Category: Life Worth Living

Do Not Harden Your Heart

Background Passages: Mark 6:30-52 and Ephesians 1:15-19a

You’ll remember the story.

The disciples just returned to Bethsaida on the shore of the Sea of Galilee after a quick mission trip of their own where they taught and preached the gospel. As they began sharing how God had been at work in their efforts, the bustle of the crowd grew distracting.

Jesus suggested a quick boat ride to the far shore where they could spend a quieter time in reflection, rest and praise.

Their leaving the town did not go unnoticed, however. As their boats rowed across the water, the crowd followed, walking along the shoreline trying to catch up to the teacher and healer. By the time Jesus and his disciples reached the beach, a large crowd had already gathered, hoping to hear the words of the master teacher.

Jesus felt compassion toward them, according to scripture, and began to teach them “many things” about God and what it means to live as his people. As the late afternoon came, one of the disciples interrupted Jesus and suggested he call it a day.

I’m paraphrasing, but they said, “We’re in a remote place and it’s late. These folks are going to be hungry. We need to send them on their way so they can find something to eat.”

Jesus suggested that rather than send them away, the disciples should feed them. The idea struck them as impossible. The crowd was too large and their funds too small. Jesus asked them what they had which they could share. Andrew, bless his heart, found a young boy with a pouch holding five small loaves of bread and two small fish that his mother had prepared for his lunch that morning. “That’s it, Jesus.” He probably said. “That’s all we could find.”

Sometime later, the disciples stared for a long moment at the 12 baskets of loaves and fishes gathered after Jesus took the boy’s meager meal, blessed it and began giving food to the disciples to distribute to the crowd of 5,000 men and their families.

Can you imagine how stunning it must have been to see the unfolding of this miracle?

After taking care of the hungry, Jesus insisted that the disciples get in the boat to return to Bethsaida. They pushed off from shore, yammering in excitement about what they had just witnessed. After dismissing the crowd, telling them to return home, Jesus found a quiet place on the mountainside to rest and pray, giving thanks to God for the blessings that unfolded that day.

The winds picked up during the early morning hours and the moon glistened off the water below. In the distance, Jesus could see the disciples struggling to make headway against the wind and waves. Scripture tells us they were “straining at the oars.”

Mark picks up the story from there.

Shortly before dawn he (Jesus) went out to them, walking on the lake. He was about to pass by them, but when they saw him walking on the lake, they thought he was a ghost. They cried out, because they all saw him and were terrified.

Immediately he spoke to them and said, “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” Then, he climbed into the boat with them, and the wind died down. They were completely amazed, for they had not understood about the loaves; their hearts were hardened.

I went a long way through scripture to get to that last line that I’ve overlooked every time I’ve read this story. “Their hearts were hardened.”

That’s a phrase I most often associate with Pharoah. Moses, on God’s behalf, appealed to Pharoah time and time again to let the people of Israel return to their homeland. Each time the Egyptian king refused, God sent a plague of blood or frogs (that would have done it for me), or gnats, or flies to prove his power and persuade the reluctant ruler.

Each time, however, scripture in Exodus tells us that Pharoah “hardened his heart.” Then, when God had given him every chance in the world to respond positively to him, God took his choice away. God, then “hardened the heart of Pharoah,” sealing his fate.

When we see that term in scripture, it usually means a stubborn refusal to obey God’s teaching or to acknowledge him as Lord. In the Old Testament, it suggests such self-centeredness that one simply turns his back repeatedly on God. Refusing to listen. Refusing to obey.

In the New Testament and even today, to harden one’s heart is to stubbornly and consistently reject Jesus as Savior and Lord, despite every effort the Holy Spirit makes to open one’s heart to the possibility of salvation through Christ. That’s true, the story I just shared suggests there is more to it than that.

In our passage in Mark, we see the disciples sitting in a boat in the middle of the Sea of Galilee with hardened hearts after Jesus demonstrated his power and authority over all things, not once, but twice in the space of 12 hours. His disciples. His followers. People who believe in him.

Once Jesus climbed into the boat, Mark tells us the disciples were “completely amazed.” Whatever Greek word is used in this instance, is evidently not easily translated into English. Different versions of the Bible capture the phrase as “completely overwhelmed,” “completely astounded,” “so baffled they were beside themselves,’ “completely confused,” or “utterly astounded.”

The reason for their profound astonishment was not that Jesus walked on water and calmed the sea. Look what Mark said, “…they had not understood about the loaves.”

Talk about a left turn. I didn’t see that coming. What did they not understand about the loaves?

The disciples were believers. They trusted Jesus as Lord, but they still had much to learn about who he was and what it means to live for him. Such a description sounds eerily familiar to my life…and I suspect to yours.

Though they had come a long way in their understanding, they often missed the point of what Jesus did and why he did it. Jesus did an incredible miracle by creating food for as many as 15,000-20,000 men, women and children from a measly sack lunch. John tells us that Jesus even took the time shortly after this incident to explain that the feeding of the 5,000 was an object lesson, pointing to him as the “bread of life.”

The disciples, however, got in the boat that night, marveling at the miracle, but not truly seeing the one who worked the miracle for who he really is. They missed the revelation of his deity…as God in flesh. It could have been such a turning point in their lives, yet they missed it.

That’s why they were then amazed when he did other God-like things such as walking on the water or calming the sea. Their hearts stubbornly refused to see what was standing right before their eyes, as the water lapped at his ankles. God, through Jesus, is capable of doing anything regardless of the lack of resources or the difficulty of the circumstance.

Their hearts were hardened.

And, there lies the lesson I needed to hear. The language about hardened hearts is usually reserved for God’s enemies, people to whom God is a stranger. Sometimes, those of us who know and trust Jesus as Lord, still have a hard time believing that God is God and that God is still at work.

Stubbornly refusing to believe what we see that reveals his “Godness,” his goodness and his presence in our lives. Hardening our hearts even when we see him doing God things.

Here’s where the story gets so real to me. The disciples didn’t miss the miracle of the loaves. They were in the big middle of it.

They saw Jesus pray. They saw him take the food he had available and turn it into a feast. They handed out basket after basket and each time they returned to Jesus he handed them another basket until everyone was fed.

They saw the grateful faces of the hungry and heard their joy and laughter. They gathered up the leftovers, each loading a full meal to take with them on their journey.

I can be in the middle of God’s work and still miss seeing God in it simply because my heart is not paying attention. I marvel at the miracle and miss the miracle worker.

Paul wrote a letter to the Ephesian church that sounds like a perfect way to focus on keeping our hearts from being hardened to the exceptional grace and work of God in Christ.

“For this reason, ever since I heard about your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all God’s people, I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers. I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened (in other words, not hardened) in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. (Ephesians 1:15-19a)

It was Paul’s prayer for his friends in Ephesus and 2,000 years later, I’m making it my prayer for my life and for yours.

Life After Birth

Background Passages: 2 Corinthians 5:16-20: John 3:1-21

Fifty years ago, while a student a Texas Tech University, I worked as a salesclerk at the Baptist Bookstore in Lubbock. It didn’t pay great, but the flexible hours allowed me to work around my class schedule.

For an avid reader, the downside of working in a place filled with books is that it is a place filled with books, all of which were offered to employees at a sizable discount. found myself spending a good portion of my paycheck each month building my personal library.

I still have many of those books on my library shelf. While straightening one of those shelves this week, I came across a book called Dancing at My Funeral, written by Maxie Dunnam. I probably haven’t read anything from this book in 30 years. With my Dad’s memorial service fresh on my mind, I thumbed through the pages, drawn to a chapter entitled, “I Believe in Life After Birth.”

Because a funeral draws our attention to life after death, I found the title of the chapter intriguing enough to sit and read. Dunnam talked about the danger of sleepwalking through life after making our commitment to Christ. To cut a long chapter short, he wanted his reader to understand that Christians miss the joy of our promised “life abundant” when we don’t let our faith really challenge and change us.

One of the passages of scripture he referenced in 2 Corinthians was a passage I had considered as the basis of my writing this week. It may be coincidence, but I like to think it was a God thing. Here’s the verse.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ; the new creation has come; the old is gone and the new is here! (2 Corinthians 5:17)

In one sense, what Paul is saying is clear. Once we put our faith and trust in Jesus as savior and boss of our lives, we get to start again. We get to change the patterns of our old life that do not reflect the character and image of Christ to become a new creation…a new person intent upon living for him. The old way of life must pass, letting God lay out a new path before us.

A new creation has come…

Paul’s choice of words here is intentional. It’s like waking up in the morning to a new world. Look at what he wrote earlier in his letter to the church in Corinth.

For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Jesus Christ. (2 Corinthians 4:6)

Can you see the connection Paul tries to make? The God of creation found in Genesis is the same God of our salvation. Just as God spoke all of creation into existence by the power of his word, God speaks in us a new creation through the powerful words of his gospel…through the saving work of Christ, his gospel of truth and the indwelling presence in our hearts of his spirit.

This new person that God creates in us is a light that shines in the darkness of a sinful world. A testimony to the saving and transforming power of Jesus, but only if we allow him to change us from the inside out.

