Family of God – Dr. Kirk Lewis

A Little Mustard; A Little Leaven

Background Passages: Matthew 13:31-33; Romans 10:14-15 and James 2:15,17

We all love a good story. Great storytellers connect with us on a personal and emotional level, finding ways to engage, influence, teach and inspire all who really listen. While storytelling is both art and science, some folks are naturally gifted storytellers. Others learned the craft over time.

As I’ve studied the Bible over the years, I find myself wishing I could go back in time to walk down the road with Jesus or sit on a rock around his campfire as he was sharing a truth to everyone within earshot. Jesus rarely lectured. To get his point across, he told stories. The Bible calls these stories parables.

If you’ve read enough scripture, you know Jesus was a master storyteller. I also suspect that Jesus’ parables recorded in scripture are probably Cliff Notes versions of the real conversations, edited to the quotable parts that we might actually hear. Listening to Jesus spin his tales would be an experience unlike any other.

Drawing upon images from everyday life, he shared truths about God’s heart and about kingdom living. While we can’t hear him speak, reading his stories in the Bible is the next best thing.

The 13th Chapter of Matthew is filled with story after story that Jesus used to teach about God’s kingdom. Verse 3 says, “Then he told them many things in parables…” And, he did… especially in this chapter.

The parable of the sower and the seed. The parable of the weeds. The parable of the hidden treasure and the pearls. The parable of the net. You’ll also find the parables of the mustard seed and the leaven bread. Two quick parables in three short verses.

Take a look.

And he told them another parable: The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all your seeds yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and perch in its branches.

He told them still another parable: The kingdom of heaven is like leaven that a woman took and mixed into a large amount of flour until it worked all through the dough.” (Matthew 13:31-33)

Now, had I been that fly on the deck of Jesus’ rowboat that day, I might have asked, “Jesus, would you care to elaborate? What are you getting at?” If anyone asked, scripture doesn’t tell us. So, we have to think…just as Jesus intended.

To be clear, the mustard seed is not really the smallest seed used in Jesus’ day, but it was proverbial in the first century for “smallness,” a convenient and recognizable example for something tiny or small.

The mustard seed was a garden herb common in regional cuisine of the first century. It does grow into a tree-like bush sometimes as high as 12 feet. Because of its tree-like structure, it would have not been uncommon to see birds resting, nesting and feasting on the little black seeds.

Jesus followed his tale of the mustard seed with another familiar picture drawn from everyday life. Bread was the staple of life in the first century. Leaven is nothing more than fermented dough kept over from a previous baking of bread.

Bread without leaven, unleavened bread, always baked flat, dense and hard. Leaven served the same purpose as yeast does today. Mixing leaven into fresh dough made the bread soft, porous, spongy and delicious. (I can smell it baking, can’t you?)

What truth is Jesus conveying when he used this imagery as he taught?

It could not have been easy for the disciples to watch great crowds gather around Jesus and have the majority of them walk away unaffected and unchanged by Jesus’ words. Earlier in Matthew’s gospel, they asked Jesus, “Why do you speak to the people in parables?” It’s as if they were saying, “Why do you tell these stories? Just tell them how the cow ate the cabbage.”

Jesus, in essence, told his disciples that the hearts of the people had grown calloused to the point of not hearing anything remotely resembling a sermon.

By virtue of being Jewish, they were God’s chosen after all. They could not and would not understand the unvarnished truth about the changing nature of God’s kingdom. Jesus told his disciples that he spoke in parables because “…they hardly hear with their ears and they have closed their eyes.” (Matthew 13:15)

At the end of other parables, Jesus sometimes says, “He who has ears, let him hear.” In other words, Jesus is saying, if you’re paying attention and if you’ll think about it seriously and how it fits into your life, you’ll see what I’m trying to tell you with this story.

In these verses, the picture Jesus paints with his stories is about the stunning and exponential growth of God’s kingdom.

Now, it might be helpful here to define “God’s kingdom.” When you and I declared Christ as Lord and have gave him control of our lives, we entered the kingdom of God. A group of believers who trust him as savior and live each day in the “righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.” (Romans 14:17) It is the community of faith allowing God, through Christ, to govern the way we live.

These two parables run parallel teaching about the stunning growth of God’s kingdom. when the tiny mustard seed becomes a large tree and the lump of leaven permeates the whole dough.

Think about how it all started. Jesus and a handful of disciples working throughout Galilee and Judea, taking a message of repentance and hope to all they encountered as they lived out their lives. Each step along the way, the kingdom grew as more and more people believed in and trusted Jesus.

After Jesus’ ministry, the New Testament church began in the upper room in Jerusalem with about 100 followers, none of whom were great religious scholars. Fishermen. Tax collectors. Zealots. Poor. Uneducated. Frightened. A bunch of nobodies who found themselves with the one person who was the glue holding them together.

Through the power of the Holy Spirit and over the span of 2,000 years, the kingdom of God has grown beyond expectation. From this mustard seed, this lump of leaven, the gospel of Christ has spread throughout the world. In doing so, it has become a place of spiritual food and rest for the birds in its branches and a transforming power in the world’s lump of dough.

Yet, there is a reason why these parables still speak to us today. It’s the same reason Jesus told them in the first place.

We live in a world today in which the hearts of people have grown calloused. By virtue of living in a “Christian country,” we assume some favored status in God’s kingdom. We’ve become some hard-hearted in our culture that we “hardly hear with our ears and we have closed our eyes” to his truth.

Recent statistics show that the number of non-churched, unchurched and de-churched people is growing at about 10 percent each decade. In other words, the population non-believers, believers who have never plugged into a church after committing their lives to Christ increases a bit each year.

The number of those believers who left the church because they were hurt by someone or something within the church keeps growing as the church itself is shrinking. It is an alarming trend.

That phenomenon becomes more and more evident over the past 50 years. We could easily list the reasons behind the decline, but that’s not really the point here. I think the only reason that matters is that the church quit consistently reaching out in ministry and love.

We open our doors, very willing to love and help all who enter our doors, but we rarely do as Jesus did and go out to meet them where they live. To ministry in the neighborhoods.

In Paul’s letter to the church in Rome, he told them how to become a part of the kingdom of God.

If you confess with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved…Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.” (Romans 10:9, 13)

Then, Paul issues the challenge that reverberates from the 1st century to the 21st.

How then, can they call on the name of the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one in whom they have not heard? And how they can hear without someone preaching to them? And. how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, how beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news.” (Romans 10:14-15)

Author Cecil Northcott once told of an international evangelical convention he attended to discuss how the gospel might be spread. The people in attendance talked about the distribution of literature, large scale revivals and other means available in the early 20th century. Then, one girl from Africa spoke.

“When we want to take Christianity into one of our villages” she said, “we don’t send them books. We send a Christian family to live in the village and they make the village Christian by living there.”

