Tag: salvation

But God

Background Passages: Genesis 50:16-21; Romans 5:6,8; Ephesians 2:1-7

Every English teacher I ever had in school harped constantly on the use of strong, active verbs, almost to the point of sucking the joy out of writing.

I can still see that smattering of red ink circles drawn around certain verbs in my essays with a line to the margin indicating, in no uncertain terms, that my teacher was disappointed in my verb choice. I measured the quality of my paper less on the grade and more on the number of times I had to read Ms. Falks’ scribbled note in the margin that just said, “weak.”

I will come out of the closet today and admit that I have always enjoyed grammar. One of my favorite parts of speech is the lowly conjunction. In case you need a reminder, conjunctions are words that link other words, phrases or clauses together. Conjunctions allow a writer to form complex, elegant sentences by avoiding the choppiness of multiple short sentences.

My favorite conjunction is the word but. Its most common usage introduces a phrase or clause that contrasts with another phrase or clause which has already been stated. For instance, “He stumbled, but did not fall.”

But always makes a bolder and grander statement in a sentence than does and, if, or so. When it comes to these statements like these, the bigger, the better.

My thoughts this week germinated during last week’s Sunday School lesson about Joseph and his brothers. Near the end of that biblical narrative in Genesis 50, Joseph’s father Jacob had died. His brothers, who sold him into slavery when he was young, feared that Joseph would seek revenge on them now that Jacob was no longer in the picture.

They concocted a lie, putting words in Jacob’s mouth. Read what the Bible says about it. Look for that conjunctive phrase.

So they sent word to Joseph, saying, “Your father left these instructions before he died. This is what you are to say to Joseph: ‘I ask you to forgive your brothers the sins and the wrongs they have committed in treating you so badly. Now please forgive the sins of the servants of the God of your father.’” When the message came, Joseph wept.

His brothers then came and threw themselves down before him. “We are your slaves,” they said. (Genesis 50:16-18)

Joseph responded to their deceitful plea in an unexpected way.

Don’t be afraid. Am I in the place of God? You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. So then, don’t be afraid, I will provide for you and your children. And he reassured them and spoke kindly to them. (Genesis 50:19-21)

Did you see it? “You intended harm, BUT GOD…”

What a big but! The words written after but God suggests a biblical truth written in a slightly different manner in the New Testament.

For we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)

It’s a great lesson, but not today’s lesson.

As I reflected on that lesson last Sunday, those two words kept resurfacing. But God. We see the use of but God or but the Lord at least 61 times in scripture. One thing unfolds, but God uses it to reveal his character, to teach us something we need to learn or accomplish, or to bring about his will or his purpose.

The waters flooded the earth for a hundred and fifty days, but God remembered Noah… (Genesis 7:24-8:1)

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. (Psalm 73:26)

The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. (I Samuel 16:7)

Similar instances occur in the New Testament.

No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you can bear. (I Corinthians 10:13)

He said to them, “You are well aware that it is against our law for a Jew to associate with or visit a Gentile. But God has shown me that I should not call anyone impure or unclean.” (Acts 10:28)

Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, descended from David. This is my gospel, for which I am suffering even to the point of being chained like a criminal. But God’s word is not chained.”(2 Timothy 2:8-9)

Study those passages on your own if you choose but notice how the phrase that comes after but God reveals so much about who God is and what he desires for us. The more I find that phrase mentioned in the Bible, the keener I am to pay attention to the words that follow. In every instance, there is a truth I probably need to hear.

The phrase, time and time again, introduces the gracious and compassionate intervention of God. He redeems. He resurrects. He makes all things new. He instructs. He is strength. He provides. He is faithful. When we erect a façade as a barrier to keep the world away, he sees straight into our hearts.

I said all of that to say this. This weekend is Palm Sunday, leading up to our celebration on Easter. There may be no greater use of the phrase but God among Christians than what you find in the Easter narrative.

Here’s the message of Easter in one simple but God statement.

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:6, 8)

The message of Easter is one big but God. All hope seems gone. All seems lost. Then, we see this but God moment on the cross and in the empty tomb. Those words should have been the sign Pilate inscribed for his cross…not “He claimed to be King of the Jews,” but God.… It is the crux of his redemptive work and Paul knew it.

