Category: Obedience

Return the Copper Nails

Background Passage: Psalm 51

A Christian man worked for a shipbuilder. The owner of the company considered himself an atheist. With disdain, he constantly mocking his employee for the futility of his faith, treating him with disrespect and contempt.

The Christian man was building a boat for his family in his backyard for his family. Because he could not afford them, he began stealing copper nails from the shipyard to use on his personal project. At first, just a handful. Then, he stole them whenever he needed more.

Perhaps it was the bosses attitude that convinced him that taking the copper nails was justified. Perhaps he felt he was owed more than he was paid. In every other way, the man’s life was exemplary. Yet, when it came to copper nails, he chose to ignore the voice of God within his heart.

*****

He was God’s chosen king. A faithful servant. Courageous warrior. Slayer of giants. Skilled musician. Leader of men.

David, a shepherd boy from Bethlehem, found himself called by God and anointed by Samuel as King of Israel. Such was the depth of his character that God called him, “A man after my own heart.” David earned that distinction. His reputation for humility, reverence, devotion and faithfulness created an aura about him, recognized by all he encountered.

Yet David, this man of God, experienced moment of abject failures. At times, human weakness consumed him. Consider his actions on a cool and sleepless night.

David walked onto the balcony of his palace overlooking the city below. In the moonlight, he watched as a beautiful woman bathed in the moonlight. Struck by her beauty and consumed with lust, he sent his servants to bring Bathsheba to him. What began as a night of illicit passion ended in pregnancy.

His folly did not end there. In a series of Machiavellian maneuvers, David compounded his sin. He was not swept away by circumstance …simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nor did he act on impulse. David’s sin was meticulously planned.

To protect his position, David devised a plan to bring Bathsheba’s husband, Uriah, home from battle to be with his wife. When Uriah refused to indulged in his own desire because his men were still at war, David schemed again. He sent the commander on a suicide mission. When Uriah was killed, David took Bathsheba as his wife, somehow rationalizing his actions as acceptable.

Like David, we face our own crisis of character. Sometimes we find the strength to walk through the danger to the other side. Sometimes we fail to be who we desire to be. Who God intends us to be. We engage in the sin that eats away our moral fiber. Rather than correct our path, we swallow our guilt. Push it deeper into the darkest recesses of our souls.

Such efforts seldom work. There comes a day when we must face the sin. Face the consequences of our choice. Do I keep living this way? Separate from the will of God? Do I repent and find a new way to live?

Sin we bury always rises to the surface when we least expect it. On a beautiful spring day when the prophet Nathan stood before the king, he brought words that would dredge up the long-buried sin David tried to hide from himself and from God.

Nathan spoke of a rich man who hosted an important visitor for an important dinner. As host, the rich man prepared a huge banquet in the honor of his guest. However, rather than slaying one of his own sheep for the table, he ordered his servants to take and butcher the prized lamb of the poor farmer next door. It was this lamb he served to his important guest.

David interrupted before Nathan could finish the story. Incensed. Furious.

“As surely as the Lord lives,
the man who did this deserves to die!
He should pay for the lamb four times over
because he did such a thing and
had no pity.”

The king’s anger echoed in the chamber, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Then, quietly and with no joy, Nathan said,

“You are the man.”

In that instant, the sin David buried in his soul, flashed before his eyes, a painful reminder of his spiritual failure. The burden of guilt welled in his eyes as he struggled with the weight of his mistakes. Hear the agony of his voice.

“Have mercy on me, O God,
According to your unfailing love;
According to your great compassion blot out my transgressions.
Wash away my iniquity and
Cleanse me from my sin.

“For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is always before me.
Against you have I sinned and done
what is evil in your sight.”

David’s story could parallel the hubris and folly in my life and yours a hundred times over. Time and time again we fail to live up to the standards of God. We fail to live up to the image of Christ. Then, in some way the Holy Spirit calls us to drop the pretense and take a good hard look at the face in the mirror.

When the eyes staring back at us break our hearts, maybe it’s time to throw ourselves at the mercy of a Father who loves us deeply. David came down from his throne and knelt before the throne of God with a changed heart, acknowledging his sin. Taking that first step toward reconciliation.

Once he confessed his failure, David knew that God only could take his sin away. Pleading for God to erase the sin from his heart. Seeking forgiveness and restoration.

“Cleanse me with hyssop and I will be clean;
Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.”

For all his failure, David knew what God required of him. He knew God wanted more from David than someone simply going through the motions. God desired a changed heart.

“You do not delight in sacrifice or
I would bring it.
You do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
A broken and contrite heart.”

It is one thing to acknowledge my sin. I can know that what I’m doing is against God’s will and still do it. Simply going through the motions will not suffice. My life will not change until my stubbornness is crushed. Until God pries opens my heart and breaks down my resistance. I change my life only when my spirit is broken and my heart sincerely open to God’s direction.

A contrite heart doesn’t make excuses or attempt to justify one’s sin. God is not interested in empty apologies or halfhearted resolutions. A contrite heart expresses with real and deep sorrow our personal rebellion against God. A contrite heart desires to live differently. A contrite heart also knows that change is not possible without God’s forgiveness.

David knew the power of forgiveness to renew his life. Consumed by guilt, he asked simply for God to allow him to hear again “joy and gladness;” to allow his “bones to rejoice.” Then in some of the most beautiful verses in all scripture, David expressed his desire to experience a new life in the presence of God.

“Create in me a pure heart, O God,
And renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Restore the joy of your salvation and
grant me a willing spirit to sustain me.”

A pure heart is intent upon living within God’s purpose and plan for its life. Focused on doing right. One where every thought and action reflects the teachings of Christ. It is only then that the joy we experienced when we first allowed Jesus into our lives is restored in perfect purity. It is only then that we find ourselves again content in our own skin. It is only then we can look into the reflection in the mirror and smile.

*****

For weeks the Christian man happily hammered the copper nails into his sailboat. Then, one Sunday, the pastor spoke about the two thieves surrounding Jesus on the cross. From that day forward, every stroke of the hammer pounded his sin more deeply into his heart.

After days of guilt, he laid his sin before God in repentance. He went to his pastor and confessed what he had done. He also knew he should also confess to his boss, but also knew it would give justification for the man’s arguments against his belief in God. He felt he could not confess his sin because it would reinforce the man’s disdain for God.