That’s how it’s supposed to work, I think. We can’t wait for the lost and the hurting to come to us first, though some do. We most often must go to them. We must be there ready to love and care for them. We can’t ignore their existence or fail to meet their needs.

“Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, “Go, I wish you well. Keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.” James 2:15-17)

If we fail to be the church outside the walls, we will soon become the empty church within the walls.

As we recently visited many churches throughout Eastern Europe, it was profoundly sad to see these churches become little more than museums of time gone by. How different would it be if they were more mission and less museum?

As more and more people become disillusioned and de-churched, I fear our own churches throughout America will become these cold museums, relics of a time in history.

Jesus told his parables to connect with people. His stories used the ordinary to teach extraordinary spiritual truths. He didn’t print them up and hit them over the head with a tract. He told his stories. Made connections. Built relationships. Met needs. Then, he loved them into the God’s kingdom.

You and I and all who profess a faith in Christ, have a story to tell. It is the good news of Christ…his free gift of grace available to all. It is also the love expressed by God’s people as we go out into our respective communities on mission to love and serve.

I think that’s the challenge of these marvelous parables. God’s desire is for the world to be saved and for his kingdom to grow. Be the mustard seed. The only way for that to happen is for his people to be the leaven that causes it to rise.

———

I’ll beg your indulgence and forgiveness for this personal note.

I am a member of South Main Baptist Church. We’ve been blessed for almost seven decades with wonderful pastors and a service approach to ministry and missions. I’ve been blessed by the preaching of our new pastor, the worship through singing and praise, the great Bible teaching and the opportunities to serve.

Our people recently adopted a new mission statement. It promises that our church is in an ongoing mission to be “engaging and equipping others to experience and share God’s transforming love.”

The desire is to keep stepping outside the physical confines of the church to build relationships with our community and encouraging others to join us as we grow together in the work of Christ. Our desire is for the kingdom of God to increase as more and more people discover God’s grace and love.

Toward that end, we will be gathering at 5:30 p.m., Wednesday, May 31, at Pasadena’s Crenshaw Park Softball Fields for “First Pitch”–a little kick ball, a bunch of free hot dogs, family games and an open invitation to let us get to know you.

For the better part of four decades, South Main has made two promises to those who come to us. “We promise to love you and let you love us” as we serve our Lord together.

We’re not perfect, but we strive to be more Christ-like every day. If you’re longing to find a church where you can serve and be served, drop by for a visit. We’d love to get to know you and let you get to know us.

Hope to see you there.

Aliens and Strangers

Background Passages: I Peter 2:11-12; John 17:14-17; Ephesians 4:1-6

As I reflect on things this week, I’m sailing down the Danube River in Eastern Europe. I tend to put off “don’t visit with me” vibes when I’m on vacation. One of the passengers who missed the signs asked me how many times we had been overseas. To this first-time traveler, our five times evidently qualified us as world travelers.

I sure don’t feel that way. While I know we are blessed physically and financially by God to see places in this world I never dreamed I would see, my 10 total weeks abroad on very carefully planned and sheltered cruises hardly make me Marco Polo.

I always find my time in other countries a bit surreal. Constantly aware of the cultural differences, language barriers and the vastly different historical and political frames of reference remind me that I am an alien in a strange land. It feels odd. Most of us find comfort in the familiar things of home. We find comfort in the world we know. Stepping beyond its borders heightens our anxiety.

When a thought first enters my head, I don’t always think it’s God telling me to pay attention and listen. When the feeling won’t go away, I have to reconsider if this is one of God’s teachable moments. In one of the early classes I attended in my one year of seminary, I read a short book called, An Alien in a Strange Land: Theology in the Life of William Stringfellow, by Anthony Dancer.

It has been almost 45 years since I read the book. I don’t remember a great deal. Studying the writings of American theologian William Stringfellow, Dancer came to the hopeful conclusion that the Bible (its truth) and the world (his creation) were central to God’s plan. He said the Bible is there to make sense of us and not us of it. In other words, it tells us who we ought to be rather than us trying to alter its truth to fit our desires and circumstances.

Dancer talked of a theology of engagement in the world that the church in general has come to avoid in an effort to keep the world’s influence from diluting the truth of God’s word. He argued against the church pulling back from the world, but instead engaging with it by ethically and morally carrying the teachings of Christ directly to the to those who live outside the truth God teaches.

Peter understood this when he penned his letter to believers in the first century, reminding them to live godly lives in a pagan world.

“Dear friends, I urge you, as foreigners and exiles, to abstain from sinful desires, which wage war against your soul. Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us.” (I Peter 2:11-12)

Peter’s reminder is a good one. We are supposed to feel estranged from the world around us once we accept Christ as Lord of our lives. From the first moment we commit ourselves to him and begin to understand his teachings, we should not get comfortable living as the world lives.

If we’re comfortable with what’s going on in the world around us, we need to check our moral compass. The peg isn’t pointing to God. The magnet pull of sin and discord drags us off course.

Peter tells us our lives must be distinctively different from those who are not believers, setting aside the sinful things in constant battle for control of our lives and live, instead, purposeful, God-guided lives that reflect his love and compassion to all we encounter and every decision we make.

One can’t accomplish any of that if we disengage from the world around us. We will reach only those desperate enough to finally open a door to a church.

Peter further says the reason for our alien behavior is so that those who do not believe, and maybe even those who have been disconnected from the God they once served, will see how we live and find their way to or back to the God who loved them enough to give his life for them. In that way, God is glorified by our alien status.

It’s not enough is it, to glibly live our alien lives perfectly for God if we never connect or build relationships with the people who are residents of this non-spiritual world? It’s just not.

That scripture kept popping up every time I’d start to feel the edge of discomfort descend on me in these new cultural contexts over the last two days in Croatia and Serbia. I’ll never connect in any way with these people if I never walk among them. Never talk with them.

The same is true in Christ. The charge is to build a community of faith that becomes a safe harbor for those people in the world who God is calling to believe in him. We’re only going to do that when we are willing to be in the world, but not of it. That’s not always easy to do.

As Jesus prayed for his disciples during his last night with them, he asked his Father in heaven to guard them from the world’s influence when he left them.

“I have given them your word and the world has hated them, for they are not of the world any more than I am of the world. My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one…Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth.” (John 17:14-17)

It dawned on me then. There’s our passport to a foreign land! That is what grants you entrance into a world in which you no longer reside. Within that prayer is the peace that should follow every one of God’s aliens in this strange world in which we live.

Jesus prayed for our protection. Jesus prayed that we be set apart (remain aliens in a strange world) by the truth we found in Jesus Christ. The great news is that the passport is written in the blood of Christ and the truth of God’s word. It will never expire, though on our end, it may need to be renewed. We can and should carry it with us everywhere. Pretty cool when you think about it.

