ALL together, giving better perspective to this beautiful, hard, fulfilling and frustrating thing we call discipleship.
It’s beautiful music indeed.
23 Friday Mar 2012
Not far from our house is a small clutch of retail establishments with only three or four eateries. And one of those is a McDonald’s.
Sigh.
We’re not much for fast-food, but when we’re tired and hungry and don’t want to drive very far, we’ll give in and drive up the road and grab a bite. No, not at Mickey D’s – that’s pretty much never in our GPS. Except for their morning coffee. It’s pretty good, I’d have to say. Better than, even.
But I digress.
We’ll invariably choose another joint that at least has some good salad choices and better-than-average chicken plates. Anything with a pretentious ‘Z’ in its name has promise. We’d prefer to add to Truitt Cathy’s bulging wallet, but his place is way over four miles from us; plus it’s only got a drive-thru. And, we like the whimsical, warm-glow atmosphere of the primarily southern restaurant’s (could it be called that?) dining room.
Being the marvelous husband that I am, I gallantly offer to make a run up to the place and pick something up for us both. I know how Sandy likes her tea, how many yellow-pack sweeteners she likes, how she prefers her fries without its strangling seasoning, how she takes her sauce, etc.
I tell you, I’ve got this husband thing down pat.
But, invariably, my love will tell me she’d rather us go together so we can enjoy the full benefits of dining inside. Long ago she explained that you can get free refills, take the time to season or sweeten to your heart’s content, and, who knows, but being extra nice to the girl at the register might cause her to whisper “give ‘em extra fries” through the window to the food prepare’s side.
In short, the drive-thru limits you. What you drive away with, you’re stuck with. Ah, but when you sit and dine – hello – if the food’s not quite to your liking, all you have to do is walk ten feet to the counter and inform them (nicely! Extra fries or chicken pieces in your salad, remember?) that your palate, while titillated, is not yet sated.
A lot of His followers treat Jesus like a drive-thru. A quick convenience. In and out…or, up to the small impersonal window and gone, lickety-split. In a snap. A forty-second encounter. Little fuss. Little wait.
But remember…
When you drive away, you’re stuck with what you got, that is, unless you’re willing to go to inconvenient lengths to get your demands met.
When Jesus said He wanted a chance to “sup” with us (Rev 3:20), he used the word that means to sit and dine, not looking at the clock, not squeezing Him in, not ‘fast-fooding’ it. It’s the meal of the day that Martha was preparing for, bless her heart. She wanted it just right. Little did she realize, the feast was already happening in the other room.
Oh, the rich benefits of spending a lot of time over a meal with Jesus – not allotted time. It’s not “on-the-go”. The ancients had a meal-time like that – we call it lunch. This is a two to three hour meal where time is taken and life is exchanged. Five, six courses.
Conversation.
Savoring.
Embellishment.
Transformation.
Such ‘supping’ offers all the little extras. There’s the atmosphere – the ambience – of being inside, not “out there” choking on the fumes of the world. Complete with all the accessible a la cart perks!
The “better part.”
You may not get a daily time like this, I know, but carve times and seasons throughout the year – weekly, monthly – when you shut off the motor, venture inside…
…and sup at His table.
20 Tuesday Mar 2012
This what I learned at Jesus’ feet this morning:
Don’t get out of control over matters you can’t control. The enemy wants you emotionally invested in the wrong things so you will be unable to engage in the right things. He wants to sidetrack you, but hold steady. You are not assigned elsewhere. Man your position! You are to be faithful where you are, to those you are with, and for the purposes to which you have been called.
Can you almost see Jesus, mounted on fiery steed, with face painted blue?
Oh, and don’t get caught up in the “What about John?” business, either. Pettiness and jealousy do not become you, Peter. The Lord has other plans for John. You just be available for
whatever,
however,
whenever.
This isn’t a competition for the privileged seat beside Me but the precious joy of knowing I have a path and plan for you too, and will be right beside you in life and in death.
Selah.
16 Friday Mar 2012
Posted in Answered Prayer, Christianity, Courage, Encouragement, Help, Hope, Jesus Christ, Psalms, Trusting God
15 Thursday Mar 2012
Posted in Adversity, Christianity, Encouragement, Hope, Jesus Christ, Suffering, Trials, Trusting God, Truth
Finally, a cookie that tells the truth!
But fret not, for here are some truths that will get you through…well, whatever it is you’re going through. For when your, uh, cookie has crumbled. (couldn’t resist!)
