Category: Service

Take Up Your Cross

Background Passage: Mark 8:31-37

Passing a large church in the Philippines several years ago, a pastor from the United States spotted a number of vendors selling incense, candles, veils and rosaries. That’s not really what caught his attention.

His eyes were drawn to two young boys running through the crowd selling small wooden crosses. Hawking their goods with enthusiasm, he heard them calling, “Crosses!. Cheap crosses for sale! Buy a cheap cross!”

It’s a painful reality, isn’t it? That’s exactly what many of us do. We want a cheap cross, one that demands little of us. All celebration and no commitment.

The cross of Christ was no cheap cross. It came at an unbelievable cost as a ransom for my sin…and yours.

Jesus and his disciples just returned from a staff retreat in Caesarea Philippi where Jesus earnestly began teaching them about the role God sent him to play. When Peter, in a moment of clarity, declared that Jesus was the Messiah, the Christ, God’s Anointed One, he got the title right. Despite his confession, he and the others still failed to understand exactly what that meant.

From that moment on, Jesus spoke more plainly to them about the suffering that was to come. Mark records the moment.

He then began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priest and teachers of the law, and then he must be killed and after three days rise again. He spoke plainly about this, and Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. (Mark 8:31-32)

Peter missed the whole point of the lesson learned in Caesarea Philippi. Comfortable in his preconceived notions about what a Messiah should look like and how a Messiah should act, he pulled Jesus aside and fussed at him for saying anything contrary to his idea of a political deliverer. “This is not the way to win friends and influence people, Jesus.”

Peter’s response must have broken Jesus’ heart. Jesus glanced back at the disciples who still looked a little shellshocked at Jesus’ description of the work ahead and then at Peter’s “better listen to me” scowl. The whispered rebuke to his strongest disciple must have pierced Peter’s heart.

But when Jesus turned and looked at his disciples, he rebuked Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! he said. “You do not mind the things of God, but the things of men!” (Mark 8:33)

After a brief standoff, Jesus shook his head and sauntered back to the crowd that stood nearby. After a glance back at his disciples to make sure they were paying attention, Jesus laid his heart open for all to see.

If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whomever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it. What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul? (Mark 34-37)

Jesus seemed to tell them, “You call me Messiah, but have no clue what it means for me or for you…let me be clear.” Don’t you imagine the words he preached burned like hot coals into the core of Peter’s soul!

I can see Jesus looking straight into Peter’s eyes when he started his message. “If anyone would come after me…” These words speak to a decision point. More literally in the Greek, the phrase suggests, “to come to a point of being with…”

Jesus is telling them if you’re truly with me, if you’re going to walk with me, if that’s what you decide to do, then understand clearly the price you must pay.

When Jesus talks about denying oneself, he speaks of changing out one’s selfish heart with one that looks toward a greater good. Understanding what God needs you to do and not getting in his way. Moving away from being served toward serving.

You see, Peter’s picture of the Messiah was drastically different than the one Jesus was painting. The path he thought he was following far different from the one for which Jesus was preparing Peter and the rest of the disciples.

To deny oneself is to realize life is no longer all about me. No longer about my personal agenda. It is about the one to whom I belong. It’s about my service to others. It is about losing myself in Christ. It’s about allowing God to work in and through the gifts he gave me so Christ is revealed in me. Giving God custody and control of my life.

Paul hinted at this when he said, “…You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore, honor God with your body.” (I Corinthians 6:19-20)

To take up one’s cross conjured up a horrific image within the context of those first century, would-be disciples. The cross stood as Rome’s unique and cruel form of public punishment and humiliation designed to keep the population in check. Its brutality was on display for all to see.

Undoubtedly, almost all, if not all, of those present that day with Jesus had witnessed its barbarity on display. They clearly understood the implications of what Jesus demanded of them.

If you make the decision to be with me, you must be prepared to give your life for my sake. There is nothing cheap about this cross. It was a cost too many, even in Jesus’ day, were unprepared to pay.

I think of the rich, young ruler who chased Jesus down and honestly shared his faithfulness to the teachings of scripture and his devotion to prayer and the slew of good thing he did for others. Jesus looked in his heart and saw that his lifestyle consumed him. Jesus suggested that if this rich, young man wanted to come with Jesus, he had to give up the lifestyle he enjoyed. (Matthew 19:16-22)

I think of the three men who came to Jesus while he was traveling, pledging to follow him wherever he went. The first turned back when he discovered the Jesus life would be a bit uncomfortable. The second man wanted to wait until his father died. The third man just needed a bit more time with his family and friends. (Luke 9:57-62)

Each in their own way threw up obstacles that prevented them from committing their all to Jesus. The cost of discipleship was too steep. It wasn’t a cheap cross then and it isn’t any less expensive today.

I’ve heard some trivialize this passage by interpreting the cross as some burden they have to bear…a physical illness, a soured relationship, a thankless job. It becomes little more than some aspect of life that is little more than a symbolic annoyance.

To the first century follower of Christ to take up the cross expressed the willingness to make the ultimate sacrifice for the cause of Christ. It didn’t mean everyone who followed Christ would die on the cross, but it meant a full surrender to that possibility. To give your life completely to him.

Jesus certainly understood the cost as he agonized over it in the Garden of Gethsemane. As he endured its painful reality at Calvary. But, when Jesus spoke the words, asking us to take up our cross, I believe Jesus thought less about the dying and more about surrendering. Yielding to whatever God asked of him. Asking us to yield to whatever God asks of us.