It is here that Dunnam makes a connection I’ve never considered. He equates this “new creation” in 2 Corinthians with “new birth.” Not so much a do-over as a new start. A change. It’s what Jesus tried to explain to Nicodemus in John 3.

You probably know Nicodemus. He’s the Pharisee who came to Jesus late at night to discuss theology and got a lesson in faith. While we often paint the Pharisees dressed in black, hypocrites whose faces look like they bit into a sour lemon, there were some sincere folks among their ranks. Nicodemus stood as one of the good ones. Faithful. Devout. Open. Curious.

That’s why he could not discount the teachings of this Galilean rabbi who said some unsettling things. There was something in Jesus’ words that bore a ring of truth that Nicodemus could set aside.

You see Nicodemus bound his life to the law…every jot and tittle. Obedience to the law and doing good was his path to salvation. Yet, he must have found it stifling. Dull. Drab. Jesus taught differently, challenging everything Nicodemus held dear and promising life in its fullest.

It is somewhat surprising that a man who regarded faith as a measure of obedience to the law and had given his life completely to it would seek out Jesus at all. Though the Bible doesn’t tell us how many times Nicodemus had listened from the edge of the crowd as Jesus taught in the temple or synagogues, he surely heard. What he heard made the religion he practiced pale in comparison to the promises that Jesus taught.

This is what prompted the Pharisee to seek out the teacher. Careful, though, of his standing among the group, Nicodemus wanted a private audience with Jesus, covered by the veil of darkness.

When he arrived at Jesus’ camp, he engaged in a little polite small talk. Nicodemus, impressed with Jesus’ teaching and the miracles he performed, made a point to tell him so. It was his opening statement in what he presumed might become a lively debate. Jesus responded with a statement that led Nicodemus down a rabbit hole into a wonderland of confusion.

Hear the conversation that pushed Nicodemus over the edge.

“I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again.”

“How can a man be born when he is old?” asked Nicodemus. “Surely, he cannot enter a second time into his mother’s womb to be born.”

Jesus answered, “No one can enter the kingdom of God unless his is born of water and the Spirit. Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirt. You should not be surprised at my saying, “you must be born again.” The wind blows wherever it pleases. You can hear the sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So, it is with everyone born of the spirit.” (John 3:3-8)

As Jesus drew Nicodemus deeper into the truth, Nicodemus struggled to keep up. It was a lot to take in.

“…Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life. For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. (John 3:15-16)

Jesus told him that no matter how hard you try to obey Moses law, you will fail. The only hope of eternal life is to be born again…to be changed through the unmerited grace and love of God

The truth that Jesus taught Nicodemus is the same truth Paul taught the Corinthians. You must be born again. We must set aside the old us in favor of the new us that is found in Christ.

So, I ask the question again. A question each of us must answer for ourselves.

Is there life after birth?

Jesus says there is life abundant.

I am the gate, whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out and find pasture. The thief comes to steal and kill and destroy. I have come that they may have life and have it to the full. (John 10:9-10)

Paul said there this life is alive.

When you were dead in your sins and in the uncircumcision of your sinful nature, God made you alive with Christ. (Col 2:13)

Think about the life Christ offers. Abundant. Alive.

It is the life we’ve been promised when we put our faith and trust in Christ. It will never happen, though unless we decide to be open to the possibilities. When we’re ready to surrender the control to which we so desperately cling. To say “Yes.”

Swiss psychologist Paul Tournier said that the “willingness to surrender is the pivotal point for becoming a whole person.” Being born again…becoming a new creation…is a plunge into the unknown. Faith let’s go. Faith surrenders.

Faith surrenders to a new perspective.

In the verse immediately preceding Paul’s thoughts about being a new creation, he calls upon all believers to look at the world differently.

So, from now on, we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way we do so no longer. (2 Corinthians 5:16)

Paul talks about this new creation we become, this life after new birth, so we can look at ourselves differently, though that’s certain a part of it. He also suggests that the new creation we become will enable us to see those around us with new eyes.

From now on, Paul says, we no longer see the world around us, the people around us, from a selfish perspective, but rather through the eyes of a loving father. To be a new creation is to see others…and even ourselves… as worthy of God’s love. That perspective matters. That perspective changes us. If we’re able to make that leap, how much would it change who we are and our perspective of the world around us? How much would it drive or temper our actions?

Faith surrenders to a new purpose.

As a new creation, Paul understood that our purpose changes as we change. Our new outlook propels us into a new purpose, one Paul calls the “ministry of reconciliation.” Look again at what he says in 2 Corinthians.

All of this is from God who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God has reconciled the world to himself through Christ, not counting men’s sins against them. And he has committed us to the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God was making his appeal through us.” (2 Corinthians 5:18-20)

Christ died so he might fix the broken relationship between us and God. To bring us into a reconciled relationship with our Creator. To be his representative in this alien world. As this new creation, he called us so we might help others be reconciled to God. Through the words we say to others. Through the things we do for others. Through the life we live for others.

Is there life after birth?

I answer with a resounding yes! It comes with a changed perspective and a challenging purpose. When we act accordingly, it is a life that is abundant and alive with possibilities, not just for you, but for all we encounter.

I’ve failed at the task far more often than I care to admit. I expect you have, too. Let’s together pledge to celebrate our life after birth, by committing to our calling in the ministry of reconciliation with a fresh perspective and purpose.

All Who Labor

Background Passages: Genesis 2:15; Ecclesiastes 3:9-13; Colossians 3:23-24; Matthew 11:38

From the time we are children, we eagerly anticipate holidays. Thanksgiving brings us a parade and a feast of turkey and dressing as it reminds us to express gratitude for all God has provided in life. Christmas excites us with its time of gifts and giving, of family and the celebration of Christ’s birth.

New Year’s Day brings its new beginnings and more than its share of doomed resolutions. Easter is a time for hunting eggs with the kids and wearing our Sunday best to church as we remember all Jesus did as his gift of salvation. July 4th is all about picnics and fireworks as it instills its sense of patriotism and love for country.

Then, comes Labor Day…with its day off and the certain knowledge that proper women can no longer wear white.

Labor Day, enacted as a national holiday by President Grover Cleveland in 1882, commemorates the labor rights established to protect workers from the exploitation of way too powerful corporations and greedy industrial moguls concerned only with profit. It recognizes the many contributions workers have made to America’s strength and prosperity. I’m often reminded on Labor Day to express my gratitude for those who do the dirty and necessary work to keeps our society functioning.

I’m grateful for those men and women in my life who taught me the value of hard work. My first examples were my Dad and every other farmer I ever knew in that small West Texas community where I grew up. Hard work was an expectation. A life commitment.

My Mom spent the early years of my life as an equally hard-working farmer’s wife. No one who hasn’t lived that life should scoff at that. It was never easy. Her later years were spent as a medical director of a retirement community where her skill and compassion brought comfort to her elderly patients.

My thoughts this Labor Day weekend are less about the holiday and more about the work we are called to do and how we are called to do it.

Work is hard. Whether we work at home, at school, on a factory floor, in a petrochemical plant, on a farm or in a nice, air-conditioned office, work can be difficult.

Unreasonable deadlines. Computer crashes. Difficult customers. Demanding bosses. Baffling regulations. The list of challenges faced in the workplace is endless. From labor shortages to the difficult decisions to let employees go, it never seems to get easier. Even at home there is always another dinner to cook, another pile of clothes to wash and a lawn that needs mowing.

Despite the fact that we may be doing work that we typically enjoy, there are days when you wonder if it’s worth the effort.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. In the perfect world God created, work would have been, well, perfect because the workplace was perfect.

“The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it…” (Genesis 2:15)

The life God planned for us went quickly off the rails because of sin’s devastating folly. The nature of work changed.

“Cursed is the ground because of you, in painful toil you shall eat food from it all the days of your life. It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your brow you shall eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken. For dust you are and to dust you will return. (Genesis 3:17-19)

Brutal!

The wisdom of Ecclesiastes describes the writer’s work experiences…the disillusionment that comes when his work leaves him unfulfilled.

I hated life because the work that is done under the sun was grievous to me. All of it is meaningless, chasing after the wind. I hated all the things I had toiled for under the sun because I must leave them to the one who comes after me. And who knows whether that person will be wise or foolish? Yet they will have control over all the fruit of my toil in which I have poured my effort and skill under the sun. This too is meaningless. (Ecclesiastes 2:17-18)

If that wasn’t sad enough, the writer continued to share his heart’s despair.

What do people get for all the toil and anxious striving with which they labor under the sun? All their days their work is grief and pain; even at night their minds do not rest. This too is meaningless. (Ecclesiastes 2:22-23)

His lament begins to sound like the gospel of the Rolling Stones, “I can’t get no satisfaction…but I try, and it try, and I try…

Let me stop there or we’ll be too depressed to get out of bed Tuesday morning. The writer of Ecclesiastes doesn’t completely despair. He doesn’t hit the snooze button on his alarm, refusing to get up for work the next morning. He tells us in Chapter 3 that there is a time for every activity under heaven.

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 set eternity in the human heart; yet, no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. That each of them may eat and drink and find satisfaction in all their toil…this is the gift of God. (Ecclesiastes 3:9-13)

What changed in the writer’s heart?