For weeks he struggled until he finally told his boss everything and paid him back for the copper nails he had taken. The man expected to lose his job. To his surprise his boss accepted his payment and said, “Any God that would cause a man to admit his failure might be a God worth knowing.”

All I know is that in my own life I’ve nailed a few stolen copper nails into my own boat. And, from time to time, I still do. Yet, it is not the way I want to live. When I am right with God and with those around me, I know true joy.

It is good to know that we serve a God who forgives a repentant heart. It’s good to know that our mistakes do not have to define us. God’s forgiveness frees us to serve again.

So God waits patiently for the contrite and broken heart to call out to him…

“Create in me a pure heart;
renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Restore the joy of my salvation.”

It’s time to return the copper nails so we may be useful again. That’s my prayer for all of us.

Here’s Mud In Your Eye

Background Passage: John 9:1-41

God created us with intelligence and natural curiosity. He created us to reason and think. To learn something new every day we live. That’s why I love being around children. In a quest of new discovery, they are willing to ask a thousand questions just to understand one thing more. Learning is a God-given gift.

That’s why I love to study scripture. There is so much of God’s plan and purpose I do not understand, I always feel like a child on the verge of discovery. Seeking new insight. Tossing away old paradigms. I believe there is always something new God can teach me about his nature…about the life he has given me.

That’s probably why I struggle with those who live in such certainty that their faith gets set in concrete leaving them unable and unwilling to test what they know. Dogma is the death of discovery. When it comes to my faith, my certainty rests in my personal experiences, everything else is discovery. Maybe that’s why the blind man in John 9 is one of my favorite Bible characters.

Deep blue skies.
No cloud in sight.
By daily measure…ordinary.
To those walking the streets of Jerusalem…unnoticed.
To the man born blind…remarkable.

He sat on the stone-lined edge of the Pool of Siloam.
Feet dangling into the water.
Cool.
Clear.
Staring in wonder at his reflection
Framed by the blue heavens above.
His first time to see his own image.
His first time to see anything.
His trembling fingers traced the hollow of his eyes.
Touched the rise of his cheeks
The contour of his nose.
Brushed through his coarse beard.
Ran his fingertips along his sun-baked lips.

Heart racing.
Breath,
a series of ragged gasps.
He lifted his eyes to the world around him
and immediately raised his hands.
Shielded his eyes from the harsh glare
of the mid-morning sun.
He blinked.
Tears running down a face
he had never known.

A world of touch and texture,
brought to life in a
confusion of form and color,
now coalesced around him.

For the first time he saw…
the ripple of wind on water.
The elegance of the portico-covered pool.
The dance of sunlight and shadow.
The beauty of the surrounding hills.
The people…oh, the people.

Slowly, his mind adjusted to this new reality.
Standing awkwardly like a new colt,
steadied by the joyful friend who guided him here from the temple,
the man gradually found his balance…
not an easy task for one blind since birth.

In time,
they danced.
Sang.
Laughed.
Cried.
On his way home…
throughout the streets of Jerusalem…
he shouted to anyone and everyone,
“I can see!
I was blind, but now I see!”

John tells this poignant story in a series of scenes set between two major confrontations between Jesus and the Pharisees. We find Jesus and his disciples leaving their time of worship through the south gate of the Temple. As they walked down the steps, his disciples posed a question steeped in Jewish tradition. Pointing to a man begging on the bottom of the Temple steps, they asked,

“Jesus, who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born blind?”

According to the prevailing belief of the day sin was responsible for all illness and disability. A child sick or disabled since birth either sinned somehow in the womb or the parents’ disobedience caused this infirmity. Jesus often fought this kind of misguided thinking. Seizing this teachable moment, Jesus explained to his disciples.

“Neither this man nor his parents sinned. This happened so the work of God might be displayed in his life…While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

Neither God nor man caused this unfortunate circumstance, but God would use this man’s condition as a living metaphor of his ability to turn darkness and despair into light and life.

With that declaration, Jesus approached the man. Sat next to him on the steps. Engaged him in quiet conversation. Sensing the man’s open heart, Jesus spat on the ground and worked his saliva and the light gray limestone soil into a muddy paste that he spread across the man’s eyes. Taking his hands in his own, Jesus stood, lifting the man to his feet.

“Now, go,” he said, “wash in the Pool of Siloam.”

With the help of a friend, the man made his way down the slope of the Temple Mount, about a quarter of a mile southward toward the large, terraced pool, fed by the Gihon Spring. The man must have received odd looks as he made his way through the crowd with mud covering his eyes.

He sat on the edge of the water and did has he was instructed. Splashing the cool water on his face, the man wiped the mud from his eyes. I can see him taking a deep breath as he wipe away the water and grim with the sleeve of his robe. Slowly, he opened his eyes to a brand new world.

Over the next few hours and days, the man faced disbelief and disparagement. Some friends thought him an impostor. The Pharisees called him before the council, not to celebrate his healing, but badger him in hopes of accusing Jesus of violating the Sabbath. They sapped the joy of his healing.

Fearing for their own reputation, his own parents refused to stand by him. Ultimately, the Pharisees condemned him as a sinner, eventually excommunicating the man from the synagogue because he refused to deny that Jesus was the one who restored his sight.

In the end, John tells us that Jesus sought out the man whom he healed after learning about the Pharisees’ actions. Face to face with Jesus, the man made a heart-felt confession of faith. At the Pool of Siloam, in the blink of an eye, his physical blindness became 20/20 vision. Over the course of the next 48 hours, he went from being entombed in spiritual darkness to being embraced by the Light of the world.

The power of Jesus echoes throughout this amazing story. But, I also marvel at the authoritative testimony of the man born blind. Standing before a hostile panel of powerful religious leaders who called him a fraud, grilled him mercilessly, challenged his every word, the man never faltered. Never failed to speak the truth.

The Pharisees clamored for him to deny Jesus’ power. Pushed him to denounce his healer. “We know this man is a sinner!” they shouted, challenging him to confirm their accusation. With uncommon strength of character, the man, so unlearned in theology, said simply,

“Whether he is a sinner or not, I don’t know. One thing I do know. I was blind, but now I see.”

What an extraordinary confession of faith!

Imagine the man’s first few moments at the pool. Sights never seen began to fall into context in new ways. Not only were his eyes changed, but God transformed his mind to allow him to interpret and make a sense of what he was seeing for the first time. The miracle changed his heart. A life of resigned despair became a life of renewed hope and endless possibilities.