You can’t do that with a divided heart, holding on to a distorted or watered down version of what following Christ means. We must submit our hearts absolutely and without reservation to the call of Christ. It is a call of self-sacrifice and surrender. Paul called it “dying to self.”

Look how Jesus described the cross-bearing life in Luke 8:35. He said we gain life in all its abundance and fullness when we lose or surrender our lives to “me and to the gospel.” Absolute devotion to Christ and to the sharing of the gospel, the good news, of the grace offered through Jesus.

The questions Jesus then posed to the crowd conveyed the seriousness of that decision.

What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul? Or, what can a man give in exchange for his soul?

The ancient Hebrew viewed the soul as the entire inner nature of man, the eternal and imperishable essence of every being. Based on our faith commitment to Christ it is that part of us that endures in the everlasting presence of God or separated from him for all eternity.

The passage ends with the consequence of the choice we make when we don’t take up the cross. We could gain all there is to gain in this world…all its wealth and power…all its beauty and bounty…yet when we die, we’ll find our souls outside the eternal presence of God, unable to share in his glory for all time.

Jesus said even if we gained the wealth of the whole world, it would not be enough to purchase what Jesus so freely gave.

Late in the nineteenth century, Justin Van DeVenter struggled with the decision to leave his teaching career and enter the ministry. He describes a pivotal turning point in his life when he gave in to God’s call.

“A new day was ushered into my life,” said Van DeVenter. “I discovered deep down in my soul a talent hitherto unknown to me. God had hidden a song in my heart and, touching a tender chord, caused me to sing.”

It was a song that would profoundly influence Billy Graham’s early ministry. I suspect his words touched many of us as well.

All to Jesus I surrender;
All to him I freely give.
I will ever love and trust him,
In his presence daily live.
I surrender all.
I surrender all.
All to thee my blessed Savior,
I surrender all.

Jesus calls us to take up our cross. To do so means surrendering all to him. I’d like to say I do that every day, but I don’t. It’s easier to hide behind an obstacle, make an excuse or convince myself that I know better. I’ll surrender some things but hold tightly to others.

Then, I hear those words again. “What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, but forfeit his soul?” The answer is clear. No good at all. The cross is not cheap.

Let’s allow that old hymn resonate knowing full well the cost.

All to Jesus I surrender.

I surrender all.

Let Us Not Give Up Meeting

Background Passages: Matthew 16:13-19; I Peter 2:4-8; Hebrews 11:24-25

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 stream 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.”

I wrote the above narrative almost three years ago. It is a favorite episode of mine from the life of Jesus. At the time I wrote it, I used it to talk about what that kind of faith commitment means. I was reminded of that devotional last week for a different reason when I read the following headline that popped up on my news feed.

“U.S. Membership Falls Below Majority for First Time”

A stunning statement, but not surprising. We’ve all seen the evidence.

The Gallup Poll provides interesting fodder for sociologists and students of American culture. Of the many things it has surveyed over the past 80 years, Gallup annually measures religious affiliations and church membership.

Gallup reported this year that Americans’ memberships in houses of worship dropped below 50 percent for the first time since the data was collected. In 2020, 47 percent of Americans said they belonged to a church, synagogue or mosque, a drop of 23 percent over the last 20 years.

At the same time, Gallup also showed that the United States remains “religious.” More than 70 percent of all Americans affiliate with some type of faith tradition.

So, the question begs to be answered. If 70 percent of us claim to be religious, why are less than half of us a member of a local congregation? Why is it that almost every church has a membership role that far exceeds its regular attendance? What does it mean for the church in the days to come?

I think the answers to those questions go back to that hillside in Caesarea Phillipi. After Peter made that astounding declaration of faith and Jesus breathed his sigh of relief, he turned to Peter with an amazing statement of his own.

“Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by man, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.”

Jesus declared to Peter that because of his profession of faith he would be the rock upon which his church would be built. Baptist pastor Michael Stark said, “Our Lord was saying to Peter that he was the beginning of the new Israel, the new people of the Lord, the new fellowship of those believing on His Name. Peter was the first to both understand who Jesus was and to declare openly that truth.”

Peter is spoken of as the rock of the church in the sense that he was the first person to fully comprehend who Jesus was. While the Catholic church elevates Peter to a high status within the church, Peter himself never felt that way. He spoke often of being a “fellow worker” and a “bond slave.”

Don’t take that passage out of context. The rest of scripture declares that it is not just Peter who must be the rock of his church, but all of us. In his one of his own letters to the early church Peter wrote,

“As you come to him, a living stone rejected by men but in the sight of God chosen and precious, you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” (I Peter 2:4-8)

Do you hear what he said?

“You, yourselves, like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house…”

You and I, as believers in Christ, are the building blocks of God’s church.

Practically, we know that every building needs a solid foundation and quality materials. God laid a foundation of reconciliation to a sinful world. Jesus’ life and ministry, his work on the cross and his resurrection served as the faith cornerstone of the church.

In light of the Gallup report, how effective can that church be if we remove our stone from its walls?

I don’t know why so many are choosing to leave the organized church. Perhaps, the church has grown too tolerant in some cases; too intolerant in others; too self-righteous to some; and far too political in its extreme.

What I do know is that the cause of Christ is damaged every time one of us says, “I have had enough.”

We are a sinful and imperfect people…both inside and outside the church. When I use that as my measure, viewing the church only as a body of hypocrites, it’s easy to walk away.

I see those in the church as very much like me. Filled with fault. Trying their best to live according to God’s purpose. That’s when I find I most need the church. That’s when I find the church most needs me.