It was the certain understanding that everything God created, even work, had its time, place and purpose. As we learn to trust him in all things, even work, we start seeing the work he has given us through our talent and skills as his work…doing good while we live.

So natural was this idea of work in God’s plan for us that when God sent his son to live and dwell among us, he toiled beside his father and brothers in the family business long before he began his ministry.

While the scripture tells us nothing about the 18 years between Jesus’ appearance in the temple as a 12-year-old and the beginning of his ministry as a man of thirty years, Jewish culture expected boys to begin working as apprentices in their father’s business. Joseph, Jesus’ earthly father was a carpenter, a worker in wood and stone.

It takes little imagination to feel the callouses on Jesus’ hands and see the muscles bulging as a result of many years wielding a hammer. You can see the tiny scars that represent every time the chisel slipped and cut his fingers. It takes little imagination to see the joy on his face as his friends and neighbors delighted in the house or table Jesus built for them with his own hands. It was a good work. A work God called him for when he sent him to Mary and Joseph. A work as much about his Father’s business at that time in his life as the redemptive work he would do later on the cross.

As he preached the gospel, Paul worked as a tentmaker to help pay his way. As someone who took pride in his work, Paul saw his vocation as an extension of his ministry. His way of setting himself apart from others as a witness for Christ. It was a word he extended even to the slaves of his day. This is what he told his brothers and sisters in Christ in the church at Colossae.

“Whatever you do work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” (Colossians 3:23-24)

We spent easily one-third of our adult lives working. Paul tells us to pour our hearts into our work. Give it our absolute best, even when we might feel mistreated. Work each day as if the Lord himself was your boss because, he says, “It is the Lord Christ you are serving.”

It is the apostle’s way of reminding us that in a broken world, work will never be what it was intended. The good news is that Jesus changes everything. When we begin to see that our work, whatever it may be, is an extension of our ministry and mission given to us by God, then we’ll see the true value of every hour spent in his service.

• Farmers feed and clothe.
• Teachers develop and teach.
• Doctors and nurses heal.
• Industry workers create and build.
• Homemakers love and comfort.
• Police offers and firefighters protect and serve.

I don’t care what you do for a living. Your work is rife with opportunity to be the hands and feet of Jesus, touching the lives of all you encounter. What we do on Monday through Friday cannot be separated from the one we worship on Sunday.

It is the Lord Christ we are serving.

I don’t think I fully appreciated that truth as a young man. Work was work. Ministry was ministry. It didn’t often occur to me that those worlds should exist in the same space. God opened my eyes during a Halloween poster contest at one of the schools in our district.

I had been invited to judge a Halloween mask contest at one of the elementary campuses in my school district where I served in a low administrative role. Most of the masks hanging on the wall were decorated elaborately with obvious parental help.

Standing with the principal who was also judging, we came across one mask that was little more than a Kroger paper shopping bag with a crudely painted face upon it. Holes were raggedly cut for the eyes and mouth.

Thinking nothing of it, I sarcastically told the principal that it was obvious the parents didn’t help on this mask. She gave me a wry smile and told me that the father of the little girl who made this mask was in prison. The girl had been removed from her home because the mother had a severe drug addiction.

That timid, third grade girl had been sent to live with two elderly grandparents. Shortly after her arrival the grandmother died, leaving the little girl in the care of a grandfather who lived his life confined to a wheelchair and a bottle of oxygen.

By the time she finished the story, I fought back the tears of my insensitivity and heard clearly God’s gentle reminder that I was in this business to serve him. That I was to be about his business while doing my business.

I spent a few minutes that morning, my heart broken, but at the same time buoyed, sitting and talking with a smiling little third grade girl whose only refuge in life was the classroom. Whose only stability was her teachers.

God rocked my world that day, opening my eyes to the possibility that every minute of my work was my field…and the field was ripe for harvest. He reminded me that every day presented chances to show his love and grace to people who needed to feel his touch through me.

I hope you’ve had that moment in your career when you began to understand that it is the Lord Christ you are serving no matter what your job or profession might be.

It’s easy to do just enough work to get by. I watched a few people do exactly that during my 40-year career. However, God asks something different of those who he calls his children. As you start your work each day, be reminded that the writer of Ecclesiastes said to recognize our work is a “gift of God and to “do good while we live.”

When the alarm goes off each day, remember that Paul said that “whatever you do, work at it with all your heart,” as if you’re really “working for the Lord.” Find ways to express his love through the work you do.

If you’re doing it right, I’m convinced work will always be difficult, but it will never be drudgery. There will be times when “Thank God It’s Friday” will be less in anticipation of a weekend of celebration and more a prayer of praise that you survived another week. However, if we work each day as if we’re working for God, then the burden will not be all that heavy. There will be joy in the labor.

As a carpenter and stonemason, Jesus knew what it meant to work long, back-breaking hours in the blistering sun. He knew the burden of responsibility would take its toll some days…especially if we remember that it is the Lord Christ we’re serving. I think that’s one reason he told those who would listen…

Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28)

So as we enter this Labor Day holiday weekend, I pray you find the deserved rest and peace of Christ that will recharge your batteries and enable you to punch the clock on Tuesday with the resolve of one who knows for whom he is working.

Happy Labor Day!

I Must Become Less

Background Passages: John 1:29-31; John 3:23-30; Matthew 16:24-26

The classical music world generally considers Italian conductor Arturo Toscanini as the greatest and most influential musician of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Known for his intensity and his quest for musical perfection, he had an ear for orchestral detail, He was, at various times, the orchestra director for La Scala in Milan, Italy, and the New York Philharmonic Orchestra.

One evening after a performance of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, the audience gave Toscanini and the orchestra a prolonged standing ovation. Filled with great emotion, Toscanini turned to his musicians and whispered, “I am nothing. You are nothing.” Then, in a reverent tone, the conductor said, “But Beethoven…Beethoven is everything!”

For the gifted conductor, he and the amazingly talented musicians of the orchestra shined only as instruments through which the genius of Beethoven could be heard. Their presence and performance were subordinate to the music so brilliantly put together by the famed composer.

It’s a humility that John the Baptist understood in his relationship to Jesus.

In his Bible dictionary compiled in 1901, Dr. William Smith calls John the Baptist “the most theologically significant individual in the Bible” apart from Jesus Christ. Like Jesus, his birth is meticulously recorded in scripture and carried with it a miraculous conception reminiscent of Abraham and Sarah with its divine proclamation and intervention.

John is the only person recorded in scripture, other than Jesus as the fully divine expression of the Holy Trinity, to experience the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit from conception. Luke told us so as he described the angel’s message to John’s frightened father.

He will be a joy and delight to you and many people will rejoice because of his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. He is to never take wine or other fermented drink and he will be filled with the Holy Spirit even before he is born. (Luke 1:14-16)

Prior to Pentecost, God’s spirit came to specific people for a specific time and a specific purpose. When that time and purpose had been accomplished or when the person turned away from God’s calling as Saul did, the Spirit left them. In John’s case, he lived his life from birth to death with God’s spirit ever present in his life.

Born into a priest’s home in Jerusalem, John the Baptist was Jesus’ cousin. Separated by the distance between Jerusalem and Nazareth, I doubt that the cousins saw each other much more than once a year when Jesus’ parents brought him to the holy city for Passover. Though they had much in common, they were intensely different people.

If Jesus’ mother Mary was like my mom, she would have lovingly called John an “weird onion” as she hugged his neck. He lived life differently from most boys. John might have teased Jesus about his studious love of scripture and Jesus might have joked with John about his camel-haired sense of style and his penchant for snacking on honeyed locusts. (Matthew 2:4) It would have been a fun relationship to watch develop over the years.

John began his public ministry before Jesus as a “voice crying out in the wilderness” preparing the way for the coming Messiah. He preached repentance to the Jewish people, telling them that the days in which they were living marked the culmination of the law and the prophets and heralded the dawn of God’s kingdom.

As a result of his ministry, people flocked to John’s side, listening and responding to his message. Hundreds, if not thousands, sincerely turned back to God and were baptized by John in the Jordan River. His was a simple, but powerful message. Someone asked him one day if he was the promised Messiah. In his response, you get a sense of John’s understanding of his role in God’s plan.

After me comes the one more powerful than I, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit. (Mark 1:7-8)

Now, imagine this day. John stood waist deep in the river, water dripping from his camel-hair shirt, as he baptized one person after another who confessed their sin and asked for God’s forgiveness. As he looked up to welcome the next person into the water, he saw the crowd part as Jesus walked carefully down the slippery riverbank.

In the booming voice of a wilderness evangelist, John declaresdto all who can hear…

Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world. Reminding them of his earlier proclamation, John said, “This is the one I meant when I said, ‘A man who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me.'” I did not know him, but the reason I came baptizing with water was that he might be revealed to Israel. (John 1: 29-31)

Jesus smiled as he stepped into the water in front of John and asked to be baptized. Dumbfounded, John couldn’t imagine any way that Jesus’ request made sense. Drenched in unworthiness. John refused.

“I need to be baptized by you, and yet, do you come to me?

I can see Jesus taking his cousin by the shoulders, staring intently but gently into his eyes.

