gloom and darkness

This advent season, it feels like even more than usual our world is full of anxiety. In Europe, Africa and Asia normal people fear the next terror attack. From Syria, thousands upon thousands move on foot, by train, boat, truck, whatever they can find, to escape the bombs. ISIS continues its madness.

Here in America, there have been well over 300 mass shootings this year. PTSD has ruined thousands of the most promising young lives. Some groups feel targeted by our police; others feel victimized by our government. We can't even find civil ways to discuss our differences anymore.

It's a time of gloom and darkness, a time of distress. A timely time to remember the promise God made to his people through the prophet many centuries ago (Isa 9:1-2) "Nevertheless, there will be no more gloom for those who were in distress . . . . The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned."

What a promise for our times! "No more gloom for those who were in distress."

As I begin to anticipate Christmas, I think again as I so often do that this world desperately needs Jesus. I desperately need Jesus.

For the Syrian refugees, the young inner-city men dying by gunfire, the rancorous liberals and conservatives with their strident accusations and name-calling, and for my own poor soul, I pray, "Come, Lord Jesus. Come quickly."

"For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Of the greatness of his government and peace
there will be no end." Isaiah 9:6

sunny skies

This is a good day.

My family is around me, and I don't have to go to work. I've had a lot of food and fellowship already, with more to come. I don't have any financial or health worries, for myself or any of my loved ones. And I'm happy and fulfilled by the place God has assigned me in this world.

So today, my heart agrees with every single word of the first 7 verses of Psalm 95:

"Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord;
let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation.
Let us come before him with thanksgiving
and extol him with music and song.
For the Lord is the great God,
the great King above all gods.
In his hand are the depths of the earth,
and the mountain peaks belong to him.
The sea is his, for he made it,
and his hands formed the dry land.
Come, let us bow down in worship,
let us kneel before the Lord our Maker;
for he is our God
and we are the people of his pasture,
the flock under his care."

The God who made the world and holds it in his hand is my God. He cares for me. He who controls the storm has for the moment chosen to give me sunny skies.

Let us, indeed, sing for joy to the Lord.

giving thanks for the church

I never thought of Ezra as the place to turn for Thanksgiving, but I was reading in that book a couple of days ago and was struck by this song (3:11) "With praise and thanksgiving they sang to the Lord: 'He is good; his love toward Israel endures forever.' And all the people gave a great shout of praise to the Lord, because the foundation of the house of the Lord was laid. "

The "they" in this passage are the Levites and priests, leading the first worship service at the building site for the new temple. After a long period of exile, the Israelites were rebuilding Jerusalem, and worshiping again in the promised land. In fact, in verse 12 it says, "But many of the older priests and Levites and family heads, who had seen the former temple, wept aloud when they saw the foundation of this temple being laid, while many others shouted for joy."

Like everyone else, my Thanksgiving list often tends to revolve around myself. Things like good health, my family, or my work make it onto the list most years.

I'm trying to remember if I ever rejoiced on Thanksgiving that God's church is healthy and strong and growing, that God's people gather and worship. That's kind of a background thing. It seems more like context than blessing; life has always been this way. But there are Christians around the world whose first concern is exactly what I take for granted.

So today I'm praying that God will help me see the church as those faithful old priests back in Ezra's day saw it. I want to be so moved by the great blessing and privilege of gathering with my brothers and sisters in worship that tears come to my eyes.

And I want never to forget that this great gift of the church is one of the most wonderful of all the blessings that I thank God for.

imitate the good

It's easy to want to be someone else. As a soldier, I tried to model myself after Colin Powell. When I ran competitively my hero was Sebastian Coe. I admired these men because they dominated their fields.

I know now that I should pick my role models for something other than their worldly success. John (or whoever actually wrote 3 John) wrote (v11), "Dear friend, do not imitate what is evil but what is good. Anyone who does what is good is from God. Anyone who does what is evil has not seen God."

John was writing about a guy named Diotrephes, who loved to be first and was throwing his weight around in the church. He wouldn't let anyone welcome outsiders, not even a respected elder of the church like John.

This letter was addressed to Gaius, who evidently was good at hospitality. In essence, John's message to him was that even though Diotrephes looked like a big deal - he had followers and authority - Gaius should be careful not to be like him. Diotrephes abused his power, and he led his people in a bad direction.

"Imitate what is good." Being a great strategist or exceptional athlete is impressive but not inherently good. Our talents take on the moral overtones of the purposes we use them for.  I need to look for and emulate people who are kind and generous and encouraging and helpful. No one would call them heroes, I guess, but they can be my heroes.

my big mouth

Most of the time when I get in trouble, it's something I said, not something I did. I like to say it's because the filter between my brain and my mouth doesn't always catch everything, but that's a bad excuse for a Christian. As a Jesus-follower, my brain shouldn't think those things.