The headline made me think. Why do I stay involved when others choose a different path?

The Bible calls us to corporate worship and good work. We congregate so we can love and be loved. We congregate in order to serve others as Jesus served. In a world that easily rejects everything it means to live for Christ, I need the encouragement of fellow believers to keep from giving in or giving up. I find that encouragement in the gathering of the church.

The writer of Hebrews said it plainly:

“Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another. (Hebrews 11:24-25)

To be sure, there are many believers of genuine faith who no longer belong to a specific congregation for a variety of reasons. They have given up their habit of meeting together. I don’t question that their faith is real and meaningful. However, I know what I receive by being active and involved in a local congregation. Therefore, I know what they are missing.

As a part of the church, I am loved. With all my faults and mistakes, as a part of the church I am accepted. As a part of the church, I have a place I can serve using the gifts God has given me. As a part of the church, I am taught the things of God. As a part of the church, I know I am where God expects me to be.

We’ve all been hurt by someone in the church at some point in our lives. We’ve all been disappointed and let down. By the same token, we have hurt and disappointed our share of people, I’m sure. Regardless, of how deeply that hurt runs, we cannot abandon the place where God calls us to serve wherever that may be.

You see, my church became the church to me because I became a part of it and, in doing so, it became a part of me…if that makes sense.

To all those believers who have walked away from the for whatever reason, the God needs you now in his church more than ever. Find a place where you can be encouraged. Find a place where you can love and let them love you. Find a place where you can serve God with all the gifts he gave you.

Let us not give up meeting together. Let us keep investing ourselves in his work, participating in his ministry. Now is not the time to walk away. Become a part of a church somewhere that needs your presence and in doing so, let it become a part of you.

The Uncomfortable Christian

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blessed are the uncomfortable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He Went About Doing Good

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is this “doing good” that Paul addresses?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Puzzle Pieces

Background Passage: Corinthians 12

Josiah, my youngest grandson, loves to work jigsaw puzzles. The bigger the better. His self-imposed lower limit is 300 pieces. At six-years-old, he has far more patience at the process than do I. His gift for spatial awareness eludes me. He sees a gap in the puzzle, scans the available, intricately designed pieces and almost always finds the right piece. It’s uncanny.

I kept Eli and Josiah by myself for two days this week while their parents prepared for a new school year and Grandma was out of town. Josiah asked me to work a couple of jigsaw puzzles with him. Though not a big fan of puzzles, I joined him. He put in five pieces for each one I found.

At one point, he held a piece between two fingers, remarking about the “uniqueness of its shape.” He handed it to me and said, “It’s easier to find where they go if they’re unique.” Then, he laughed. What I heard was, “Here, Grandpa, even you should be able to find the place for this one.”

But, he’s right. The most difficult puzzles are those where the shape of every piece is exactly the same. Without realizing it, Josiah reminded me of a beautiful biblical truth. We are each uniquely made by a loving Creator who has a place and a purpose for us all.

The Corinthian church struggled with that concept. Paul found a way to address the issue to prevent the first-century church from tearing itself apart.

Step back into the first century.

Corinth sat on a major trade route. People from all over the world entered its gates. Walked its streets. Engaged in commerce. Bringing with them their cultural, social and religious mores. An ethnically and socially diverse community, the blend of culture created an atmosphere of intense immorality and idolatry.

Corinth’s depraved reputation unnerved Paul prior to his first visit there. In I Corinthians 2:3 he admits, “I came to you (that first time) in weakness, with much fear and trembling.”

Though he had been successful in establishing new churches in other Greek communities, he also faced brutal opposition. It is hard to image any situation causing the faithful and powerful disciple to tremble. Along his way to Corinth, the images of Daniel in a lion’s den surely crept to mind.

Though anxious about the reception his message would receive, Paul preached “not with wise and persuasive words (of man), but with the power of the Holy Spirit,” a God-inspired message that fell on receptive ears and believing hearts.

Just a few years later, word came from Corinth about the struggles of the church. It didn’t take long for some in the church to believe their work, their God-given gifts, were of greater worth and value than others. You see, they began to believe that the shape of their jigsaw puzzle piece made them more important than other more ordinary pieces. With each declaration of supremacy, the wedge of bitterness split them apart.

Paul dispelled that notion.

“There are different kinds of gifts, but the same spirit distributes them. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of workings, but in all of them and in everyone the same God at work.”

Paul goes on to list a series of unique spiritual gifts of great benefit to the church, but he adds at the end…

“All of these are the work of one Spirit, and he distributes them to each one just as he determines.”

In other words, God gives to you those gifts he needs you to have at a time in your life when you need to have them. It is for you to use to do the work he needs you to do.

Every gift we’ve been given, Paul writes, has been given to us for “the common good,” as a means of building up the church, its members and reaching out to a lost and misguided world. If God grants that gift for a purpose, no gift is more important than the other. No one role more critical than another.

Jigsaw puzzles didn’t hit the market until 18 centuries after Paul’s letter to the Corinthians so he used a different illustration to make his point.

“Just as the body, though one, has many parts…so it is with Christ…If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact, God has placed the parts, all of them, in the body just as he wanted them to be.”

The eye needs the hand and the head needs the feet, Paul said. Every part of the body has a role to play in God’s purpose and plan. If one part feels superior or one part feels it doesn’t belong, if we push aside a part because we don’t care for its looks, or, if every part of the body is exactly the same, the body loses its God-created uniqueness.

