Bible Studies – Page 10 – Dr. Kirk Lewis Books

Happy New Year

Background Passages: Isaiah 43:18-19; Philippians 1:4-6

Julius Caesar and his scholars got it all wrong back in 46 BC, when they put the emperor’s name to the Julian calendar. They did the math and calculated that the solar year lasted 365.25 days, To minimize the impact of that .25 days on the seasons, they added a leap day to February every four years to catch up again.

It turns out they shorted the solar year by 11 minutes. For the next 1500 years or so, those 660 seconds per year created havoc with the calendar, causing it to fall out of sync with the seasons.

That Easter no longer fell near the spring equinox concerned Pope Gregory XIII. Using his papal powers, he ordered Aloysus Lilius, an Italian scientist, to take another look in 1582. Under the Gregorian calendar, Lilius devised a slight variation that adds leap days in years divisible by four, unless the year is also divisible by 100. If that is not complicated enough, if the leap year is also divisible by 400, a leap day is added regardless.

When Pope Gregory XIII made his pronouncement, the world was slow to adopt it. In 1752 the Parliament in Great Britain finally adopted the Gregorian calendar, advancing the calendar from September 2 to September 14 overnight. Protests erupted across London demanding their days back.

On the other side of the pond, however, Benjamin Franklin welcomed the change, writing, “It is pleasant for an old man to be able to go to bed on September 2, and not have to get up until September 14.”

If there was ever a year in which I could stand losing 11 days, it was 2020. It was nice this week to put last year in my rear-view mirror.

The pandemic and its wide-ranging impact on our lives, consumed our thoughts over the past 12 months…and three hours. It certainly tested our faith. I have to admit, I let the weirdness of the year get the better of me at times. Every time it did, it seemed God found a way to remind me of his presence and his love. I’m grateful we worship a God who is bigger than circumstance.

It is fast becoming one of my favorite verses in the Bible throughout the year. However, at the beginning of each new year, it is especially meaningful.

“Forget the former things: do not dwell on the past. See! I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:18-19)

God spoke those words to Isaiah in the middle of his promise of restoration to the exiled and enslaved Hebrew people.

Hear the excitement in God’s voice as he tries to revive the broken hearts of his people. “See! I am doing a new thing!” It’s as if he is saying, “Look! Wake up! Don’t hang your heads! Look at the exciting things in store for you in the year ahead! I’m getting ready to rock your world! Can’t you see it?”

Maybe you found the past 12 months filled with pain, uncertainty, heartbreak and grief. Maybe you felt disconnected and alone. Maybe you realize you walked a path of your own choosing that took you too far from God. Maybe, like me, you just feel…off…somehow. Just not quite right. Hear God’s word of encouragement. “See! I am doing a new thing!”

When we are wandering in our personal wasteland and wilderness, he reminds us with genuine excitement in his voice, “Have I got plans for you!”

Don’t let the chaos or the Covid-19 distort the reality of your relationship with your God who loves you. Focus on the new thing God is doing in your life. Open your heart to the possibility that this new thing he is doing will be the absolute best thing for your life, your heart and your soul.

If you doubt this promise for a minute, consider Paul’s greeting to the Philippian church.

“In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident in this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 1:4-6)

The God who began a good work in you will see it to its completion. He will never stop working in our lives. Not in 2021. Not ever. So as we look to this New Year, it’s out with the old and in with this new thing God is doing.

I don’t know about you, but that makes me look forward to what this New Year will bring.

And the good news is that, thanks to Aloysus Lilius, we will have another 26 seconds longer this year than we should for God to get it done.

Happy New Year!

Worship and Adore Him

Background Passage: Matthew 2:1-12

The little fold-up Nativity that sat beneath our Christmas tree when I was a child is now displayed on a small table in the entry of our home. I’m not exactly sure how old it is, but it has been around for as long as I can remember.

Interestingly enough, the old family Nativity appears to show four magi, unless the bald one on the end is a out-of-place shepherd. It’s hard to tell.

That Nativity is one of more than two dozen Nativity sets my wife and I have collected over the years. Almost all of them display the typical scene. Joseph and Mary huddled over the baby in a hay-filled manger, surrounded by cattle and sheep. In a few, you’ll find shepherds off to one side and three wise men bearing their famous gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.

It is usually these gifts that give the wise men their claim to fame.
In the case of the magi, maybe it isn’t so much about the gifts. Join me in Bethlehem so many years ago.

*****

The commotion outside brought Joseph to his feet. He and Mary exchanged uncertain looks. Pulling the curtain back, Joseph peaked outside as Mary scooped her toddler in her arms. The baby, unaware of their caution, laughed in delight.

Opening the door Joseph quietly told his wife to remain inside. In the fading light of day, Joseph nodded to his neighbors as they stood in their own doorways, awestruck by the sight of the well-dressed men stepping down from their camels.

The oldest of the men bowed his head and stretched out his arms in greeting. As quiet words were shared, the other men pulled several boxes from the satchels attached to the donkeys carrying their baggage.

“Come,” Joseph said, inviting the men inside his home. The men
stepped through the door of the humble stone house, dimly lit by small oil lanterns. A fire burned in its hearth. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the room.

Joseph crossed the room to stand beside his wife who held a small child on her hip. The child’s large brown eyes darted from his mother to the men, more curious than frightened.

In the quiet broken only by the crackling of the fire, the men stared in amazement at the small boy without speaking. Finally, the elder of the men slowly dropped to one knee, bowing before the child and his family. One by one the others followed their leader until all were on bent knee.

As one they began to offer words of praise and worship to the one they had traveled so far to see…the king they read about in the Hebrew scripture. One by one they shared their offering as tribute…among their gifts were gold, frankincense and myrrh.

In the hours that followed, they told their remarkable story. How they had studied the ancient texts and followed a star, searching for the one who would be king of the Jews.

Mary and Joseph listened. Cherished their words. Affirmed for the visitors their own stories of God’s promises.

As the night grew longer, the men rose to leave, bowing again in worship and adoration before the child, certain in the knowledge that they had found the one for whom they had searched. They knew they found the Messiah.

*****

Almost every manger scene you and I have seen includes three wise men. We sing the popular Christmas carol about the three kings who came to see Jesus bearing expensive gifts. Three kings. Three gifts.

When we read this story in scripture or hear it told, we tend to focus on the gifts. The gold. The frankincense. The myrrh. Reading into each gift a symbol of some deeper meaning.

When we focus on the gifts, I think we miss something fundamental in the story. These magi, these wise men, did not travel the weeks across some 600 miles of awfully desolate land, searching for the king of the Jews, just to bring him gifts.

The desire to worship drove these men to find the Christ child.

What these learned men read in their texts, their interpretation of the star they followed, led them to believe that the child for whom they searched was the “king of the Jews.” Not a king, but the king.

“After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, ‘Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.’” (Matthew 1:1-2)

The phrasing of their question was such that it “disturbed” Herod. As the regional king appointed by the Roman Caesar, a new king would upset his apple cart. The long-promised messianic king who was to set his people free would really throw a wrench into his cushy life.

Herod, fearful of losing his power and position, called together his priests and scholars to ask them where scripture said the Messiah would be born. His reference to the Messiah would seem to indicate that the magi told him they were searching for God’s anointed one.

When their review of scripture pointed toward Bethlehem, he passed the word to the magi, instructing them to find this new king and report back to him so he could also “worship” the Messiah. Herod had no such intentions. He’s intent was to eliminate the competition.

After traveling hundreds of miles, the wise men of the East traveled the last five miles from Jerusalem to Bethlehem. Once in the small village, it didn’t take them long to find the one for whom they had been searching so diligently.