If we know we’re aliens and strangers in this world, we also know that is our calling to live differently and distinctively for Christ in such ways as to draw all people to him. We can’t do that hunkering down in the walls of a church.

This is the first time we’ve traveled by ourselves…without the security of several other friends who journeyed with us. On a cruise like this one, that means we have to dine and visit with strangers.

Finding myself way outside my comfort zone, I’ve tried to settle in and see what connections I could make with the people of the countries we visit and the people aboard ship. Our conversation today was with a very interesting couple from Chicago with a Serbian Orthodox Southern Baptist Methodist Christian heritage.

The conversations flow more freely than I imagined. The empathy I feel for them, in many cases, grew with each moment of discussion. Through the conversations, I have found other believers, some of whom have lived through earthly hell in a war zone or refugee camp, who celebrate their faith in Christ.

One morning we visited a small Catholic church in Osejik, Croatia. Compared to the more ornate cathedrals it was simple in size and design. Its approach to worship expressed in far less grandeur and pomp. I found a degree of comfort in the relative simplicity of the sanctuary, especially given the troubled life experienced by so many in the region over the past 25 years.

You see, we had just been in a home of people who were dramatically affected by the Serbian invasion of Croatia in 1991. Seven years of separation and fear, only to return to a bombed-out home with little to nothing left to salvage. Their spirit of grace and peace was a testimony to resilience.

A few minutes later, 10 miles down the road, found us sitting in this quiet church listening to a vocal concert by a young woman. A music student at the local college, her well-trained soprano voice echoed off the surrounding walls of the sanctuary with pure clarity.

The first few songs she sang were in Latin, part of the catholic liturgy. Part of her faith. Other than Ave Maria, the unrecognized melodies stood out as beautiful songs of adoration, written in the emotion of her face as she sang.

Then, breaking from the Latin, she began to sing in her native language of Croatia.

Cudesna milost, kako sladak zyuk!
Koja je spasila bijednika poput mene
Jednom bijah izgublien, ali sad sam pronaden
Bijah slijep, ali sad vidim

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound!
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now I’m found,
Was blind but now I see.

Trying not to let the tears fall, God reminded me that the unifying factor for every Christian who feels estranged by the world around them is this common, but amazing grace. It encouraged me to keep living that distinctive life without fear of being an alien in a strange world, regardless of my circumstances…good or bad.

Paul had just finished praying for the Christians in Ephesus 3 asking God to grant them inner strength, to help them remain rooted in love, to find the power “together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ,” even when you’re 9,488 miles from home.

You may feel at times the only one who believes as you do in the place where you live. You are not. When you step out of your comfort zone to build relationships and connect with the people God places in your life, you will find there’s always another alien just like you who has been called by God to live in the world while not being of it. One God. One Lord. One Spirit. One faith. One hope. One body.

Listen to Paul’s words.

“As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called. One Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all. But to each of us grace has been given as Christ apportioned it.” (Ephesians 4:1-6)

Because we are called to live our lives differently than the rest of the world lives theirs; because we know we are charged to live in the world, but not by its misguided precepts; because we know there is strength and power in the unified and connected body of believers across the world and because it is our commission to ensure that everyone comes to know the personal love of Jesus Christ, that discomfort and disconnect you sometimes feel while in this world lets you know that you have your heart in the right place.

Embrace the alien and stranger within you. It’s by God’s design and calling.

I don’t know if I conveyed what I hoped to convey in this, but it made sense on this side of the world.

Don’t Squander Your Inheritance

Background Passages: Genesis 25:27-34 and Romans 8:15b-17

Using some borrowed cash and his personal savings, Frank Winfield Woolworth bought some discounted merchandise to sell to the general public at reduced cost. He opened his first Woolworth’s Great Five Cent Store in Utica, NY, in 1879. Though that first store went out of business, he kept working and reopened again in Pennsylvania to greater success.

Eventually, Woolworth built his business into a retail corporation worth $25.9 billion in its heyday. Over the years, the company was handed down through the family until the last Woolworth’s closed its doors in 1997. Though the company lives on with a smaller, more targeted product line under the name of Foot Locker, Woolworth’s, as a corporation, no longer exists.

At one point, Woolworth’s granddaughter Barbara Hutton assumed leadership in the corporation. Many people point fingers at Hutton as the first of the Woolworths to start squandering her inheritance. Even though they were the biggest name in business, patriarch F. W Woolworth’s granddaughter knew nothing about making money, and instead vowed never to work a day in her life. By the time she was on her seventh husband, she had lost almost her entire fortune.

All of us would like to leave something of substantial value for our children. If we’re blessed enough to do so, we hope we’ have raised them well enough that they do not misuse the gift they have been given.

Sadly, it is not uncommon to see the second or third generation squander in a season all of the hard work, value, and wealth created by the first generation. When the sons or daughters spend away all which they’ve been given, it’s usually because they take for granted what they have, possessing a sense of entitlement.

What is true in this temporal and material world takes on even greater important in the eternal and spiritual realm. As the beneficiary of a spiritual inheritance of immense value, I know how easy it can be to squander all that God has given us. When I read the Woolworth story this week and wrapped it in spiritual terms, I had to ask myself as I’m asking you, “Are we squandering our God-gifted inheritance?”

It is, I think, a viable question.

*****

He dragged himself back home, weary and filthy after days hunting wild game. He comes empty-handed. Other than one scrawny rabbit, he killed nothing. The long trek home was nothing short of miserable. His quiver empty of arrows and his stomach roiling with hunger as he crested the ridge overlooking his father’s encampment.

The hunter caught the aroma of a rich lentil stew carried on the smoke from the open pit near his father’s tent. Hunger drove him forward.

Young. Impetuous. Famished. Esau rushed to the tent where his brother Jacob sat stirring the pot, sampling from his ladle the tasty broth.

As Jacob sampled the stew, he saw his twin brother making a beeline for the fire pit. Normally quiet and reserved, Jacob did not enjoy confrontation, but something about Esau always set Jacob’s teeth on edge. Seeing the ravenous look on his brother’s face, Jacob’s devious streak flashed.

“Mmmmmm,” Jacob overplayed the taste of the stew, adding a pinch more salt, a look of rapture on his face. “This is soooo good,” he said to himself, knowing that Esau would hear.

Esau plopped to the ground beside the boiling pot, his mouth watering in anticipation. “Quick, let me have some of that red stew! I’m famished!”

Jacob sat back on his heels, giving Esau a sad look. “I don’t know,” he said. “I made this for Father. Maybe you can have the leftovers.”

“There were no deer anywhere,” complained Esau. “I’ve not eaten in days. Give me some stew!”

“I tell you what,” said Jacob, pouring some of the stew into a wooden bowl and wafting it under Esau’s nose. “First, sell me your birthright.”