Josiah will tell you the unique pieces of a jigsaw puzzle allow us to pull the puzzle together. Each piece connects with those around it. We build around those easily identifiable pieces, making new connections as we go until the puzzle is a completed picture.

In the same way, our individual strengths allow us to find our place in God’s picture. When we are in the right place, properly using the gifts we’ve been given, it allows others to more easily connect to the body of Christ…to find their place in his picture.

The work of the church ought to be about helping others find their place in God’s picture. Celebrating the God-designed differences. Making those critical connections with one another that draw us together in one body, one spirit, rather than ripping us apart. When we find that unique piece, we ought to be able to fit it into the mission and ministry of the church. As Josiah said, “Even you can do it, Grandpa.”

The challenge before the 21st century church is to make new connections in a Corinthian world. Connecting each other into kingdom work and extending beyond the walls of the church to reach those who do not hear God calling them to be a part of his bigger picture.

The diversity of the church is its strength. Your uniqueness and mine play important and distinctive roles in the kingdom of God. When we don’t play our part, or minimize the part of others, or fail to pull all the pieces together, we create a hole in God’s plan…his work remains unfinished.

We find ourselves in a time when the people of God are being pushed into the corner by the world around us. It’s easy to isolate ourselves from those indifferent or intolerant to our faith. Now is not the time to huddle. Now is the time to reach out and find those unique pieces; to begin putting the puzzle together once more.

Every time he works a jigsaw puzzle, I play a game with Josiah. Somewhere in the process, when he’s not looking, I’ll hide a piece. When the work is done, he discovers a hole in the puzzle. The picture is incomplete. I attempt to save the day by “finding” what I’ve hidden and putting in the last piece. We wrestle and laugh as he takes the piece away from me. Finally, he plugs the final piece into its spot and beams.

The angels in heaven beam every time we connect a new piece to the puzzle that is God’s kingdom. Image the celebration that will occur when the heavenly puzzle is complete.

When the Axe Head Floats

Background Passages: 2 Kings 6:1-7; Proverbs 3:5-6

I don’t remember exactly when the tree in my in-laws’ back yard died or when they chopped it down. I just remember that the stump was in the way of a wooden deck they wanted to build.

I took my turn among the brothers-in-law wielding an axe, chopping through the thick roots of the once thriving oak. At one point as I pulled the axe over my head, the axe head came off and flew across the yard, leaving me holding the handle.

I have no idea why I thought about that this week. Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered a similar story in the Bible. I had to search to find it, but I did. Some of God’s greatest lessons come from unexpected sources.

One reason to read the Bible is that we sometimes find practical life lessons through relatively unknown passages. God has a way of using the obscure to teach the what ought to be obvious. Timothy tells us as much, “All scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness.” (2 Timothy 3:16)

I found one of those nuggets of truth from the life of the prophet Elisha.

Elisha spent some of his time in ministry training a new group of God’s prophets. Who wouldn’t want to learn from this incredible man of God? God rewarded Elisha’s leadership by sending more and more men to sit at his feet.

At one point, the students came to the master and requested that they be allowed to cut down a few trees to build a new meeting house for they had outgrown the place where they were.

“Let us go to the Jordan and each of us get a pole and let us build a place there where we can meet.”

They were willing to do the work required. Commendable.

Elisha liked the idea and gave his permission.

The men held Elisha in such great respect that they asked him to accompany them to the Jordan River to find the best timber for the task. Elisha made the journey with them.

Here’s where the story gets interesting. One of the young prophets didn’t own an axe. Eager to be a part of what they must have considered God’s work, the man found a neighbor willing to lend him an axe.

When they arrived at the Jordan, each man found a suitable tree to cut down and the riverbed echoed with the sounds of iron on wood.

I can picture our young prophet wielding his axe, sending the chips flying as he cut into the timber. Then, in the middle of a powerful back swing, the axe head slipped from the handle, the force of the swing flinging it into the river with a heavy splash. The tool he borrowed buried itself in the muddy bottom of the Jordan.

“Oh no, my lord!” he cried out. “It was borrowed!”

It seems a small problem to us, but to this poor, young prophet it loomed large. Not only could he not finish his task, but the loss represented a significant financial burden. In those days, you see, an iron axe was a precious and expensive commodity. According to Old Testament law, if a man lost or damaged another man’s property, he was required to replace it or pay the cost of a new one. Chances are if he had to borrow it in the first place, he had no means of paying to replace it.

Many of our problems are like the one encountered by this young prophet. Through no fault of our own…at a time we least expect it…even while doing good work…we find ourselves facing a situation. We lose something of value entrusted to us. We find ourselves in financial difficulty beyond our means. We encounter illness or injury that collapses our world and leaves us wondering what we can possibly do.

That’s probably why the prophet cried to his master in such obvious distress. “Oh, my lord!” That’s probably why in our times of despair we cry out, “Oh, my Lord!”

Here’s the first lesson that comes to me from this story. It’s always best to learn to trust God before the problem comes. These young prophets were assigned an important task. When Elisha gave his permission, he didn’t intend to go with them. However, they trusted Elisha and needed his presence as they went about their task. As a result, when trouble came, when this man cried out in despair, his master was already there.

We fail ourselves, more often than not, when we think we are capable of dealing with life…both the good and bad times…without asking God to go with us. At the beginning of each new day, new task or circumstance, we ought to thank God in advance for his work in our lives. To being open to his guidance in every aspect of what we say and do. Then, when the crisis comes, we can cry out to him and knowing…trusting…that he is there.

