Christian Living – Page 4

Lukewarm Isn’t Good Enough

Background Passages: Revelation 3:14-22; Colossians 4:16-17

An old German joke tells of a young couple who adopted a baby. For the first five years of his life the little boy never said a word. Doctors told them there was no physical reason for his silence. Taking him to the psychotherapist also proved fruitless.

On his eighth birthday, the mother baked a lasagna, his favorite meal. After taking a bite, the boy said in perfect German, “Mother, this lasagna is a tad lukewarm.”

The parents were, of course, shocked that he suddenly spoke. “Why have you never said anything before?” they asked.

The boy replied, “Up to now, everything had been fine.”

I tend to agree with the boy. There is nothing fine about being lukewarm. Lukewarm food just isn’t as flavorful. Lukewarm water isn’t as refreshing. Even more seriously, being a lukewarm in our Christian walk is an affront to God.

This week’s Bible study is the last in my study of the seven churches in Revelation. The previous six of those seven churches did some things well. Each of the six fell short in one way or another. Jesus praised them for that which they did well and encouraged them to fix what was broken in their faith walk with God.

It seems clear that the Apostle Paul spent some time in ministry at Laodicea. Whether he founded it or not, a church grew in the thriving community. He wrote letters to the churches in Colossae and Laodicea asking them to exchange the communication they each received with one another. While we have the letter to the Colossians in our Bibles, the letter to the Laodiceans was lost to time.

Christian tradition says that the church in Laodicea flourished and grew initially, both in faith and numbers, drawing its members from the wealthy citizens of the city. However, the church that once prospered apparently lost its zeal.

Paul seemed to see the beginning of this downward slide when he asked the church in Colossae to remind Archippus, who some scholars say had pastoral ties to Laodicea, to “See to it that you complete the ministry you have received from the Lord.” (Colossians 4:16-17) Evidently, the minister and members had grown complacent amid their success.

Now, 30 years later in John’s writing of Revelation, Jesus offered a stern rebuke to the Laodicean church for failing to live up to the standard asked of them. They were lukewarm Christians in need of a wake up call.

“These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God’s creation. I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.

“You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.

“Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest and repent. Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.” (Revelation 3:14-20)

By his words, Jesus quickly establishes himself as the one with the authority to judge their behavior. He calls himself “the Amen, the faithful and true witness.” When we used “amen” at the end of a prayer, we’re saying, “let it be so,” “let it be truth.” Jesus is telling the Laodiceans, the word I am about to share with you is truth. I am witness to your behavior. What I say is beyond dispute.

His word is a harsh indictment of the vitality of their faith and the sincerity of their work.

“I know your deeds.”

The “ruler of God’s creation” as he is described in verse 14, knows exactly where their hearts are. He sees the work they are doing and finds nothing refreshing in their relationships with others… nothing comforting in their deeds. He says, “…you are neither cold nor hot.”

It was a phrase the Laodiceans would have clearly understood. The city was built on a plateau. As such it had no natural water source. Because of the importance of the city along major trade routes, the Romans supplied the city with water via a series of aqueducts from hot springs of Hierapolis, just across the Lycea River, and the cold springs of Colossae about six miles away.

By the time the water arrived from these two cities, the hot water became tepid. The cold water grew lukewarm. The hot water was no longer physically soothing. The cold water no longer refreshing.

Such was the nature of the Laodicean church. Their service to their community brought no comfort to others. Their words lacked meaning and no longer refreshed the hearts of those who were hurting.

Though he wishes they were hot or cold, Jesus finds them a disgusting lukewarm at best. Tepid in their love for others and their service to those in need.

“Because you are lukewarm, I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”

The problem in the church might have been born from the independence of the city itself. Laodicea was among the wealthiest and most self-sufficient cities in the Roman world. In AD 60, an earthquake devastated Laodicea and the region surrounding it. When the Caesar’s government offered financial assistance to rebuild the city, Laodicea refused the help. Wealthy enough to rebuild on their own, they wanted no help from anyone else.

Jesus alluded to as much in his condemnation of the church when he quoted their own words. “You say ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’”

Perhaps the early success of the church, its growth in numbers and prosperity, cause it to trust its own ability rather than to depend upon God. As a result, they went through the motions of being God’s church, but they did not make God a part of their work. There was no passion for sharing the gospel. No desire to comfort the hurting. They grew comfortable in their own fellowship, content to stay behind their own walls rather than share the good news of Christ’s love.

Laodicea was noted for its financial institutions, its textile manufacturing and for its medicinal eye salve it produced. Jesus alludes to all three of these things in his words of advice.

“Buy from me gold refined in the fire so you will become rich. Buy white clothes to wear so you can cover your shameful nakedness. Buy salve to put on your eyes so you can see.”

The self-sufficient church in Laodicea lost its way. It lost its faith and needed it to be refined in purity again, placing their trust in God alone. The spiritually naked church needed to cloth itself in righteousness, taking on the character of Christ. The church in Laodicea grew blind to its own spiritual poverty and shame. They could not see their own sin nor did they wish to open their eyes to the possibility that they were not doing what God required of them. They needed to treat their eyes so they could see again the work God had for them.

As Shakespeare would say, “There’s the rub.” I look at the Laodicea church and see myself as a member. Proudly self-sufficient. Believing I can do all things on my own. Thinking that I’ll save God for the major things in life, times when I need him most. I can handle the rest without his help.

We are told throughout scripture that we are to become more like Christ every day. That God desires us to be in right relationship with him. Righteous in our character and our actions. It’s not something I do well every day.

Though there is always a part of me that knows I’m growing distant from God and not living the life he asks of me, I sometimes prefer being blind to that truth. When I refuse to see my own sin as that big a deal, it erodes the very foundation upon which my faith in Christ is built.

Like the folks in the church in Laodicea, I go through the motions of my faith without passion for Christ and without really touching anyone’s life for Christ.

Biblical scholar William Barclay wrote, “The one attitude the Risen Christ unsparingly condemns is indifference.” When Christ matters to us less than our pocketbooks, when the hurts of others matter less to us than our own needs, our faith becomes irrelevant…a lukewarm manifestation of God in us with little ability to restore or refresh.

The Old Testament prophet Hosea used several colorful comments to point out the unhealthy state of Israel’s relationship with God during the reign of Jeroboam II. In Hosea 7:8 he said, “Ephraim is a cake not turned.” In other words, Israel’s faith is half-baked. Lukewarm.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be seen by God or anyone else as a half-baked, lukewarm Christian. So, I look at the words Jesus shared with the church at Laodicea and take note. He told them, “Be earnest and repent.”

When I find myself lacking passion for my faith, when my life is anything but refreshing and restoring, I need to earnestly approach the throne of grace seeking forgiveness for relying on my own wisdom rather than the wisdom of “the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the rule of God’s creation.” I must turn from my own self-sufficiency and put my trust in his will and way. While that’s easier said than done, it is the only way to get back to living in right relationship with him and with others.

The really neat thing is that even if my indifference and apathy drives Jesus to the point of wanting to vomit me from his mouth, he will never give up on me. He will convict me of my sin because he loves me. He will allow me to suffer the consequences of my sin as his loving discipline…to teach me how he wants me to live. And when I am honest in my desire to turn back to him, he stands ready to forgive my failings and put me on the right path.

“Here I am!” Jesus told the Laodiceans as he tells me. “I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and he with me.”