So what is the take away from this man’s experiences?

There is so much about God’s creation I do not understand. So much about his plan and purpose I cannot comprehend. So much about his nature which remains unknown to me. So much he still must teach me. I don’t know about you, but like the Pharisees, I tend to build a false world around me filled with my plans, my truth and my finite understanding of God and his world based on what I think I know. What I’ve discovered in my life is that that viewpoint is almost always limited. To an extent, that’s okay.

Look at this man’s example. He could not explain what happened. How his eyes were opened remained a mystery to him. He didn’t claim to understand. Nor did he back down in the face of mounting pressure. He merely spoke out with a growing faith borne of powerful, personal experience.

“This one thing I do know. I was blind, but now I see.”

What an extraordinary confession of faith! This man born blind from birth would find ahead of him a life of discovery, not just in the physical world he could now see, but in his budding faith. Knowing what he did not know, he started his new life on what he had experienced with Jesus. That’s a fine place to start.

When I don’t have answers to every question that comes my way, this one thing I do know. I was blind, but now I see.

So, my prayer today is simple. “God, cover my eyes in mud. Let me wash in the Pool of Siloam. Let me understand more clearly, God, who you are and what you need from me. Let me see the world from your perspective. Open my heart and my mind to the discovery of this life you’ve given me. At the end of the day, when the world challenges that which I do not fully know, let me share my personal experiences with you.”

Maybe that’s a prayer that works for you as well.

Here’s mud in your eye.

Chase the Lion

Background Passages: II Samuel 23:20; Jeremiah 29:11

The list of places to see and things to do on our imaginary bucket list grows shorter each year. One particular trip remains unchecked. We want to go on a photo safari to Africa. After far too many trips to the zoo, I’d really like to see these magnificent animals in the wild…the way God intended them to be.

Certain movies create that kind of visceral response. The Ghost and the Darkness, a 1996 movie starring Michael Douglas and Val Kilmer, is one of those movies that triggers primal fear within me. The Ghost and the Darkness is based on a true story about the Tsave Man-Eaters…two African lions that terrorized the workers on the Uganda-Mombasa Railroad in western Kenya in 1898. Atypical of most lion attacks, Ghost and Darkness would stalk the campsite and drag their victims from the tents into the tall grass.

Work on the project ceased when the workers refused to enter the area. The railroad company hired famed British hunter, John Henry Patterson to track and kill the lions. In the story of man versus beast, the hunter became the hunted as the animals began intentionally stalking Patterson. Every time I watch it I find it absolutely terrifying. That we have yet to go on our photo safari may best be explained by that movie and my irrational fear of being mauled by a lion.

Maybe that’s why an obscure verse in II Samuel caught my eye.

“Benaiah, son of Jehoiada, was a valiant fighter from Kabzeel who performed great exploits. He struck down two of Moab’s best men. He also went down into a pit on a snowy day and killed a lion.” (II Sam. 23:20)

I don’t know why Benaiah felt compelled to jump into the pit with a lion when most of us would run the other way. It was cold. Snowing. Perhaps the lion’s ordinary prey grew scarce in the frigid temperatures. Maybe the lion was terrorizing the village. Regardless, Benaiah took it upon himself to chase the animal down. When it fell into a pit or tried to hide in a cave (depending on your translation), Benaiah jumped in after him.

If you stayed outside the pit like I would, you would probably hear the frightening roar of the angry lion and the shouts of a determined man. The sounds of a life and death struggle would echo from the depths. Then, silence. You might hear the scratching of someone or something scrambling up the walls of the pit. As you start backing away, you see a hand grab the overhanging tree branch. Benaiah drags himself out of the pit. He lies in the grass catching his breath, scratched and bloodied, but victorious.

In his book, Chase the Lion, author Mark Batterson uses this little known scripture to challenge the reader to face fear and chase the will of God even when the path looks far too difficult. He writes, “In every dream journey there comes a moment when you have to quit living as if the purpose of life is to arrive safely at death. You have to go after the dream that is destined to fail without divine intervention.”

As Christians we are taught from the beginning that God has a plan and purpose for our lives. What most of us find is that the dream he gives us scares us. His will looks far too difficult. Our natural tendency is to reject what looks too hard. We look for an easier path. But, Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9:23) In other words, I should set aside my own will and desire to follow the more difficult path God has chosen for me…the one that requires me to take up his cross every day.

He doesn’t call us to play it safe. If that was his intention, we would have little need for him. No. The life he chose for us will not be easy, but the victory is already won. Later Jesus said, “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

God’s plan for each of us requires us to chase the lion. That’s not always the most comfortable thing to do. We see the path God has laid out in front of us. Solitary lion tracks in the snow. A distant blood-curdling roar. Suddenly, we see clearly that God’s path takes us outside our comfort zone, especially when the path we want to take looks well-traveled. Smooth. Secure. Safe.

The Bible gives us examples beyond Benaiah of those who chose to chase…

Noah chased his lion onto the ark.
David chased his lion to Goliath.
Jesus chased his lion to the cross.
Peter chased his lion onto the water.
Paul chased his lion to Rome.

Lest we think such courage is best left to Bible characters…

Martin Luther tacked his lion’s carcass to the door of the cathedral.
The Pilgrims chased their lion to a new world.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer chased his lion to a Nazi concentration camp.
Martin Luther King chased his lion to Selma.
Billy Graham chased his lion across the earth.

Knowing the difficulty of the task to which God called them, each of these biblical and modern day heroes of faith probably wished to run the other way at some point. Instead, they chose to chase the lion. Maybe at some point, they heard the same voice Joshua heard when he fearfully scanned the Promised Land from the safety of his bank of the Jordan River. Maybe they, too, heard the voice of God saying,

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage. Don’t be afraid. Do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)

I don’t know what lions you’re facing. I know they all look frightening. I have faced a few of my own. All I know is that God wants us to chase his will. To follow where he leads. When we turn and run the other way, we’re missing out on the best God has to offer simply because it is his plan and not one we dreamed up on our own.

“I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

So when you hear the lion roar, know that his blessing comes in the chase. Our victory comes in the pit. Gather your courage and jump on in.

In Damascus, There Was A Disciple…

Background Passage: Acts 9:1-25; Acts 22:13-16

The light flashed and the world would never be the same.