God waited until just the right moment when we could understand the depth of his sacrificial love. When the time was right, he sent his son, even though we were powerless to do anything about it on our own and ungodly in our actions.

This inconceivable act of love was in the mind and heart of our omnipotent creator from the beginning. Even before God brought those first molecules of creation together, he knew his most precious creation would rebel against him. He knew you and I would be steeped in sin and in need of a way back to him. And he provided the way.

Paul testified as much to the church in Ephesus when he wrote these words.

As for you, you were dead in in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of the world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our flesh and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature deserving of wrath. But God, being rich in mercy and because of his great love for us, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.” (Ephesians 2:1-5)

Through an act of unmitigated love and mercy, through an act of grace, you and I, as believers in Christ, experienced our but God moment at some point in our past. We find that the celebration will continue forever, according to Paul’s next words.

But God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in the kindness in Christ Jesus. (Ephesians 2:6-7)

This is the ultimate reason for sacrificing his son on the cross. This is his reason for emptying the tomb. He wants us to one day experience his eternal grace…the joy of which is indescribable.

“No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him. These are thing revealed to us by his spirit.” (I Corinthians 2:9-10)

“…But God…”

Maybe that’s the message some need to hear today. A simple paraphrase of one of the Bible’s most cherished verses.

But God so loved the world that he gave his only son that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have eternal life.” (John 3:16)

Maybe today can be their “but God” moment, making this Easter even more special.

For those of us who have already claimed that eternal promise and experienced our personal but God moment, what about here? What about now?

Because they reveal to me the character of the God I serve and the life he demands I live, every but God statement in scripture calls me to live a Christ-like life…even when I’m overwhelmed by the circumstances in which I’m living.

Claiming the promises of God is never easy, especially when overwhelming circumstances put us at wits end. You and I will struggle as we try to live as a disciple of Christ. While I don’t always follow through, it has been my experience that we can trust in those but God lessons we find in scripture.

In a recent blog, Lisa Appelo wrote, “But God brings hope when we can’t see a way through. But God means ashes aren’t the end of our story. And but God, not our circumstances, always gets the last word.”

In other words, go back to Joseph’s story, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done…”

That’s the story of Easter. Every but God is his grace gift and promise of eternity in heaven, but it is so much more. It is life abundant. Here. Now. But God is the peace that surpasses our understanding. It is knowing that God walks with us through the good and bad times of life, actively working in all things for the good of those who love him. But God is knowing that he has a plan for us and will actively work in our lives to see it happen in our lives.

For 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)

Wow! Just wow!

But God.

Remember and Rejoice

Background Passages: Revelation 3:1-6; Matthew 23:27-28, Psalm 51:10-12, 15

In the days when wooden ships sailed the seas carried along by the wind, those sailors who crossed the equator entered a region known for extended periods of calm, absent any breeze strong enough to so much as ripple the sails. The dreaded doldrums.

The doldrums is a region where trade winds of the northern and southern hemisphere converge about five degrees north or south of the equator. The old sailing vessels caught in the doldrums could sit unmoving for days and weeks while supplies dwindled and hope faded, waiting for a promising breeze to drive them along their way.

In The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner, Thomas Coleridge described the effect.

Day after day, Day after Day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion.
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

For these ancient sailors, being stuck in the doldrums tested their endurance and left them feeling more dead than alive. Coleridge’s description is a good picture of the church in Sardis as described by Jesus in the third chapter of Revelation.

For the past several weeks, my personal Bible study has focused on the relevant lessons gleaned from the experiences of seven first century churches. Most of those churches earned praise from Jesus for some aspect of their faith, but garnered a word of rebuke or caution for areas in which they struggled.

In Sardis, the church earned no praise. They garnered only rebuke from Jesus for becoming little more than that painted ship on a painted ocean. A shadow of what they should be.

Scripture says the church in Sardis held a stellar reputation for being vibrant and healthy. Their good work of the past earned them appreciation from those outside the congregation based upon what they had once done. I suspect its reputation also gave the congregation a false sense that they were still doing that which God asked of them.

From God’s point of view, however, their faith and witness were in the doldrums. No wind in their sails. Unmoving. Stagnant.