The writer of Proverbs expressed it this way…

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him and he shall direct your paths. (Proverbs 3:5-6)

I can picture the man diving in the murky water to retrieve what he could not see. Hands groping along the bottom with the faint hope of touching the metal object. Each time he comes out of the water empty-handed.

He stands chest-deep in the river, water dripping down his face and off his beard. Anxiety written in his eyes. When he looked hopelessly at his teacher, Elisha asked him a question.

“Where did it fall?”

When the man pointed to the general spot in which the axe head sank, Elisha threw a stick in the river and…the iron axe head floated to the surface. How’s that for defying nature, Archimedes?

Then, in a remarkably practical moment, God’s prophet turned to the young man and said, “Lift it out.” He didn’t levitate into his hands. He didn’t pick it up himself. He asked the young man to do his part in the miracle.  The man waded through the water and grabbed what had been lost. After a moment of relief and celebration, the young prophet repaired the damaged handle and got back to work.

So, what’s the point?

I’ve never seen a floating axe, but I’m quite certain God has worked his wonders in my life…and in yours. He put people in my life at just the time I needed them, but I needed to take their hand. He opened doors of opportunity, but I had to walk through them. He whispered in my heart’s ear the solution to many a problem, but I still had to act. You see, God will meet our needs, but only as far as necessary for us to do our part.

Here’s how the story speaks to me.

Every day I rise, before I take a step, I need to ask God to walk with me through the day, trusting that he will honor that request. Believing in his presence brings a sense of hope, peace and purpose in the face of every problem I encounter. God will toss the stick in the waters of my life and give me the choice to pick up the floating chunk of iron or let it sink back to the bottom. He promises to do his part, but I must do mine, ever obedient to the leadership of the Holy Spirit in my life.

God will work faithfully in the lives of his children in our times of trouble and despair…in those times we cry out “Oh, my Lord!”

It’s my hope we all understand and embrace this truth long before the axe head falls in the water. Sooner or later, though, it will fall. So, next time you see the axe head floating on the water, pick it up.

Faith to Dig a Hole in the Roof

Background Passages: Mark 2:1-12 and Luke 5:17-26

In a world where so many people are hurting, it’s difficult to understand why there are so many empty pews in our churches. Many people blame organized religion for its lack of compassion and concern. Perhaps the fault lies not in the institution but in our individual response to God’s call for ministry and service.

The world seeks help for its problems, but no longer trusts the church to be its answer. When it tries, the world tends to ridicule our efforts, painting them with unintended ulterior motives. As a result, many well-intentioned Christians no longer make the time or effort to heal the brokenness they see in their families, friends and community.

We can learn a valuable lesson from a familiar story in Scripture about what it means to take the initiative in meeting the needs of others and persistently breaking through the barriers that prevent us from doing what we are called to do. Mark and Luke both share an early account of Jesus healing a paralyzed man in Capernaum.

*****

When Jesus taught, people noticed a difference between the words he shared and the hollow recitations cited by the religious leaders of the day. With Jesus, they sensed vitality and life…an authenticity and authority to his teaching that was lacking in the synagogues. Couple his unique teaching with the miracles he shared with the needy and the hurting and Jesus became a national celebrity.

Jesus’ reputation as a master teacher and miracle worker spread across Galilee and Judea like wildfire, prompting people to leave their homes to hear him teach and see him work. Drawn by his compelling words of truth and the hope of healing, crowds followed Jesus wherever he went.

On this particular day, Jesus was invited to teach in a home in Capernaum. It didn’t take long for word to spread. They came from Capernaum and throughout Galilee to hear him speak. Others who had journeyed from Judea, including a group of religious leaders from Jerusalem, caught up to him in this seaside village. As the day progressed, Jesus found himself teaching to a standing-room-only crowd.

The Pharisees took the choice seats in the house where Jesus taught. The rest of the people packed into every nook and cranny, blocking the doorway and leaning in windows trying to catch his words. The crowd eventually spilled out into the street outside, making it impossible for anyone else to get close enough to hear.

Four men traveled for days between villages, constantly following the rumors of Jesus’ location, only to find that he had moved on by the time they arrived. They carried a litter between them, bearing a friend whose body was broken and paralyzed, unable to lift even a finger.

Hearing so much about Jesus’ ability to do the miraculous, they had to get their friend before the great healer. They knew Jesus was their friend’s only hope. As they entered Capernaum, there was a buzz in the town. Jesus was here, teaching in a house near the sea.

Moving through the twisting streets, they followed the crowd to the place where Jesus was teaching. The press of the crowd so great and the people so inconsiderate the men could not get anywhere near the door. Each time they tried to get close they were pushed and shoved to the back of the crowd.

They laid their friend underneath a tree and sat beside him, full of disappointment and despair. One of them kept looking at the house, noticing that they could reach the stairs to the roof. Again picking up their friend, they climbed the steps to the roof of the house. With sticks and fingers, they began to chip away at the mud-covered branches. They work until their fingers began to bleed and they dug some more.

At last, one of them managed to get his hand through the roof. They increased their effort with renewed hope. If they could just get the hole big enough they could lower their friend into the room where Jesus sat.

Inside the room, an arrogant Pharisee looked puzzled and irritated as he brushed the dirt from his sleeve, looking angrily at the ceiling. Jesus, for his part, kept teaching with one eye on the ever-expanding hole above his head.

Finally, even Jesus had to stop what he was doing, the hole and the frenzied activity too great to ignore. With effort, the men began lowering their paralyzed friend by rope into the room until he was resting at the feet of the healer. Perspiring and covered in dirt, they peered into the hole they created and shared the man’s story with Jesus, begging him with such sincere words to heal their friend.