The gifts they brought were secondary. They came to this obscure house in this out-of-the-way village to worship the Messiah.

As we think on this part of the Christmas story, perhaps there are a few things the wise men can teach us about our own worship.

The magi’s ardent desire compelled them to find the Messiah and to worship him. They faced a thousand obstacles and a thousand distractions. Little else mattered to them. Not the difficulty of the journey. Not the weeks of searching. Not Herod’s feelings. Not the humble house of a carpenter. Not the sight of a child without a crown.

None of that mattered once they dismounted their camels and walked through that door. Their hearts were ready for worship.

Our lives during the Christmas season are filled with distractions. The desire to find the perfect gift. The necessary shopping on top of the normal work routine. The parties. The travel.

In this most unusual year, we must add the bizarre political environment, the social disruptions and the pandemic to our list of things that divert our attention from that which God accomplished when he sent his son to be born in a manger.

Worship doesn’t happen without intent. We don’t walk into church, turn on a switch to eliminate the distractions and worship. Worship requires us to deliberately seek him. He is not hiding, making it more difficult for us to find him. We must sift through the distractions of our hearts, set them aside until the only thing in front of us is Jesus.

The magi prepared their hearts by reading God’s word. By listening to his spirit. When face to face with the savior of the world they could bow down before him, without distraction, in sincere worship and praise.

As we approach Christmas, let’s set aside the distractions. Let’s prepare our hearts to worship our king.

When Herod told them the Messiah would be found in Bethlehem, imagine their excitement. As a child, I remember the last five miles to my Grandma’s house through the winding streets of Fort Worth. When we passed the zoo, I was on the edge of my seat in anticipation of her hugs.

I’m guessing the magi felt the same on those final miles to Bethlehem. Image the excitement building over the course of the next couple of hours as they urged their camels onward. In a short time they would be in the presence of the one for whom they were searching. Matthew says as they followed the star it seemed to stop above a small house.

“After they heard the king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen when it rose went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed.” Matthew 2:9-10

Their joy didn’t come because they were saddle sore and could finally get off those camels after such a long trip. Their joy came from their growing excitement and anticipation to see the Messiah…for their chance to worship the one they had read and heard about.

I wonder how often we anticipate our chance to worship our Lord. How often do we enter the sanctuary overjoyed at the prospect of offering our praise to our savior? How different would our worship be if we approached the throne of God with the eager anticipation of the magi?

We sometimes overlook what was truly happening in the that little house in Bethlehem as these Gentile men from the East fell down to worship the King of the Jews. These were men who by their own faith and cultural traditions should have no interest in a Jewish messiah. Yet, here they were. Miles from home. Under the guidance of the Holy Spirit and a star. On bent knee before God in human form.

The enemy of worship works hard to plant seeds of doubt and despair in believers through discord, distraction and distress. The events of 2020 and the impact on churches everywhere can easily divert worship away from the king.

The wise men let nothing get in the way of their worship. Given all we’ve been through this year, what an example the magi have set for all of us.

Christmas will always be “the most wonderful time of the year” for me. Maybe you feel the same. However, if we are not careful, Christmas will be just gold, frankincense and myrrh. Presents given and received.

Let us approach this Christmas especially without the distractions that will tug on our hearts, in eager anticipation of our chance to worship, really worship, the one whom God sent to offer his grace and salvation to a world in need of his touch, his love.

Let us follow the example of the magi. Let us approach this season on bent knee, overjoyed at the chance to worship our king. Let us consider the true worth of the one whom we worship.

Chances are you have at least one manger scene in your home. Maybe, like us, you have dozens. Join me today. Take a moment. Look at the manger scene you have displayed. See the wise men. Be reminded of their deep desire to worship the king of kings.

Let’s pledge to make this Christmas about our personal worship of Jesus. It could well be the best thing to happen in 2020.

Grateful

Background Passage: Psalm 106:1

We approach the most joyous of holiday seasons from Thanksgiving to Christmas this year under the darkening shadow of Covid-19 as the long-promised fall surge in corona virus cases hits our nation with a vengeance.

We continue to endure a bitter political season that has fractured our country with seemingly no one willing to walk the higher ground. Suspicion invades our hearts, leaving our country teetering in its wake.

Many among us feel…

Isolated and alone.
Divided and angry.
Worried and scared.
Suspicious and accusing.
Pessimistic and hopeless.

That seems to be the condition of the world. I’m not so naive that I cannot see these issues or feel their impact around me. As a Christian, I am not immune to its gravity, but I refuse to let these events steal my joy.

I…we…have so much for which to be grateful even during this uncertain time for God’s gifts and grace transcend pandemic and politics. Surrounded by family, friends and God’s ever-present love, there is a place of peace even in the turmoil of the day. For such things, I am eternally grateful.

So, I remind myself in this week of Thanksgiving to take a deep breath and relax.

We use the term “overwhelmed” to express that feeling of being swamped by the circumstances around us. We rarely, if ever, talk about being simply “whelmed.”

Yes, it’s a word defined in Webster’s Dictionary as “an act or instance of flowing or heaping up abundantly; a surge.”

Rather than feeling overwhelmed, I want us to feel whelmed…to feel a surge of thanksgiving as we reflect on the blessings of life granted by a loving God.

I cannot speak to those things for which you could be grateful. You alone can do that.

As I sit in the quiet of this moment, I am thankful for my parents, my brother and sister, my wife, my two sons and their wives, and my grandchildren. I am grateful for an extended family of “laws and in-laws” who have forever accepted me for who I am. I am grateful for love given and love received.

I am grateful for friends from childhood to present day who, even today, continue to create and share in the best moments of my life.

I am grateful for God’s gift of this community as a place of service and belonging. A people who let me serve and who served me in my times of need.

I am grateful for a church who for four decades has been my spiritual foundation, filled with fellow imperfects who love each other into a more perfect understanding of God’s grace and peace. A people who know their responsibility to be the face, the hands and feet of Christ not just within the walls of the church, but in the city, state, country and world beyond.

I am grateful to my God who saved me and loves me in spite of myself. Whose presence brings healing and comfort to every hurt and need in my life. Whose blessings and grace deepen the joy I feel in my connections and relationships with those I encounter. Whose spirit continues to open my eyes to the vitality of his word.

A host of scripture speaks to our need to express thankfulness to our God. Here are a couple of my favorites.

“Oh, give thanks to the Lord for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever.” (Psalm 106:1)

The language of the psalm is an imperative, a command. To the believer loved by God, the call to thanksgiving is not an option. Thankfulness ought to be our natural response as recipients of God’s unmerited favor.

We respond with thankfulness because of God’s goodness. Our limited understanding of goodness, tempered as it is through our lens of sin, is a pale facsimile of goodness that is truly in God. Jesus told us as much in Luke 18:19 when he told the rich, young ruler, “no one is good, except God alone.”

To declare that God is good is to know with certainty that his every word and act is always true and right. It is his goodness that offers redemption to a sinful world…the ultimate act of goodness through the sacrifice of his own son.

When you read “steadfast,” think resolute, unwavering. God’s love never fails. Never abandons. Never falters. Never withdraws.

God’s love always provides. Always sustains. Always nurtures. Always remains. Always embraces. Always comforts. Always endures.

Thanksgiving is a good day to remember. If you dig deeper in Psalm 106, you find that the people of God lost their way when they failed to remember what God had done for them.

“…they did not remember your many kindnesses…” (vs. 7)
“…they soon forgot what he had done…” (vs 13)
“…they forgot the God who saved them…” (vs. 21)

I don’t ever want to be guilty of their forgetfulness. I think that’s why the Psalmist makes his statement in the form of a command, “Give thanks…,” as an on-going directive to always remember what God has done for us.