Theodore Parker Ferris was, in the opinion of some, one of the great preachers of the last century. While a great thinker and engaging personality, and whose sermons are great feats of communication, I don’t particularly count him among those who preached an undiluted gospel. Be that as it may, after his death, the vestry of the Trinity Church in Boston honored him by collecting and printing what they believed were the best sermons Dr. Ferris had preached during his thirty years as their pastor.
One of the sermons was entitled “When Things Don’t Go Well.” In it he gives us some handles on which to take hold as we seek to cope.
(1) “Remember that there is nothing that can happen to you that has not happened to millions of others.”
(2) “Remind yourself that as a human being you run the risk of this kind of thing happening.” The human condition is that life is fragile and love makes us vulnerable; we are going to be hurt, but our hurts will pass; some dreams will be shattered while others will come to fruition.
(3) “Remember there are people who became great facing what you must now face.”
(4) “Say, ‘I don’t know how I’m going to handle this, but I can. I know that from sources of which I am not conscious help will come, not necessarily the help I ask for, but help that I know nothing about right now will rise up in me, will appear suddenly from all sorts of unexpected places.’”
These are all true, of course, but you’ll notice none are tied to the Great Burden-Bearer, Jesus the Christ of God. Chalk it up to liberal theology and pulpit psychology, but rather than throwing the baby out with the bathwater, I felt it was helpful to share his points. However, to make it less “fortune-cookie-ish” allow me to tie it together with the Truth that cannot be Ignored:
(5) Be advised that this episode is for training you in godliness. God wants to teach you something if you’ll submit and listen.
What Truth from Christ gets you through?
14 Wednesday Mar 2012
When’s the last sermon you’ve heard on the baptism of the Holy Spirit?
I’ll wait.
Can’t remember the last time? Why is it that the church is so ill-equipped with this precious and powerful ministry of the Holy Spirit? Have our doctrines become iron gates so as to occlude our entering in to the secret place where divinely inestimable treasures are kept?
These treasures are for us – for our employment and our enjoyment.
Martin Lloyd-Jones described himself as a Calvinistic-Methodist, influenced both by the unadulterated exposition of Whitefield and Wesley’s ministry of the burning heart. He preached a subsequent work of the Holy Spirit for any of God’s children who ask (see Luke 11:11-13), which may or may not be accompanied by phenomenon we see in Acts. For the record, I am in his tribe.
Here is how the venerable Lloyd-Jones describes this amazing love-gift from God:
Alluding to the teaching of Puritan Thomas Goodwin, Lloyd-Jones said,
A father is walking down the road with his son’s hand in his own and the child is enjoying the presence of his father and knows that he is loved. Then, without the child doing anything special, moved only by the father’s love, the father reaches down and scoops his son off his feet and up into his arms. He hugs the child tightly, showers him with kisses, tells him he loves him more than life itself and sets him down again. The child already knew his father loved him, there was no doubt. But oh the added measure of assurance, the joy of knowing that love is not based on anything you have done but simply flows out of the heart of the father. That is what it means to have God near.
*
John Piper, citing this reference, said,
I think this is basically what happened at Pentecost. And has happened again and again in the life of the church.
— John Piper: You Shall Receive Power, 1990
Are we so afraid that our people can’t handle this added measure of love from God?
This is criminal, if you ask me. During the Middle Ages, Catholicism deemed it illegal for the common person to have access to Bibles. Catholic apologists say it was to stem the tide of heresy, but their own practices were heretical! Wittenberg Door, anyone? So committed to their laws were they that the scriptures were actually chained to the pulpits!
Is this like that?
I am grateful for this subsequent work of the Spirit for life and ministry. For the life of me, I don’t know where I would be without His sweet bathings. Let’s not memorialize Pentecost as if it was a one-time event never to be reproduced, when the truth is, there have been many fillings and (oh, let’s just say it) baptisms, with many yet to come!
D.L. Moody said of his own experience,
I was crying all the time that God would fill me with His Spirit. Well, one day, in the city of New York — oh, what a day! — I cannot describe it, I seldom refer to it; it is almost too sacred an experience to name. Paul had an experience of which he never spoke for fourteen years. I can only say that God revealed Himself to me, and I had such an experience of His love that I had to ask Him to stay His hand.
Are you hungry?
Thirsty?
Ask – with a pure heart, yes – but do ask.
And get ready to be swept up in the arms of grace.