“Look, I’m about to die,” Esau said. “What good is a birthright to me?”

“Swear to me first,” insisted Jacob. Grudgingly uttering an oath, Esau surrendered his birthright to Jacob.

“Then, Jacob gave Esau some bread and some lentil stew. He ate and drank and then got up and left. So Esau despised his birthright.”

One has to wonder how often Esau regretted his impetuous disregard of his inheritance. He was hungry, but not starving. For a morsel of food and the temporary satisfaction of a full belly, he gave up that to which he was legally entitled.

I suspect as the years passed, he forgot about it most days, perhaps thinking that Jacob would regard the transaction as a joke between brothers. I doubt either son ever told Isaac of the deal they had made. For his part, Jacob kept the oath in his robe pocket, ready to pull it out when the time was right.

Let’s talk first about this birthright. Thought it is an inheritance, there is no strong 21st century equivalent to the ancient birthright. Our culture is not wired the same way.

In the Hebrew culture, the birthright was a matter of wealth and status. Upon his death, the father’s possessions were divided equally among all the male children, except the firstborn son received a double portion. Under ordinary circumstances when Isaac died, Esau, as the oldest son, would be entitled to two-thirds of Isaac’s wealth. Jacob would receive the final one-third.

This whole situation seems deceitful and completely unfair. Jacob took advantage of his brother in a weak moment to strip him of his inheritance. It makes us cringe a little. However, God knows the heart. When Rebekah became pregnant with the twins, God revealed to Isaac and his wife that the younger son would be the prominent son.

“Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples from within you will be separated. one people will be stronger than the other and the older will serve the younger.” (Genesis 25:23)

We tend to look down on Jacob for his duplicity, but God’s plan depended on the man Jacob would become, not the man he was at the time. He knew how Esau would disregard is birthright.

It is an intriguing story, but how does it answer our initial question? Are we squandering our God-gifted inheritance? Are we doing something that would strip us of God’s blessing?

Let’s first establish our right to a godly inheritance.

In the New Testament, believers in Christ are called the “children of God.” Look at John 1:12-13.

“Yet to all who receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God—children born not of natural descent, nor or human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.”

Being born again through our faith in Jesus Christ and the grace of God, we become his heirs, worthy of our inheritance.

“…but you received the spirit of sonship. And by Him we cry, ‘Abba. Father.’ And the Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs—-heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ.” (Romans 8:15b-17)

Clearly, scripture teaches that all believers in Christ receive an inheritance by virtue of being a child of God. It is an inheritance with benefits in the here and now as well as in the eternal. We are asked to honor that inheritance with our lives.

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward.” (Colossians 3:23)

Hebrew culture allowed the father to strip the eldest son of his first-born rights if the father felt him unworthy.

With our spiritual inheritance guaranteed by Christ, we are still asked to live lives worthy of the gift. How might we squander that which we’ve been given? One of the keys is that almost parenthetical sentence in Genesis 25:34.

“So Esau despised his birthright.”

Culture and tradition all but guaranteed Esau a double portion of his father’s inheritance, yet we’re told he “despised his birthright.” It is not that Esau hated the whole idea of getting a double portion. In Hebrew, to despise something, to hate something, is a matter of choice. To despise your inheritance means you put other things ahead of it. To choose something else. In the heat of the moment, Esau chose a single bowl of bean soup over that to which he was entitled.

Other translations say that Esau “profaned his birthright.” That word takes on a different connotation in the 21st century, speaking primarily to crude and vulgar language. In Scripture the term suggests a broader scope. The idea conveys a lack of holiness. To take something that is righteous and good and treat it with contempt.

Esau profaned his God-given and special birthright by trading it for something cheap and ordinary…as if it meant nothing to him.

I wonder how many times I’ve approached my birthright as a child of God with the same level of disregard as Esau demonstrated. How often have I taken my spiritual inheritance for granted? How often have I treated my spiritual birthright too casually? Trading it in for something so inconsequential as a bowl of stew…satisfying in the moment, but with no lasting value.

Paul told the Colossians, “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord…” I will not do that if I value a bowl of stew more than I value God’s provision, plan and purpose for my life.

Consider the writer of Hebrews as he posed a rhetorical question to his readers. If the world becomes more important to us that the inheritance God provides then “how shall we escape (God’s judgment) if we ignore such a great salvation?”

The world promises us that the stew is going to taste so good that everything else pales in comparison. It’s going to promise us that if we just eat the stew the hunger will never return. It’s going to promise that the stew…the wealth, the fame, the power, the position will mean more to us that anything God offers.

Here’s the deal though. Stew is not salvation. It’s just stew.

We squander our God-given inheritance when the stew is more important than the salvation. We squander our inheritance when we give too little thought to God and his purpose and will for our lives. We squander our inheritance when we fail to give God’s grace gift the value it deserves. We squander our inheritance when we fail to live as if it matters more than anything else in this world.

This is the lesson I learn from Esau. I can never forget, not for a minute, that God and his promises are holy. I am his and he is mine. When I forget that simple fact, or when I give that relationship anything less than the highest priority in my life, I squander the chance to experience the blessings he promises me.

Claim that inheritance offered through Jesus Christ. Through your witness and your work, increase its value. Frank Woolworth’s daughter squandered her inheritance. Don’t squander the inheritance God gave you no matter how tasty the stew looks.

Amen?

Amen!

He Went Away Rejoicing

Background: Acts 8:26-40; Isaiah 53:7; John 3:16

Like many children who attend “big” church, Josiah sat each week during the sermon with a pad and pencil. Idly drawing pictures. Working a few math problems. And listening…far more than he seemed to be…to the sermon being preached.

Over the months, I saw him stop what he was doing on more than one occasion, his ears perking up at a particular point being made. Often, that moment of interest became the subject of probing questions asked to patient and understanding parents. An intelligent young boy, Josiah was hungry for answers.

My grandson toyed with his faith commitment for more than a year. His parents always stopping what they were doing to hear his conversation and let his mind and heart work toward his own decision.

We delighted in Josiah’s decision to accept Christ as savior two weeks ago and celebrated his baptism with him last Sunday, a special moment observed on his eighth birthday. We sat near the back of the worship center, but we could still notice the radiant smile that rose from the baptismal water. I would blame my teary response on allergies, but I don’t think you’d believe me.

This week, that moment reminded me of another new believer in the Bible, who came up from the water rejoicing.

In the days after the Holy Spirit came upon the believers, the early church began to grow in numbers. As it grew, the religious authorities began to crack down on those who professed a faith in the crucified and resurrected Jesus. The persecution caused hardship and misery.

Philip was one of the chosen. A servant and minister. One of seven deacons selected by the 12 to take care of the widows and those in need within the church. After Stephen, one of the seven, was stoned by the zealous Pharisees, many in the early church left Jerusalem, scattered here and there to avoid the coming persecution. Philip went north into Samaria. He preached boldly, leading many to Christ.