We are a forgetful people with short-term memories and a “what have you done for me lately” mentality. Thanksgiving is remembering in gratitude a God who does not forget his people nor his promises.

Those people I mentioned earlier, the ones for whom I expressed my gratitude, they came into my life sent by God to be a part of my life. They have been before and beside me the face and hands of his steadfast love and his unfathomable goodness all the days of my life.

I am eternally grateful.

Thank you, God.

What Now?

I’m sitting here tonight with my arm in a sling following surgery to remove bone spurs and reattach a torn rotator cuff tendon. I share that with you not to garner sympathy, though sympathy helps, too.

I share it with you simply because the surgery limits my typing to a ponderous, one-fingered hunt and peck that tries my patience and stifles my creativity. The prospect of typing my regular Bible Study blog this week is one hunt and one peck too much.

My uncle, Les Lewis, is the pastor of Grace Lutheran Church in Slaton, TX. He writes two brief devotional thoughts each week to share with his congregation, family and friends.

Once on a snowy day in West Texas when I was in elementary school and Les was in high school, he carried me home on his back for more than a mile through a foot of snow (uphill both ways, I’m sure.) Les regales our family with stories, each with the Lewis gift of embellishing the truth to make things more interesting. He makes me laugh.

When it comes to his faith, he is a spiritual thinker and often presents a new thought that challenges my own thinking. The following is one of my uncle’s devotionals. As I think of the number of family and friends dealing with personal moments of grief in the past weeks and months, his message resonates with me as one whose hope is in Christ. I hope you find it helpful.

I Thessalonians 4:13-18

“We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have not hope.”

The young first century church was still struggling to find itself; deciding where it stands on issues of the day. This is was especially true of the church at Thessalonica having only recently been established by the itinerant apostle Paul.

Since the day of Pentecost, the church had been inundated with odd beliefs, theories, superstitions, and speculations about God’s organization. Leaders were forced to deal not only with each of these notions but also with those who introduced them to the church.

High upon the list of topics of discussion was the belief that the Lord Jesus would be returning to earth to redeem His Church and take His followers to ever be with God in heaven. The people of the church were in a constant state of waiting anxiously for His return.

But this very issue was disturbing for some of the people, for their loved ones had died, and they feared that the dead would be left behind when the rapture came. The letter of Paul to the Thessalonians addressed the issue. He introduced them to his own doctrinal theory, “by the word of the Lord,” to give it divine authority.

The text for today very clearly lines out in orderly fashion the event of the second coming that includes all of God’s children. It’s impossible to say for sure whether or not Paul’s discourse put the matter to bed, but I imagine it was very comforting to those grieving members for whom it was intended.

Grief has received bad press in that it tends to be looked upon as a sign of weakness, or a lack of faith. Grief is autonomous! It forces us deep into our very souls to meet with us there even as we struggle to follow the advice of well-meaning friends who tell us we “must be strong for the kids.”

The dark silence of the soul may be strange territory for many of us for it is the place where deep processing takes place; where all phony business is pushed aside leaving only the pain of reality.

We will feel as if grief is going to utterly consume us, but HOPE is the solvent that softens our grief and ultimately makes us feel human again. Hope does not get rid of grief, it only makes grief, OUR GRIEF, bearable, thereby blending “our” grief into our personality enabling us to be present for “others who have no hope.”

Paul’s image offers hope to all who are in grief. “Therefore encourage one another with these words.”

Les

*****

Thanks, Les. I add only one thought and one verse.

With every loss comes grief. It’s arrival and departure are rarely in a confined time frame or orderly progression. Just when we think grief has finally taken its last breath from us, another wave breaks over our heads threatening to drown us once again in our sorrow.

That’s why we fight it. Try to ignore it. Try to push it away only to find ourselves lost again in our brokenness. Grief is the life process God uses to put our pieces back together again, different to be sure, but whole. It is his presence, his hope, that sustains us.

I find comfort in the following verse from Psalms.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

That has been my experience and is the basis of my hope.

The Uncomfortable Christian

Background Passage: Acts 20:7-12, 2 Timothy 15

I thoroughly enjoy college sports. As a graduate of Texas Tech, I am a Red Raider through and through. While I suffer a bit each fall while our football team tries to find its way, my blood runs with a healthy mixture of scarlet and black during baseball and basketball season. A trip to the final four and to the national championship will do that to you.

Michelle Trotter, the girls’ basketball coach in the Crosby Independent School District, is a committed Christian. She posts motivational moments on her Facebook pages that speak as much to life as to the game she loves. She recently posted an interview with Chris Beard, the head men’s basketball coach at Tech. In it, Coach Beard talked about the value of staying uncomfortable.

“Comfortable gets you beat. You see it all the time in sports. Life’s the same way. You have a great day, a great win, and it takes the edge off. It takes a special person, we use the term “elite,” to remain uncomfortable…Everyone has high expectations and focus in times of adversity. Only the elite people can push themselves each day to stay uncomfortable. Uncomfortable is where growth comes from.”

He’s got a point. As soon as we get comfortable, we get complacent. When we’re complacent, we don’t work as hard. To adapt his phrase. Complacency gets you beat, in sports, in life and in faith.

There is a rather obscure passage of scripture in Acts that may speak to this idea…at least in my weirdly wired mind.

Paul is leaving Philippi to head back through Macedonia for another round of preaching and teaching. Along the way, he spent a week in Troas on the coast. Gathering the believers together on his last day in the city, he began to impart his words of wisdom on redemption and responsibility.

I can imagine this kind of meeting happened frequently in the early church. They needed to be taught the fundamental truths of the teachings of Jesus, the theology of their faith. They also needed to learn how to put that faith in practice, the organization and structure of their ministry. It would require a great deal of teaching and reteaching. I’m guessing this was a reteaching moment.

Luke tells us that Paul called the people together for a mid-day meal. It was a working lunch. As they ate, Paul talked and taught. He had a lot to say to the standing-room-only crowd. As the sun set, the apostle was still going strong speaking past midnight.

As the night wore on, we find Eutychus perched in a third-story window, one leg in and one leg out, his back against the narrow window frame. Perhaps it was his short stature (think Zacchaeus) that made him think the third-story window was a good idea. Yet, there he was, high above the crowd listening to the apostle speak.

Is it possible that God’s word and work can feel so ordinary…so comfortable…to us that grow complacent in our understanding, believing that we know everything we need to know? That our reading and study of scripture become too routine? That we take our knowledge of God’s grace and love as that of an ever-present friend that we take for granted? Is it possible that we hear a scripture explained to us one time and assume that is all God has to reveal? Is it possible to believe you know it all and don’t need to hear the same message again?

I don’t know if that was Eutychus’ problem or if he was just tired after a long day, but Luke tells us he fell asleep. As he drifted off, he fell, sadly, out the window and to his death. It seems not only does comfortable get you beat, it also gets you killed.

The good news is that Paul, with the power of the Holy Spirit, gave life again to the young man in a miracle reminiscent of those performed by Jesus. When Paul finally wrapped up his presentation, the sun was peeking over the horizon. Eutychus walked home with his family and friends, rejoicing in God’s goodness.

It’s a peculiar story set in scripture, one in which there is no spiritual truth obviously revealed. No incident of any deep, historical significance. We see God working a miracle through Paul’s undying faith, but there is no direct message. So, in absence of a more direct word from God, you have to open your heart to the spirit’s leading.

So, I want to talk about this idea of staying uncomfortable. Avoiding complacency.

You and I have both seen people who come to know Christ as older adults. Their passion for this new, redeemed life, infuses their hearts and minds. Every passage of scripture is eye-opening. Every lesson they hear energizing. They hunger for God’s truth.