__________________________________________________
*Joy Unspeakable, David Martyn-Lloyd Jones
08 Thursday Mar 2012
Posted in Answered Prayer, Arminianism, Authentic Christianity, Brokenness, Calvinism, Christianity, Church, Consecration, Deception, Disability, Doctrine, Encouragement, Faithfulness, Healing, Hearing God, Hunger, Hypocrisy, Intimacy with Christ, Jesus Christ, Leadership, Ministry, Obedience, Pastoring, Preaching, Repentance, Sacrifice, Shepherd, Surrender, Theology, Trials, Trusting God, Worship
I remember a day when I was a sought-after speaker. I preached before thousands at a time, numerous times. My sermon tapes (back when cassettes were king) were widely circulated and my name was well-known in multiple circles. I shared the platform with a variety of Christian “celebrities” and exhorted professional athletes and could pack out churches for revival meetings.
Most days I am quiet. I sit for hours…just listening. I have one ‘parishioner’ who regularly seeks me out. No church. No recognizable ministry. I’ve preached maybe four or five times.
In three years.
And I have never felt more content with myself, my marriage and my ministry.
Nope. No sordid story of moral failure. Didn’t run off with my secretary or funds from church coffers. Except for a time when an influential network of churches blackballed me for the heinous crime of accepting speaking engagements — outside the confines of our hallowed denomination — my record could not have been more clean and tidy.
But I was dying spiritually. And physically.
My identity was wrapped up in what I was doing.
Disabled Minister.
Evangelist.
Revivalist.
Pastor.
Speaker.
Preacher.
Yeah, I was a husband and father somewhere in that list.
I would look at my calendar and gloat inside. I was so busy, I had no idea that of all the fields I was working, the garden closest to home was the most neglected. It didn’t make sense to speak that. It couldn’t be. I mean, that’s the plot right outside my window, right under my nose. It was fine as is. Right? When all the time, I was mostly oblivious to the prodigiousness of prodigality in my son and deaf to the internal cries of my beloved.
Somewhere in that space of time the Lord started knocking on my door. He, too, was vying for a place. It wasn’t a question of not being in the word. I read His love letter to me every day and read it from front to back twelve or fifteen years in a row at one stretch.
Aren’t I special?
I was pretty much the manager of all my relationships. I controlled the times, the amounts, the boundaries and assessments. I liked where I was. I could ride this streak straight into glory, for all I cared. I liked pretty much everything about my life. As is.
So what was this discomfort pulling at me?
What, pray tell, was this gnawing?
Why the black hole?
What’s with this niggling discontent?
Turns out I was inside the story of a farm girl and the king who wooed her. You know the one. She’s dark from exposure, but the handsome king calls her lovely. He pretty much throws everything at her and her heart is ravished. Shulamite wouldn’t change a thing. She likes it as is.
The day comes when the king calls to her from behind the wall of her crib. She’s inside, behind the lattice, and, though she is mad about him, she cannot be bothered.
He calls. “Arise! Come away!”
He had things and places to show her.
But it wasn’t a good time for her. She managed the affair. He won her heart but she still touched its strings.
So He mounted his steed and rode on.
My ministry may have had its successes but my King was trying to awaken me from the mystique of ministry, calling me away from its activity – the fanaticism of freneticism – from clanging cymbals and hollow hallelujahs, to otherness. To set-apartedness. To more.
He needed me still. Quiet. Scaled back. Toned down.
Unplugged.
Before He could slate my thirst He had to make me thirsty. I don’t know where I fit anymore. I’m too charismatic for some. A little Calvin, a little Arminian. Not dispensational enough. A legalist for the radical grace crowd and not traditional enough for others. What church would have me?
Ah, but that’s my head talking. My heart knows otherwise. And THIS is where my contentment comes in. I may not know where I fit, but I do fit. Because He has made a place for me. I just probably don’t fit where some think I should fit, or even where I’d like to fit.
He seems to be unplugging me from spots, then fitting me elsewhere. At times it feels as far as the small toenail is from the earlobe, but I fit. Wherever He wants me. I’m learning to “come away” when He calls. If I stay, I lose something. I lose His spontaneity, His nature to surprise.
If I stay, I start thinking I’ve got it figured out. I become self-assured, having Christ RIGHT WHERE I WANT HIM, which is the deadliest thing for a believer. Oh, and it’s hellishly deadly for denominations too.
Sometimes He is in the banqueting house. Other times, the palace or the gardens or the bedchamber. Occasionally He wants to go for a ride in the fields of wildflowers. Marvel of marvels, He doesn’t want to do it solo. He wants our company. But the catch is: the only way we can only hear the invitation, above the din, amid the clanging cymbals…
Is. To. Get.
Unplugged.
I have a ministry friend who says “Do me, Lord” whenever the Holy Spirit challenges him.
Are YOU ready for Him to “do you”?