In one of the most familiar passages in the New Testament, an ambitious and zealous young Pharisee, emboldened by the stoning of Stephen, begged for a chance to carry the persecution of Christians beyond the walls of Jerusalem. With letters of authorization in his pocket, Saul set out for Damascus breathing the fire of fanaticism, intent upon finding the followers of the crucified Christ and dragging them back to Jerusalem for punishment. A man on a malicious mission.

With the walled city of Damascus on the horizon, a blinding light seared his retinas and knocked him to his knees. He cried out in shock and pain only to be silenced by a voice calling his name.

“Saul, Oh, Saul. Why do you persecute me?”

In the course of a powerful conversation on a dusty road, Saul came face to face with the brutality of his deeds and the reality of the living Lord.

“I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. Go into the city. You will be told what you must do.”

We know this story as the conversion of Saul. The redeemed missionary of God told of his encounter with Christ over and over again. A testimony and tribute to the unmerited grace of God.

The light on the road to Damascus changed the heart of a man who would become the world’s greatest missionary and the agent of redemption to the Gentile world. Saul’s was a life so transformed that he needed a different name. We now know him as Paul. It’s a wonderful story of God’s transforming work in his world.

From that moment on, Paul played a starring role in the spread of the gospel, but his supporting cast contributed to his success. Barnabas. Silas. Timothy. John Mark. We can list name after name of those who traveled with Paul. Assisting in his work. Staying behind in isolated locations to grow the seeds of faith he planted.

One name we tend to overlook took Saul’s hand in his blindness and called him “Brother.” Let me introduce you again to Ananias.

He climbed the narrow stairs
to the roof of his home.

A cool breeze blew in from the sea,
refreshing his body and soul.
From this vantage point,
Ananias could watch the sunrise
cast its reddish glow over the eastern hills,
reflecting onto the wispy clouds streaked across the sky.
On the rooftop.
The perfect way to start each day.

Ananias stretched his arms over his head.
Stood on his tiptoes
to loosen aching muscles,
stiff and sore after a fitful night’s sleep.

Sitting on the parapet of his home,
legs dangling over the side,
Ananias sipped a cup of goat’s milk.
Listened to the familiar sound of his wife
preparing breakfast for the family in the room below.

Despite the peaceful surrounding,
he could not shake the sense of unease
as he thought about last night’s dream.
He could picture it as clearly as if
it actually happened.
Hear the conversation as surely as if
God sat beside him on the wall.
He walked it through again in his mind.

A voice called…

“Ananias.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Go to the home of Judas on Straight Street.
Ask for the man from Tarsus named Saul,
for he is praying.
In a vision he has seen a man named Ananias come
and place his hands on him to
restore his sight.”

Over and over in his mind, he heard,
“…a man from Tarsus named Saul…”
“…a man from Tarsus named Saul…”

…”Go…”
“Go…to Saul…”

Ananias felt his stomach roll again.
“This makes no sense…”

Saul’s reputation preceded him.
So much anger in this Pharisee.
So much harm to the saints in Jerusalem.
Ananias knew the rumors.
Saul was coming to Damascus to spread his terror.
To arrest every follower of Jesus that he could find.

The voice in his dream
urged Ananias to go as instructed.

“He is my chosen instrument…”

God had a plan.
Ananias had a part to play
in that plan.

Shaking himself from his reflection,
Ananias took a deep breath.
Climbed down from the roof.
With a faith deeper than his fear,
he walked through town to Judas’ home.

Ananias stopped short at the sight of the temple guards
gathered around the campfire.
Their presence
triggered his desire to run.

He steeled his resolve.
Stepped forward.
Stared straight ahead.
Walked slowly through the soldiers
as they began to rise.
Hands on the hilt of their swords.

The door to the home opened before he knocked.
They had expected him.
Ananias stepped over the threshold.
Closed the door.
Let his eyes adjust to the dim light.

Saul sat facing the fire.
Blind eyes stared vacantly into the flame.
Lost in private pain.
A face etched with guilt.
The once proud Pharisee rocked
absent-mindedly on the small stool.
Lips moved in silent prayer of
remorse and repentance.

Ananias stood without moving.
Fought the desire to turn and go.
But, when he saw the tears well in Saul’s eyes,
the disciple’s heart broke.
For the first time he saw Saul.
Not his fine robes.
Not his rage.
Not his reputation.

He saw Saul.
He saw the broken heart of a
despondent and despairing soul.

Ananias found himself standing beside Saul
without remembering the steps it took to get there.
He followed Saul’s gaze into the fire,
With tears in his own eyes,
he laid his hand gently on Saul’s shoulder.
After a moment of shared silence,
Ananias spoke in a voice soft and sincere,
“Brother Saul…”

With those words
the scales of physical and spiritual blindness
fell from Saul’s eyes.
New sight.
New insight
Into his purpose in life.

Scripture reveals so much about how God used Saul, or Paul, as he was later known, to take his good news to the Gentile world. This former zealous Pharisee became the world’s most ardent servant of Christ and arguably, next to Jesus, the most important man in the Christian faith.

By contrast, we capture what we know of Ananias only in this story and in one small reference in Acts 22. Here he is called simply “a disciple.” In Chapter 22,  a “devout observer of the law” and a “man highly respected by the Jews” in Damascus.

We don’t know when Ananias became a follower of Christ. Maybe he heard Jesus preach and put his trust in him on a Galilean mountainside. Perhaps, he was a Jew who had traveled from his home in Damascus to Jerusalem for Pentecost and heard Peter proclaim the gospel. Maybe, a friend told him about the resurrected Christ he saw in the upper room. Regardless of how it happened, Ananias was a disciple.

Yet, his actions tell us so much more about this follower of Christ. It’s notable to me that he is called a disciple and not a pastor or evangelist. Not a deacon or an elder. A disciple. A follower. A learner. As a man who professed his faith in Jesus Christ, Ananias spent his time trying to figure out what that meant and how he should live as a result. He was a man much like you or me.

Ananias enjoyed a wonderful reputation as a student of Old Testament scripture and one who lived obediently to its teachings, a likely hold over to his Jewish upbringing. When introduced to Jesus either in person or through the witness of others, the encounter changed his life. He accepted Jesus as the Messiah promised in scripture. The passion he held for his faith as a Jewish man found its fulfillment in Jesus.

Despite his break from the prevailing Jewish doctrine, Luke tells us in his account that his reputation among the Jews in Damascus remained unsullied. They could find no fault in him. As followers of Christ we ought to have that glowing reputation in our own communities. The world should know us as a Christ followers. As learners. As people who take the principles of Christian living so seriously that it directs the way we live. We see in this passage, Ananias’ commitment to Christ.