To the chagrin of the religious leaders whose brightly colored robes were flecked with dust and twigs, Jesus acknowledged the great love of these four men who sacrificed their time and energy for their helpless friend. Compassion poured from Jesus’ heart as he knelt beside the stricken man. Nodding in approval of the faith they demonstrated and addressing the man’s deepest need, Jesus held a quiet conversation with the paralyzed man before laying his hand upon his chest in prayer and telling him his sins were forgiven.

The Pharisees muttered to one another in their dusty robes, denouncing Jesus privately for his blasphemy.

“Why does this fellow talk like that? Who can forgive sins but God alone?”

Without hearing their words, Jesus knew their hearts. Never allowing his eyes to leave the man resting on the cot, Jesus responded to their thoughts.

“Which is easier? To say to this paralyzed man, ‘your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Get up, take your mat and walk?”

After a moment his eyes bore into the hearts and souls of the religious leaders until they cringed under the intensity of his gaze. “I want you to know the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.”

With a deep breath, he paused and prayed. Then, he smiled at the four men poking their heads through the hole in the roof and extended his hand to the paralyzed man. “Get up,” he said as he pulled him to his feet. “Take your mat and go home.”

Every miraculous healing pointed to the power of God demonstrated in Jesus. For anyone paying attention, each act of healing was proof conclusive of God’s power within him. The people left the home amazed at all they had heard and seen.

*****

The story reveals a lot about Jesus. Like the Pharisees we have much to learn about the power and authority we can find in him. But, I find a more personal message in this cherished story demonstrated by the faith of the four friends.

The accounts of this story we find in Mark and Luke are almost identical. Almost word for word. But Luke, the physician, uses a phrase that Mark does not include. Luke wrote this about Jesus,

“And the power was in him to heal the sick…”

On a day when the Holy Spirit was filling Jesus with great power, there was no one present who needed his help. Jesus’ audience that day consisted of people who loved to hear Jesus teach. There were present also a few religious leaders who felt a little threatened and challenged his every word. Yet, other than this one who was brought to Jesus by four wonderful friends, there is no mention of others who were present in need of healing.

On nearly every other occasion where Jesus taught the crowds, we read about the sick, blind, disabled and demon-possessed so desperately in need of Jesus’ touch. But not this day. Given what happened to these four men and their paralyzed friend, we can surmise that many of the sick and helpless were sent away, pushed to the periphery of the crowd. They were not invited inside.

So, despite having the power in him to heal the sick, there was no one present for him to heal…until four men traveled a great distance and refused to go away. I find that moment when they climbed on the roof instructive for my life as a Christian.

Could it be churches have empty pews because we don’t take the initiative to reach out to those in need and bring them to Jesus? Could it be that we find reasonable excuses to disregard the needs of others?

You see, faith demands that we take initiative to bring others to Christ. It wasn’t as if these four friends lived next door to the house where Jesus taught. The scripture implies that the paralyzed man and his friends journeyed over time and distance until they caught up with Jesus. It was an exhaustive effort to carry their friend across hill and valley to reach Jesus.

They didn’t wait for Jesus to come to their village. They didn’t send a messenger begging for Jesus to come for a visit. They didn’t wait for Jesus to just happen by. They didn’t simply tell their friend to find his own way to Jesus. They dropped what they were doing. They picked up the bed and they carried their friend to Capernaum and cared for his needs along the way.

What could happen in our churches if we took the initiative to bring others to Christ? To be enough of a friend to pick up the litter and carry it over time and distance until our hurting friend found the spiritual healing he or she needed and desired. Faith requires us to take the initiative to bring the lost and hurting to Jesus. Faith without service is no faith at all.

There is more to learn in the example of these four friends.

Could it be that churches have empty pews because Christians give up when challenged? Could it be that those who need our help get turned away at the door because we would rather just listen to God’s word than live it?

When these four friends arrived at the house they found every natural entrance blocked by the crowd. Carrying a paralytic and pushing through the unyielding wall of humanity proved impossible. It seemed they had come all that way for nothing.

They could have blamed the unsympathetic crowd. The poor choice of venue that didn’t allow enough people inside. They might have even blamed the paralyzed friend for hurting himself in the first place. When faced with the obstacles, they could have simply gone home. Their faith would not allow them to give up so easily.

Instead, they refused to let the obstacles stand in the way of the healing their friend needed. They found another way. They climbed to the roof and dug in.

You see, sometimes faith requires us to carry the litter to the roof and start chipping away at the dirt and branches until the hole is big enough to let us lower a hurting soul at the feet of our Lord. Faith demands persistence.

Persistent faith digs through a roof. Persistent faith wraps a rope around our hands to bear the weight of those in need.  Persistent faith often leaves us with dirt on our faces, cuts on fingers and rope-burned hands.

Yet, this much is true. When we take the initiative to bring others to Christ and when our faith is persistent in pushing through every obstacle that might prevent us from introducing others to our savior, good things will happen. We will find the power of Christ available to heal and help those in need.

What would happen to the empty pews in our churches if we took the initiative to introduce the world to Jesus? What would happen to the empty pews in our churches if we never gave up or gave in to the obstacles and distractions that stand in the way of ministry and service.

I suspect we might have a hard time finding a place to sit…and that would be just fine.

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?”

Always Love

Background Passages: Matthew 12:1-14; Mark 2:23-3:6; and Luke 6:1-12

I read another news account this week about the Baptist church in Kansas staging another protest to condemn with unholy words those they deem to be sinners responsible for the ruin of the world. Citing scripture. Calling names. Their views right. All others wrong. Compassion lost to the certainty of their conviction.