You and I have also seen people who allow time to diminish their hunger and thirst. Their salvation is a one-time thing, guaranteed by scripture, but they never engage in the process of salvation…the on-going growth and development of our spiritual selves. What they read and hear in scripture is no longer profound. This little light of truth gets hidden under their bushel. They no longer let it shine. They get too comfortable in doing church.

I recognize those people because I’ve been those people. I know how easy it is to fall into that trap. Complacency leaves us feeling empty. As one pastor wrote, “When we are complacent, our life of faith becomes just about God, not (a life) for God. Not (a life) with God.”

The problem gets magnified when too many of us grow comfortable in our faith. When too many of us rest on our own understanding, the church begins to suffer and slide. Attendance drops. Membership falls. Worship rarely inspires. Our outreach suffers. People find other things to do.

It is the “elite” Christian who learns to remain uncomfortable. We do tend to sharpen our focus in difficult times and allow it to dim when things are going well. If we can push ourselves each day to stay uncomfortable, we can growth in spiritual maturity.

To remain uncomfortable in our faith is to remain open to being taught. Avoiding complacency in our faith allows us to grow. It’s choice. It’s intention.

Our church has a series of stained-glass windows depicting the seven “I am” statements of Jesus. Our pastor is now preaching a sermon series on these statements. In his almost 40-year tenure with us, Dr. Lyles has preached on these “I am” statements at least five times, he said.

If I’m a comfortable, complacent Christian, I might write off the sermon series. “I’ve heard it before. There is nothing new here I need to learn.” Been there. Heard that. Bought the t-shirt.

If I am uncomfortable, open and willing to be taught, the message will resonate under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit with truth I need to hear and apply in this time of my life. Being uncomfortable is what makes us hunger and thirst for more of God’s instruction. It is what gives our faith its life.

Paul gave words of advice to his pastoral protege Timothy. The words are helpful for the uncomfortable Christian.

“Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who does not need to be ashamed and correctly handles the word of truth.” (2 Timothy 2:15)

Most of us learned that verse from the King James Version of the Bible translated into English in 1611. It starts off with the phrase, “Study to show thyself approved…” in the 17th century, the word “study” carried the meaning of “striving” or “being diligent.”

So Paul is reminding Timothy and us to do our best. You see, being an “elite” Christian, like the “elite” athlete, requires hard work. Daily practice. Intense study. Commitment to fundamentals. Willingness to learn a new way of doing things. To avoid the complacency of the routine and embrace the idea of being uncomfortable in the moment.

“Blessed is he who hungers and thirsts for righteousness…” Jesus could easily be saying, in my less poetic terms, “The happy person is the one who knows he doesn’t know and diligently keeps his heart open for the next tidbit of spiritual wisdom and insight that God wants to reveal.”

Blessed are the uncomfortable.

Coach Beard values hard work from his players. He demands it. They practice hard in order to play hard. His recruits are not always the most talented, but they are workers. He finds people knowing that if they put in the work, they will grow to be better basketball players, better people.

Paul would understand this. This passage from Paul to Timothy tells him to be a worker. We know people among our circle of friends or within our church who are workers. They cannot sit idle. If there is work to be done, you’ll find them in the crew.

We also know people steeped in scripture who never quit studying the Bible. These people are constantly trying to work at this business of spiritual growth and maturity to ensure their lives are lived consistent with God’s word of truth. Workers are never complacent with their relationship with God in word or deed.

Based on all of that, this is the part of the Eutychus story I like. Paul ran to the young man who fell from the window. Gathered his lifeless form in his arms. When Paul wrapped his arms around Eutychus, he said, “There is still life in him.” In the next moment Eutychus is awake and walking.

I hope that when I fall victim to my own complacency that the Holy Spirit will wrap his arms around me and declare, “There is still life in him.” I hope that spiritual hug gets me up and walking again in faith.

Eutychus got a second chance at life. God is a great God of second chances. When we grow too comfortable, it might be time to shake the tree. To move our faith to the edge of our comfort zone and beyond with a sense of wonder about what God will reveal to you tomorrow.

So, if you’re feeling a little too comfortable in your faith, this much I know. There is still life in you.

What’s In Your Hand?

Background Passages Exodus 4:1-5; Romans 12:6-8; Ecclesiastes 9:10

The bedouin stood on calloused, bare feet with his sandals in his hand, trembling in the glow of the burning bush. Seeing its light. Feeling its heat. Listening to the voice from its flame.

The 80-year-old shepherd heard these words and more…

“I am the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob…I’ve heard the cries of my people…I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people out of Egypt.”

Moses hid in the desert for 40 years after an unceremonious exit from Egypt. Face to face with the oppression of the people of his birth, he reacted in the heat of the moment, killing the offending Egyptian. Once the son of the Pharaoh’s daughter. Now a old man, tending sheep that didn’t even belong to him. O, how the mighty had fallen.

God spoke to Moses on the slopes of Mount Horeb from a burning bush that was not consumed. The God of his fathers called him to a mission of eternal importance. It was the next phase of God’s redemptive plan. To make it happen, he needed to get his people out of Egypt and back to the land he had promised them. He needed Moses.

This unbelievable experience in the wilderness should have lifted his spirits and emboldened Moses to act. Instead, the miracle on the mountain left him filled with anxiety, offering one excuse after another.

“Who am I? I am no one. Pharaoh will not listen. I know the man.”

God said, “Go!”

“To the Hebrew people, I’m nothing. When they ask who sent me…and they will ask…what do I tell them”

“Tell them I am who I am! Now, go!”

“They’re not going to believe this…not the Hebrew people and certainly not Pharaoh.”

God chose this moment to ask Moses a critical question.

“What is in your hand, Moses?”

Moses looked at his right hand. Fingers wrapped around the thick shepherd’s staff, worn smooth by years of use. His mind raced. This was the tool of his trade. A staff for protection. A staff for balance. A staff for herding. Just a stick.

I wonder at that moment if Moses saw a flash of something more ominous in the staff he held. He was once a prince of Egypt. Perhaps, in that moment, the staff served as a symbol of all that had gone wrong in his life. The perfect manifestation of his failure. He had traded a scepter for a shepherd’s crook so he could herd a flock of sheep that weren’t even his. As he heard God ask his question, “What is in your hand?” Perhaps Moses felt unworthy, certain that God could choose a better man.

Moses swallowed the lump in his throat and said simply…

“A staff.”

Nothing more. Nothing less. An old tree branch whittled and shaped to serve his needs. God knew it could represent something new and different. He just needed Moses to see it, too.

“Throw it on the ground, Moses.”

Moses let it drop. As it bounced on the rocky soil, the staff transformed into a snake. Startled, he took two steps back and stared.

“Now, pick it up.”

As soon as Moses lifted the snake from the ground, it turned back into a staff.

Moses looked in awe at the bush.

“This,” said the Lord, “is so that they may believe that the Lord, the God of their fathers…the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob has appeared to you.”

What is in your hand?

What a great question!

I wonder how many of us have starred at the burning bush and heard the voice of God telling us, “I’ve got something I need you to do for me. It’s important. I need you to go….”

I wonder how often you have done what I’ve done and responded immediately with every excuse in the book to avoid doing what God needs us to do. My excuses sound remarkably similar to the ones Moses muttered into the face of a burning bush.

Who am I that you would ask this of me?

I’m not capable.
I’ve made too many mistakes.
I am no longer the man I once was.
I’m too old.
No one would listen to me.
They’re just going to laugh in my face.
Find someone else…please.

How like Moses I am at times. Too comfortable in my place. Too embarrassed of my failures. Too willing to believe my mistakes trump my potential. Too unwilling to open myself to God’s transformative power.

Then, the question comes to me just as it came to Moses.