“…I know you deeds. You have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead. Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have found your deeds unfinished in the sight of my God.” (Revelation 3:1-2)

Despite all they had done for Christ in the past, regardless of how well they once loved and care for each other and those in need around them, their work now settled into a routine that was more ritual than righteous. More obligation than grace.

As they went through the motions of ministry, those on the outside looking in could see little difference in their behaviors and actions, however, Jesus saw into their hearts. What he saw disappointed the Father.

The word the Christians in Sardis heard from Jesus was a spiritual wake up call. He told them to “strengthen what remains.” The glimmer of God’s spirit within in them needed to be released again. He urged them to let the spirit move again. To raise their sails and catch the wind.

Jesus saw this same spiritual doldrums in the Pharisees, despite their outward display of piety. The facade of righteousness they created appeared beautifully painted, but under the glimmering paint, the building was rotting from the inside out.

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs, which indeed appear beautiful outwardly, but inwardly are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness. Even so, you also outwardly appear righteous to men, but inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness.” (Matthew 23:27-28)

This is no way to live, according to the words of Jesus. He tells the church in Sardis to wake up before it is too late.

“…but if you do not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what time I will come.” (Revelation 3:3b)

Those words from Jesus served as a brutal reminder of past failures. Sardis prided itself as an impenetrable fortress. Built on a hill with steep cliffs on three sides, there was only one way into the city and it was easily defended.

However, twice in its long history, an enemy defeated Sardis by scaling the cliffs at night while no one kept watch. Jesus warned them that judgment would surely come like a thief scaling the walls at night if they failed to turn back to God.

For this church in the doldrums, Jesus told them to remember. To go back to the beginning of their faith. To do the things they had been taught to do.

“Remember, therefore, what you have received and heard. Hold it fast and repent.” (Revelation 3:3a)

Taught all they needed to know, the church at Sardis simply had to be obedient to God’s will, not out of a sense of obligation, but out of the joy of their salvation. To see and feel the breeze blowing again in their sails, out of the doldrums and into the active pursuit of God’s will and way.

If I ever needed a reminder of what I have received and heard from God, I felt it last Sunday.

My church has been without a senior pastor for the past 10 months. While we’ve been led capably and effectively by our staff and our interim pastor, a church needs its shepherd.

Last Sunday, South Main Baptist Church in Pasadena, called Daniel Crowther to be it’s next senior pastor. He will joining Dr. B. J. Martin and Dr. Ron Lyles as only the third pastor in our 68-year history.

I want to make it clear, I serve a church genuinely focused on mission and ministry. We have continued to do that work during this interim period. South Main is not a church stuck in the doldrums. It is a blessing from God, however, when a new wind blows into the heart of a church.

I won’t speak for the rest of the congregation (though I think we all shared a similar experience). For me, last Sunday was a celebration of God’s work and blessing in my life. I owe him so much. It was if God use that day and that circumstance to cause me to “Remember what you have received and heard.”

Because of God’s rich blessings in my life, I experienced a new wind…the warm fellowship, songs of praise and worship, the hearing of God’s word proclaimed and the collective excitement of what God is going to do in and through his people at South Main.

When God moves his people, you can’t help but feel it. It is palpable and electric. I felt that this past Sunday and still feel it today. I don’t think I realized how much I needed it.

Though it may not be the exact message intended when this passage was written, I’m grateful for Jesus’ warning to the church in Sardis. May it also serve as a great reminder in my life and to any person or church who desires to feel a fresh wind blowing, a spiritual renewal. Remember the salvation received by God’s grace. Hold it. Dwell on all you have learned about God’s power and love. Remember and rejoice!

The Psalmist got it right when he wrote,

“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me…Open my lips, Lord, and my mouth will declare your praise.” (Psalm 51:10-12, 15)

This is my prayer.

Who Are You Looking For?

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

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

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

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

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

“Woman, why are you crying?”

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

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

“Woman, why are your crying?”

Then, he got to the heart of the matter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus offered a word of measured praise and a prophecy.

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

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

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

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

“Never, Lord! This shall never happen!”

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

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

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

“Who is it you are looking for?”

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

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

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

“Who is it you want?”

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

“Jesus of Nazareth,” they said.