Forgiveness. Grace. Relationship. That’s what he offers everyone. All I must do is open the door and yield my life complete to him.

Ezra Taft Benson, the secretary of the United States Department of Agriculture during the Eisenhower administration, once spoke about the Bible’s greatest commandment. He said, “To love God with all your heart, all your mind, all your soul and all your strength is all-consuming and all-encompassing. It is no lukewarm endeavor.”

I don’t know where you are in your walk with Christ. All I know is that sitting comfortably in the tepid waters of a lukewarm faith, does nothing for you and nothing for the kingdom of God. My desire for you is the same as what I desire for myself…That our faith be hot enough to heal those who are hurting spiritually and cold enough to refresh the thirstiest of those whom God loves so deeply.

Beware the Slippery Slope

Background Passage: Revelation 2:12-17; John 6:48-50

I knew I was in trouble the minute I saw those Girl Scouts standing by the exit to Lowe’s. I just bought some random piece of hardware needed for a home project. As the glass doors slid open, I read the lips of the older one as she whispered to her friend, “Here’s an easy mark!” She had me pegged from the moment she saw me glance at the table.

“Could we interest you in some Thin Mints, Peanut Butter or Samoa cookies,” she asked as they launched into some pre-rehearsed sales pitch about the virtues of helping her troop get to some distant camp in Iowa. I held my palm up to silence them and reached for my wallet. “You had me at Thin Mints,” I replied as I bought three boxes.

Thin mints and orange juice. It just doesn’t get any more sinful than that.

Satan inspired Thin Mints, as devil disks designed to break one’s will to lose weight and live a healthier lifestyle. I buy them knowing I’m perched at the top of a slippery slope. Once I open that first sleeve…taste that perfect blend of minty freshness and chocolate covering infusing that delectable morsel of pure crunch…I kiss all restraint goodbye. One cookie leads to the whole sleeve. One sleeve leads to one box. It is a slippery slope.

I know eating that first Thin Mint has fewer consequences than other poor life choices I’ve made. It is, however, a nice metaphor for the allure and temptation of sin. Taking that first bite out of sin’s apple is a quick ticket out of the garden of grace. Rarely do I jump in to sin with both feet. More often than not I make a subtle compromise with sin that begins my slide down that slippery slope of disobedience. I think Jesus had this in mind when he spoke through John to the early church in Pergamum.

A slippery slope is an idea or course of action which will eventually lead to additional actions until some undesirable consequence inevitably follows. One domino falls causing another to fall and then another and then another.

John, in the Book of Revelation, heard the voice of Jesus sharing a word with seven churches in what is now modern-day Turkey. Though obedient in doing good, the church in Ephesus forgot their love of Christ and their love for one another. They acted out of a sense of obligation rather than love. In Smyrna, Jesus simply encouraged the church to persevere in the face of the coming persecution. To keep the faith despite the hostility around them.

The church in Pergamum found itself flirting with disaster, standing on a slippery slope of compromise…giving in to the subtle sins that opened the door to deeper depravity. The first domino had already fallen as a few had been led astray. One by one others believers succumbed to their influence.

“These are the words of him who has the sharp, double-edged sword. I know where you live—where Satan has his throne. Yet, you remain true to my name. You did not renounce your faith in men, even in the days of Antipas, my faithful witness, who was put to death in our city—where Satan lives.

“Nevertheless, I have a few things against you: You have people there who hold to the teaching of Balaam, who taught Balak to entice the Israelites to sin by eating food sacrificed to idols and by committing sexual immorality. Likewise, you also have those who hold to the teaching of the Nicolaitans.

“Repent, therefore! Otherwise, I will soon come to you and will fight against them with the sword of my mouth.

“He who has an ear to hear let him hear what the spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.” (Revelation 2:12-17)

Jesus introduced himself to this church as the one with a sharp, double-edged sword, presenting himself as qualified to serve as their judge and jury. The believers in Pergamum did so many things well, despite the harsh culture around them. Jesus praised them for being an oasis of faith surrounding by hostile desert. A light in a dark world.

An historic capital of Asia, Pergamum served as the intellectual center of the region, surpassed in influence only by Athens and Alexandria. The city stood as a religious center with temples, shrines and altars dedicated to Zeus and other Greek gods, including Asklepios, the god of healing. As a result of this particular god, one might consider Pergamum the Mayo Clinic of its day.

To make matters worse for the church, Pergamum embraced the idea of the imperial cult even before Rome did. Its citizens built the first temple to Caesar Augustus in AD 29, proclaiming him a living god. Pergamum became the birthplace of emperor worship. Failure to worship the emperor was a crime punishable by death. Antipas, one of the early church leaders in Pergamum, refused to bow before the emperor and was martyred for his faith.

“I know where you live,” Jesus said. He knew their circumstances. He knew they lived in the shadow of Satan’s throne. Jesus was empathetic to their situation. Temptations and pressure to sublimate their faith for the sake of self-preservation were intensely felt. Surely Antipas was not the sole believer killed by the emperor’s sense of self-importance. One must assume that other Christians lost their lives.

Their faithfulness unto death caught Jesus’ attention. You face death every day, he said, “Yet you remain true to my name.” Despite the ever-present danger to their lives, they would not forsake the name of Jesus.

What a spectacular testimony. Nothing could persuade them to renounce Jesus. Jesus lifted up the church in Pergamum for being faithful in that which mattered most. Sadly, the story doesn’t end there.

Despite their insistence on not bowing down to the emperor, some of them stood on that slippery slope. Some people in the church had, in fact, already taken the plunge. If you’ve just received a word of praise from heaven, the last word you want to hear next is “Nevertheless.” The tone of the passage changes dramatically from one of commendation to condemnation.

“Nevertheless, I have a few things against you.”

Though they were faithful in the big thing, they let the little things seduce them. Some of the folks could not stop at one Thin Mint. They ate one, then ate another and another.

Sin wraps itself in attractive packaging. Covers its hideousness. Disguises its affects. Surrounded by the allure of sin, some of the Christians at Pergamum yielded to temptation. Jesus’ reference to Balaam is an Old Testament Jewish moral tale warning against listening to the siren songs of those who would forget to whom they belonged. Scripture tells us Balaam found a way to seduce Israel away from God, not in some explosive act of disobedience, but by inching step by step toward disobedience until sin’s dominos started to fall one right after another.

In ancient Israel’s case they violated God’s laws by eating meat offered to idols and embraced the sexual immorality prevalent in their culture. I don’t know if these were the specific sins of the Pergamum Christians, but they began to be disobedient in the little things. They confessed a faith in Christ, but didn’t live like it on a daily basis.

In addition, some among the congregation In Pergamum fell victim to false teaching. The Nicolaitans taught a twisted distortion of the gospel. Subtle deviations from gospel that made disobedience permissible. What they practiced was what Dietrich Bonhoeffer called “cheap grace.” Grace that only emphasizes the good or easy parts of the gospel without the truth regarding the more difficult aspects of true discipleship.

Jesus reminded them there is only one solution to sin. He called these wayward Christians to repent. To turn away from the little things they’ve been doing wrong and get their life right with God. Get off that slippery slope and live again the life in Christ to which they had been called.

There are certainly times in my life where I feel like a citizen of Pergamum. To my recollection, I’ve never denied my relationship to Jesus. Never renounced my faith in him. Though challenged from time to time, I can say with Antipas, “He is my Lord.” I am faithful in the BIG thing.