“What’s in your hand?”

When you get down to it, that’s an intriguing question. If we’re honest with ourselves, it’s a question we’ve all heard at some point in our lives. When God asks the question, it deserves an honest look.

Scripture is filled with stories of individuals who possessed no extraordinary gifts. That which they held in their hands was ordinary. Yet, God called. When they quit making excuses, God began to use them. Consider these examples.

Gideon defeated the Midianites with trumpets and lanterns.
Samson slaughtered the Philistines with the jawbone of a donkey.
David took down Goliath with a sling and a stone.
A child with a small basket of bread and fish fed a multitude.

So I ask again, the burning bush question.

What is in your hand?

One of the greatest mistakes we make as believers in Christ is to underestimate who we are and what we have. We hold an old whittled stick…an ability to carry a tune, the skill to bake a cake, the temperament for a kind word, the sensitivity to encourage a troubled soul. Yet, we deem it insufficient, weak, small in comparison to abilities we see in others.

Then, the excuses flow. Maybe, it doesn’t matter as much exactly what is in our hand. Maybe all that really matters is, as one writer said, “how much God is in your stick.”

And, there’s the lesson Moses learned. As long as you hold on to your stick, God can’t demonstrate his power. You’ve got to throw it down. Let it go. Surrender it to God. Once God is in it, his power flows through it.

Then, your ability to carry a tune inspires. Your skill in baking brings comfort. Your kind word changes another person’s outlook on the day. Your encouragement lifts a burden from a neighbor’s shoulders. There is nothing insufficient, weak or small about that.

Whatever is in your hands, when surrendered to God, gets infused with his power that makes a difference. And, people will see what is in your hand and know that God is present in your life.

So, what is in your hand?

The truth is, I can’t tell you. It is a matter between you and God. But, know this. There is something there. God has put something in your hand. It may look ordinary to you, but it was given to you for a purpose. He has gifted all of us, placed something in our hand, to use toward the glory of his kingdom.

Whatever God has placed in our hands we are to use it. Paul wrote about it extensively.

“We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance to your faith. If it is serving, then serve. If it is teaching, then teach. If it is to encourage, then give encouragement. If it is in giving, then give generously. If it is to lead, do it diligently. If it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.” (Romans 12:6-8)

I don’t know what your gift may be, but it does no one any good if you never use it. Each of us has been gifted by God so he can send us wherever he needs us to go. To do what he needs us to do. When we surrender that gift to God, when we throw it down, God’s power is alive through us.

Whatever your hand finds to do; do it with all your might. (Ecclesiastes 9:10)

An unknown poet penned a bit of prose a few years ago entitled, “It Depends Whose Hands It’s In.” It’s not Shakespeare or Byron, but it holds a pretty good message. This is how it starts off.

“A basketball in my hands is worth about $19
A basketball in Michael Jordan’s hands is worth about $33 million.
It depends whose hands it’s in.”

As one who has missed his share of lay-ups, I ask you…

What is in your hand?

No Longer Bent

Background Passages: Luke 13:10-17 and I John 1:8-9

I like to think I’m related to him. After all, we all would like to be related to someone famous.

C.S. Lewis, one of the 20th century’s most dynamic apologists of the Christian faith, is best known in the modern world as the author of The Chronicles of Narnia, a story rich in Christian symbolism. I first encountered his writings when I read The Screwtape Letters and Mere Christianity in college. The former an intriguing look at how Satan manipulates us; the latter a deep presentation of the validity of Christianity and what the life of a Christian is like.

He penned a lesser known book called Out of the Silent Planet. Similar to Narnia, it is a science fiction book written in the 1930s in which his protagonist journeys to another world. Like Narnia, he weaves Christian symbolism through the pages of Silent Planet. I admit I’ve only read snippets of this book, but within its pages Lewis uses his space traveler to explain sin to a people who never heard the concept.

After searching for a definition that would make sense to these aliens, the hero settled on the words “bent” and “bound.” Lewis defined sin as “misshapen.” “Not the way we were made to be.” “Not fit for our intended purpose.”

It is as good a definition as any. When a nail is bent, it cannot be hammered unless it is straightened. When an arrow is bent, it cannot fly straight. When we are bent, we are not shaped in the way God intended us to be. Lewis speaks of the sinner as one bound. Tied up. Unable to shake free. Trapped.

To paraphrase Romans, “For all are bent, and fall short of God’s glory.”

I’m writing today, recognizing my “bentness.” Okay, I made up that word, but you get the point. Sin makes us uncomfortable. We don’t like to think about our failings. While we know we sin, we also know that we don’t sin constantly. That we do some things right. We want to focus on that to make ourselves feel a bit better.

Here’s the truth about sin, however. When we break our arm, the rest of our body still functions as designed. We are not capable of doing everything we want to do until the arm is healed. Sin works the same way. While we can still do some good things, as long as sin is in our lives, we aren’t everything God needs us to be. We are not fit for our intended purpose.

Thank God his forgiveness is not just a heavenly thing that comes at the end of our time. Forgiveness is a daily gift for those who seek it.

Luke may not have written this story with that in mind, but it made me think again that God doesn’t wish for us to live bent and bound by sin. Look at Luke 13.

Jesus sat among the people in a local synagogue on the Sabbath, likely at the invitation of the local church officials who were somewhat excited to have this popular rabbi passing through their village. Chances are Jesus had never taught in this synagogue. He probably didn’t know too many people in the crowd. Teaching in the synagogue was simply his practice during his earthly ministry. Something he wanted to do. Something he enjoyed.

In the middle of his dialogue with the people about some passage of scripture, a woman captured Jesus’ attention, stopping him in mid-sentence. In those seconds of silence, you can hear the rustle of robes as the crowd turns to follow Jesus’ gaze.

What Jesus saw broke his heart. He swallowed a wave of overwhelming, God-inspired empathy. A lump of emotion filled his throat and the tears well up in his eyes.

“…a woman was there, crippled by a spirit for 18 years. She was bent over and could not straighten up at all.” (Luke 13:11)

When you picture this woman, you have to picture a posture more than stooped. The curvature of her spine forced her shoulders forward and downward. Bent at the waist, hobbling on unsteady legs and a knobby walking stick. Unable to lift her head above her horizon. The woman lived with a stark debilitation that left her crippled and unable to function.

As Jesus’ voice trailed off, he watched as the woman shuffled for her seat along the wall. She didn’t approach Jesus. Made no request of him. She didn’t proclaim her faith in him as a miracle worker. She just wanted to sit to take the burden off her feet and her back.

The rustle of robes returns as the crowd turns back to Jesus, as if to say, “It’s just Miriam. She’s been like that forever.” They know her. They have seen her around the village. Some of them probably even checked on her from time to time.

“Miriam,” my name for her, does today what she has probably done every Sabbath for the past 18 years. There is no indication in scripture that this was an unusual event. No indication that today the spirit moved her to get out of bed and make the difficult journey to the synagogue.

She came, as she always did, to be taught. To worship and learn. Today was no different. She probably didn’t even now there would be a guest teacher in the pulpit. This was just her place on the Sabbath. Jesus called her a “daughter of Abraham” in verse 16, possibly recognizing that this was her faithful pattern on the Sabbath, the place she needed and wanted to be on any Lord’s day.

In the midst of the ordinary, something extraordinary happened in this synagogue on this day.

Jesus swallowed the lump in his throat, choking back his emotion. He stood and called to her before she sat down, asking her to come forward. With difficulty she tilted her head to see who called out to her. As she looked sidelong at Jesus, she sidled slowly, and probably a bit suspiciously, his direction until she stood, hunched over in front of him.

Jesus dropped to a knee with his hand lightly on her shoulder, the tilt of his head matching hers until he looks her in the eyes.