“Let it be so now; it is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness.” (Matthew 3:14-16)

Afterward, John continued his ministry in the wilderness, calling the people to repentance and pointing the way to Jesus. At the same time, Jesus began to teach and preach. His teaching and his miracles drew crowds equal to and sometimes greater than John’s.

While John was baptizing at Aenon near Salim, along the Jordan River, about midway between Judea and Galilee, an argument developed between John’s disciples and a Jew over ceremonial washing. The Jewish man came to John and indicated that Jesus, whom John baptized, had been baptizing also and seemed to be drawing people away from John’s following.

It’s hard to tell whether the man was genuinely curious about what he felt like were competing ministries or whether he was trying to sew discord between John and Jesus. It could be that he was trying to pit one against the other for the benefit of the Jewish religious leaders who perceived both men as threats to their standing with the people.

John’s response caught my attention this week despite having read the passage many times. Listen to it.

A person can receive only what is given them from heaven. You yourselves can testify that I said, “I am not the Messiah but am sent ahead of him.” The bride belongs to the bridegroom. The friend who attends the bridegroom waits and listens for him and is full of joy when he hears the bridegroom’s voice. That joy is mine, and it is now complete. He must be greater: I must become less. (John 3:23-30)

Because of God’s spirit within him, John the Baptist knew he played the role of best man in this story. Jesus was the bridegroom and those who believe in him his bride. That Jesus had now burst on the scene brought joy to John’s heart. Then, he said a few words you and I need to say every day.

He must be greater; I must become less.

Those eight words are easy for us to say, but so incredibly hard for us to live. Yet they need to be a constant refrain in our hearts.

If we’re honest with ourselves, we want Jesus to increase in importance to the world, but we kind of want to increase along with him. To decrease, to become less, makes us feel unimportant or forgotten. John took none of that into consideration. He wanted to live in such a way that people didn’t think of him at all. He wanted to live so people would think only of Jesus.

In those words, he challenged us to make Jesus greater in our lives, to take a back seat and let the light shine on Jesus. To let others see Jesus in and through us. Subordinating our will to his. Then, as John expressed, to find joy when we hear his voice louder than we hear our own.

John the Baptist expressed words of humility and I don’t always do humility well. Yet, the way of decrease is deeply engrained in scripture.

For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. (Romans 12:3)

Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus. Who, being the very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. Being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death—even death on the cross. (Philippians 2:5-8)

Paul recognized his need to decrease in his life committed to Christ, telling the people of Galatia…

I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I lie in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. (Galatians 2:20)

If I am to put Christ first in my life, let him increase, that means surrendering my will to the will of God. Becoming more like Jesus as I follow him. Living my life in complete and absolute faith in him.

You hear Paul’s words stemming from Jesus’ own words to his disciples as he explained the life God requires of all believers. It resonates just as clearly today.

Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it. For what good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world yet forfeits his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul?” (Matthew 16:24-26)

When I am willing to share the cross with Christ and follow his lead; when I am willing to lose myself in Christ’s shadow, only then will I find the abundant life he promised.

The praise of this world means little absent the presence of God in our lives. Putting him first. “Magnifying his name,” as Paul says when he sent his letter to the Philippian church.

When we use the word “magnify” today, we talk about making something bigger or larger like with a telescope or microscope. It was Paul’s desire that Christ would be magnified (made larger than Paul), so Christ would be honored, exalted and lifted up before all people.

Had he lived long enough to know Paul as the mighty missionary he came to be, John the Baptist would have agreed with him. To magnify Jesus means we must decrease while he must increase.

It is a sobering thought when I realize I’ve not always lived that way. With every temptation to exalt myself, I need to paraphrase the words of Toscanini. “I am nothing. You are nothing. But, Jesus…Jesus is everything.”

Let’s pray that God might help us live with the echo of John’s words in our hearts. “I must decrease; he must increase.”

Amen?

Amen.

Deep Roots

Background Passages: Matthew 13:1-23

Reading through the Bible gives us a marvelous glimpse into the teachings of Christ. The truth revealed remains as universally true today as it was then. However, I can’t help but feel that every conversation recorded in the Bible that Jesus has with the people who followed him from place to place is a concisely edited synopsis of what was actually discussed.

I enjoy reading between the lines and imaging the scene unfold. Jesus spent some time one day telling a parable about how differently God’s truth is received by those who hear it. As the day closed, his disciples struggled to understand so Jesus took the time to explain the truth they needed to know.

I sometimes like to put myself around the campfire, listening in on the conversations Jesus had with others. Read the passage in Matthew 13. Then, read the story below. Don’t worry about the format. I promise it’s not poetry. It’s just style.  I certainly don’t know if it happened this way, but it seems to be in keeping with my image of my Lord.

“Like locusts,”
Peter marveled,
“descending on a field of grain.”
The disciple commented on the crowd
gathering for the Master’s teaching.
Another day.
Another multitude.

James.
A disciple of Christ.
The son of Alphaeus.
Not the fisherman.
Raised his head.
Glanced back at the mass of humanity
spreading out across the mountain.
Muttered his agreement.
“Give them credit,” said James.
“They’ve come a long way in this heat
just to hear his words of wisdom.”

James watched Jesus working his way
among the crowd.
So full of energy.
Eager to engage each person on a personal level.

Stretching almost as far as he could see,
hundreds of men, women and children
congregated on the dusty hillside.
Turned its landscape into a
blossoming field of flowing robes.
Stretching their necks to catch a glimpse of the man who…
Worked miracles.
Fed thousands.
Healed the infirmed.
Spoke more clearly than any rabbi.

James shook his head in wonder.
Leaning hard against the prow of the boat,
He and Peter
pushed the small fishing vessel
into the warm waters of the Sea of Galilee.
Gave their Master a platform from which to speak.

The multitude settled at last to understand more about
the carpenter turned rabbi.
Many shouted out.
Sought answers to their most pressing questions.
“Who are you exactly?”
“Why are you here?”
“What must we do?”

Questions James heard since the
Jewish leaders began their disinformation campaign
accusing Jesus of every type of heresy under the Law.

James watched.
Jesus waited.
The tide of questions ebbed.
Amid the silence of anticipation,
Jesus pointed to the distant hillside.
“See that farmer?”

The crowd turned to look.
James chuckled under his breath
at the sound of rustling robes turning in unison.

A Farmer.
Stood straight against the weight of the
heavy seed bag tied around his waist.
Every two or three steps he stopped.
Dipped his hand into the sack.
With a casual and practiced flick of his wrist,
he cast seeds across his small plot of land.

“My work is much like his,” said Jesus,
“Sowing seeds of God’s truth to those who will hear.”
As the crowd turned back, he asked,
“Will you listen?”

“A farmer went out to sow his seed…”

James sat at Jesus’ feet as he always did.
Mesmerized
by every word.
Marveled
that the simplest illustration held such elaborate truth.
Awestruck that Jesus could pull a lesson of
immortal value from the
most mundane acts of life.

Sermon ended.
Service began.
Jesus and the disciples moved through the crowd.
Helping in any and every way they could.

James thought about the parable
throughout the day as he worked.
Unsettled.
Uncertain.
Uneasy.
He missed something.
He was sure of it.

At last,
the crowd dispersed.
Jesus sat around the campfire surrounded by
his most trusted followers.
Exhausted from the day’s ministry.
As was their habit,
they sat around the campfire…
Talking quietly.
Reflecting privately.
Discussing intimately.
Debating meaning and intent of the words they heard.

Jesus.
Rested against a fig tree.
Arms across his chest.
Head back.
Eyes closed.
Listening, but not looking.

James.
Shuffled from group to group.
Listened intently to the conversations.
Contributed little as he processed what he heard.
He found himself standing beside the tree where Jesus sat.
More nervous than usual when alone with Jesus.
Kicked the toe of his sandal against a root,
hoping that Jesus would notice his presence.

Finally, he cleared his voice.
“Jesus.
Are you asleep?”

Jesus.
Didn’t move a muscle though
a rueful grin broke across his face.
One weary eye opened.
One eyebrow raised.
“I wish!” He groaned.
Glancing up at the young disciple,
“What do you need,
my friend?”
.
James looked sheepishly at the others around the fire,
feeling inside that they knew things he did not know.
“That parable you told today…
about the farmer…
What exactly did it mean?”

Jesus arched his back.
Pushed away from the trunk of the tree.
Grasp his knees and pulled them to his chest.
Speaking in a voice loud enough for all the disciples to hear,
“Among all men, you are fortunate.
The secrets of the Kingdom of God have been revealed to you.”
James chuckled again as the rustle of their robes
reminded him of the crowd on the hillside.

Closing his eyes as if thinking of the multitude,
Jesus shook his head.
“The others…the people…
I speak in parables to help them understand.
So they can see what they may not see.
Hear what they may not understand.”

He paused for a moment.
Searched their eyes.
Sensed their uncertainty.

“This is what the parable means…”

The explanation.
Lengthy and to the point.
The disciples listened.
Some nodded in agreement.
Some probed with further questions.
James sat silently.
Getting the point,
but still sensing a gap in his understanding.
Innate shyness prevented him from pushing for clarity.