Man, can I identify with those men and women in Pergamum who found themselves on the slippery slope to sin. It’s just so easy to take the first wrong step and find yourself on a path you never intended to take. What we focus on or fret over become or idols, substituting for our dependence on God. It feels easier to walk the well-travelled road of convenience than the narrow path of righteousness. Faith, we feel, just shouldn’t be this hard. So, we compromise. We give in.

Even a cursory look at the actions and beliefs of many Christians yields evidence that they swallowed the lies of the world hook, line and sinker. Sadly, every foray into the shadow is another step down a slippery slope that leads to additional actions until some undesirable consequence inevitably follows. I know. I’ve been there.

Jesus closed his letter to the church in Pergamum with a series of promises to those who overcome the slippery slope despite having to claw their way back up the muddy hillside into the arms of Jesus.

To those overcomers, he offers bread, a stone and a name. I love this metaphor as explained by a pastor friend of mine.

John likely remembered the conversation Jesus had with a crowd he had just miraculously fed. Awed by the miracle and wanting more, they followed Jesus around the Sea of Galilee asking for more. He told them this.

“I am the bread of life. Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven so that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. ” (John 6:48-50)

Jesus is the bread of life. The all-sustaining, eternal manna from heaven. In him we have all we need. We don’t need what the world offers.

He also offered a white stone. The meaning may be less clear, but most commentaries point to the judicial courts that may have handed a white stone to those declared innocent. Other scholars suggested that the white stone may have signified an invitation to a wedding.

Either idea fits within the context of this passage. God’s grace declares the repentant heart innocent of falling down that slippery slope, wiping the slate clean by the forgiveness purchased at the cross. It could be that those who repent find themselves invited again to the feast, to rejoice in a renewed relationship with Jesus.

I like that thought because the stone has my name written on it. It has your name written on it. When we present that stone to Jesus, he knows our name. It stands as a personal invitation to share an intimacy with Jesus that we might otherwise miss.

The symbolism is powerful. Eternal provision and divine satisfaction. A permanent transformation from guilt to innocence. Individual intimacy with the Father.

Those with an ear to hear are told to listen to what Jesus was telling the Christians in Pergamum. He calls us to stand firm. Most of us don’t struggle too much with the faith confession. We struggle with daily conduct, the seduction of compromise.

A look at the church in Pergamum begs the question. Are we also susceptible to the same spiritual schizophrenia? Willing to defend the faith, but failing to see the moral compromises we make?

Let’s pray it is not so. Put the Thin Mints away. Avoid the slippery slope.

To every overcomer, eat a little manna, take hold of that white stone with your name on it and accept the invitation to live in right relationship to the one who loves you so much that he gave his life to compensate for every time you skated that slippery slope.

Who Are You Looking For?

Background Passages: Matthew 16:13-23; John 18:3-8, John 20:11-16

It is an essential question for Resurrection Sunday. One that demands an answer.

Jesus had been crucified and buried. The heavy slab of granite rolled into the dugout trench, locked his body inside. From Friday until early Sunday morning, those who followed Jesus lived in a state of shock, numb with fear.

Not knowing anything else to do, the women who were closest to him, returned to his tomb to finish preparing the body for burial. Something Sabbath laws had not allowed them to do when he died. When they arrived, they found the stone rolled away, the burial cloth neatly folded and the body of their teacher nowhere to be seen. In a panic, they ran back to tell Jesus’ disciples.

As the sun burned away the morning dew, Mary Magdalene, compelled by grief and overcome with sadness, returned to the empty tomb. She failed to recognize the supernatural aura of the day. Two angels sat inside the tomb their identity lost in her confusion. Still clutching the burial ointments she had brought with her that morning, they asked her…

“Woman, why are you crying?”

“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.”

Mary heard the rustle of robes behind her. Jesus stood before her, but again in her misery, she failed to recognize the one she loved. Echoing the angels, Jesus asked…

“Woman, why are your crying?”

Then, he got to the heart of the matter.

“Who is it you are looking for?” (John 20:11-15)

There it is. Jesus cuts the soul of everyone who would believe in him as savior and Lord. The fundamental question of Easter. “Who is it you are looking for?”

Easter is the most revered of all Christian Holidays. According to the Pew Research Center, 45 percent of Christians worldwide say they attend worship services on a monthly basis. That number typically increases to about 70 percent on Resurrection Sunday. So, if your church averages about 500 people in attendance every Sunday, you might expect 675-700 people in attendance for Easter services.

Whether you attend church every Sunday or whether your church experience is limited to Christmas and Easter, this is the critical question of we need to ask ourselves. When you walk through the doors of the church, for whom are you searching? Who do you seek?

Just for a moment cast yourself in this story as the thirteenth disciple. Where they go, you go. What they see and hear, you see and hear. What they feel, you feel.

I’m not sure if Peter and the other disciples could have answered that critical question with 100 percent certainty on that first Easter morning so long ago. They had just seen their teacher, their Lord crucified. Their worlds turned inside out and upside down. Little made sense that day. Things had certainly not turned out the way they expected.

It was just a few weeks earlier that Jesus walked his disciples north out of Galilee and into heartbeat of Roman worship. Caesarea Philippi, a Roman city north of the Sea of Galilee, served as the home of a temple to the Roman god Pan.

Needing to get away from the crowds to teach his disciples what would be an unsettling truth, Jesus ventured into a place most Jews would never go.

Can you see them? Jesus and his disciples sat on the side of a hill overlooking Caesarea Philippi, cooking a few fish over the glowing embers of their campfire. Looming below them were pagan temples carved out of the solid sandstone cliff. Torches cast tall, eerie shadows upon the cliffside as the pagan priests scurried to deliver their burnt offerings to the gods.

The muted but friendly conversation of companions fell silent when Jesus, staring down at the temples, asked a simple question.

“Who do men say that the Son of Man is?”

“They replied, ‘Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.’”

They waited for Jesus to react, the moment growing more uncomfortable for them as Jesus stared into the distance. Then, Jesus turned to face his dearest friends and in a quiet voice and with eyes that bore into their souls, he asked,

“But what about you? Who do you say I am?”

(Do you recognize it? It’s that Easter question in another form. “Who is it you are looking for?”)

The Jewish crowds considered Jesus a new prophet, perhaps John the Baptist, Elijah or Jeremiah returning to set their people free. Jesus needed to know that his disciples understood the truth. “Who am I to you? Who are you looking for?”

With all the pride he could muster, Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.”

Jesus offered a word of measured praise and a prophecy.

“Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hell will not overcome it.“ (Matthew 16:13-18)

To his credit Peter knew who Jesus was. He was the Messiah. God’s anointed one. God’s son. To his shame, he still didn’t fully understand.

Scripture tells us in the next passage that Jesus, in the quietness of that evening, began to tell the disciples that he would travel to Jerusalem and suffer a great deal at the hands of the religious elite. He told them he would be killed and raised again on the third day.

Slightly horrified, Peter, the one who just declared Jesus the Messiah, tugged on his master’s sleeve, pulled him to the side to rebuke him. This was not a casual “tsk-tsk.” This was a strongly worded criticism, expressing Peter’s sharp disapproval of the content of Jesus’ lesson.

“Never, Lord! This shall never happen!”