In the middle of his ministry in Samaria, Philip felt convicted by the spirit to head south, along the desert road toward the Mediterranean coast. Without knowing why, Philip obediently followed that call.

At the same time, a man from Ethiopia, a Gentile convert to Judaism, spent time in worship at the Temple. He’s described in scripture as a eunuch…and, yes, it means what you think it means. We also know he was a government official, a treasurer in the court of the queen. Trustworthy. Inquisitive. Sincere. Like Josiah, my grandson, hungry for answers.

It’s doubtful this man could have been in Jerusalem and not heard of the commotion surrounding Jesus. His arrest. His drumhead inquisition before Caiaphas, Herod and Pilate. His hasty conviction. His brutal crucifixion. And…the rumors of his resurrection.

The Ethiopian eunuch left Jerusalem with more questions than answers.

Along the way, the man leaned against the frame of the slowly-driven chariot, reading through the Book of Isaiah, the prophet. The words strange and confusing.

“He was lead like a sheep to the slaughter, and as a lamb is silent before its shearer, so He does not open his mouth. In his humiliation he was deprived of justice. Who can speak of his descendants? For his life was taken from the earth.” (Isaiah 53:7)

He read the words again. And again. No matter how many times he read the passage, its meaning escaped him.

“What are you reading?”

The Ethiopian looked up, startled at the question. Walking beside the chariot was a older man, dressed in a humble robe, dusty from days on the road.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

Philip smiled, pointed at the scroll. “Do you understand what you’re reading?”

The man shook his head, still bewildered. “Honestly, no,” he answered. “How can I unless someone explains it to me?”

“Maybe I can help.”

The Ethiopian beckoned him to join him. Philip stepped lightly into the chariot. Reverently, the man placed the scroll in Philip’s outstretched hands.

“Tell me, please, who is the prophet talking about? Himself or someone else?”

With that opening, Philip began to share the good news of Jesus, starting with the prophet’s own words.

The most beautiful story ever told unfolded between two strangers from different cultures, different social classes and different lands. The two men settled into a deep conversation. Questions asked and answered. Philip explained all that the prophets declared. All that had been fulfilled in Christ. All he had personally experienced. All he had heard and been taught.

Philip shared the message of grace and mercy of a loving God who worked through time to bring salvation to a lost and misguided world…a grace, not just for Jerusalem, but for Judea, for Samaria and for the ends of the world.

The Ethiopian man listened with an ear open to the words he was hearing and the spirit of God pulling at his heart.

When his soul could bear no more, the man held up his hand, stopping Philip mid-sentence. He pointed to a small oasis on the barren landscape less than a quarter mile in the distance. Its refreshing water shimmering in the afternoon sun.

“Look, here is water,” he said, “What can stand in the way of my being baptized?”

Philip’s grin stretched ear to ear. He clapped him on the shoulder, “Not a thing, my friend. Not a thing.”

The Ethiopian ordered his driver to stop the chariot. He and Philip dismounted and walked with purpose into the pond. With his confession of faith, the man looked at Philip with expectation. Philip bowed in prayer in joy and gratitude to God. Grateful that God had brought him to this place.

Taking the man in his arms, Philip lowered him into the water. As he brought him up again, the water streamed down the man’s face, mingling with tears of joy, his smile as radiant as the sun.

“And he went away rejoicing.”

It’s funny. I have a pretty good imagination. When I read stories like this in the Bible, I can close my eyes and see it happening in vivid color.

When I read this story again this week, I could see the ornate chariot, two Nubian men dressed in fine robes, joined by one who looked more like a Jewish shepherd. I can see them standing waist deep in a green, muddied pond, surrounded by reeds and brush. I see Philip lower this man into the water. I couldn’t, however, for the life of me picture this Ethiopian man as Philip lifted him out. I could not see his face.

All I could see in my mind’s eye was Josiah coming up out of that water with that smile on his face. You only see that kind of smile when someone truly understands what it means to be loved by God. Only when you’ve open the greatest gift ever given.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son so whoever believes in him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16)

I saw the same look in his brother Eli’s face two years ago. The same smiles on the faces of my two sons decades ago. And, I suspect if I had a mirror before me in that baptistry in that little church in Ropesville, Texas, some 58 years ago, it would have been the same smile on my face.

I’m grateful for Adam and Jordan, Josiah’s parents, for being his Philip. They were the ones who asked him, “Do you understand what you’re reading? Do you understand what you’re hearing?” I’m grateful that Josiah asked them to jump in the chariot with him. They were the ones who led him to make the most important decision of his life. I’m equally grateful for his older brother, Eli, who, by his own profession of faith, created a path for Josiah to follow.

I’m grateful for a pastor who preaches the gospel of Christ in truth and love in ways that even an eight-year-old can understand. I’m thankful for Josiah’s Sunday School teachers who taught those significant lessons that opened his eyes and heart. I’m grateful for my church who promises to love him and let him love them in return.

I am especially grateful that Robin and I have a new brother in Christ.

Our Spiritual Vaccination

Background Passage: Mark 12:28-36, Proverbs 6:16-19, Romans 6:23, Philippians 4:8

One year ago this week, my wife and I traveled to Washington D.C., with our son’s family. We left amid a growing fear of global pandemic none of us really understood. By the time we finished our five days walking the nation’s capital, the World Health Organization label Covid-19 as a “global pandemic.” We arrived home to a vastly different world.

Over the last two weeks my wife and I have both received the first of our two Covid-19 vaccinations and are eagerly awaiting the second. By the end of the month we will be fully immunized against the coronavirus. I don’t know that we expected to feel such a sense of relief after receiving only one dose. I’m hoping the second shot gives us an even greater sense of peace.

I don’t pretend to know exactly how the vaccine works. I’m grateful for the scientists and doctors who do. I do know that the vaccine stimulates the production of white blood cells that attack the virus at the point of infection and block the virus from infecting other cells in my system.

The vaccine helps my body produce T-lymphocytes (memory cells) that hang around in my body in case the same virus tries to return. If that’s not exactly how it works, it is explanation enough for my limited understanding of biology and the human body. I just trust that it works.

I’m not naive. I know every pharmaceutical company rushes to produce a vaccine knowing it will make them a lot of money. Free enterprise. I want to believe though that the scientists and doctors who do the research and develop the countermeasures to defeat a new virus do so because they hate to see the suffering it causes.

Just as those doctors hate a virus that causes physical suffering and death, God hates the sin that causes spiritual suffering and death. Work with me while I try to build something here.

The late Rev. Billy Graham once wrote that God’s love for man prompts him to hate sin with a vengeance. He wrote, “I tell you that God hates sin just as a father hates a rattlesnake that threatens the safety and life of his child…God loathes with a holy abhorrence anything that would hinder our being reconciled to him, wrote Graham.”