His word is simple. His intent clear.

“Woman, you are set free from you infirmity. He put his hands upon her; and immediately she straightened up and praised God.”

The woman came to God’s house bent and broken, bound by her affliction. Jesus set her free. The root word in Greek for “set free” is to “loosen” or “untie.” She was no longer bent by or bound to her ailment. She had been released from almost two decades of physical torment.

Jesus set her free, released her from her bonds, not because she begged him to, but because he wanted to. He set her free because he wanted her to be free. To be what God intended her to be. It was, after all, the reason he came.

I find that an excellent illustration of our sin and God’s forgiveness. C. S. Lewis says sin misshapes us. Leaves us bent and broken. Paul talks about being bound in sin. Tied up and shackled by it. A slave to it.

I think when Jesus sees us bound in our sin, he still gets that same lump in his throat. That same overwhelming sense of empathy that he learned while hanging on a cross. It is what compelled him to die for us…an empathic love that says, “I can’t stand to see you this way.”

It is what keeps him reminding us, through his spirit, that God stands ready to forgive our sins.

God does not wait for us to come to grips with our bent and misshapen selves. Through Jesus Christ, he called us to himself, looked us in the eye, and took the full burden of our “bentness” all the way to Calvary. In doing so, he said to us, “Straighten up. You are set free.”

Once set free, we can respond as this woman did and praise God who loves us.

But, there is another character in this story. The administrator of the synagogue, the one responsible for proper protocol, objected indignantly to the healing. He quieted the crowd with a stern, “holier-than-thou” stare and a thunderous exclamation.

Rather than challenge this upstart rabbi directly, he turned his back to Jesus and admonished the astonished crowd for getting excited about a breach in protocol, putting Jesus in his place and indirectly chastising the woman whom Jesus healed.

In the arrogant tone of the righteously misguided, he said, “There are six days for work. So come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath.”

Protocol over people. Ritual over right.

Jesus would have none of it.

“You hypocrites! Doesn’t each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or donkey from the stall and lead it out to give it water?” (Luke 13:15)

There’s that word again. The word Jesus used when he told the woman she had been “set free” from her disability, is the same word translated “untie” in this passage. He’s saying, “You willing set your donkey free on the Sabbath to give him a drink. Yet, you balk at setting this woman free from an 18-year trauma.”

Jesus said it better than I did. He said,

“Then should not this woman, this daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for 18 long years, be set free (untied, released) on the Sabbath day from what bound her?” (Luke 13:16)

Here’s the kicker in this part of the story. We see clearly that the woman was set free, but what of the church official. His strict adherence to a distorted interpretation of scripture and church tradition, left him criticizing when he ought to be celebrating. His objection revealed just how bent out of shape he was. Revealed the sin in his life.

You have to wonder about the administrator. I wonder how many times this poor woman sought his prayers for healing over 18 years. I wonder if seeing her every Sabbath and now seeing her healed shamed him for his failure to invoke God’s healing.

This poor church official fell victim to a distorted spiritual view that at times inflicts all of us. C. S. Lewis said, “Those of us who do not think about our own sins make up for it by thinking incessantly about the sins of others.” It was and is a myopic view.

This church official, like me at times, got so busy “doing church” that he “did no good.” He could not recognize that his reliance on ritual blinded him to his own “bentness.” Bound to sin he didn’t know he had. Thinking that his body was functioning at 100 percent efficiency without acknowledging that his arm was broken.

When faced with our own sin, we have two choices.

We can fail to recognize that we are as bent spiritually as this woman was physically. Without recognizing our hypocrisy and seeking God’s forgiveness, we remain tied and bound to the sin.

“If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us…” (I John 1:8)

Or…

We can recognize our misshapen selves. That we are living in a way that is not what God intended. A burdened, but repentant heart that stands hunched over before God seeking his forgiveness and willing to accept the grace gift of his forgiveness.

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (I John 1:9)

The attitude of the contrite gives God the chance to put his hand lightly on our shoulder and tell us to straighten up. It is a moment for praising God and celebrating our new freedom in him.

When we have been untied from the sin in our lives, Jesus gives us the opportunity to be “surprised by joy,” to use again the words of C. S. Lewis. The woman in our story praised the one who set her free.

I’m grateful for my God who is relentless in his desire to forgive.

The Still, Small Voice

Background: I Kings 19:11-12

Back in 2003, Natalie Gilbert, a 13-year-old girl, was scheduled to perform the National Anthem at an NBA basketball game. She had a beautiful voice and frequently sang the anthem at other public events. This time was different, though. As she began to sing, her memory failed her. The familiar words to The Star-Spangled Banner would not come.

Gilbert stood in front of the packed arena crowd and a live television audience in silence, shocked and humiliated…in front of God and everybody.

As the music played unaccompanied by words, Maurice Cheeks, then coach of the Portland Trailblazers walked up and stood beside Gilbert with his arm around her shoulders. He bent over and began to whisper the words in her ear. As she picked up the song, he stood and sang with her, a little off-key, waving to the 20,000 in attendance to join in.

Cheeks, in his compassion, cared so much for a scared girl he did not know so he whispered the words she needed to hear. “I just didn’t want her to feel alone,” he later said.

That whisper reminded me of another quiet voice directed toward a scared individual who felt all alone. I’ve written about it before.

Back on July 28, 2018, I wrote a devotional entitled, “What Are You Doing Here,” using the biblical text found in I Kings 19. Elijah, the great prophet of God called down the thunder and lightning on the false priests of Baal, demonstrating the reality of the God of creation that he served.

His little show brought out the wrath of Queen Jezebel who put a bounty on Elijah’s head. The mighty prophet lost his nerve and ran as far away as his feet would take him.

Troubled and despondent, Elijah huddled in a cave on Mount Horeb wishing for death to come when God drew him out of his despair by asking a simple question. “What are you doing here, Elijah?” God reminded the prophet that he was not finished with him yet. There was still work to do.

It was a reminder I needed at the time. (If you’re interested, you can find it in the archives of my website. http://wordpress.drkirklewis.com/2018/07/

I found myself again in I Kings this week reading the same story. As he often does, God chose to teach me a new thing. A different lesson from the same set of verses.

Elijah huddled in the corner of his cave wrapped in a blanket of self-pity, determined to make the cave his crypt. God, in his understanding of the human soul, urged Elijah to get up.

“Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” (I Kings 19:11)

Whether he climbed this mountain on purpose or by providence, God’s prophet found himself on Mount Horeb…Mount Sinai. The same mountain where God revealed himself to Moses in the lightning, smoke and thunder as he was leading the Hebrew people from captivity in Egypt.

God would again use this place to open the eyes of his servant.

Before Elijah could rise from his hiding place to do as God asked, a raging wind tore boulders from the cliff, threatening to trap him inside. An earthquake rattled the ground beneath and above him, showering him in dust and fragments of stone. An inferno scoured the landscape below him, consuming everything in its path.

Though Moses experienced God’s presence in the storm, Elijah would not find God in the terrifying display of nature’s power. But…

“…after the fire came a gentle whisper” (I Kings 19:12)

At the sound of a still, small voice, Elijah gathered himself and walked out of the cave onto the ledge of the mountain. God opened his eyes to the possibility that there was still work to be done.

It is in that whisper that God had another lesson to teach me this week. Have you ever wondered how God speaks to us today…or even if he speaks?

God brought the consuming lightning to the altar on Mount Carmel, giving Elijah the victory over the pagan prophets. He spoke in the power of that moment.

Bold.

Brash.

Brilliant.

We want God’s word to us to be equally clear. We want the bold and the dramatic so we can’t possibly miss what God wants us to do…what he’s trying to say to us.