Later.
Jesus leaned again,
alone against his tree.
The others congregated in small clusters around the camp.
Again in quiet conversation.

James.
Paced the edge of darkness.
Hands behind his back.
Deep in thought.
He found himself once again
standing beside the tree.
Silent.
Still.

Jesus again wearily opened one eye.
Raised one eyebrow.
Smiled slightly at the timid intrusion.
Spoke in a quiet, reassuring voice.
“Something bothering you, James?”

The young disciple
leaned against the tree.
Facing east to Jesus’ south.
Slid quietly to the ground,
letting the course bark scratch his back.
He settled in silence into a comfortable spot.

Always patient,
Jesus waited for his friend to speak.
After a moment, James said,
“I get most of it, I think.
You’re the farmer…at work in your world.
The seed…God’s truth. His word.
The different kinds of soil…hearers of His word.
Hard.
Rocky.
Thorny.
Fertile.”
James paused again,
unsure of his next thought.

James pressed Jesus for clearer understanding.
Deeper insight.
About the soil…the listeners.
“How can they hear the same word so differently?”

“What do you think?” Jesus asked,
“always answering a question with a question.”

“The hard soil.
On the surface, no pun intended,” he smiled.
“it seems to talk about the…
Determined opponent of God.
Disinterested in godly things.
Hard. Bitter. Beaten down by life.
Refusing to let any ounce of truth penetrate the surface.
Hardened to any possibility of faith.
Clearly, an unbeliever.”

“But, I think there’s more to it than that.”
Turning to Jesus he said,
“Isn’t it possible a person could be so wrapped up in doing good,
that he may no longer hear a new word from God?
So focused on his ministry that he misses other opportunities to serve?

Jesus.
Eyes still closed.
He said,
“True enough.
Look at the Pharisees.
So busy with ritual they never get to know God intimately.
So involved in ‘worship’ they never practice what they preach.
Worship must be personal.
Must breech the hardness of our hearts
or it’s meaningless.”

Encouraged,
James pressed on.
“The soil on top of rocky ground…
Enough sustenance to sprout.
Not enough to grow.
Some listeners,
excited about the work of God,
try to live it daily.
Yet when crisis comes,
when they fall upon hard times,
they fall away.
Faith withers and dies.”

Jesus nodded.
“We must be grounded,
rooted in our faith,
if we are to withstand the difficulties
we will inevitably face.
Life is not easy.
A true life of faith even more difficult.
Setting our roots means we must be so grounded
in our study of God’s word
that we never lack for spiritual nourishment that sustains.”

James quietly quoted something Jesus said
in another time,
another place.
“If I say I love God and don’t evidence it in my life,
I’m a liar.”

Jesus laughed,
“You have been listening.”

The two men sat in silence for a while as James thought
deeply about what Jesus said.
The disciple took another deep breath.
“Let’s talk about the third soil…
Full of weeds and thorns.
Choking the life out of the good grain.
Bad attitudes and actions strangle life.
Good intentions get choked out by disbelief.”

James.
Energized.
Engaged.
Eager.
Sat cross legged now facing Jesus.
Hands gesturing to punctuate his excitement.
“Lives get smothered by things that ultimately don’t matter.
We nit-pick each other over inconsequential things.
Kill our own spirit and the
spirits of those around us.”

Jesus.
Fully awake and animated
mirrored James’ posture.
Cross legged and leaning toward his friend.
He reached across the distance between them.
Slapped him on the knees.
“Now, you’re getting it!”

Jesus added,
“There is a tendency to lose the joy of salvation.
The dogs of life nip at our heels.
We let bias and prejudice get in the way of loving relationships.
Arguments over things…
great or small…
just don’t matter in the end.
It chokes our relationships.
Get in the way of our ability to love one another.”

Jesus’s eyes danced.
“Go on, James,” he urged,
“What about the good soil?”

James sat for a minute.
Stunned that he was enmeshed in this conversation.

“The good soil…
Fertile.
Rich.
Bountiful.

“Represents those of us who get it.
Those who understand what God desires of us.
Understand more clearly who you are.”
Those who take part in the harvest.
Bringing people to know you.
To accept your truth.”

Jesus.
Shook his head.
“The kingdom needs more people
connected to the vine and
producing fruit.”

James sat back,
basking in Jesus’ praise.
It was a good feeling.

Jesus stared at him with an intensity
he had never sensed from his master.
“Think, James.
“It’s deeper than that. There’s more.
Keep digging.”

James found himself…
Prodded.
Probed.
Propelled beyond
convenience and conventional wisdom.
His mind raced.
Vaguely aware that other disciples had gathered around.
Listening intently to the dialogue.

His finger punched in frustration at the ground beneath him.
“I don’t understand.
You’re not making sen…”
James stopped in mid-sentence.
Sat back.
Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
His mind processing a new thought.

Quietly.
Thinking aloud.

“The farmer broadcast his seed in the field.
The field…
The field…
It’s the same field…
All of the soils.
Hard packed.
Shallow.
Thorny.
Fertile.
They’re all in the same field!”

Jesus leaned in…
Broad smile on his face…

“Sooooo…”

James looked at Jesus.
Tears of understanding welled in his eyes.
“They’re all me.
Every soil is me.
It’s not about how the multitude responds to the gospel,
it’s about how I respond.

I can be at times too hard…
too busy even in service to be of service.
I can be shallow and artificial in faith…
fainting at the first sign of adversity.
I can be overly concerned with things
that don’t matter in God’s grand scheme.
Hypercritical of others.
Or,
I can be productive, fertile…
fully responsive to the will of God in my life.

Jesus looked at James.
Eyes sympathetic and understanding.
“Knowing our capacity for failure is the
first step in avoiding the pitfalls.
Like I said before,
‘All have sinned and fallen short of the
glory of God.”

James wiped away tears with the sleeve of his tunic.
Embarrassed by his display of emotion.

Jesus.
Grasp the hand of his disciple.
Firm and reassuring.
“Don’t worry about the tears, James.
You’re in the good soil now.
You’re just watering your roots.”

I’m not sure about you. This parable speaks to my faith…crisply and clearly. Identifying my life, at best, as a spasmodic attempt to respond to the call of God.

Any honest evaluation of my life shows that I am sometimes…self-absorbed. Too busy acting good, rather than doing good. Sometimes…false and artificial. Exhibiting a show of faith, without the substance of faith. Sometimes…Nit-picky and hypocritical. Judging the speck of sawdust in the eyes of others, while ignoring the plank in my own.

Sometimes…fertile and productive. Stretching my roots into the deep, loamy soil of God’s truth. Fully responsive to his will.

My prayer for me and for you is simply this. That we find time to listen to the voice that tells us we’re missing something important in God’s word. To find the courage to sit at the tree where Jesus sits, asking for clarity and understanding. To dig deeper into familiar scripture. To sink our roots into the fertile soil of truth.

May our tears of understanding water the roots of our faith.

Author’s note: Life intervened this week. While I studied God’s word as I normally do, I could not find the time to write a new word. So, this is a slightly edited version of a study I wrote back in 2016. It served as a great reminder to me to keep digging for God’s truth.

As Time Goes By

Background Passages: Psalm 90; Ephesians 5:15-20; Colossians 4:5-6 and Matthew 25:23

You must remember this.
A kiss is just a kiss,
A sigh is just a sigh,
The fundamental things apply,
As time goes by.

Written in 1931 by Herman Hupfeld, As Time Goes By leapt to fame when it was featured in the 1942 Warner Brothers film Casablanca, performed by Dooley Wilson as Sam. The popularity of the song through the years is in the way it evokes a strong feeling of nostalgia…of regret and remorse over opportunities missed.

We flipped the page to another calendar year last week. It seems natural that the dawning of a new year causes us to reflect on the past as we look with either expectation or dread to the coming year.

Time is a weird concept when you think about it. When asked by a report to explain his theory of relativity in simple terms, Albert Einstein only half-jokingly responded by saying, “The only reason for time is to keep everything from happening at once.”

Here’s what I know about time. One can have too much time or too little time. Sometimes, there is never enough time. The days can be the best of times or the worst of times. We can make time, waste time, take time and spend time. I know that time heals all wounds and that time is money. It can be his time, but not her time. Time flies and time stands still. None of that explains what we are to do with our time.

According to Hal Borland, noted author and journalist, “Year’s end is neither an end nor a beginning, but a going on.”

As a younger man, the new year brought a sense of excitement, offering a fresh start. As I have lived out my 69 trips around the sun, the pragmatist in me tends to agree with Borland, a new year is simply “going on.” Just another day on the calendar.

American poet Mary Oliver appeals to the dream in me when she invites us into a new year. “Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable.” In a way, that makes time a God thing…a gift that is more than simply “going on.” Each passing day gives way to the unimaginable presence and purpose of God in our lives. Time is a God thing.

Though the Bible never explicitly says that time is God’s gift, it certainly implies it. Genesis tells us God created the heavens and the earth in the darkness. As he hovered over the depths of the sea, he spoke time into existence.

“Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God call the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning…the first day…and God saw that it was good. (Genesis 1:3-5, 9b)

Isn’t it interesting? God, who is “from everlasting to everlasting” (Psalm 90:2), had no need for the concept of time, but the finite beings he created would need to understand the limits placed on human existence.