So what specifically does God hate? The writer of Proverbs laid out a list of things God detests.

“These six things the Lord hates, yes, seven that are detestable to him: A haughty eye, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.” (Proverbs 6:16-19)

Consider all these things a spiritual virus that infects the human soul with devastating and eternal results. Then, consider how rampant are each of these sins in our culture and society today. Arrogance. Deceitfulness. Murder. Hatred. Wickedness. Evil. Discord. The Covid-7 of the spirit.

These viruses are at the heart of our cultural dissonance and discontent, making this world more sin sick with each passing day. How eye-opening and frightening would it be to see these sinful attitudes charted on the nightly news. Billions infected. Millions hospitalized. Far too many dying in the sin of their choosing.

It paints a pretty dismal picture.

The good news for the world is that God long ago developed a spiritual vaccine to ward off the spiritually deadly virus of sin. The surest vaccine against the ravages of sin is putting one’s faith and trust in Jesus Christ as Lord.

For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Jesus Christ, our Lord.(Romans 6:23)

Here’s how that vaccine works. It changes and protects the heart. Like the T-lymphocytes, God’s spirit stays with us and in us convicting and convincing us of the sin we’re allowing to creep into our hearts.

Paul says the vaccine changes our attitudes and thoughts by attacking those sins that invade our hearts with their positive counterparts. He told the Philippian church:

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” (Philippians 4:8)

As much as he detests those notorious sins, don’t you know God loves these things all the more?

For this spiritual vaccine to work best we must take two shots that enable us to change our attitudes and our hearts. It’s a lesson Jesus taught an inquisitive Pharisee. You’ll find the story in Mark 12:28-34.

The teacher of the law came to Jesus, standing in the background as the Sadducees tried their best to trap Jesus with specious arguments and innuendo. Jesus saw right through them. Their questions were insincere, yet Jesus tried to enlighten them to the truth of his teaching. They just didn’t get it. The Pharisee, however, was beginning to see more clearly.

At a break in the conversation, the Pharisee in the background came forward, impressed with Jesus’ words. He had a question of his own. A good question. No intention to trap Jesus. Just a honest effort to pick his brain. To understand.

“Of all the commandments, which is the most important?”

Jesus leaned back against the wall and looked intently into the man’s eyes, gaining a measure of his character and intent. Seeing the honesty in his heart, Jesus answered.

“The most important one is this. ‘Hear, O Israel. The Lord our God; The Lord is one. Love the Lord our God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’”

Bam! There it is! Shot 1 of our spiritual vaccination. To avoid those things that God hates, we must inoculate ourselves against them by focusing our love on the God who first loved us. Totally. Completely. With all that we are. In every aspect of life. Without hesitation. Without reservation. Heart. Soul. Mind. Strength.

For we cannot succumb to arrogance if we are loving God with our everything. We cannot easily condone wickedness nor practice it in our own lives, if God is Lord…the boss of our lives. We cannot manipulate the truth, pass along lies as truth; we cannot sow discord among God’s people, if we focus our heart, mind, strength and soul on the will of God in our lives.

Jesus knew that loving God was the first and most critical step. Yet, he knew it was just the beginning. To be fully vaccinated in spirit, however, we can’t stop there. Jesus didn’t. With barely a pause to see if his first statement hit home, Jesus spoke again to the Pharisee.

“The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no greater commandment than these.”

Shot 2. Just like the medical vaccine, this one has a few side effects. Some of us might feel a l little queasy afterward. It might initially make us uncomfortable.

When we open our hearts to Christ, we find it easy to love God with all we are until we understand that he requires us to love those who disagree with us. Those who look different than us. Those who don’t typically walk in our circle. Yet, his love in us gives us the capacity to open our eyes, to expand our circle to include everyone with whom we come in contact.

Jesus permanently linked together loving God and loving our neighbor, whomever that might be, as the greatest of all his teachings. He knew if we do those things well, sin, our spiritual coronavirus, will never gain a firm foothold on our lives.

That’s the good news of the Bible. As deeply as God hates the sin, he loves the sinner. He sent his son to die so that we might live. The ultimate spiritual vaccine, taken in two inseparable doses, exemplified in our love for God and our love for those around us.

I’m glad I’ve been vaccinated. How about you?

Living in Fellowship

Background Passage: Ephesians 4:16

I usually fill this space with a more in-depth Bible study, sharing something I’ve learned from reading and studying God’s word. Allow me this week to share a more personal reflection.

For the past several years, a group of men and women from South Main Baptist Church in Pasadena have spent a week in South Texas, in partnership with Buckner’s ministries, building a home for a deserving family. This was the first year I was able to make the trip.

The work is as fulfilling and meaningful as it is tiring. I like that a family of seven will soon be stepping into a new home, vastly improving their living conditions. I like that my church does this as a mission ministry each year. I even enjoy the manual labor after a long career behind a desk…at least one week of it.

The wonderful side benefit of the trip, however, is the fellowship we enjoy with one another. I get drawn into the lively and spirited banter among friends. The laughter. The good natured insults. The mock indignation. The joy of being among Christian brothers and sisters doing a good work and the warmth of relationships grounded in God’s love.

The Bible doesn’t give you a great deal of insight into the fellowship of Jesus and his disciples. We read the serious words of Christ as he teaches his disciples things they needed to know and it all sounds like King James English, filled with thees, thous and thys. All so very formal.

I seriously doubt Jesus would recognize himself by the way he is portrayed in scripture. We read these things as if that was the limited of the conversation Jesus had with his followers. A few words here and there as they followed quietly along.

I, for one, would have loved being a fly on the wall in those hours between lessons as Jesus developed his relationship with those closest to him. The fellowship. The lively and spirited banter among friends. The laughter. The good natured insults. The mock indignation. The joy among Jesus and his followers doing a good work and the warmth of their relationship grounded in God’s love.

The Bible clearly teaches that God’s grace is sufficient for all our needs. A grace so sufficient that any believer, though sheltered and isolated from all human contact, could still be comforted, encouraged and connected to the God through the work of the Holy Spirit. Even though grace is sufficient, I don’t think we are expected to go it alone…to live in isolation from the corporate body…the church.

My time this week on a construction project in Penitas, TX, reconfirmed that idea for me. I revel in the fellowship and friendships of this group of selfless people

The connections…authentic and real.

The relationships…filled with grace, accepting, devoid of judgment.

Paul encouraged with the church in Ephesus to use the gifts which God gave them to benefit the body of Christ.

“Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is Christ. From him, the whole body held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work.”

I am grateful as these friends in fellowship teach me to embody the life of Christ through the use of their individual gifts and talents. As limited as my construction skill set may be, they still allow me to be a part of an effort so much greater than myself.