Give us a burning bush.

Manna from Heaven.

A whirlwind.

But God is not always into the bold and dramatic. He’s not always making the big splash that we want him to make. The voice does not call out to us from the clouds, “This thou shalt do…,” though that would be infinitely easier on us.

God’s word is not always dramatic. Sometimes, its a whisper.

Silent.

Soft.

Subtle.

The contrast of the tumult outside the cave and gentle murmur tickling the ear reminds me that God speaks most often in his way. If we only wait for God to speak to us in the extraordinary and uncommon, we will rarely hear his voice in the ordinary and common moments of life.

If we’re waiting for the king’s proclamation following the blast of trumpets and the shout of angels, we will miss the stifled cry of a baby, wrapped in ragged clothes and laying in a manger of smelly hay.

If we’re waiting for the battle cry of rebellion against the forces of evil, will will miss the soft voice from the cross, “It is finished.”

If we’re waiting for God to stand outside the tomb and shout, “I’m back!” we’ll miss him quietly asking us, “Whom do you seek?”

How does God speak to his people today? With every tool at his disposal from the miraculous to the mundane, I know he has many ways. This story of Elijah tells us just one. But, this one way, I believe, is his most prominent way, of speaking to me. I’ve found it to be true in my life.

God speaks to me in the still, small voice inside my heart and head. It is the voice that tells me that person at the table with the sad eyes needs to hear a word of encouragement. The man with the angry face needs my presence today. That homeless man on the corner could really use that $20 in my wallet. That child sitting alone at lunch needs me to sit with them for a while. MY wife needs a hug today.

God speaks through the unseen actions of his people. The random and intentional acts of kindness that provide meals for the family of the one with cancer. With every tree cleared from a stranger’s driveway in the aftermath of a devastating storm. With every step of progress made toward social justice that makes a nation better than it was before. God speaks through his people in the every day, nitty-gritty reality of life.

God speaks to me through the quiet voice of his spirit that guides me down a path I would not otherwise choose because he knows that place is the best place for me to be.

It is less important how God speaks to us than what we do with what he says.

The voice that whispered to Elijah is the same voice that whispers to me and you. We have an opportunity Elijah didn’t have. Elijah could not look upon the Lord. He was not permitted.

Because God became flesh and dwelt among us, because he lived, died and was resurrected, because Jesus words were written in scripture and made available to all of us, we can see and hear the one who speaks to us by reading his word, hearing his voice pour out of the printed page and into our hearts.

I think back on the times of my life when I stood frozen at center court, unable to speak or move. Amid the awkwardness, God’s voice whispers in my ear a word of purpose and encouragement, giving me the words to sing. As my faltering voice catches in my throat, I hearing him sing the words beside me.

God could speak to me in the thunder and lightning, but I find comfort and peace in the whispered words of a God whose compassion runs too deep to leave me standing there alone.

So, when you can hear nothing else, listen. Listen for the still, small voice of God.

He Went About Doing Good

Background Passage: Acts 10:28; Galatians 6:9-10; Galatians 5:22-23, 25

I no longer watch much news. And in this era of rampant social media, I carefully pick and choose the type of post I read. I find myself listening less and blocking more and more posts, not because I disagree with them, but for their tone.

Both mainstream and social media fill the air and their column inches with bad news, hateful rhetoric and intolerance. Ending each newscast with a snippet of “good news,” does little to offset the divisiveness previously portrayed.

Don’t get me wrong. I truly believe there is far more good in this world than bad. Our urgency to celebrate the good and correct the bad needs to be foremost in our hearts and minds. Yet, when you listen to the voices of the world, it seems as though no one is trying to make a positive difference. No one is doing anything good.

The offhand comment spoken by Peter to Cornelius, an inquisitive, God-fearing Roman centurion, gets buried in a lengthy narrative about the work of God through Jesus Christ. I find it crucially important, especially in today’s world. Peter said of Jesus:

“…he went about doing good…” (Acts 10:28)

Peter encapsulated the entire ministry of Jesus in those five simple words. “He went about doing good.”

He healed. He fed. He comforted. He touched. He taught. He led. He encouraged. He restored. He challenged. Along his path and in his time, lives changed.

If we are to use Jesus as our role model, then we, too, must go about “doing good.”

In his letter to the churches in Galatia…modern day Turkey…, Paul spent time encouraging their behavior toward one another. Using tender words that speak of a doctor setting a broken bone so it would heal properly, Peter talked about restoring the sinner…healing the broken. He told these early Christians that a man will reap what he sows. That one who plants the seeds of sinfulness will reap the consequences of those actions and that one who lives by the spirit of God will find eternal life.

Then, his words encouraged the believers to “do good.”

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people…” (Galatians 6:9-10)

What is this “doing good” that Paul addresses?

For Paul, doing good had everything to do with living by the spirit of God. He addressed what it means to live by the spirit in the fifth chapter of his Galatian letter.

“So I say, live by the spirit and you will not gratify the desires of the sinful nature.” (Galatians 5:16)

For all practical purposes in our doctrine of the Trinity, there is no spiritual difference in God, the Father, Jesus, the Son, or the Holy Spirit. They are one and the same. Therefore, living by the spirit is to live as Jesus lived. To live as God desires us to live.

After running a long list describing our sinful natures, Paul added this:

“But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23)

In other words, “doing good.” These are the attitudes of the heart that prompt our doing good. The condition of our hearts compels us to heal, feed, comfort, touch, teach, lead, encourage, restore, challenge and change lives…just as Jesus did.

Paul told the believers that these acts were not one time deeds. You cannot spend just one day loving. We must love every day. We cannot do one kind thing. We must be kind continuously. If lives are to be changed, we must make the effort always. We must keep on doing good each day we live. Paul ended this part of the discussion by saying:

“Since we live by the spirit, let us keep in step with the spirit.” (Galatians 5:25)

Walking in relationship with the Father, through our trust in the Son and the influence of his Spirit. Every step of the way.

Paul said, “Do not grow weary of doing good.” If living in step with the spirit and doing good is such a high calling why would we ever grow weary of doing good?

We may find ourselves alone in the work. Criticized by those who do not understand. We may see our good deeds rebuffed, our efforts ignored. We may lose our own enthusiasm and start going through the motions. We may be doing the work in our own strength or for our own glory. We may lose faith that God is at work. We may grow discouraged because we cannot see the results of our labor.

What it boils down to is this. We grow weary of doing good because we lose sight of the ultimate goal of our work…to draw all to Christ. It is the reason for every act of goodness and its purpose is has eternal consequences for all we encounter.

Paul’s words pull us back to what matters most in our desire to do good.

When we explore the life of Jesus, we see it at every turn. Every action had a purpose. An intent. Everything Jesus did was meant to draw someone to accept the grace gift of salvation. He healed to remedy an affliction, but he did so hoping that the healed might believe.

He comforted to ease the suffering, but he did so hoping that the comforted might believe. He fed to erase the hunger pangs of the starving, but he did so hoping that the satisfied might believe. His deeds were an extension of who he was…an extension of his faith and trust in the Father.

Our doing good, modeled after Jesus, should have the same intent and purpose. Our actions ought to reflect our faith and trust in him. Every good we do ought to meet a need, hoping that those we helped will be drawn to God. That’s the aim of doing good. And it requires us to keep our eyes on that goal.

Florence Chaddick waded into the sea off Catalina Island 21 miles off the coast of California on July 4, 1951 with every intention of being the first woman to swim to the mainland. Swimming long distances was not new to her. She was the first woman to swim the English Channel in both directions just a few years earlier.