“The length of our days is seventy years…or eighty, if we have the strength; yet their span is but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away.” (Psalm 90:10)

If that sounds too much like Borland’s rueful lament, we just need to keep reading God’s word to find Oliver’s unimaginable. Knowing that our time on earth has a beginning and end, the Psalmist goes on to say…

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” (Psalm 90:12)

That’s an important point of a new year, don’t you think? To gain a heart of wisdom? It’s critical because there are some really unwise ways to live. I don’t even need to look at the lives of others to know that. All I have to do is look at some of the choices I’ve made in the last year.

A heart of wisdom tells me to not place my hopes and dreams, my identity or my worth on things that will pass away as time goes by. Rather, my hopes, dreams, identity and worth can only be found in my relationship with God who made me and sustains me. Because he is eternal and his promises to me are eternal I should live my life for him and trust the work he has given me. That’s why the Psalmist ends his song with this.

“May the favor of the Lord our God rest on us; establish the work of our hands for us—yes, establish the work of our hands.” (Psalm 90:17)

Each new year is God’s gift of time, a not-so-subtle reminder that life is finite…too short…to make plans that ignore God’s plan and will for us…to ignore the work he has established for our hands to do. That lays a responsibility upon every believer to use the time we’ve been given wisely.

Because Paul understood this responsibility to live wisely, he told believers in Ephesians and Colossians to “redeem the time.”

Be very careful, then, how you live…not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity (redeem the time (KJV), because the days are evil. Therefore, do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord’s will is…speaking to one another with psalms, hymns and songs from the Spirit. Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Ephesians 5:15-17, 19-20)

His message to the Colossian church hit a similar theme.

Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity (redeem the time (KJV)). Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone. (Colossians 4:5-6)

To redeem is to buy back. To give back something in exchange for what we have already been given.

To redeem the time or make the most of every opportunity suggest that we pay God back for the time he gives us by worshipping him in heart and spirit, constantly thanking him for all he has done for us. We redeem the time or make the most of every opportunity by speaking words of grace to a lost world. Letting our words and our deeds be a testimony to the love and grace of God in our lives.

Perhaps, there is no greater testimony than the life described in Micah 6:8.

“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)

I wish I could look back on 2022 and say I lived those godly ideals every day. I suspect you’re no different. There is little we can do to change the past. There are, however, lessons to be learned from those experiences that guide us in the days to come.

Shauna Niequist is a Christian writer and author of Present Over Perfect. Her words may be the words we need to hear at the start of this new year.

“I used to think that the ability to turn back time would be the greatest possible gift, so I could undo all the things I wish I had not done. But grace is an even better gift because it allows me to do more than just erase the past; it allows me to become more than I was when I did those things. It’s forgiveness without forgetting, which is much sweeter than amnesia.”

Maybe Borland and Oliver were both right. The new year is a going on. It is also the doorway to the unimaginable. I know it is a new chance to redeem the time we’ve been given.

In the parable of the Talents, Jesus tells us that we are responsible for using what God has given us to bring him glory and honor. While he is not speaking specifically of time in the context of the parable, it does not take a great leap to see its application.

He tells the story of a rich man who has three servants. He gives each servant an amount of money (Talents) and asks each servant to be good stewards of what he has been given. The first servant is given five talents and uses it to produce five more. The second servant is given two talents and doubles his investment. The third servant, fearful of doing something that might displease the rich man, buried his talent. When he was called to account for what he was given, he dug up the coin and returned the single coin to his master.

The servant who hid the coin was scolded for his laziness. Those who made the most of their opportunity heard a different word.

“Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness.” (Matthew 25:23)

So as time goes by, let’s celebrate the amazing grace of God. Let’s redeem the time. Let’s make the most of every opportunity in the time we’ve been given to worship and serve the God who is worthy of our worship and service.

That’s my hope for my new year and my hope for you in the days to come. When we close the book on 2023, I hope we can all hear the voice of our timeless Father saying, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

That would truly be a Happy New Year.

Enter His Gates

Background Passages: Mark 11:15-17; Psalm 100:4

If we aren’t careful, reading scripture can become too common place. We hear or read a story enough times and Jesus becomes a two-dimensional character we place on the felt board of our lives as the story unfolds.

When we’re able to make Christ real, the story fleshes itself out in colorful, three dimensions that gives us a new way of looking at God’s truth and inspires us to live life more abundantly.

Three verses in Mark. Four quick sentences. These 78 words tell the story of Jesus physically clearing the temple in a moment of righteous anger. It is an intense passage. I don’t know that it happened exactly like I envision it, but you don’t know it didn’t. Read with the intent of learning what it means to make his house a house of prayer and inclusion.

She shuffled inside the temple through its eastern gate,
caught in a stream of
hurrying humanity.
Pressing.
Pushing.
Prodding
An exhausting effort to
pass through the portal.

The massive crowd created an instant bottleneck.
at the narrow opening
Hundreds tried to enter
like sheep herded into a pen.

The petite, elderly woman.
Jostled.
Jolted.
Jammed through the gateway.
Once inside,
some hurried soul shoved her to the side.
Knocked her off balance,
scraping her wrist of the rough, stone wall.

She scanned the courtyard of the women,
rubbing the abrasion on her hand.
Blaring noise.
Braying animals.
Barked insults.
Smells and sounds stunned her senses.
Every face that passed reflected a patience worn thin
by long lines.
Angry haggling.
Inhospitable hearts.

Slowly she meandered through the booths,
handing over her temple tax to a scowling priest.
Paying her pennies
for a sacrificial dove.
Exorbitant fees left two coins in her bag.

A Jewish convert from Syria.
A trip of a lifetime.
A demanding and dangerous
journey to Jerusalem.
In her heart,
worth every toilsome step to pray
to the living God.
In His home.
His temple.

Pictured this moment in her heart for years, but
she never expected such…
unholiness
in this most holy place.

Passed through the masses
deeper into the Court of the Gentiles.
Seeking a quieter place to pray.
Hawkish vendors pawed at her arms.
Plying their wares.
When she did not buy,
they pushed her away.
Cursed her family.
Cruel words.
Contemptuous sneers.

She moved again,
longing to feel God’s presence in
his temple.

Once…
Someone arguing at an elder of the temple
broke her reverent conversation.

Twice…
Someone yelled at her
as she settled to her knees.

Three times…
Someone shoved her against the wall
as they jockeyed for position.

Tears flowed down her wrinkled face.
Tired.
Traumatized.

Disillusioned.
Disheartened.

*****

A few minutes before,
Jesus and his disciples entered the temple court
through the same eastern gate.
A long journey from Capernaum
in obedience to the call of Passover.
The last Passover
before the passion
of the cross.

Jesus steeled himself against the revulsion he felt
every time he entered the unruly atmosphere.
Particularly rowdy and quarrelsome this year.

Muttered to his disciples
“How can anyone worship like this?”

Worked his way through the crowd
Brushing aside the moneychangers and sellers.
Hearing the relentless haggling over
price and
product.
Anger boiled with each passing moment.

Jesus’ head snapped to a commotion on his left.
An elder in the Temple.
Shouted and shamed
a man who refused to pay the asking price for a
blemished lamb.
A lamb unsuitable for sacrifice.
Unworthy of God’s blessing.

Too late Jesus stepped to intervene.
The elder drove the man back
with fisted rebuke,
pushing him into and over an elderly woman
kneeling at the wall,
offering her prayers amid the
chaos and confusion.

The master could tolerate no more.
Grabbed two cords from a vendor’s stand.
Wrapped them around his wrist.
Held tightly in his calloused hand.
A crack of the improvised whip.
A shout that bounced off the temple walls,
Jesus cried out,

“Enough!”

People spun around.
Stared.
Shocked.

The old Syrian woman backed against the wall.
Avoided the man in the dusty robe as he charged by.
She watched in awe as he…
Moved quickly to a moneychanger’s table,
tossing it aside as if it were made of papyrus.
Scattered a bag full of coins
across the dusty ground.
Pushed over a nearby fence holding a small herd of sheep.
Drove them toward the gate and
outside the temple

People scattered.
Ran from the man with furious eyes.

Above the din,
she heard again…

“Enough!”

Picking up an armful of cages holding the doves,
the man shoved them forcefully
into the arms of a temple guard.

“Take them and go!
Now!”

The elderly woman startled in fright.
A burly merchant jumped in front of the man.
Beefy hands stretched out to stop him.
Eyes intent on malice.

The man with the whip froze.
Held the index finger of his right hand
inches from the merchant’s face.
Dark eyes glared at the storekeeper.
An explicit,
unspoken
message.

“Don’t even think about it!”

The merchant cowered.
Grabbed his possessions.
Fled toward the gate without looking back.

The woman stood with her mouth agape.
Fascinated by the
presence and power
on display.

As he encountered each Gentile worshipper,
he looked intently into their eyes.
Urged them,

“Please wait.”

Then, in a whirlwind of God’s wrath,
He turned to another merchant,
driving them from the temple.

A swirl of dust.
The man stretched out his arms.
Grabbed the edge of the heavy wooden gates.
Watched the mass of fleeing humanity.