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

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

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

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

“Who is it you are looking for?”

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

“Who are you looking for?”

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

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

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

“Mary.”

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

She fell at his feet and cried.

“Rabboni.”

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

“My Teacher.” (John 20:15-16)

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

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

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

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

“Who is it you are looking for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who is it I am looking for?”

He Went Away Rejoicing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Ethiopian eunuch left Jerusalem with more questions than answers.

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

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

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

“What are you reading?”

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

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

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

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

“Maybe I can help.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And he went away rejoicing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rest for the Weary

Background Passages: Mark 11:27-33: Mark 12:28-34; Matthew 11: 28-30

I wonder if Jesus ever walked into the temple in Jerusalem desiring only to offer his own prayers to the Father in the privacy of his heart. Did he ever just get to sit in the shade of the portico and listen to the well-versed teaching of the rabbi? If it happened, it did not happen often. His presence seemed always to elicit a response either from the people, begging for his words of truth, or from his persecutors, probing for a weakness in his teaching.

Hours before his arrest, Jesus might have entered the temple just to pray…to clear his mind for what was to come. Instead, he found himself surrounded by hate in a rustle of flowing and elegant robes. No pleasantries exchanged. No effort to pull him from the crowd that gathered that morning for a private talk. Jesus turned full circle studying the 15 or so men who hemmed him in…the chief priests, the most learned scholars of scripture and the temple leadership…each shouting an indignant challenge to the Galilean teacher they viewed as a substantial threat to their way of life.

“By what authority are you doing these things?” they asked. “And who gave you authority to do this?”

Those entering the temple turned on their heels not wishing to be dragged into the confrontation. Others trapped inside retreated to the walls or peaked from behind the broad columns lining the courtyard.

Jesus pursed his lips. Took a deep breath. Looked down at his sandaled feet, sensing the anger in their murmuring. He raised his head, stared intently into the face of the first one to utter the challenge. In a voice as soft as a sprinkle that threatened a downpour, Jesus said, “Let me ask you one question…” When he finished probing for a response, they huddled in confusion, knowing they had stepped into a trap of their own making.

After a minute of deliberation, the best response they came up with was, “We don’t know.”

Jesus turned again full circle with eyes that burned into their souls to see if any of the others could offer a better answer. When no one spoke, Jesus took a step forward, turned sideways and squeezed past the first row of robes as the others parted to give him room, and whispered to no one in particular, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.”

Delightfully cloaked in a religion of rule and regulation, the religious leaders of the day could not fathom the wonder of his miracles or the simplicity of Jesus’ teaching. It ran counter to all in which they believe. Counter to that which elevated them above the ordinary man struggling to comply with the multitude of laws the priests and teachers found so comforting.

These same men, or men just like them, constantly hovered on the fringe of the crowd as Jesus taught. One parable–about a vineyard and the workers who killed the master’s son when he came to collect what was owed–caught their attention. They gnashed their teeth when it became clear to them that Jesus viewed them as the unfaithful tenants.

As their anger grew they threw rapid fire questions at Jesus. “Should we pay taxes to Caesar?” “Will there be marriage after the resurrection?” Jesus answered and avoided their traps with a voice as strong as his accusers.

At one drawn out pause in the cancerous debate, a Pharisee stepped forward, arms stretched in front of him, palms up… a plea, a peace offering. The man looked back at the huddled Sadducees and smiled as if to say, “That was fun to watch.”

Jesus looked at him, puffed out his cheeks and exhaled audibly in relief, willing his heart to slow its beat. “Please. Sit.”

After a brief introduction, the Pharisee spoke with Jesus, intent upon understanding. “Of all the commandments in all the law, which is the most important?”

Jesus, who had spent the last three years trying to break down the wall the law had erected between God and his creation, smiled for the first time all day. Tears welled up in his eyes. At last, here was a question that merited his attention…an arrow that pierced the heart of the matter.

“The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel, The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these. All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

This conversation continued as Jesus and his new friend exchanged similar thoughts and ideas. It ended with a warm embrace and a word of encouragement. Jesus held the Pharisee at arms’ length and said, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.”