We also see in the lines of this story, the courage of his conviction. The religious leaders in Jerusalem sent Saul to Damascus to rain down havoc. He had papers to prove it. In all likelihood, Ananias was on Saul’s hit list. Christians in Damascus knew Saul was coming. His reputation for ruthlessness frightened them. He brought with him a promise of prison, punishment and death.

I suspect many of the Christians fled the city in advance of Saul’s arrival…but Ananias stayed. We don’t know why. Maybe he thought, “What good is my conviction if I choose to disown it at a difficult time or run from it in the face of adversity?” When others ran, Ananias stayed.

With the call of the Holy Spirit, Ananias not only stayed, but he made himself available to do the brave and the unthinkable. The Lord called and Ananias answered as Samuel did. “Yes, Lord. I’m here.” He did not know the mission…not yet…but he opened himself to the possibility of being used by God.

Ananias may have shown his inner Samuel, but he also channeled his inner Gideon when God told him what he needed him to do. Jesus planted the seed of salvation in Saul’s heart. The Holy Spirit needed Ananias to close the deal. To lay hands upon this broken man and welcome Saul into the fellowship of believers.

“I’m here, Lord, but did I hear you right?” When presented with God’s plan, Ananias sought clarity and understanding. The whole idea of going to Saul was counter intuitive.

“I have heard many reports about this man and all the harm he has done to YOUR saints in Jerusalem. And he has come here with authority from the chief priests to arrest all who call on your name.”

Ananias and I share a common trait with Gideon. Our short-sightedness gets in our way. You see, most of the time our vision is unable to see beyond our fear. God’s perspective…his vision…takes in history and future in a moment’s glance. Our failure to act upon his direction cancels the blessings that come from playing the role God needs us to play.

Sometimes our myopic sight needs clarity that only God can give. I think God delights in our desire for understanding if it comes from the heart. When Ananias questioned the sanity of confronting Saul, God answered, not with recrimination, but with a promise. “Go! This man is my chosen instrument to carry my name before the Gentiles and their kings and before the people of Israel.”

Sprinkling the fleece with dew, God told Ananias, “I need you today. I’m counting on you because this man is a game changer, but he needs to see that my people are willing to embrace the change in his heart. You’re step one in this process, Ananias. I need you to do this for me.” With the fleece sufficiently damp, Ananias went where he was told. We must be ready to do the same.

I’m not sure when Ananias’ heart truly turned. I suspect he was talking himself into doing what the Holy Spirit led him to do before he made the turn down Straight Street. I suspect he didn’t know for sure how he would react when he came face to face with Saul. His heart changed, however, when he saw the man, humbled, hurting and blind, sitting before the fire.

Can’t you hear it in his voice, choking back the emotion of the moment as he placed his hand upon his shoulder, “Brother Saul…” In this moment, in those two words, we underscore the compassion of Ananias. His words, his touch, stitched the open wound of Saul’s remorse that had to be closed and healed before he could be used by God for great and mighty things.

“Brother Saul.” The whole gospel story hinged on those two words and the world would never be the same.

I don’t know about you, but I find it pretty easy to be a disciple of Christ in the broad sense of the word. I enjoy learning about Jesus and how my relationship with him needs to be evidenced in my life. It’s much harder to move beyond the learning and into the listening. To the obeying. To playing the role I hear God calling me to play. Drawing upon the courage of my conviction to risk even as much as a mere insult…I find that much harder to do.

Ananias reminds me that God asks me to be available. To set aside fear and uncertainty to follow where he leads, even if that means walking through a platoon of temple guards to stand face to face before my persecutor. He reminds me to see clarity of God’s intentions and to accept that the view from heaven is infinitely broader and wiser than mine.

I learn from Ananias that the smallest act of obedience can have great significance. The simplest act…calling a troubled soul “my brother…” may be all it takes to change the world.

What Are You Doing Here?

Background Passage: I Kings 18 and I Kings 19: 1-18

Just hours earlier, God’s great prophet called down the fire of God upon the water-soaked altar he built on Mt. Carmel, in defiance of the king who had led Israel down a path of wickedness. Now, Elijah hid in the shadow of the broom bush near Beersheba after a marathon sprint from the place of his greatest victory. Running for his life under the weighty threat of a vengeful queen who shook with anger at the impotence of her gods and impertinence of Israel’s prophet.

What a difference a day makes! One minute he’s basking in the warmth of an all-consuming fire that proved the power of the God who sent him. The next day he’s gasping for breath, unable to face the coming day. Wishing for death to come on his terms, not at the hands of a queen who wants to make him suffer.

Falling into an exhausted slumber, Elijah awoke to God’s messenger offering a meal of hot bread and cool water. After more rest and another meal, the prophet wandered south, away from his fears and toward the same mountain where God once spoke so clearly to Moses.

We find him 40 days later, trembling in the dark recess of a cave halfway up the mountain, knees clutched to his chest, feeding on the fear that gripped his soul. Overwhelmed and feeling alone, Elijah wallowed in self-pity.

Emotionally exhausted.

Spiritually spent.

During the still of the night, the voice of God penetrated the noise of all that troubled his soul, asking one of the most pertinent questions the Creator can ask his created.

“What are you doing here?

On one hand, it sounds like a rebuke. God chastising his prophet for his lack of faith and trust. On the other hand, maybe it’s a gentle nudge. God prodding his prophet to set aside his fear and spend a moment in self-reflection.

Elijah responds, reciting the condition of his soul. “I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to the death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now, they are trying to kill me, too.”

God, hearing the despair that poured from Elijah’s heart, said simply, “Go. Stand on the mountain for the Lord is about to pass by.”

I can see Elijah as he leaned upon his staff to leverage himself from the ground, the weight of the world upon his back. He limped to the mouth of the cave where he had been hiding and leaned heavily against the rock.

As he stood gripped in his fear, the wind howled, tearing boulders from the cliff. The ground shook with a powerful earthquake. A fire scorched the valley beneath him, searing every tree and bush in sight. Elijah saw evidence of God’s presence, but heard nothing. Then, in the quiet aftermath of an incredible display of power…in a whisper that tickled his ear…God’s quiet voice asked again,

“Elijah, what are you doing here?”

*****

What are you doing here?