“My Father’s house is for all nations a house of prayer.
You have turned it into a den of thieves!”

“Enough!”

Slammed shut the doors.
Sealed the ensuing silence
into the courtyard of God’s temple.

The elderly woman and dozens of desiring worshippers
Stood still.
Shaken.
Silent.

*****

Jesus stood still at the entrance
breathing heavily.
Head bowed.
Tears of sadness stained dusty cheeks.
Rubbed his eyes and face
as he calmed his emotions.

Troubled worshippers…
Clung tightly to one another.
Clustered in tiny groups,
gathered across the courtyard.

Shocked priests…
Huddled in the far corner.
Trembling in a mixture of
terror and temper.

Stunned disciples…
Stood slack-jawed amid the overturned tables.
Astonished at the demonstration of physical power
never seen from their Lord.

Jesus looked at his closest friends.
Exhaled deeply.
Puffed out his reddened cheeks.
Shook his head slightly and…
with visible relief, winked.
“I’m okay.”

Jesus scanned the silent assembly.
Looked intently for the elderly woman caught in the middle.
He found her.
Crouched in a corner.
Leaning against the wall.
Knees pulled tightly to her chest.

He sat down beside her.
Smiled a self-conscious grin.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,
but I know you came to worship our God.”

They sat for a moment in silence. Jesus breathed deeply.

He pushed himself upward,
pressing his back against the stone wall.
He took her hands.
Led her to the center of the courtyard,
calling for the others to join him.
In the stillness of that moment,
Jesus led them in quiet prayer.

He motioned to the frightened priests.
Signaled them to quietly accept the offered sacrifices.
One by one.
The worshippers relinquished their tribute.
Moved to a quiet place.
Offering private praise
to the Lord Almighty.

Jesus watched the prayerful pass.
Spoke quiet words of encouragement.

The old, Syrian woman
moved slowly in the line of worshippers.
Waited for her moment to offer her dove to the priest.
As the line moved slowly forward, she
stopped in front of the man who cleared the temple.
With a look of gratitude
she raised a shaking hand, translucent with age,
placed it delicately on his cheek.
Patted it twice.
Inner joy bursting forth in a near toothless smile,
erasing 20 years from her elderly features.

Laughing quietly,
Jesus offered his arm.
They shuffled to a quiet corner.
Knelt together in the dust.
Offered more words of praise and worship to the Father.

What made this Passover different? The same chaotic scene played out every year upon Jesus’ arrival for Passover. The crowds. The clamor. The irreverence.

Every time he came to the temple, Jesus surely winced. Overwhelmed by the cacophony within the courtyard. Sickened by the difficulty of worshipping amid the clamor.

Yet, he never reacted outwardly to his inner revulsion…never yielded to the rising bile of anger in his throat.

The disturbance this time triggered a different response. This time he would enter Jerusalem’s temple for the last time…on his way to the cross. Jesus chose this time to make a bold statement about worship so seriously misunderstood and misrepresented by the myopic temple authorities.

In a graphic way Jesus reminded them that God’s house is a place of reverence.

In a graphic way Jesus confirmed that personal prayer lies at the heart of worship.

In a graphic way Jesus warned against attitudes and behaviors that impede the worship of another.

In a graphic way Jesus insisted that God’s house would be an inviting place of prayer…for all nations. For all people.

Imagine a church today with no distractions. No dissension. No disdain for the different.

A church with no elitism. No exclusivity.

A church with no arrogance. No attitude that shuns the seeker. No action that serves as a stumbling block to real worship.

Imagine a church with its doors and hearts wide open. Ready for worship.

A church for whom God’s house echoes with prayer and praise…for all people.

Just imagine.

Then…

Make it so.

“Enter his gates with Thanksgiving; His courts with praise, Give thanks to Him and Praise His name.” (Psalm 100:4)

Author’s Note: The article above is a chapter pulled from one of my books, The Chase: Our Passionate Pursuit of Life Worth Living. If you’re interested in purchasing a copy of the book, leave a message on the comment section below. 

Drink This Cup

Background Passages: Matthew 20:20-23, Ezekiel 23:33, Psalm 116:13, Psalm 23:5-6

“Drink this cup…”

It was a phrase that tickled my ear several weeks ago during our last celebration of the Lord’s Supper. I wasn’t sure why. I had heard it for years. Understood it, I thought, in it’s context. Yet, it kept whispering to me. Maybe it’s time to listen.

The phrase is not unique to scripture. In an ancient Hebrew wedding tradition, a young man poured wine into his cup and invited the woman to drink from his cup. It was her choice. If she drank from the cup, she accepted the betrothal. It was a covenant act. A promise. The act declared that the woman agreed to experience his life in full…the good as well as the bad.

As a result of this old tradition, the cup came to represent a way of life…one that could be a blessing or a curse. The Old Testament prophets used the phrase to condemn Israel’s life apart from the covenant relationship with God. Ezekiel says that Jerusalem drinks from the “cup of ruin and desolation.” (Ezekiel 23:33).

The Psalmist writes to celebrate the manifold gifts of God. “I will take up the cup of salvation…” (Psalm 116:13), pointing toward the promise of eternal life and reward in God’s kingdom.

Jesus used the phrase in a slightly different way to declare the commitment required to do the will of God, regardless of where that life might lead.

My study this week found me reading a passage that illustrated the trouble the disciples had in grasping the mission and purpose of Christ. This common, but misplaced, image of the promised Messiah had them thinking in political terms rather than spiritual terms…a not uncommon issue today when Christians try to cram Jesus’ teachings into a liberal or conservative bucket. But…I digress.

As the passage reads, Jesus is heading toward Jerusalem and the cross. His disciples still had much to understand. The master teacher shared a parable about workers in a vineyard and spoke to them about accountability to the call of God. As they neared the city, he told them directly for the third time about his impending death and resurrection.

The journey toward Jerusalem and all it entailed painted a picture they either chose to ignore completely or opted to interpret with less troubling undertones.

Later, as Jesus and his entourage rested for the evening, Jesus looked up from the tree he was leaning against and saw James and John walking a step behind their mother who was making a beeline straight to Jesus.

She stood for a moment in front of Jesus suddenly less confident in her purpose. Kneeling at his feet, she struggled to find the words she practiced over and over again during their walk that day.

Jesus undoubtedly engaged her in casual conversation, helping her relax. With a lull in the pleasantries, Jesus cocked his head to the left, smiled, and said,

“What is it you want?”

She looked at her sons sitting beside her, hesitated for a moment, the gravity of her request hitting a little harder than she expected.

“Grant that one of these two sons of mine may sit at the right and the other at your left in your kingdom.”

Nothing surprised Jesus. He knew this was coming, but I suspect, in the deep recess of his heart, he was begging her not to go there. She and her sons missed the point.

Jesus’ eyes bore into the souls of James and John, causing them to shrink back a bit. The sounds of the night seemed to fade into the distance. He shook his head in quiet contemplation.

“You don’t know what you’re asking. Can you drink the cup I am to drink?”

The disciples sat up a little straighter, gaining strength one from the other. They looked back at Jesus.

“We can,” expressing a confidence they probably didn’t completely feel.

I know Jesus saw potential in them they could not see in themselves. He knew the life they were capable of living even when they didn’t yet understand its full implications. I wonder if this is where that fleeting moment of frustration at their lack of understanding turned into a gentler word of compassion and encouragement.

“You will indeed drink from my cup…”

Jesus told them that deciding a place of power and honor was not his decision to make nor their question to ask. Embracing the cup…living the call of Christ…was all that mattered. I always saw it as a rebuke for their misunderstand, focusing on the last part of that passage. Maybe it was instead a word of Godly insight. “You will indeed drink my cup.” It was as if Jesus was telling them, “Give it time. You will indeed answer the call.”

This is the concept my mind latched onto this week. “You will drink from my cup…”

Think with me.

You see, later in the week, Jesus and his disciples ate a meal together in the upper room the night before Jesus was crucified. Jesus broke bread, asking them to always remember him and what he was about to do. It’s possible that when he picked up the cup, he looked directly at James and John with that previous conversation in mind.

“Then, he took the cup and after he had given thanks, he gave it to them saying, ‘Drink from it, all of you…” (Matthew 26:27)

It wasn’t an unfamiliar phrase. Certainly, James and John and all the other disciples had been to a wedding or two in their lives. Some of them most certainly had offered their cup to their betrothed, knowing fully what the cup symbolized. A life committed. A promise made.

Their understanding of what it meant to embrace the life of Christ was grounded in a false Messianic narrative of earthly independence from the Roman occupation. A political rather than spiritual concept. To take the cup in their mind was to accept that to the victor go the spoils.

Jesus is drawing a different picture. “You don’t know what you’re asking. You will drink from my cup”…and then in the upper room, it’s no longer a prediction nor an invitation, it is a command…an encouragement…a hope, “Drink from it, all of you.”

For a long, long time, I thought Jesus was telling them to prepare for the same persecution and death that he faced. They certainly faced the persecution and most of them were martyred for their faithfulness. But, to limit the meaning to that aspect of their lives is the miss the point again, I think.