The challenge before her was less the distance than the chilly waters of the Pacific. On the morning of her swim, a dense, thick fog descended upon the ocean reducing visibility to a mere feet. Two boats accompanied her to keep her on track and to protect her from sharks. Her mother stood in the lead boat while her trainer followed behind.

She swam for hours never seeing beyond the lead boat. After a time, Florence began to complain about the water and the cold. She was ready to quit. Her mother provided encouragement and cheered her on. Florence continued to swim. When she would lag behind, her trainer in the back boat pushed her. Soon, she said she was done, unable to swim any longer. Her mother and trainer would not let her quit.

She struggled for a time more. After 15 bone chilling hours in the sea, Florence gave up. She climbed into the boat only to realize she had quit within a quarter of a mile of the coast. Later, she told a reporter, “If I could have seen land, I might have made it.”

Chadwick returned to Catalina Island the next year to try again. Though greeted by another foggy day, she dove in. She achieved her goal this time, remarkably besting the men’s record by more than two hours. On this occasion she made it by telling herself over and over again that the land was there. She just had to keep swimming.

Here’s my take away. Do not grow weary of doing good. Keep swimming. Trust that as you live by the spirit…on the course you’ve taken…that land is not that far away. In God’s appointed time, we will “reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Our work is not for naught. God is at work in our doing good.

I’ll simply end by echoing Paul’s final encouragement to look for every chance we have to do what is good and right.

“Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people.” (Galatians 6:10)

Seasons of Our Lives

Background Passage: Ecclesiastes 3:1-14; Ecclesiastes 1:9

It’s one of the few commercials I enjoy. Veteran actor J. K Simmons in his persona as an agent for a national insurance company, leads a client through their Hall of Claims. He describes a bizarre and unlikely happening once covered under their policy…like the Three-Ringed Fender Bender, an accident caused by a clown car rear-ending another vehicle.

He typically ends the tour with the tagline, “We know a thing or two because we’ve seen a thing or two.”

The writer of Ecclesiastes, in his infinite wisdom, had a similar thought. He had seen it all.

“What has been will be again. What has been done will be done again. There is nothing new under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes 1:9)

Solomon, the last king of a united Israel and the youngest son of David, is generally credited with writing some of the Psalms, the Song of Solomon and most of Ecclesiastes. In the beginning of Ecclesiastes, the writer is called “The Preacher” in some translations or “The Teacher” in others. His words are always instructive.

“What has been will be again.” This statement sounds pessimistic, resigned to the inevitable. “There is nothing new under the sun.”

I think it’s wisdom that comes with age where one begins to recognize how often history and life repeat. It is a wisdom that knows that nothing, and I mean nothing, surprises our God.

Shortly after the start of the riots in Minneapolis, Seattle, Portland and other major urban centers, one of my sons expressed how unsettled he felt as he watched what was happening. He recognized the validity of the protests and the need for progress in civil rights, but struggled with the violence associated with it.

I told him I felt the same way as I watched all that transpired in the 60s and 70s. The need for change was real. The destruction was a tragic waste and did more harm than good. We got through those years by taking some tough steps forward. We can and must do the same this time. There is nothing new in the unsettled feelings we’re feeling.

Pandemics come and go throughout history. Depression and joblessness recur in a cyclical nature. Periods of civil unrest lead to important social change. Hotly contested elections play out in front of us with lies, half-truths and innuendo. Whatever we are experiencing, we’ve been there before. There really is nothing new under the sun.

As life unfolds around us we learn that there is a season for all things in God’s created world. Chaos exists in our world. Resolution comes. The pattern repeats, not because God has lost control, but because that is life.

The teacher of Ecclesiastes would tell us that every thing happens in its time and that the God of the universe works within the chaos and the calm for a purpose, even when we don’t know what he’s doing or why.

Listen to the Preacher’s poetry (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8).

There is a time for everything—
and a season for every activity under heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die.
A time to plant and a time to uproot.
A time to kill and a time to heal.
A time to tear down and a time to build.
A time to weep and a time to laugh.
A time to mourn and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones and a time to gather them.
A time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing.
A time to search and a time to give up.
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear and a time to mend.
A time to be silent and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate.
A time for war and a time for peace.

See in the phrasing…his choice of words…the order and balance of God’s creation. The contrasting couplets give evidence that life has its seasons, its time, for all things. Yet, the couplets are not sequential. They fall randomly in the poem as they fall randomly in life. They represent the broad spectrum of life as we live it from birth to death. Not all roses and lemonade. Not all darkness and doom.

It is all we experience in the dash between the day of our birth and the day of our death. It is life. In life God grants us the time to do what he needs us to do. To experience the living…the good and the bad of it…to make memories and to have experiences that draw us closer to the God who loves us.

God wants us to spend our time wisely in that to which he calls us. Time is his gift to us. How we use it during the seasons of our life ought to matter to us because it matters to God.

Most of the time when we read or hear these verses we stop at the end of the poem. Yet, to stop at the end of the poem is accepting the vagaries of life as if the Creator set the world in motion and let it run unattended since the dawn of time.

In such a world we exist as flotsam, adrift in a placid ocean that turns stormy with each wisp of wind. To stop at the end of the poem is defeatist. Little more than life left to the arbitrary whim of a callous and uncaring god.

The wise writer of Ecclesiastes refused to believe that. He had more to say. And, to me, it is the heart of the matter.

“What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” (Ecclesiastes 3:9-11)

Life is a series of contrasting events…the inevitable good and bad times. It is what we do with it and the attitude we carry that makes a difference. Here’s a tremendous take away.

This verse is written by a man who has seen the hurricane hide the sunset. A man who suffered the storm and watched the dawning of a bright, new day. The older I get and the more hardships I encounter, I know that “this, too, shall pass.”

Solomon recognized that through the good and the bad of life, God “makes everything beautiful in its time.” These are words written by a man who knows that even in the darkest of nights and the deepest of despair, God is at work.

And, it’s not just an Old Testament construct. Paul said, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)

The ugly becomes beautiful in the hands of a loving God and that is a mystifying process beyond our comprehension…a God-worked mystery “no one can fathom…from beginning to end.” I can know God is at work without ever seeing his hand until the storm passes. That’s why we must find time in our busy days to reflect on where we’ve been and what has transpired. Hindsight is 20/20. (Aren’t we all ready to see 2020 in our hindsight.)

To Solomon, the teacher, the king, life boiled down to this. It is not complicated. It is not abstract. It is profound in its simplicity.

“I know there is nothing better than for people to be happy and to do good while they live. That each of them shall eat and drink and find satisfaction in all their toil—that is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing can be taken from it.” (Ecclesiastes 3:14)

Ecclesiastes teaches us to enjoy God’s gifts today. Being content with life regardless of circumstance is a gift of God to those who make “doing good” a priority. Focusing our attention on doing good and enjoying life can help us accept the balance between the seasons of mourning and the seasons of dance. Between the good days and the bad.

Paul echoed the sentiment to the church at Philippi, declaring that God continually grants him the strength to find peace in every season.

“I am not saying this because I am in need for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need and I know what it is to have plenty…I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:11-13)

In what season do you find yourself today? The answer will be different for each of us. Some will be at war and others at peace. Some will be keeping and others throwing away. Some will be searching and others will give up. Some will gather stones while others are scattering them to the wind.

I don’t know in what season you find yourself, but I know this. God knows a thing or two because he’s seen a thing or two. He is at work in your season and you are not alone.

When we live for him, God’s way is both manageable and meaningful. Rather than complaining about our circumstances, about the things we don’t have or the bad times we’re going through; rather than crawling in our foxholes in the vain hope that the difficulties will pass over our heads; let’s enjoy the time he has granted us to live. Let us find that which God is teaching us and celebrate it.

“There is a time for everything and a season, a purpose, for every activity under heaven.”