What a great question! Elijah witnessed one of the greatest demonstrations of God’s power on Mt. Carmel. He participated in it. Served as the agent through which God accomplished his plan and purpose. For a brief moment in time, Elijah stood on the top of the world certain that everything for which he had worked for the past three years would come to pass. When repentance failed to come and trouble stood on the horizon, Elijah ran away.

Within hours of his great victory, Elijah lost his nerve. Lost his desire to serve. Lost his will to live. The prophet who boldly challenged the king who had led Israel into depravity found himself huddled in a cave wrapped in a cloak of self-pity and discouragement.

How often do we act like Elijah? Filled with the glow of God’s presence and power after a time of ministry and mission. Basking for one minute in the mountain top experiences God grants to those who faithfully serve him only to lose our nerve when faced with the counter circumstances of life and the world’s challenge to our faith.

We run from the mountain top while the sound of God’s latest victory in our lives still echoes from the cliffs. With all the speed we can muster, we move as far as we can from the source of trouble and the source of our power.

Distressed.

Disturbed.

Despondent.

How quickly we allow the tables to turn! We withdraw, feeling like we’re the only one fighting the battle. Ready to quit. Ready to abandon the God who needs our hands and voice. We run until we find ourselves hiding in a cave where we think our enemies and our God cannot find us.

It takes God’s relentless love to draw us back, not through a powerful demonstration of his might, but through a whispered word of quiet rebuke intended not to reprimand, but to cause us to reflect on the choice we just made.

I don’t know about you, but there are times when I have spent so much time in my cave that I have decorated it and called it “home.” Invariably, God finds a way of getting my attention. Then he asks that simple question.

“What are you doing here, Kirk?”

If this is where you find yourself today I suspect, if you listen, you’ll hear the whispered words of a loving father asking you the same question. “What are you doing here?”

Here’s what I know. God still needed Elijah. Once he got his attention, he told him, “Go back from where you came. There is so much more to do. You are not alone.”

He was not finished with Elijah and he is not finished with me or you. When we find ourselves hiding in our cave of our own choosing, God calls us, like he did Elijah, to change our focus. When we see again the world through his eyes, our perspective changes. We quit staring at our circumstances and look again at the possibilities and opportunities still open to us.

So, I ask you the same question I hear all too often, “What are you doing here?”

A Righteous Woman of Influence

Background Passages: Luke 1: 26-38; Luke 1:46-55; Luke 2:22-40; John 2:1-12; and John 19:25-27

Mother’s Day lies just around the corner. I’m reminded of words spoken by the late Dr. Billy Graham speaking to the unique opportunity God gives women to influene and impact the lives of others in ways that few men can.

“There is nothing in this world more personal, as nurturing or as life-changing as the influence of a righteous woman.”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not minimizing the man’s role in God’s world. When men allow God to rule their lives and women live out their call to righteous living there is a divine balance that makes the world a better place.

However, as most of us blessed with wonderful mothers can testify, Dr. Graham’s statement rings with the peal of abiding truth. I have felt it in my own life. The righteous influence of godly women…a wife, a mother, aunts, Sunday School teachers, public school teachers and countless friends…absolutely shaped and molded who I am, spiritually, professionally and personally. A new generation of women, led by my two amazing daughters-in-law, continue to teach me the things I need to know about being the man God needs me to be every day.

As I think of the women who influenced my life, I realized how blessed I am to have known so many women who believed in me. Women who supported me. Women who propped me up when I stood on the edge of failure. I think of the women who lifted me up at some point in my life with their presence…their words…their friendship…their touch…just when I needed to hear or feel it. Their influence is a tremendous gift in my life!

I’m convinced God placed these women in my life for a reason. Their influence in my life shifted from the piddling to the powerful because they live each day as righteous women.

So what does it mean to be a righteous woman of influence?

Of all the women of influence in the Bible I point you to Mary, the mother of Jesus. We, Baptists, fail to give Mary the credit she deserves for her unrecognized impact on Jesus’ life. Mary wasn’t perfect. She didn’t walk around with a halo above her head. She was certainly more than a simple vessel God used to carry his Son. To better understand Mary’s role, embrace the humanity of Jesus.

Let me explain. We tend to think of Jesus in the divine. We casually recognize his humanity, but we want to color it heavily with his godliness. We like to think Jesus was pulled from the womb without crying, speaking King James English and turning water into milk.

We don’t think of him as a baby with colic, crying through the night. A toddler who fell and bumped his head on the table Joseph built. A three-year-old disciplined for taking a toy from his little brother. We don’t think of him as a little boy scraping his knee while chasing a friend. As a teenager who thought that little Jewish girl down the street was pretty. We never consider that as a young, apprentice carpenter he one day bashed his thumb with a hammer, biting back the ugly word you and I might say.

If he came into the world to be like us, we have to embrace his human side…acknowledging the perfect way he dealt with all those very human situations. If we can fully accept Jesus’ humanity, that part of his personhood had a very human mother…one amazingly normal, human mother. The mother who lost it at times because she was up three nights in a row with a squalling baby. The mother who swatted the hand of a three-year-old for taking his brother’s toy. The mother who looked at that pretty little Jewish girl as a threat to her son. The mother who kissed the scraped knees and laughed at her son when he swallowed that ugly word after bashing his thumb.

If Mary was an ordinary, very human woman, why did God choose Mary to be the mother of his only begotten son? Why was she so “highly favored?”

I think God chose Mary because he knew the person she was. Knew the kind of mother she would be. God chose Mary because he knew she would love Jesus unconditionally. Knew she would teach him about life and model everything good in it. God chose Mary because she would stand beside him in the darkest hours of his life. He chose Mary above all others because she possessed the mother’s instinct to raise Jesus with the spiritual and moral integrity to tackle the mission God planned for him as the savior of the world.

God chose Mary because she lived as a righteous woman of influence.

Mary’s story begins in bizarre fashion. Not every woman could handle the news she heard. Mary possessed the spiritual depth to believe an implausible message.

It is one thing to accept the unlikely future while the angel speaks. It’s another thing to stay faithful when the angel disappears in the darkness. The rational side of Mary knew her pregnancy would bring a host of life-altering issues…ridicule and disgrace…embarrassment to her family…Joseph’s anger. What strikes me most about Mary’s response to the unexpected visit from the angel is that, in the end, she submits to the will of God with such obedience and trust. She said in response to all she heard,

”May it be to me as you have said.”