I don’t understand it. How can a people claiming to be of God miss so badly the spirit of God? How can they interpret scripture so strictly that they fail to see the hurt they inflict?

Their actions this week reminded me of a story from scripture. Journey with me to Capernaum.

*****

He watched from the shadow of the alley between two homes as Jesus wound his way through the streets of Capernaum, a gathering crowd surrounding the healer and his closest friends. He darted from house to house, staying just ahead of Jesus, always in shadows cast by the rising sun. Unnoticed. That’s the way he liked it. When people noticed, they stared. When people noticed, they judged.

Without warning, someone grabbed his left arm startling the man. Dark brown eyes under bushy eyebrows, stared into his own. The elegant robe told him all he needed to know. A Pharisee. He recognized him as one of the priests from Jerusalem following in the footsteps of the healer for the past three weeks.

“Come with me,” commanded the priest, pulling him down the alley into deeper darkness. When alone, the priest looked at his withered right hand, dangling uselessly at the end of an arm lacking any strength. Nodding at his infirmity, how did that happen?

“I was kicked by a donkey eight years ago. I can no longer use my hand.”

“I have a proposition for you…” started the Pharisee as he explained his plan. Then, with a furtive glance and a smile that lacked sincerity, he slinked away.

Instructed to go to the synagogue where the healer would teach that morning, the man with the shriveled hand stood by the entrance to the white-stoned building near the market, waiting for Jesus. As Jesus approached, the man stepped out to greet him. “Rabbi, I am in need of your healing.” Words the Pharisee told him to speak.

Jesus smiled. Saw his hand. The need obvious, but sensing more to the story. “Why come to me?”

“I’ve seen what you can do,” said the man. Then, with a nervous glance inside at the Pharisees finding a seat in the crowded synagogue, “They told me you could heal me today.”

Jesus looked at the men who questioned his every move for weeks. “Did they now?”

The man, oblivious to the obvious, continued, “I need to provide for my family. I need to work. I want to work. If there is a chance…” His voice trailed off in all too familiar whisper of hopelessness.

Jesus looked into his eyes. Heart full of compassion. He threw his arm around him, glancing once more at the Pharisees. “Come on in. Find a seat. Let’s see what God will do today.”

Jesus walked to the front of the room. Sat down on the stone bench. Surveyed the packed room filled with the contrite, the curious and the condemning. The stage set for another lesson about the priorities of God.

*****

Read the account of the man with the withered hand in three of the four gospels. The confrontation between the religious leaders and Jesus in the Capernaum synagogue started in the fields that morning on the way to worship. In the end, the Savior’s compassion was both rejected and received. It started as an ordinary Sabbath morning.

Jesus and his disciples rose that morning, intent upon going to the synagogue for the Sabbath time of teaching and worship. The local rabbi requested Jesus lead the discussion, a frequent occurrence early in his ministry.

For days, the Pharisees sent from Jerusalem tagged along everywhere Jesus went, hovering always on the edge of the crowd. Dipping in and out of the conversation when it suited them. Questioning his motives. Probing for answers. Checking Jesus’ words against their own rigid interpretation of scripture. Determined to find reasons to discredit his teaching. Hoping to turn the crowds against him.

As the disciples moved along the country path into the village, they walked along the edge of a wheat field. Through stalks of grain ripe for harvest. In the cool of the morning, they absentmindedly plucked heads of grain from the stalks. Rubbed their hands together to remove the husk from the kernels. Blew into their palms to separate the wheat from the chaff. Popped the morsels into their mouths. Hungry men on the way to church.

On any other day the action of the disciples would raise no eyebrow. Eating another man’s grain along the path was a standard of care for the hungry and weary traveler. But, today was the Sabbath. The Pharisees almost giggled in delight. They caught Jesus’ followers violating the strict rules of the Sabbath regarding work…harvesting, winnowing and preparing food.

They practically ran over the disciples in their haste to confront Jesus for this egregious violation. This blatant disregard for Sabbath law.

Jesus took the opportunity to teach, hoping his words would resonate. “Have you not read…” reminding them that David entered the Temple while under duress and took the consecrated bread in order to feed himself and his hungry men.

He quoted Hosea, “If you had known what these words mean, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned the innocent.”

As the debate ensued, Jesus silenced them. They stood with their mouths opening and closing like a fish out of water. No rebuttal. “The Sabbath is made for man, not man for the Sabbath. For the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath.”

The day cannot take precedent over human need. The law cannot substitute for mercy. This whole episode troubled Jesus. The conversation lingered in the Savior’s heart as he began to teach the lesson that day. A lesson about the priorities of God.

The same Pharisees who hassled Jesus during their walk into town laid their trap for him, taking advantage of a man’s disability for personal gain. Dangling him in front of Jesus. A worm on a hook. Begging Jesus to bite. To heal the man so they could challenge Jesus in a public setting about his contempt for the Sabbath.

Can’t you see the Pharisees fidgeting in their seats, waiting for Jesus to take their bait? When he didn’t immediately do so, one of them could no longer contain himself. Interrupting Jesus as he taught, he reminded Jesus of the episode in the grain field. He demanded to know. If, as you say, it’s permissible to harvest on the Sabbath… “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath?”