Jesus narrowed his gaze into Peter’s eyes raised his voice so all the disciples could hear, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns.” (Matthew 16:22-23)

The Jews desperately pined for the Messiah to come as a conquering king to drive the occupying Romans from their lands. Peter and the others had a hard time getting past the old narrative. He recognized that Jesus was the Son of God, the Messiah, but fail to understand the nature of God’s redeeming work. He viewed Jesus in political and personal terms. He got the identity right, but not the intent.

Who are you looking for? Jesus asked. Peter was looking for someone different. The wrong kind of Messiah. Looking for the wrong kind of savior.

“Who is it you are looking for?”

Travel now to the Garden of Gethsemane. The hour is late. The disciples are bone tired and weary. Not just from the tiring journey from Caesarea Philippi to Jerusalem, but from the troubling events of the night. The supper shared in the upper room went from celebratory to somber. Jesus’ actions unsettled everyone. Washing the feet. Calling out a betrayer. Launching into a heavy conversation about death at the hands of the civil and religious authorities.

Amid the olive trees, the disciples struggled to stay awake. Jesus knelt farther up the hillside, in fervent prayer. The disciples faded in and out of a sleep induced haze, until they heard the stomp of marching feet. The clatter of sword against shield cutting through the midnight hour. Wide awake now, the disciples form a protective ring around Jesus as a band of soldiers being led by no other but Judas surrounds them, swords drawn.

Jesus gently pushes his way to the front and stands face to face with Judas and the Roman centurion.

“Who is it you want?”

(There it is again. The same probing question. “Who is it you are looking for?”)

“Jesus of Nazareth,” they said.

Jesus answered, “I told you that I am he. If you are looking for me, then let these men go…Then, the detachment of soldiers with its commander and the Jewish officials arrested Jesus. They bound him and brought him first to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest that year. Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jewish leaders that it would be good if one man died for the people. (John 18:3-8)

Other passages of scripture tell us that Judas greeted his master with a kiss. Judas joined the disciples, attracted by the message of inclusion and freedom. He heard the words, but never quite got the message. Growing increasingly disillusioned by Jesus’ passive approach, he felt compelled to act. Still believing that Jesus was the man who would start the revolution, Judas tried to force his hand.

The kiss. Perhaps a wink and a slight nod of his head. A lift of the eyebrows. Judas had just created the opportunity to light the fire of rebellion if only Jesus would comply with his wishes.

“Who is it you want?” Judas recognize Jesus’ power. He had seen it in action. He knew Jesus, but he didn’t know his heart. Judas wanted a savior he could manipulate to do his bidding. He wanted to unleash that miraculous power to meet his own desires. Judas didn’t want a savior. He wanted someone he could control.

“Who is it you are looking for?”

Now, let’s go back to the tomb. Hours later in the timeline of Jesus’ life on earth. In the garden outside the tomb, a distraught Mary mistook Jesus for the gardener. Unable to recognize the one she loved so dearly, she heard him ask,

“Who are you looking for?”

In the brief conversation that ensued, Mary’s grieving heart took her the only place her distress could go. With a heart burdened and disoriented, she cried out to him,

“Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him.”

At some point in this conversation, Jesus sought to reassure her. He called her name,

“Mary.”

Something in the sound of his voice broke through the despair and the heartbreak. In that moment of clarity, Mary found the one for whom she was looking.

She fell at his feet and cried.

“Rabboni.”

This Hebrew form of the word is personal, informal and intimate.

“My Teacher.” (John 20:15-16)

Mary understands who he is and acknowledges him as her risen Lord.

You see, when Mary Magdalene ran to tell the disciples that the tomb was empty, she had all the facts right, but she jumped to the wrong conclusion. Peter had done the same in Caesarea Philippi. Judas the same at Gethsemane. Her facts were right. The tomb was empty. She just drew to the wrong conclusion.

We often do the same thing. When faced with troubles and unexplainable tragedy, we mourn. If we understood who we were looking for, we wouldn’t weep at all. Consider this. If Mary had gotten her wish and she found a body in the tomb, we would have no reason to celebrate. There would be no Easter.

The truth of Easter demands an answer from each of us.

“Who is it you are looking for?”

Maybe you’re one of those believers like Peter who initially put your faith and trust in Jesus at an early age. When you think of Jesus, you think of him as savior. You have his identity right, but not his intent. Being saved is more than a point in time reality. Salvation is so much more than that moment in time decision to follow Christ. It’s more than that initial decision you made to trust him. Being saved is knowing Christ daily. Growing in him daily. Making every effort to live a more Christ-like life every day. Letting him be the boss of your life today and always.

Who is it you are looking for? Look for Jesus and make him Lord of your life. Every day.

Maybe your understanding is similar to Judas’ “genie in a lantern” concept of God. Rub the lantern and get three wishes. God is there to answer my prayer. Give me what I want when I want it. There are those who try to mold God into their own image rather than letting God mold them into his. When we try to make God into our own image, he will always disappoint us. Why would we trust a God who is no more perfect than us?

God’s plan for your life is far better than anything you can dream on your own. He wants the best for us. Thank God for the unanswered prayers because he knows what’s best. Thank God when God makes us wait on him because his timing is best.

Who is it you are looking for? Look for Jesus and trust him to meet your needs. Every day.

Maybe this Easter celebration will be meaningful because you get it. Jesus died on a cross as a willing sacrifice for your sins. He rose again. A living Lord. In difficult times, he is your strength. When you don’t know which way to turn, he is your guide. You’ve embraced his presence in your life and recognize that he is still your Rabboni. Personal and Intimate. Your Teacher. Those closest to Christ know that he is still teaching you daily how to live like him.

Who is it you are looking for? Look for Jesus, your strength. Your companion. Your teacher.

Statistics tell us Easter Sunday will draw many to worship. That is my hope and prayer. Every person who walks in the door should be blessed.

I pray that everyone who walks through the sanctuary doors will look for Jesus in all his fullness. It is a choice each of us can make, but it won’t happen unless we come with that question on our hearts.

It won’t happen, unless I am willing to ask the question as I enter to his presence in worship.

“Who is it I am looking for?”

Shine Like Stars

Background Passages: Philippians 2:12-18; Philippians 1:9-11; Romans 12:1-2; 2 Corinthians 4:5-6

The eye-opening clarity of images from space captured by the Hubble telescope fascinate me. Every new image of a star cluster or galaxy speaks to the wonder of God’s creation.

On Christmas Day last month, NASA launched the long-anticipated James Webb Telescope which is 100 times more powerful than the Hubble. I watched its launch and subsequent deployment with rapt attention. Larger than a tennis court, the Webb had to be folded in upon itself in multiple layers in order to fit inside the spacecraft fairing.

Once on its way to its orbital position one million miles from earth, the telescope began to unfold. NASA officials said that there were more than 344 single points of failure, any one of which would cripple and render useless the $10 billion project.

This week, the last of those 344 points unfurled successfully. All that remains is for the spacecraft to settle into its orbit.

Once the telescope is carefully calibrated, the infrared telescope will enable us to see more deeply into the universe than we’ve ever seen before. Collecting light from the infrared spectrum, the telescope will see the formation of stars and galaxies almost as old as the universe itself. It promises to teach us much about the universe God created.

Watching the deployment over the past few weeks reminded me of how stunning it was to see the night sky on our farm when I was growing up. On those nights when there was no moon in the sky, the vast number of distant stars making up the Milky Way staggered the mind.