What an amazing moment of faith and obedience! Despite knowing the difficulties this decision posed in her life, she allowed God to work his will. How often do you think Jesus heard this story as he was growing up? Imagine the lesson of obedience and faith it taught him.

Still, like the disciples and like us, Mary struggled to understand God’s way of working out his redemptive plan. Her understanding of “Messiah” did not contemplate a tragic death. Though she heard it in the temple when Jesus was born, she did not anticipated a “sword would pierce her soul.” Even though she didn’t have Jesus all figured out, she grappled with the unknown, trusted God, and remained faithful to his call on her life.

More than once we see where Mary “pondered in her heart” all that happened around her. She did more than simply deliberate the meaning of a word or event. Rather, she watched, listened and thought about all that happened around her and her son in light of the message from the angel that night, in light of the words from the rabbi and prophetess in the temple. She constantly made the connections, determining how she could help make God’s plan come to pass in the life of her son. Not content to just let life happen, she laid the groundwork needed to bring it to pass.

At some point in Jesus’ life, Mary’s faith, obedience and trust, stood out as an encouragement to Jesus when he was struggling to follow God’s plan. Can’t you almost hear Mary’s words whispered in the Garden of Gethsemane as Jesus agonized over his impending death on the cross? I believe at such a time, Jesus recalled the words of his mother when she told the angel, “May it be to me as you said.” His prayer says, “Not my will, but yours…” the essence of obedience and trust…Mary’s model of faith that carried him through his most difficult times.

To be a woman of influence requires obedience to God and trust in his plan for your life.

GROUNDED IN AND GUIDED BY SCRIPTURE—MARY’S SONG
We encounter Mary again in scripture when she visits her aunt, Elizabeth. After they share each other’s miraculous stories of God’s blessing, Mary sings a song from her heart. Find in the words of Mary’s song the boldness to call for God’s justice in an oppressive, unjust world. Find in Mary’s song, the words and deeds of Jesus. She sings from Old Testament scripture, the traits of a living God:

“…you are mindful of me in my humble state…” Look at Jesus’ own humility before God.
“…scatters the proud…” Look at Jesus’ challenge to ritualistic faith of the Pharisees.
“…lifts up the humble.”… Look at how Jesus work so fervently for the poor and needy.
“…fills the hungry…” Look how Jesus fed the multitudes both physically and spiritually.
“…he is merciful…” Look how Jesus offered mercy to those who did not deserve it.

This was the image of God that Mary carried in her heart. Things she learned from scripture before the culture really allowed women to study God’s word. She internalized scripture she read or heard to the point where it shaped her life and ultimately the life of Jesus. That was the God she knew. That was the character of God she taught God’s son. I can imagine Mary singing her song to Jesus every night as she laid him in bed as a child, a poignant lullaby…embedding those godly virtues into his very being. Modeling it for him every day. In the end, her influence contributed to his role as the servant Messiah.

To be a righteous woman of influence ground yourself in scripture. Let it guide your actions. Share its meaning with those you love. Live out its lessons as you tend to the needs of others.

ENCOURAGING THE READY…THE WEDDING
We see Mary at the wedding in Cana. Mary tried to work through a potentially embarrassing situation when the host family ran out of wine. She brought the problem to Jesus.

Why would she do that? Jesus even asked her, “Why are you bothering me with this? My time has not come.” My mind sees Mary looking deeply in the eyes of Jesus without saying a word. Never taking her eyes off his, she spoke to the servant beside her, “Do whatever he says to do.” The twinkle in her eye and the crooked smile on her face signaled her belief that Jesus would do the right thing…every time. Her trust in him full and complete. That one look gave Jesus permission to be who he was intended to be. It is as if she were saying, “Now is as good a time as any, my son. I don’t need you as much as the world needs you. What are you waiting for?”

A woman becomes a righteous woman of influence by playing the role she plays…recognizing when it’s time to push the bird from the nest. Knowing when a simple word of encouragement to someone convinces them it is time to get started doing what God called them to do…time to take that leap of faith. Letting them know, “This is your time.”

DEEPLY LOVING AND BEING DEEPLY LOVED
The most endearing and enduring passage concerning Mary takes place at the foot of the cross. Scripture paints a vivid picture of a mother watching the son she raised and loved dying an agonizing death on the cross. A death she could not comprehend. Only a mother who lost a child can begin to fathom the emotional suffering Mary experiences as she hears his ragged breathing. Sees the pain etched on his features. Watches his life flow out with every drop of blood spilled on that rocky soil.

The words of Jesus from the cross whispered to John and Mary tell us everything about Mary’s influence on Jesus. “Behold your Mother.” “Behold your son.”

Jesus’ loved his mother so deeply he could not let death take him without ensuring that Mary would never be alone. Jesus recognized through his own pain the deep sorrow of one who loved him. Surely, while on that cross, there were flashbacks to every embrace, every kiss, every smile. Jesus hung on that cross, feeling like God had abandoned him, looking down on a mother who never could. A mother whose love was endless.

You become a righteous woman of influence when you love others so deeply that you are deeply loved in return.

My mom passed away 20 years ago. I cannot explain the magnitude of her impact on my life…my understanding of who I am…how I relate to others…the focus and purpose of my life.

I learned from her delightfully sarcastic sense of humor. Never mean-spirited, but always catching you off guard. Life needs laughter and it is always easiest to laugh at yourself if for no other reason but to avoid taking yourself too seriously.

She taught me to deeply respect the ability of women to be accomplished in any field, reminding me to keep capable, intelligent and independent women in my life. I loved it when she convinced my sister to leave the nursing field and become a medical doctor because she was smarter than most men with the degree.

She instilled in me an understanding that marriage was a partnership, promising to break my arm if she ever heard that I did not help with the housework.

She taught me about being a beloved grandparent. I loved how every minute she spent with our kids was personal and filled with joy. She was, after all, the one who sat on the floor with my boys and my brother’s girls and taught them to play poker.

Like Mary, my mom was obedient to her God, trusting him in all of life. Demonstrating her faith in the most difficult of times. She was able to do so because she was grounded in and guided by scripture, knowing just how to apply Christ’s teaching in the most practical of ways. Mom encouraged each of her children to pursue our dream and passion, instilling in us the belief that we could do anything. There were times when she pushed us with an impeccable sense of timing to start down the path God intended for us. In the end, Mom was loved deeply because she deeply loved.