I find myself this week bound and connected by the supporting ligaments within the fellowship of my church. A place of belonging and service. And, as a follower of Christ, I can’t imagine a better place to be.

Time To Be a Monkey Fist

Background Passages: Psalm 107:23-30; 2 Corinthians 8:8-9; 16-17

I don’t know if you caught the YouTube video recently of cruise ship passengers riding out a storm in the North Atlantic where 30-40 foot waves regularly crashed against the window of their cabin. It’s one of those unnerving images of pending disaster that haunts a lot of travelers whether they travel by sea or by air. I’ve never cruised in waters that rough, but, in almost every port, I remember the gratifying feeling of being docked securely in the harbor. It’s a feeling similar to when your plane lands safety at its destination. Being back on solid ground offers great comfort.

As we arrived in that safe harbor on our last cruise, I watched from the deck of the ship as the captain used his starboard thrusters to ease the vessel toward the pier. He stopped the thrusters, leaving the ship 30 feet from the dock. The crew scurried to moor the ship by sending hawsers—thick ropes three inches in diameter–across the void from the ship to the bollards on shore. I remember thinking how hard it would be to toss the heavy ropes that distance to the pier.

Instead, the crew attached a 60-foot, thin rope to a rope ball about six inches in diameter, tying the ball to the hawser. They swung the ball around on the end of the rope like David’s slingshot and sent it flying across the emptiness between the ship and pier, carrying the thin line behind it. The workers on the dock picked it up, pulled the rope across the water, eventually dragging the hawser with it. They tightened the hawser, drawing and securing the ship close enough to the pier for passengers to disembark. It was a slick operation that allowed us once again to step upon firm ground.

I’m told the thick ball at the end of the thin rope was called a “monkey fist.” In the maritime world, the monkey fist, which dates back to the early 17th century, is a specialized knot wrapped around a stone, an iron ball or other heavy weight to make it easier to toss the heavy hawser onto the dock.

It’s this monkey fist that stirred my thoughts today.

Over the past several weeks, several friends and family members have found themselves at sea, struggling in the midst of life’s storms, most of which are not of their making. These difficulties, like waves on the ocean, crash against our lives threatening to sink even the strongest among us into depression and despair.

The psalmist used the poetic language of ancient mariners to indicate the difficulties we sometimes face.

“They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths;
In their peril their courage melted away.
They reeled and staggered like drunkards;
They were at wits end.”

Yet, the psalmist knew that God provided a safe harbor for those who trust him and call upon his name.

“Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble,
And he brought them out of their distress.
He stilled the storm to a whisper;
The waves of the sea were hushed.
They were glad when it grew calm,
And he guided them to their desired harbor.”

There is good news for those of us who commit our lives to Christ and know how precious it is to have him as our safe harbor. When the storms of life batter us, we know we can tie ourselves securely to him, confident that once we wrap our hawser around his bollard, nothing will separate us from his safe keeping. We know within the trouble and distress, he can calm the storm to a hushed whisper.

I have been in that position. The difficulty comes when my strength fails. When my courage melts away. When I am at my wits end. I can’t draw close enough to the Father on my own to toss him my mooring line. My burden too heavy. The distance between me and the Father too great. The line itself much too short.

In times like that, I need someone to hurl the monkey fist. Someone to make it easier to drag my hawser to the dock and tie it off to the bollard, safe within the arms of God’s love, care and protection. Invariably, I find a pastor, a spouse, a friend, and at times, a stranger, willing to tie all things together through word or deed that allows me to reconnect with God in the way I need it most.

We will all need that connection from time to time. Paul knew what it meant to find comfort in Christ. He wrote in 2 Corinthians 8:8-9, 16-17:

“We are pressed on every side, yet not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed…Therefore, we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”

When our batteries need recharging or when we need time out of the wind and wave to gather ourselves again for ministry and service, it’s comforting to know that we have a haven in Christ. I am grateful in my life for those who gripped and tossed the monkey fist on my behalf when the safe harbor seemed so far away.

This week many individuals will cross our path with lives torn apart by broken relationships, lost jobs, illness, injury and death. Those who struggle to make ends meet. Those with little hope for the future. Their seas are high and frightening.

We must look for opportunities to toss the monkey fist for those in need of the peace and comfort that only God can provide. May we be the ones that draw their storm-tossed vessel to the safety of the harbor and allow them to set their feet again on solid ground.

A Tribute to Kingdom Builders

Background Passages: Matthew 20:26; Matthew 25:14-30

I belong to a church that began its ministry in 1954. Since its doors opened, South Main Baptist Church, Pasadena, TX, two pastors have served the congregation. The late Dr. B.J. Martin pastored the church for 27 years before giving way to Dr. Ron Lyles in 1981. In a few days, Dr. Lyles celebrates his 35th anniversary with our church. Six decades. Two pastors.

This stability of pastoral leadership is certainly not a record for service at the same church. Other pastors served their congregations for longer periods. Yet, I think it says something about these two men of God.

What is the measure of a great pastor?

People look at a number of metrics to determine the vitality of pastoral ministry. We are, after all, a performance-driven culture. Some might look at church membership, Sunday School attendance, outreach totals, the number of baptisms, or the amount of congregational giving. Those should be important inputs. They are not, however, the important impacts.

Rick Warren, the pastor of Saddleback Church in southern California, said you measure the impact of a pastor, not on metrics as those above, but on his ability to be a “kingdom builder.”

A kingdom builder, according to Warren, is someone who…

lives for his great purpose,
lives by great principles,
lives on great power and
lives with great people.

Warren says our purpose for living as Christians is two-fold. First, our purpose is to spread the gospel of Christ to a lost world, bringing others into a saving relationship with God. Great pastors internalize that purpose and lead a church in a mission-minded focus, not just within the walls of the home church, but by establishing and supporting mission work at home and abroad.

Secondly, that great purpose calls us to move beyond evangelism to make disciples of those who place their trust in Christ. Making a commitment to Christ is a simple matter of faith. Living the purpose-driven life he requires daily is difficult unless someone teaches us how to live and relate to the world as God’s people.

In B.J. and Ron, I found men with equal zeal and commitment for spreading the gospel of Christ and for growing those wish to walk with the Father. Their passion proved in what they proclaimed from the pulpit and what they practiced as the daily pattern of life. The ministries they established in our church and our community shared the love of Christ in word and deed, touching not just the soul, but also meeting the physical, social and emotional needs of life.

Great pastors draw strength and wisdom from the foundational principles set forth by God in his scripture, according to Warren. A great pastor lives by these principles, letting them guide his every word and action. Both of my pastors made deep theological study an essential part of their preparation for ministry. You sensed their fidelity to scripture when they preached and taught. Yet, they made sure they grounded their heavenly theology with an earthly purpose…always rooted in the practical matters of life.