Scientists tell us the Milky Way is 120,000 light years from end to end with more than 200 billion stars. On those clear nights, I wanted to count every star.

I came across a passage of scripture this week in Philippians that encouraged believers in Christ to “shine like stars in the universe.” With that thought, I spent some time looking into what Paul was trying to tell us.

The Apostle Paul found himself under house arrest in Rome. While detained, he received a love offering from the believers in Philippi. Paul took the time to write a letter thanking them for their financial support and give an update on his situation. Then, despite his personal circumstances, he encouraged them to stand firm in their faith in the face of persecution. To rejoice regardless of the circumstances in which they may find themselves.

“Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose. Do everything without complaining or arguing so that you may become blameless and pure children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of life…” (Philippians 2:12-18)

I wonder today how well do I shine? Is my light strong enough to be seen in the darkness that is our world today?

The focal passage begins with one of my favorite biblical words. “Therefore…” If you read the Bible enough, you begin to understand that anytime you see the word therefore it’s time to sit up and pay attention. You’re about to read a word you need to heed.

Our therefore in this passage refers to the preceding verses.

“God exalted him (Jesus) and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father.” (Philippians 1:9-11)

“Therefore…“Paul begins this passage by reminding the Philippian church that because they obeyed the call of salvation and placed their faith and trust in Christ and because they confessed him as Lord of their lives, they must keep on working out their salvation.

To be clear, this does not mean they are to earn their salvation strictly by continued obedience…by works. Rather, it means that the expression of that confession and belief in Christ must be a process of continuous spiritual growth.

Though salvation is a grace gift freely given, a once and forever decision that cannot be stripped away, it should express itself through our lives as an ongoing learning process toward spiritual maturity. To “continue to work out your salvation” is an encouragement to work until our faith is complete…to bring your salvation to fruition.

The Chinese philosopher said every journey begins with the first step. That moment when we give our lives to Christ is the first step of salvation. Paul reminds the believers that salvation is a continuous process of growing in spirit and truth, daily putting into practice all that Jesus taught us through his words and his deeds.

No Christian should remain unchanged by his or her salvation experience. You cannot accept Christ, making no effort to be obedient to his commands, and shine as you ought. Life abundant comes in learning and doing God’s will and “good purpose” for your life each and every day.

In another time and place, Paul said it this way:

“Walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called. (Ephesians 4:1)

That thought which Paul expressed to the church in Ephesus dovetails well with his thoughts in verse 12. Paul praised the Philippians for their faith and steadfast obedience even when Paul was no longer with them.

Their spiritual growth would enable them to withstand the pressures and persecutions of a “crooked and depraved generation.” Lest we get too high on our own horse, our generation is no better. The world around us is just as crooked and depraved.

The words he spoke to Timothy ring true today.

“For a time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths. But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry.” (2 Timothy 4:2-5)

Paul’s encouragement to Timothy and to those first century believers is no less of an encouragement to believers today.

When confronted by the wickedness and twisted and convenient doctrine of our world, we must arm ourselves with greater knowledge and understanding of God’s word. Keep working out our salvation. Keep on growing in his word. Keep moving toward spiritual maturity. Keep shining like the stars.

How do we shine like stars to a crooked and depraved generation living in our world? What does living as a child of God look like?

Paul was clear. Look at what he says to the Philippians.

“Do everything without complaining or arguing.”

Paul always chooses his words carefully. The word he uses to express complaining is a word used to describe the people of Israel who murmured against Moses while wondering in the wilderness. It is the utterance of a discontented mob, unhappy with life’s circumstance. When he speaks of arguing, Paul describes useless debates and a life of doubt.

When the world is filled with such discontent, the Christian ought to stand out from the crowd, filled with peace and serenity regardless of life’s circumstance. Trust in the presence of God removes debilitating doubt and useless conversation.

And Paul’s encouragement extends to every activity of life. Note the words, “Do everything…” Every act. Every word. Every relationship. In every circumstance of life Paul says, be at peace with God, with others and with yourself. Be like Christ.

“Be pure and blameless.”

Paul also extends a call to purity. To be above reproach. The Greek word for pure in this passage suggests being unmixed or unadulterated. It was used in Paul’s day to talk about wine or milk that had not been diluted with water. In people, it implies sincerity and honest motives. An absence of guile or deceit. To be blameless in this context is not as much a reference to how others see us, but to how God sees us.

In the Old Testament, it spoke to the quality of the sacrifices offered to God; that they were without blemish, spotless. So, Paul is saying to the believers be an unblemished sacrifice (holy and set apart) in the eyes of God, a word he also spoke to the Romans.

“I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, this is your true and proper worship. Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” (Romans 12:1-2)

The reason for God calling us to a higher standard of living is the idea behind the old hymn:

“Let others see Jesus in you.
Keep telling the story.
Be faithful and true.
Let others see Jesus in you.”

In other words, be like Christ.

That is how we shine like stars in a darkened world. that is how we live a holy and distinctive life of witness to the saving grace of God to a wicked and depraved generation. This is how we “hold out the word of life.”

The call of God to live differently, to shine like stars, isn’t just to bask in the glow of each other’s light as a body of believers. It is a call to missions. Paul wants the lives of all believers, in word and deed, to draw men and women to him. To draw the world to the abundant life he offers all who believe. It is a missional experience.

In this I hear the words of Paul again directing the Corinthian church to live distinctive lives that point toward Christ…

“For what we preach is not ourselves, but Christ Jesus our Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. For God who said, ‘Let light shine in the 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 Christ.” (2 Corinthians 4:5-6)

Live your life differently than the world around lives. Stand out in the crowd for your positive and loving attitude. Quit fighting. Speak in love. Treat others equitably. Don’t give anyone a reason to dispute your motives or your methods. Be a light in the darkness.

Again, be like Christ.

Wherever you are tonight, walk outside. Turn your face to the heavens and count the stars. Let them serve as a reminder that God has called us to be like Christ…a light in the darkness.

May the joy and peace that God gives his children light the flame within us so we can help but shine like the stars.

Distinctive Living

Background Passages: Matthew 5:13-16, Romans 12:2, Galatians 5:22-23

It’s still one of the most impressive devotionals I ever heard. Standing before the deacons at our regular monthly meeting, Dan Cain began speaking, without reading, without notes. Words he not only memorized but internalized.

“Now when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up on the mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him and he began to teach them…” (Matthew 5:1)

What followed was beautiful recitation of the Sermon on the Mount as recorded in Matthew. Word for word. As if we were sitting on the hillside, hearing our Lord speak.

That’s the way to read and hear scripture. Not in the dull monotone of the mind, without life or feeling, but as if you were present in the moment, hearing the words…just as the disciples heard them. That’s when the words jump off the page with meaning that changes everything.

I read that passage of scripture again this week. When I did, I heard those words in the voice of Jesus…who suddenly sounded remarkably similar to Dan Cain’s Texas twang.

Let’s take a look at one thought from Jesus’ greatest sermon. I find it as relevant today as it was 2,000 years ago.

_____

During the first year of his ministry, Jesus moved from village to village in Galilee teaching in the synagogues and preaching wherever he found an audience to listen. We don’t know a lot about the content of those early teachings except Jesus seemed to pick up where John the Baptist left off. The gospel writer tells us in Matthew 4:17…

“From that time on, Jesus began to preach, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

At some point in this time frame, he called his first disciples, taking them with him as he taught and healed. So popular were his teachings and so miraculous his healing that large crowds began to follow wherever he went. The people came, not just from Galilee, but from Jerusalem, Judea and the land east of the Jordan River to hear his voice.