Without a doubt, like Mary, my mom was one of those righteous women of influence.

I recently saw a posting on Facebook that said, “The fact that you are a woman doesn’t make you a different kind of Christian, but the fact that you are a Christian ought to make you a different kind of woman.”

Being a righteous woman of influence is a choice. Make it.

Living as a righteous woman of influence is a commitment. Live it.

The responsibility of being a righteous woman of influence is a gift from God. Claim it.

 

Wherever He Leads

Background Passages: Mark 8:27-36; Luke 9:18-25

Jesus slipped to the grass from the flat rock upon which he sat as he spent the last hour in prayer. The canopy of trees under which he now reclined with his back against the rock sheltered him from the late afternoon sun. Jesus glanced at his disciples gathered in a loose cluster about 40 feet further down the hill. As they finished their prayers one by one, they talked quietly among themselves, breaking out a small loaf of bread and passing it around, satisfying their hunger.

Jesus looked from his disciples down into the town of Caesarea Philippi, a bustling city 30 miles north of the region of Galilee. He watched the frenetic pace of the people as they finished the work of the day and headed home. He lifted his eyes toward the sheer cliff on the north side of the city. It rose 150 feet above the lush, green valley below. He knew the streamlet gushing from the massive grotto on the western edge of the cliff were the headwaters of the Jordan River as it flowed south to the Sea of Galilee.

The cavern was said to be the birthplace of Pan, the Greek god of nature. Worshippers still brought their offerings of fruit and grain, laying them at the altar.

His vision shifted to the gleaming temple of white marble which Philip, the region’s ruler, dedicated to Caesar Augustus, the Roman emperor whom the people considered a god. Before these temples and altars were built, Jesus knew his history well enough to know the whole area stood as a center dedicated to the worship of Baal, the ancient Canaanite god.

It was a deeply reflective moment. Jesus contemplated the scene spread across the valley below. Considered all he had done during his ministry. Felt his gut tighten when he thought about the cross to come. Had anything he said and done made a difference? Before he began his final journey to the cross Jesus needed to know. Did anyone really know who he was?

He turned to his disciples quietly talking and laughing in the ease of friendships forged by common experiences. His words cut through the comfortable conversation. “Who do the crowds say I am?”

They turned toward Jesus in a rustle of robes and shuffling feet. They were used to his probing. Knew an answer was required. “John the Baptist,” one blurted. “One of the old prophets brought back to life,” announced another. “Elijah,” another proclaimed.

Jesus glanced again at the city below, lost in thought for a moment. Then, he turned back to his disciples. “But what about you? Who do you say I am?”

Jesus held his breath, looking into the eyes of each of his closest friends. Their answers would make all the difference. Would he see blank stares of incomprehension? Would he catch so much as a spark of understanding that meant he had at least lit a torch in their hearts. He waited. Felt his heart thump anxiously in his chest.

How his soul must have soared when Peter stood among them, looked at his friends, then to Jesus, knowing that he answered for all of them. “You are the Messiah. The Anointed One of God.”

That moment sealed the deal for Jesus. He then taught them intently about the events to come. Suffering. Rejection. Death. Resurrection. Prophecies that left them frightened and confused. Then, he challenged them with words that echo still in the ears of every believer today.

“If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it. What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and yet lose or forfeit his very soul?”

The call of Christ demands that we deny self. It’s not a matter of dismissing our lives as unworthy or inconsequential in the grand scheme of God’s plan. Denying ourselves means to set aside our egos. Deliberately subordinating our will to the will of God. Opening our lives to the possibility that his plan for us is greater and more meaningful than the one we planned for ourselves. It means turning from where we wish to go to follow the path he lays before us.

The call of Christ demands that we take up his cross. Not just any cross…his cross. Jesus knew the horror of what lay before him. When Jesus was a boy, a Jewish rebellion in Sepphoris, just four miles from Nazareth, ended badly for those who fought against the Roman empire. Historians tell us more than 2,000 rebels were crucified, set in lines along the roadside as a frightful reminder of the power of Rome.

To face the cross was a vicious reality burned into the back of his mind. He, as well as anyone, knew what it meant to take up the cross. It stood as the inevitable certainty he faced by declaring a kingdom of God that rocked the boats of the pious and the political.

Today, taking up the cross of Christ means to live our life with the same focused commitment to God’s purpose that Jesus did. It means preparing for rejection in a world that does not understand. Letting nothing… no thought of ridicule, persecution, or embarrassment…prevent us from doing that which we know God desires us to do. It means looking at a world that dismisses Jesus as irrelevant and proclaiming in word and deed, “I belong to Christ!”

Denying ourselves. Taking up his cross. These are steps in the right direction. If we stop there, however, we miss that which matters most. The call of Christ demands we follow. It means spending our lives, not hoarding it. It means giving of ourselves, not taking from others. It means not playing it safe, but doing the right thing at all times and in all situations. It means not getting by with as little as we can for the cause of Christ, but investing ourselves completely in his ministry.

The way of the world always seeks to gain advantage over another. The goal of the world is to amass more wealth, power and glory than the guy next door. Jesus would answer that unbridled ambition with this question. Where is the eternal profit in that way of life? Jesus said one saves his life when he loses it in service to others.

As believers in Christ we have been called to follow the lead of Christ, not always knowing where it will take us. Doors open and doors close. Following his lead is not always easy, but it is always best.

I’m reminded of the old invitational hymn, Wherever He Leads, I’ll Go, written in 1936 by Baylus Benjamin McKinney. He penned the words to his poem after meeting with the Rev. R.S. Jones, a South American missionary who had been pulled from service. Because of a serious illness, he would not be allowed to return.

“What will you do?” McKinney asked his friend.

“I don’t know, but wherever he leads, I’ll go.”

From a simple conversation between two old friends poured the words that challenge us…challenge me…today.

“Take up thy cross and follow me,”
I heard my master say;
“I gave my life to ransom thee,
Surrender your all today.”

He drew me closer to his side,
I sought his will to know,
And in that will I now abide,
Wherever he leads I’ll go.

It may be through shadows dim,
Or o’er the stormy sea,
I take my cross and follow him
Wherever he leadeth me.

My heart, my life, my all I bring,
To Christ who loves me so;
He is my master, Lord and king.
Wherever he leads I’ll go.

The chorus of the song declares, “I’ll follow my Christ who loves me so.”

Wherever he leads, let’s go.