These gifts of teaching and preaching would have made limited impact if they are not wrapped in a cloak of love. For 35 years, Ron has lead our church to make to promises to all who join our congregation…to love them and let them love us in return. It is not a trite slogan, but a real promise of congregational fellowship designed to ensure that we care of each other in every way.

Warren said the power by which a pastor moves and serves rests in the presence of God’s spirit in his life. It is this Spirit who provides the discernment needed to guide, lead and counsel a congregation. Both men who have served as my pastor allowed the Holy Spirit to speak and work through them. Their ability to understand the needs of our congregation testified to the way the Spirit moved in their lives. They spoke the right word at just the right time. Provided new ministry outreach to fill a void. Comforted the hurting when they needed it most. It seemed God always put them exactly where they needed to be with the right word and touch.

Finally, Warren believes a pastor is a kingdom builder and a great pastor when he worships beside and with his people, holding himself and others accountability for the work of God in the church and in the community. He provides spiritual encouragement, building up the body to face a world that more often than not turns its back on God.

I have been encouraged by the studied approach taken by my pastors over the years as we dealt with contemporary social issues. Our church, under the leadership of our pastors, always tackled thorny issues of the day, but it was done after much prayer and acted upon with thought, compassion and grace.

Powerful sermons delivered in the past by both men resonated as a gospel of conviction and not the gospel of convenience often proclaimed from other pulpits. God’s people need to hear spiritual truth that makes us squirm a little in our pews. Both men spoke the Word of God with such passion that it dared their listeners to pick up the cross and carry it further down the road toward Christian maturity. I have been challenged, confronted, forgiven and encouraged. I have been allowed to serve and find my place of service both in my church and my community. I have been given opportunities to participate in mission outreach activities at home and abroad, allowing God to use me in whatever way he sees fit.

Yes. Without a doubt. My pastors, Dr. B. J. Martin and Dr. Ron Lyles were and are kingdom builders. Physically, they could not be more different. Spiritually, they could not be more alike. Both could preach. Both could teach. Both could take God’s word and translate it into a practical pattern for living in ways that even I could understand.

What is the measure of a great pastor?

If your measure is kingdom building, toss out the statistics and look to the heart. I can point you to two men made a difference in my life. Two men who encouraged me and countless others to think and live as kingdom builders.

My kingdom builders.

My pastors.

My friends.

“Well done, good and faithful servants. You have been faithful in a few things. I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness.” Matthew 25:21

You Matter to God; You Matter to Me

Background Passages: Genesis 1:26-27; Galatians 3:8; Mark 12:26-27

The Broadway musical Waitress tells a story about a young woman whose life turns out vastly different than she imagined it would. When life leaves her struggling as a waitress in a small diner, eking out a day to day existence with little to show for her effort, she feels invisible and unworthy of love and respect. She encounters a man who takes notice of her, sees her for who she really is. He spends time trying to convince her that she, and her life, are important.

Sara Bareilles, a talented singer and songwriter, penned the lyrics to You Matter to Me. The song speaks poignantly to the need in all of us to matter to someone. She wrote,

“I could find the whole meaning of life in those sad eyes.
They’ve seen things that you never quite say, but I hear.
Come out of hiding I’m right here beside you.
And I’ll stay there as long as you let me.

“Because you matter to me.
Simple and plain, and not much to ask from somebody.
You matter to me.
I promise you do, you, you matter, too.
I promise you do, you see?
You matter to me.”

In explaining the lyrics to the song, Bareilles said, “It was something so simple that I think is at the heart of what we really look for when we want someone who really sees us. It’s just a feeling that what you do and who you are matters to someone.”

I’ve listened a great deal to that song in the past two weeks. Within the lyrics lies an answer, I think, to the many issues that tend to divide us today, including “Black Lives Matter.” “Police Lives Matter.” These are such sensitive issues and I’ll probably fumble through it. Please bear with me as I try to express my thoughts.

First, it matters to me that an African American man or woman is shot and killed by a police officer, whether that act was willful and deliberate, a terrible misunderstanding or an absolute accident. Black lives matter. Secondly, it matters that an individual, acting in unmitigated anger, willfully and deliberately targets and kills any police officer. Police lives matter.

The personal and national tragedies occurring across our country today sadden me. The division among us which these tragedies create saddens me. That the tragedies get exploited by individuals, media and groups with political agendas, saddens me. The social wedge it drives between us creates a deep, personal and public fracture that will take time and selfless understanding to heal.

I believe fundamentally that your life, regardless of who you are or what you do, matters. First and foremost, you matter to God. Genesis declares that people…all of us…are made in the “image of God.”

“So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.” Gen. 1:26-27.

Every human being, regardless of race, ethnicity, background or profession, in some way mirrors God…something of God can be seen and felt in each of us. As a result of our created connection to God, all people are important to God. All people matter to God.

There ought to be a God-inspired corollary to that truth, especially to those who call ourselves Christian. Because God matters to me–as His child, His creation–you also matter to me. Neither race, nor ethnicity, nor social status, nor profession, ought to change that belief.

Paul tells us in Galatians 3:8, “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

The apostle need not spell out every category of human being for us to understand that in the eyes of our Father in heaven we stand the same. In every way that matters to Him and to us, we stand the same.

I was taught never to judge another unless I had walked in their shoes. My actions and the actions of others, are typically predicated on our personal experiences. How I respond to situations depends on what I have experienced, seen, heard and perceived…circumstances that impact my life. I cannot, therefore, fully understand the real and perceived discrimination African Americans feel. I have never walked in their shoes.

Nor can I fully understand the anxiety and trepidation a police officer must feel every time he or she answers a radio call for a domestic disturbance, a break-in, traffic stop or at any social protest. I have never walked in their shoes.

The plain and simple truth is we don’t need to walk in another’s shoes to sense their anguish over life circumstances. We just need to act on our faith principles and react in the love of Christ to each and every person we encounter.

Consider this. Jesus had been involved in one of those intense debates with the Jewish leadership who questioned so many of his teachings. Near the end, one of the teachers of the law came to Jesus and asked, “Of all the commandments, which is the most important?” Our Savior responded with a clear message about our relationship to God and to one another.

“The most important one is this: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: Love your neighbor as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these.” Mark 12: 28-31

We have an abundance of issues that would divide us today…gay and transgender rights, immigration, terrorism, “Black Lives Matter,” “Police Lives Matter.” “All Lives Matter.” All I know is that my political and social perspectives…all aspects of my life…must match my faith perspective.

Those groups and individuals at the center of every one of these issues matter to God. Therefore, they and their feelings must matter to me. I matter to God. Therefore, I and my feelings, must matter to you. Until we start listening with intent to love as God loves, we will never find the common ground we need. We will never truly matter to each other.

You matter to God. You matter to me. As Bareilles says, “It’s not much to ask from somebody.”