At one point, Luke tells us that Jesus drew criticism from the Pharisees for healing a man with a deformed hand. After that rather heated debate, Jesus left Capernaum and went up the hillside to pray. The following morning as he and his closest disciples walked back toward the town, they encountered a large crowd eager to hear his message. Desperate to be healed.

Jesus found a spot on the hill and began to preach.

Taken as a whole, the Sermon on the Mount is the nearest thing to a manifesto that Jesus ever shared. He described what he wanted his followers to be and do. It is an explanation of kingdom living at its best. Writer John Stott said the teachings within this sermon “describe what human life and human community look like when they come under the gracious rule of God.

“And what do they look like? Different! Jesus emphasized that his true followers, the citizens of God’s kingdom, were to be entirely different from others.”

The Sermon on the Mount then is a call to be distinctive, drawing a constant contrast between the life lived by those of the Word and the life lived by those of the world. Jesus simply said,

“…do not be like them…” (Matthew 6:8)

You hear a similar word of caution from God to the Israelites in Leviticus 18:3 as he spoke about the pagan practices of the Egyptians and the Canaanites.

“You must not do as they do.”

An echo of the idea reverberated in Paul’s admonition to the church in Rome.

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind…” (Romans 12:2)

God calls us to live differently than those who do not know him. To relate to one another differently than those who don’t know him. To testify by the way we live to the transformative power of a life committed to Christ.

A pastor said recently that God’s church once existed as the heart and soul of every community. The church and its people defined the culture of the community. The pastor lamented that God’s church today no longer serves as the driver of our culture. Instead, it surrendered its responsibility as the conscience of the community and found itself pushed to the periphery. Its influence marginal at best.

Decades ago, someone once asked Methodist missionary and author E. Stanley Jones to name the biggest problem of the church. His answer short and to the point. “Irrelevance,” he said. “Three-fourths of the opposition to the church stems from disappointment. We promise to make men different, but the promise goes largely unfulfilled.”

Some 50 years later, the pandemic dealt another blow to the church’s relevance. Before we blame the church as an institution, we need to remember that we are the church. You and I, as individuals, are the church. We must ask ourselves the tough question. Is the church less relevant because its people are no longer different enough from the world around us? I suspect there is more truth to that than any of us would care to admit.

Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount speaks to kingdom living. About living the life God calls us to live. Jesus expects us to have a profound influence on the culture of the world. Yet, we have become less different, less distinctive.

Jesus spoke words to us that still echo off the waters of the Sea of Galilee. These words tell us what we ought to be.

“You are the salt of the earth! But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot. You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead, they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:13-16)

Jesus finds truth in the simplicity of ordinary living. He offers no cryptic parable that demands explanation. If you’re sitting with Jesus on the hillside in the first century, you get it. It’s just as clear today.

Salt flavors and preserves. So, what you’re saying Jesus is that we must live in such a way that we don’t leave a bitter taste in someone’s mouth. We are to preserve in our culture that which is holy and sacred and pure and right so that it still sustains those who will partake of it. When we lose our saltiness, our testimony and witness fade. Our lifestyle begins to look the same as our unchurched neighbors. Our influence in the community gets trampled underfoot and lost to society.

If you’re sitting with Jesus on the hillside in the first century, you get it. Another easily understood illustration that made as much sense to a Galilean as it does to a Texan. Light serves as a beacon to the lost, drawing them to safety. Light makes clear the path of righteous living that seeks to serve rather than condemn.

To be salt and light is the calling, but they are not the purpose. Allow me to paraphrase:

“Let your salt flavor all of life with the sweet taste of God’s love and your light illuminate his teachings…so that…they, the world beyond the walls of the church, will see the difference in the way you live and embrace and exalt the God of salvation who is our Father in heaven.”

That’s a huge “so that.” We live the life God calls us to live every day, not so we can stand on the street corner and express openly our gratitude that we are “not like other men.” A holier than thou attitude that drives a wedge between the church and those we are called to serve.

We live the life God called us to live so what we say and do points the lost to Jesus. For when we flavor life with the sweet taste of his love and the clear light of his goodness and grace…when we are truly different…all humanity will be drawn to him.

What does that look like?

Being salt and light is the byproduct of kingdom living. Paul described it to the Galatian church.

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

Such traits are rare and precious commodities in our world today. When Christians decide to be salt and light, to demonstrate love, peace, patience…the world feels our presence. When we demonstration kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control, the world pays closer attention to what we say and do. That distinctiveness makes a difference. The church, our faith, becomes relevant again.

How do we get there?

Those glow-in-the-dark toys only glow in the dark when they are held next to the light for an extended period. We get to the point of distinctiveness when we stay close to the Light of the World. Spending time in his word and having those deep, rich, prayerful conversations with the one who takes joy in hearing from us. We get there by making a conscious effort to be different.

Our faith cannot be timid nor secret. We cannot hide our light beneath a bowl or bushel. The light must shine. Let us work to make our faith both vocal and visible. Only then will the church find its place again in the center of the community.

God calls us to influence the world. Imagine what human life and human community look like when they come under the gracious rule of God led by those who are both salt and light. It’s time to make a difference. That’s what being salt and light is all about.

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.

Be Still and Know

Background Passages: Psalm 46:1-10; 2 Corinthians 12:9; Luke 40:35-41

You hear it all the time when a rookie quarterback is starting his first game. The defense will mix up their coverages, blitz from different angles and players, rush, drop back in coverage. They will do anything to confuse the unfortunate rookie.

At some point the announcer, armed with dozens of sports cliches, will invariably say that the game is moving too fast for the quarterback.

The reason it is a cliché is that it’s true. Time, familiarity with the playbook and game experience will make things easier. It will eventually slow the game down.

There sure have been times in my life when I felt like a rookie quarterback. It is a frenetic and noisy world. No day passes without strident debates and diatribes over issues critical to our culture and country. We see natural disasters taking their toll on our safety and security. When the news cycle hits, I find myself covering my eyes, ears and mouth like the proverbial monkey, hoping to see no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil. The game moves too fast.

It is not a lot different in our personal lives. Even when trying to do what we feel God needs us to do, we find ourselves being pulled in a thousand different directions. It feels like the more we try to live a life of service to God, the more obstacles get thrown in our path. The game moves too fast.

It has been my privilege to serve as a member of our church’s Pastor Search Team charged to find a new pastor for the first time in 40 years. As we met as a team last week, we talked about how many things have come up in our lives as individuals that pull us from the task at hand. We talked about how easy it would be to feel overwhelmed and over our heads were God not a calming presence. The game moves too fast.

Amid the noise I hear in the world and in our lives, I also hear a quieter word from scripture.

“Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)

There will come a day when God will quiet the noise of the world, but until then he reminds us to “be still.”

Isaiah tells us “in repentance and rest is your salvation; in quietness and trust is your strength.”

I don’t think that’s the exact message of the Psalmist. We are not to close our eyes, ears and mouth to the clamor and discord. To be still is not a call to silence. It is a reminder that we will find God in the noise.

We find this verse embedded in a section that speaks to the power and security of God. God smothers our fear, declares the psalmist, because he is our strength and fortress in times of constant trouble.