From the moment he met the man with the withered hand outside the synagogue and heard his story, Jesus expected the question. “If any of you has a sheep and it falls into a pit on the Sabbath, will you not take hold of it and lift it out? How much more valuable is a person than a sheep!” The implication clear. “It is lawful to do good on the Sabbath.”

Jesus waited for their response. Jesus expected the question. They didn’t expect that answer. So they sat, tight-lipped and tense.

It’s hard for 100 people to fall silent, but if a pin dropped in the sanctuary at that moment, everyone would hear it. All sat perfectly still. Only their eyes darted back and forth between Jesus and the Pharisees, waiting for the next sandal to fall.

Jesus rose to his feet. Walked to the middle of the room. He looked for the man he met earlier by the door. He found him, sitting in the corner. Hiding behind the town’s burly blacksmith. The savior caught his eye. Motioned for him to come forward. A smile, warm with compassion. An invitation. Jesus stood behind him. Rested his hands on the man’s shoulders. “Stand here with me in front of everyone.” In front of these self-righteous men.

With fire in his eyes stoked by their hard hearts, Jesus bore into the soul of the Pharisees. Hear a heavy sigh in Jesus’ voice as he posed one last question, hoping to elicit a glimmer of understanding from their closed and locked hearts.

“Let me ask you, which is lawful on the Sabbath: to do good or to do evil, to save a life or destroy it?” To do the good I intend to do or the evil you’re now doing?

Every eye in the room drawn to the obvious. The misshapen and shriveled hand, hung uselessly at the man’s side.

In the silence of the Pharisees, more contempt. More condemnation.

Jesus looked toward heaven. Eyes closed. Let out a slow breath to purge his gut of the bile of disgust rising in his throat. When he spoke softly to the man, little more than a whisper in his ear. “Stretch out your hand.”

In the instant the man followed Jesus’ command, the muscle and tendons regained their strength. The gnarled, misshapen fingers relaxed. As he raised his hand in front of his face, his hand was completely restored. Strong and sound like the other. Healthy again. Productive again. The synagogue erupted in shouts of joy from the people gathered to worship.

In a huff unable to celebrate for a life made whole, the Pharisees stormed out to conspire with bitter enemies to plot the death of Jesus.

*****

When you read these stories, we tend to look at them only as episodes chronicling the growing confrontation between Jesus and the religious leaders. If that were all it was, I’m not sure all three gospels would have carried an account of the story. There is a deeper, richer lesson waiting to be learned and it starts with the verse quoted by Jesus from Hosea, “I desire mercy not sacrifice.”

Jesus told the Pharisees, “If you understood what these words mean…” Well, what do they mean? Mercy trumps sacrifice. Compassion trumps dogma. The Pharisees clung so tightly to their “truth” they failed to recognize the need in front of them. Their strict adherence to law served as blinders to the suffering of those around them. We cannot and must not hold our “truth” so tightly that we dismiss how valuable another human being is to God.

Through these two vignettes Jesus suggests that we cannot place every jot and tittle of scripture over our call to serve, care for and forgive. Feed the hungry. Tend to the infirmed.

Think about it. Jesus didn’t dishonor the Sabbath. He was there every Sunday. (If you don’t see the irony of that statement, maybe that’s the problem.) Jesus sat aside the Sabbath as a day of worship to God the Father. As natural to him as breathing, but not if it meant ignoring a need.

We tend to cherry pick our Sabbaths. Taking things out of context without applying the whole of Jesus’ teachings. We cannot condone sin, but, by nature of our own sin, we are also disqualified to judge it in others.

Jesus met the woman caught in the act of adultery by another group of Pharisees. Jesus asked them to reflect upon their own sin. When her accusers faded away in the reality of Jesus’ question, he told her. “Neither do I condemn you…go and sin no more.” Rather than exclude, Jesus chose to love and teach.

Is it possible the social issues of our day have become our Sabbath law? The eating of the grain. The man with the shriveled hand. Depending on your personal beliefs, consider them the ancient equivalent of our attitudes toward whomever we deem undesirable. The Liberal. The Conservative. The Gay. The Transgender. The Straight. The Black. The White. The Brown. The Rich. The Poor. The Gun Owner. The Unarmed. Consider them anyone on whom we pass judgment. Anyone we point to in disdain while channeling our inner Pharisee.

Those in whom we easily see the sawdust in their eye while disregarding the 2 x 4 jutting from our own. Judgment is the easy way. Loving is the hard way. I’m too often guilty of taking the easy way.

If we are to live as the image of God, if we are to be like Christ, we cannot declare our “truth” or value “being right” more than we value lifting our hands to help the broken, the hurting or the drifting. As soon as we do so we lose the heart and spirit of Jesus. For him, it was always truth and right grounded in love. But always love.

In the story, the Pharisees never see themselves as a soiled robe in need of a good scrub. They see themselves as a garment already cleansed by their strict obedience to the law…in need of nothing else…now or ever.

Here’s the really sad thing about these stories. The Pharisees never doubted that Jesus could heal the man. They begged him to do it. Knew he would. They recognized in him God’s sufficient and amazing power and gift of healing. They never questioned his ability to heal, only his timing that broke a rule they created to set them apart from others. Staring them in the face was the chance to join with the Son of God and they could not comprehend it.

Never doubt for a moment that God loves the Liberal and Conservative. The Gay. The Transgender. The Straight. The Black. The White. The Brown. The Rich. The Poor. The Gun Owner. The Unarmed. Let us escape the confinement of our entrenched Pharisaical truths.

Jesus calls us to love. Jesus calls us to serve. This week let’s reach out to the hungry heart and the shriveled soul. It is always lawful to do good.