Jesus commanded his disciples…commands us…to drink of his cup. It’s not the wine within or the grape juice. It’s the cup that is important. The liquid represents the blood of Christ, shed for forgiveness of our sins. It’s worth remembering…as often as we do it. Drinking his cup adds a who new concept

Just as the ancient Hebrew wife accepted the cup to say to her future husband, “Where you go, I will go…” “Whatever is your lot is my lot…” “For better or worse…” Jesus is commanding his disciples to embrace the servant and sacrificial life of Christ as their own, the bad with the good. To live a Christ-like life, wholly and completely devoted to God.

Living that life may lead to suffering. When we accept the cup, the life of Christ, we profess an understanding that life within his plan for our lives will almost certainly contain hardship. Drinking from his cup means we willingly walk the lonely path he walked knowing it will be difficult at times.

Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, asked God to take the cup from him, knowing the consequences of his obedience. When God could not release him from the task, Jesus rested in the will of his father. His cup then speaks to our willingness to endure faithfully whatever twists and turns his will and way lays in front of us.

Drinking his cup is not all sacrifice and endurance. There is also glory in the drinking. Paul tells the Roman church that this life is “not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.” (Romans 8:18) This means that any struggle we encounter while living a Christ-like life ends in victory and glory.

As we drink of the master’s cup, we should understand it as a cup of privilege and a cup of blessing, thanksgiving and praise. a life lived for Christ recognizes the unmerited blessings granted to us each day. His is a cup of grace. His is a cup of thanksgiving. Each day we are allowed to drink of his cup should be a day of gratitude.

The benefit of drinking from his cup is clear. The blessings grow over time. More plentiful. More deeply felt. The Psalmist expressed it far better than i ever could.

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. (Psalm 23:5-6)

Drinking the cup of Christ means to live a life wholly committed to him. Every day in every way.

Dr. Benjamin Rush, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, wrote in his diary about the feeling in that Philadelphia courtroom when 56 men signed that treasured document. It was a day in which they all drank from the cup of freedom.

“Do you recollect the pensive and awful silence which pervaded the House when we were called up, one after another, to the table of the President of Congress to subscribe to what was believed by many at the time to be our death warrants?”

Their signatures on the Declaration meant certain death at the hands of the British to all who put pen to paper. They signed without knowing how it all would end.

We don’t know what the future holds, but I can promise you this. Jesus commands each of us who put our faith and trust in him to “drink his cup.” To live the life of sacrifice and service that he lived. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it. His cup brings with it God’s gift of wisdom, courage, boldness and humility to equip us for the work ahead. The hardships are balanced by his abundant blessing and grace.

It is a cup worth drinking. A cup that will make a difference in our world.

I don’t know about you, but my cup runs over.

 

Better Than Biscuits

Background Passages: Ecclesiastes 3:11, Isaiah 40:29-31 and Colossians 1:15-20

I saw this floating story around the social network this week in a Facebook post shared by my friend Kim Pressly. It’s a story about a visiting pastor who attended a men’s breakfast in the middle of a rural farming community, not unlike the one in which I was raised.

An older, sun-baked farmer, decked out in faded bib overalls was asked to say grace for the morning breakfast.

“Lord, I hate buttermilk”, the farmer began. The visiting pastor opened one eye to glance at the farmer and wondered where this was going. The farmer loudly proclaimed, “Lord, I hate lard.” Without missing a beat, the farmer continued, “And Lord, you know I don’t much care for raw, white flour.”

The pastor once again opened an eye to glance around the room and saw that he wasn’t the only one feeling a bit uncomfortable with the farmer’s prayer.

Then the farmer added, “But Lord, when you mix them all together and bake them, I do love fresh, warm biscuits.

“Lord, when things come up that we don’t like, when life gets hard, when we don’t understand what you’re saying to us, help us to just relax and wait until you are done mixing. It’ll probably be even better than biscuits.

“Amen.”

I suspect that little anecdote spoke to me when I first read it this week because there is a lot going on in this world that I don’t like. Current realities make life difficult. I suppose we own much of it. We’ve let those difficulties divide us as a people more deeply than I ever thought possible. The parts we don’t own, those things beyond our control, we sure don’t understand.

I hate what is happening to our country, our world, our churches, our lives. It is too often unattractive, unhealthy and unChristian. I don’t know about you, but I find myself growing tired of the buttermilk and the lard and the raw, white flour.

So maybe that old farmer is right. “God, help us wait until you are done mixing.”

I suppose the first Bible verse that comes to my mind is this:

“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.” (Ecclesiastics 3:11)

We can’t always see what God has done, nor can we always see what he is doing right now. We do know there is beauty in everything God has created. He orders all things. When we make our mistakes, he is constantly realigning our path with his will. When our world ventures off course, he is there to hold it together until his time is right.

We may not always understand why God allows for things to happen in our lives that cause pain, fear, and worry. However, we can trust that he is constantly at work to reveal his goodness and love amid the troubles of the day.

So, when I don’t like the buttermilk, I just need to realize the Master Baker is still in the kitchen.

If I can accept that God is in control and working through the mess on our behalf, then I can turn to Isaiah 40:29-31 and rest from the struggle and draw strength from his presence.

“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary and young men will stumble and fall; but those who wait upon the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not grow faint.”

What does it mean to “wait upon the Lord?”

Because we’ve spent so much time in the waiting room of a doctor’s office or in the line at the Department of Motor Vehicles to get our license renewed, we tend to think “waiting” is a passive experience. That we must somehow sit on our hands until God chooses to do something to fix the situation in which we find ourselves. In scripture, however, waiting on the Lord is a call for action.

When these words were spoken by God through Isaiah, the Israelites were in exile in Babylon and Jerusalem lay in ruins, it’s walls and buildings mere rubble. Their hopes and dreams shattered. Tired of their situation, they complained that God no longer seemed interested in their well-being; that he was disinclined to seek justice on their behalf.

Isaiah paints a different picture of God the Creator. He speaks of God giving power to those who are fainthearted and weary. He counters their complaint that God is too small of the situation. Isaiah reminds them, “Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.”

God, Isaiah proclaims, “gives power to the faint and strengthens the powerless.” God is ready to share his power with those who call upon his name. All that is required of them is to “wait on the Lord.”

They were not to sit idly by twiddling their thumbs until God acted on their behalf. They were to wait upon him in confident trust and expectation that he was at work to restore them to the place he called them to be. To wait on the Lord is to actively put our hope and trust in him.

Hope, in a biblical sense, is not desperation. It is living out each day in the image of Christ as his hands, heart and voice. It is taking all we know of Christ and his teachings and doing our part to influence a world that’s trending in the wrong direction. It is actively serving and ministering to the hearts of those we encounter along the way.

Despite the turmoil that surrounds us, we are called to a hopeful expectation that God is still in the kitchen mixing together all the ingredients of the life he has called us to live in Him.

If we do our part in the waiting time, God promises to renew our strength. One commentary I read explained that the word used for “renew” in this passage is closer in translation to the word “exchange.” I like that mental picture.

Those who wait on the Lord do more than renew their strength, they exchange, instead, their faint or faltering strength for the unfailing power of God. Our weakness is replaced by his strength…our frailty with the power of the Creator God who never grows tired.

The beautiful imagery that Isaiah used gives perfect illustration to the uplifting power of God.

“They will soar on wings like eagles.”

An eagle soars to great heights not on the power of his own wings, but on the rising air currents that lift it higher and higher. The eagle’s own power gets him airborne, but to soar he needs the wind. Once he finds the current, soaring is effortless.

Our waiting on the Lord, our confident hope, is the personal action that gets us airborne. We soar when we find the Spirit’s wind that lifts us to new heights. When we find God’s spirit with us, soaring is effortless. We will not grow weary of the task laid before us.

Scripture reminds us that God is always mixing things together, working to bring good from every circumstance for those who love him and are called for his purpose. It is God who holds it all together.

The world is in a mess right now. I don’t like what I see and hear. It seems everything we hold dear is falling apart at the seams.

There is still a big part of me, however, that believes God is at work in the chaos.

Paul indicated as much to his letter to the Colossian church.

“He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities — all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together…For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross.” (Colossians 1:15-20)

Those who wait on the Lord put our confident trust in Christ, the image of the invisible God. That means in times of trouble we can fall back on his teachings to guide us because he has preeminence or authority over all things.

And, here is the part of this passage that speaks to the farmer’s prayer: “…in him all things hold together…and through him to reconcile to himself all things…making peace by the blood of his cross.”

The farmer got it right. All the things in life that I hate, the things I fear are tearing us apart, God knows about all of them. He is in preeminent and is holding life together. Keeping it all in the mix until the time when he can reconcile or bring everything back together to himself. Until we find the peace available through his sacrifice on the cross.

Here’s the deal though. Those things in the mix require one more ingredient. For God to turn those things I hate into something worth tasting, those who wait upon the Lord must be folded into the batter. Confidently expecting God to work in and through us to accomplish his plan and purpose, not only in our lives, but in the world around us. His work through us.

So, don’t grow weary as you look upon the complicated world around you. Our Lord is mixing and holding it all together. Wait upon the Lord. His work…our work…is not done.

I confident when he’s finished, whatever he’s cooked up will be better than biscuits.

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.