“Be still.”

I’m certainly no Hebrew scholar, but the commentaries tell me not to interpret the word as “silence.” To be quiet or reverential in God’s presence. While there is always a place for quiet reflection of the nature and presence of God, the Hebrew word speaks more to “cease,” “to slacken” to “stop the frantic activity.”

I find that to be a good word for me. When I am pressed and feeling overwhelmed, I always tend to try to do more. To work harder to try and dig out from under my circumstance.

I think of the serene image of the duck on the pond who seems to swim effortlessly but is paddling furiously under water. That’s how I feel sometimes.

Be still is God’s great reminder to quit fighting battles I can’t win on my own. Being still means to chill out enough so you can see God at work and his “ever-present help in trouble.” (vs. 1)

Think of it another way. To be still is to surrender…surrender control of all that is going on in your world to the Almighty. We must lay down our weapons, drop our shields, give up our desire to lead and surrender to the will of the one who is already victorious. On a personal level, it means giving up my belief that I know better or that I can work my way through anything in my own power or force of will.

Being still, you see, is not a passive act where we sit back and do nothing. Rather, to be still we must stop what we’re doing. Back off. Yield control. Surrender. Give up all efforts at personal control and self-preservation.

Lest you feel that makes you feel weak and less of a Christian, remember that Paul rejoiced in his weakness.

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Therein lies the reason to surrender our control. “Be still and know that I am God.”

The word “know” suggests we discover by sight. Stopping our well-intentioned efforts allows us to see God at work in the world and in our lives. If we’re so focused on doing things on our own, we’ll miss God’s work. Worse, we may well mistake his results for our own, taking credit where no credit is due.

When we stop all our frantic activity, we suddenly rediscover God is God. We come to know him as our refuge. Our strength. Our help. Our protector. Our comfort. Our warrior. Our exalted one.

The disciples were sailing from one side of the Sea of Galilee to the other when a strong storm interrupted their travel. Weary from a long day’s work, Jesus rested in the stern of the boat. The waves grew higher and the disciples struggled to keep the boat afloat. I suspect it was one of the non-fishermen who crawled to the back of the boat to wake Jesus up.

“Don’t you care if we drown?”

Jesus woke up. Rubbed his eyes. Stood up in the boat and commanded the wind.

“Quiet. Be still.”

The same basic word shared by the psalmist. Cease your frantic efforts.

As the gale turned to gust and to a gentle breeze, Jesus turned to his disciples. “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

Surrendering control to God is the ultimate act of faith. It replaces fear with trust.

In the stillness of that hour, the disciples marveled. “Who is this that even the wind and waves obey him?” It is as if Jesus was saying, “Be still and know that I am God.”

The world is chaotic enough without our feeble efforts adding to it. Our circumstances always rest in the hands of God and when we yield our will to his, he will calm the raging soul within us.

“Do not be anxious about anything (stop trying so hard), but in every situation (when life gets frantic), by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God (our ability to be quit fighting it), which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6-7 with the Lewis translation thrown in)

“Be still and know that I am God.”

We’re not promised a world without chaos. In fact, it sure seems to be getting noisier. The good news of the gospel is that we don’t have to calm the storm around us. When we quit fighting against the current and surrender our lives without reservation to God, when we are still, we see God for who he is.

It’s funny, isn’t it? When I quit fighting it, the game slows down. When I cease doing things in my own ability, the game slows down. When I surrender my will to God’s will, the game slows down. Only then, can I see and know that God is God.

I say it again if only to remind me of its magnificent truth.

“Be still and know that I am God.”

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.

One Thing

Background Passages: Philippians 1:20-21; Philippians 3:7-14, Psalm 27:4 and John 14:1-6

It’s a dark place in which to find oneself. A dark place I do not understand. I am amazed at those who prefer to dwell in a darkness where life has no real meaning or purpose.

Christian apologist John Blanchard wrote about the meaning of life in his book Does God Believe in Atheists. He explored the bleak thinking of some of the world’s modern philosophers.

In the book, Blanchard quotes Welsh scholar Rheinallt Williams. “There is nothing which arises more spontaneously from man’s nature than the question about life’s meaning. But if to be shoveled underground or scattered on its surface is the end of the journey, then life in the last analysis is a mere passing show without meaning, which no amount of dedication or sacrifice can redeem.”

It was a sentiment echoed by British journalist and novelist Rebecca West later in the book. “I do not believe that any facts exist, or, rather, are accessible to me, which give any assurance that my life has served an eternal purpose.”

I read these quotes and immediately my thoughts go to an image of Curly, that weather-beaten cowboy in that 1991 movie City Slickers. When Mitch, the cowboy wannabe from Manhattan, questioned the grizzled rancher about the meaning of life, Curly pointed his index finger straight in the air and said, “One thing.”

“One thing? What one thing?” Mitch inquired.

Ever cryptic, Curly replied, “That’s what you have to find,”

By the movie’s end, Mitch found his meaning of life in his family.

As much as I liked that movie and as much as my family brings meaning to my life, I would ask Mitch…and those who believe as Rheinallt Williams and Rebecca West…to look a little deeper than that.

People talk about wanting to leave a legacy. It is a noble thought. We want our lives to mean something. Leaving a legacy tells us that this life meant something. However, a legacy is left not in what you did, but what it meant. When you live your life for Christ, your life means something.

Paul, in prison and uncertain what the future held for him, told the Philippian church…

“I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or death. For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:20-21)

Later in the letter, Paul said if he looked for meaning in this world all he would find is rubbish, especially compared to his relationship with Jesus Christ. He knew nothing else in this world mattered.

“But whatever were gains to me, I consider everything a loss for the sake of Christ. What is more I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in him,” (Philippians 3:7-9a)

It is easy to make other things a priority in life. Work. Family. Friends. Good works. Every worthy thing we’ve accomplished pales in comparison to the relationship we have with God. It is that relationship that is indeed the meaning of life.

Scripture tells us that salvation, our relationship with Christ, is a point-in-time moment when we give our lives to him. It also is a process…a becoming. The joy of life is in the becoming. Growing in that relationship with Christ brings meaning to life.

Paul knew that better than anyone.

“I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings…Not that I have already obtained all of this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead. I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:10-14)

Paul loved the process of becoming all God called him to be. But, did you see it? Did you see Paul turn to us with one finger pointed to the sky?

“But one thing I do…”

The good news of this passage is that we don’t have to figure it out like Mitch did. Paul tells us plainly.

“I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which god has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

Paul says the meaning of life is in the pursuit of God’s will for our lives and the promise of eternity with him.

David, too, tells us about the meaning of life. The king of Israel with all his fame and fortune recognized that one thing that made all the difference in the world. What was David’s one thing? What was the meaning of his life? He left us a clue in Psalm 27:4.

“One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple.”

David holds his index finger in the air, pointing toward heaven telling us that the meaning of life is found in one thing and one thing only. It was for him being in the presence of the Lord.

You can see it one more time in that upper room in Jerusalem. Jesus is telling his disciples that the reality of the cross is just hours away. That the next few days will be difficult for them. That he is going away. Look at John 14:1-6.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me…My father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going.

“Thomas said to him, ‘Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?’

Can you see it? Jesus hold up his index finger, but this time he points it to his heart.

“I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

After the Dallas Cowboys won their first Super Bowl, Tom Landry, their former coach, made this observation. “The overwhelming emotion—in a few days, among the players on the Dallas Cowboy football team—was how empty that goal was. There must be something more.”