Life for the Sadducees and the Pharisees consisted of a set of rigorous rules and regulations no man could reasonably follow. Because their obsessive compulsive minds did it better than most, they held the ordinary man in contempt. Over time, arrogance led them to establish a hierarchy of goodness that carefully and permanently cemented them at the top of the pious pyramid, looking down upon and taking advantage of those failing to meet the stringent requirements the religious leaders imposed.

By the time Jesus arrived on earth, God’s original law and covenant lie buried under hundreds of rules of behavior almost impossible for anyone to obey. The burden of obedience drove people away from God rather than drawing them in. Jesus challenged this distortion of the law.

Noted psychologist Abraham Maslow explained the natural human tendency to be overly dependent on a narrow set of skills and resources when resolving issues in life. Maslow is generally quoted as saying, “I suppose it is tempting, if the only tool you have is a hammer, to treat everything as if it were a nail.”

Rule, ritual and regulation became religion’s hammer in an attempt to beat God’s people into submission. It was all they understood. Jesus addressed the issue as he met constant rejection from the religious leaders and people of Galilee throughout his ministry.

In a similar episode early in Jesus’ ministry, he mourned for the cities of Chorazin, Bethsaida and Capernaum saying that their absolute dependence on rule and ritual blinded them to the new truth of the good news he offered. Trying to help the people get past the legal barrier, Jesus said,

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

As I read through the scripture I can see the thoughts as they developed in Jesus’ heart and mind. Trying to find a way to make his point, Jesus focused his eyes on a farmer in the distance, walking behind an ox pulling a plow through the rocky hillside. He heard the farmer shout and the animal bellow as they labored to cut through the sunbaked earth.

Jesus thought back to that carpentry shop in Nazareth. Remembered the farmer who came to him in need of a new yoke for his ox. A perfectionist in his craft, Jesus followed the farmer to his field where he sized up the animal, visualizing how he wanted this new yoke to fit upon those muscled shoulders.

He went back to his shop. Jesus took his plane from a shelf and began to shape a piece of oak to match the vision in his head. He sanded it smooth and attached the harness points in perfect balance to keep the reins from pulling the yoke to one side or the other.

I can see him as he hefted the yoke on his shoulder and took it to the farmer, carefully fitting it upon the ox, adjusting it to his shape. He gave the reins to the farmer and watched for a minute as the ox pulled the plow through the field. The yoke made the burden less onerous for both man and beast.

That memory spurred the words. “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened…For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Jesus spoke every day to people whose shoulders sagged under the remorseless pressure of compliance to a bulky set of rules. The Pharisees lived in a world of “do this…don’t do that,” of “yes to this…and no to that.” The people lived in a world, condemned by arbitrary rule, and ridiculed by the religious leaders for their personal failings.

Religion…faith…became a burden.

He faced the rebuke of the Pharisees when his disciples picked a little grain on the Sabbath to satisfy their hunger. He faced the challenge of religious leaders who chastised him for healing a man with a crippled hand on the Sabbath. Ultimately, in those last days, he battled with an entrenched enemy whose questions never addressed the heart of the matter.

Jesus tried time and time again to tell them. “It doesn’t have to be this hard. Love your God with your whole being. Love those around you as you love yourself.”

I read again this week of a man who said that being a Christian was just a bunch of rules designed to “suck the fun right out of life.” That statement always troubles me. Do we as Christians act like the religious leaders of the day forcing compliance to a set of “laws” we created to separate ourselves from others?

The joy of life is not conditioned by rules and regulations that tell you what you can or cannot do. Joy comes through relationships…first and foremost with God and then with others. If those two things fall into place, that which “sucks the joy out of life” disappears.

Walking with God need not be complicated. It need not be burdensome. When the master carpenter carves out your yoke and places it upon your shoulders, it fits like a glove, the burdens so much lighter.

Jesus countered the prevailing burden with a simple invitation to accept the salvation he offered…the life he offered. “Come to me…” It’s that simple. “…all who are wearied and burdened…” It’s that inclusive. “…I will give you rest…” It’s that rewarding.

Jesus extends a personal invitation to the lost who have not found him and to the found who have lost their way. Come to him. Erase the weariness from your heart. Then, love your God with all your being. Love your neighbor with the love God extends to you. Once done, life becomes joy.