As a devote Christian, Landry knew there is a thirst inside us that only God can fill. One thing. When we try to fill it with anything else, it will not satisfy. It will only reveal how empty life can be without Christ.

That passage in John tells us without pause. Jesus is the answer. He is more than the meaning of life. He is life.

With respect to folks like Rheinallt Williams and Rebecca West, they missed the point. Any search for meaning apart from Jesus Christ will always be fruitless.

We see it time and time again in the Bible. We point our finger to the heavens. Let’s embrace the one thing.

I Have Missed It

Background: Acts 2:42-47; I John 1:3

I have missed it. I just did not know how much I missed it.

I stood to the side of the room and relished the laughter and boisterous conversations. Last night, 130 deacons and their spouses gathered in the open air, cavernous space of a cleared out workshop and storage area behind our church. It was the first time since the pandemic struck the country and my church that we had been able to come together for a fellowship meal.

Our pastor and our church have been careful during the pandemic. For months last year, we held drive-in church. Fellowship was limited to a honk and a wave from behind the safety of our car windshields.

When allowed, we moved back inside with every other row of pews blocked off and appropriately social distanced. We wore masks and were encouraged not to linger in our normal pre-covid conversations.

For a congregation that values relationships with one another as a family of God, to be distanced and isolated was gut-wrenching and heart-breaking.

A significant portion of our congregation has been vaccinated and with the country slowly returning to normal, it seemed the right time to come together again in fellowship. We took some precautions. Our traditional Deacon Banquet became a much more informal semi-outdoor, hamburger cook-out.

Friendly faces. Excited conversation. Exuberant laughter. Genuine smiles. The simple joy of being together again in fellowship made that ordinary Sam’s burger patty taste like a T-bone steak.

I imagine God looked upon that scene at the fellowship he inspired and turned to a nearby angel and quoted himself from Genesis:

“And God saw all he had made and said, “It’s very good.” (Genesis 1:31)

And it was very good.

Enjoying the company of others is not a distinctive Christian concept. God created us as social beings. I still miss the close associations I had outside the church prior to the pandemic. While I’m beginning to see things opening up, it is still not free and normal.

The nature of our humanity calls us together. With the deep fractures ripping through our culture these days, maybe that’s why the fellowship last night touched me to the core. We were together in Christian fellowship. I knew I had missed it, but I didn’t know how much I missed it until that last car drove away.

The story of the New Testament church begins in Acts. After Peter’s Pentecost sermon, scripture tells us that about 3,000 people joined that small group of about 100 Jesus followers. The movement that began in Jesus became a church. Not a church as we tend to define it today, but a body of believers united in Christ intent upon taking care of each other.

“And they devoted themselves to the apostles teaching, to fellowship, to breaking bread and to prayer. Everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles. All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.” (Acts 2;42-47)

It should not surprise us that the early church…or any church today…for that matter devoted itself to “teaching and prayer.” The message of Jesus Christ, carried in the lives of those believers prompted the growth and power of the early church. The message they preached and lived was the primary reason God could add to their numbers each day.

Because the gathering last night is so fresh on my mind, I want to share a few thoughts on fellowship.

The Greek word was the rage when I was in college back in the 1970s. “Koinonia.” We used it to talk about Christian fellowship. For a time, we had a weekly luncheon at the Baptist Student Union called “Koinonia.” We ate and visited together.

Baptist churches and institutions (and other denominations, I suspect) in some ways trivialized the meaning of “fellowship.” Fellowship became a “social.” Coffee. Conversation. Donuts. Pot Luck. Games. The fun to balance the seriousness of the sermon.

Step it up a notch to add a few spiritual components to your fellowship definition. Sharing needs. Prayer. Encouraging. Comforting. Edifying one another. Now we’re moving in the right direction, but the Christian aspect of fellowship as demonstrated by the first century church is much deeper and richer.

“Koinonia,” the common Greek word which we often translate as “fellowship” means “common or mutual,” according to people more scholarly than I am. A more literal interpretation speaks to “sharing together” as a partnership or “sharing with” as in giving to others. “Partnering with.” “Sharing with.” In a word, relationships.

Fellowship, then, in the New Testament sense, is that thing commonly shared in some way by all parties involved. Relationships. Burdens. Privileges. Responsibilities.

To think of fellowship in a purely secular sense founded on common interests or physical ties would have been a foreign concept to Luke and the apostles. It always held a spiritual connotation. New Testament believers enjoyed fellowship because they first had a relationship with each other in and through Christ.

Consider fellowship as John did when he wrote:

“We proclaim to you what we have seen or heard so that you may also have fellowship with us. And, our fellowship is with the Father and with his son, Jesus Christ.” (I John 1:3)

Fellowship is a relationship, not an event. The idea is that any event or activity follows naturally out of our relationship with Christ. Luke described that first century church as having “everything in common.” I don’t think that mean they were all like-minded in all matters of life. To me it means they were bound together in Christ to a common call to minister and serve. To share the blessings that come from our faith in God.

Still, it was a part of their new DNA to take care of those in need. Luke said “they sold their property and possessions” to meet the needs of those believers with whom they shared a relationship. Their partnership in ministry meant that they would give their money or sell what they had to sell to care for those among them who were struggling. As Christians we become partners with one another and with God in the common mission and ministry of the church…all for the glory of God.

Within that fellowship, they also found companionship, meeting “every day in the temple courts” and eating together in each other’s homes with “glad and sincere hearts.” I like this mental image.

These are folks that worship…together. Share… together. Do the work…together. Eat…together. Laugh…together. Cry…together. I can image there was a comfortable companionship that emerged from their fellowship similar to what I felt during our Deacon fellowship. For that group of believers in the first century, that companionship must have made every chance or deliberate encounter with one another the highlight of their day.

The late Ted Malone, a Christian radio broadcaster, told the story of a sheep herder on an Idaho ranch who asked him to broadcast the note ‘A’ over the air. When asked why, the shepherd said that his only company were the sheep and his old violin. The violin was out of tune and the note would allow him to tune it again.

Malone honored the request. The shepherd sent Malone a thank you know saying only, “Now, I am in tune.”

During the pandemic, our church like so many others began live-streaming its services. It was a way of staying linked to or connected to those who were unable to come to church for worship. I’m glad we had that opportunity.

The danger in staying on-line is that we stay away from the personal aspect of our faith. Though connected in some ways, there is a disconnect to those things that make being a believer in Christ personal and meaningful. We need to be together to keep our faith alive and growing. When we lose the connection with other believers, when we disassociate ourselves from corporate worship, shared ministry and service, we lose the companionship that encourages our faith.

That first century church struck a harmonious note when they worshiped and ate together. They were in tune with one another. It is the perfect example for the 21st century church. We should be in tune with one another.

Relationship.

Partnership.

Companionship.

As the evening wore down last night and folks started home, I watched with a deep contentment the hugs and handshakes shared among friends. I cherish my relationship with those people. I am encouraged and energized by the partnership we share in the ministries of the church. I delight in the companionship of friends who love God and care so deeply for one another.

I know I’m not alone in this sentiment. Surely, you feel the same about the people in your church. I am grateful to the deacons and their spouses who reminded me last night just how much I need them in my life.

I have missed you. I just didn’t know how much I have missed your fellowship.