Paul wrote this to the church in Ephesus (Eph4:29): "Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen." A few verses later he gives a specific list of this that I should put into words: bitterness, rage, anger, slander, brawling, malice, obscenity, foolish talk, coarse joking.

Instead, he says, I am to use my mouth to build others up. I should used it for thanksgiving, to sing psalm and songs from the Spirit, to make music from my heart to the Lord.

If I were doing the second list, maybe I wouldn't be inclined to think the thoughts that make my words bitter or malicious or foolish or coarse. If I were encouraging others and praising God as much as I should be, I wouldn't have time to do damage with my mouth.

In the end, I guess, the problem isn't my mouth or my brain. It's my heart.

taking a hike

I may have been born in the wrong country. I’m indifferent to cars, motorcycles, snowmobiles, four-wheelers, boats, all the loud, powerful machines that prove manhood in America. I prefer transportation fueled by my own muscles: walking, running, paddling, biking.

I think one reason is that getting around under my own power is a celebration of capability - I can. I’m not intimidated by the miles, or the exertion. I feel good when I do it. Another reason is that instead of flying by my community, I get to see and experience it. I encounter people and can say hi or chat. I notice the window-boxes and feel the weather. I can take a photo if I want.

That’s why, for me, walking through life as a picture of my faith journey has always resonated. Even more so when I read the Apostle John’s second letter. He writes (v4-6) “It has given me great joy to find some of your children walking in the truth, just as the Father commanded us. I ask that we love one another. And this is love: that we walk in obedience to his commands. As you have heard from the beginning, his command is that you walk in love.”

John describes the kind of walk I’m supposed to take, one defined by truth, made in obedience to the command to love. My walk has a purpose. Whenever or wherever I go, there are two pieces of gear I take with me that prepare me for any contingency or opportunity: truth and love.

Why those two? John writes this letter to advise on what to do about deceivers who do not acknowledge the divinity and lordship of Jesus - plenty of those around these days. I carry truth with me to combat the lies. I take along love so that my words will be helpful, and my actions will too.

A walk with a purpose and destination is a journey, and it’s best to be well equipped. With truth and love I should be ready for my faith journey. Those are tools I need to hone.

good grief?

I don’t want to be sad. No one does. More so, who wants to grieve? Grief is that deep, stabbing sadness we have when something or someone is lost forever.

Peter, writing in the first chapter of his first book (v6-7), reminds me that even grief has a role in my faith. He puts it like this: “In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire —may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.”

Not really comforting, is it? But it’s an important thing - without this test of grief, how will I, or anyone else, know the truth about my faith? Will I cling to God in my sorrow? Will I trust Him when I don’t understand? Will I still sing praises and give thanks? Or will I despair, get angry, give up on God, become bitter?

It’s no different than math or my driver’s license, without the test no one really knows if I get it or not. Faith even in grief and trials, especially expressed in trust and gratitude, shows those around me a lot more about the God I follow than anything I do when times are good.

Just like fearful things bring out courage, the grieving times of my life will show what I really believe. My reaction to trials either proves or disproves my words.

So what does that mean for my behavior when I have minor inconveniences? Ouch! I’d rather not think about that too much. But maybe I need to.

darkness and light

Darkness hides, darkness blinds.

When Jesus was talking to Nicodemus he noted that people love the darkness because they want to hide what they’re doing - you can read about it in the third chapter of the Gospel of John. It’s interesting, then, that when John wrote his first letter, he made darkness and light a major theme.

He starts already a few verses into the first chapter, with this (1:5-7): “God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.”

The deeds of darkness flee the light of God. Sin cannot exist where God is.

John notes later in this letter that sinners are blinded by the darkness. If I stay in the dark, I can’t find my way. I wonder, does this blindness mean I can’t see truth? That I can’t see God? Not that - he must blaze like a bonfire to those in the dark.

It’s interesting to think that darkness isn’t really anything, it’s just an absence of light. To choose darkness isn’t a choice for anything, it’s a decision to avoid God. That’s one of the great lies the Father of Lies tells, that there is something good in the shadows. In reality there are  just stunted, blind creatures, like the ones you find deep in a cave. I find J.R.R. Tolkien’s character Gollum to be a great example of what happens when we choose the darkness.

It’s important for me to remember that when I head for the shadows to hide my sin, I just end up blinding myself and losing my way. If I expose my sin to the blazing heat of God’s love, it will die like a mushroom in the sun. And if I stick close to God, I stay in that safe place where sin doesn’t live.

everything I need

Darkness hides, darkness blinds.

When Jesus was talking to Nicodemus he noted that people love the darkness because they want to hide what they’re doing - you can read about it in the third chapter of the Gospel of John. It’s interesting, then, that when John wrote his first letter, he made darkness and light a major theme.

He starts already a few verses into the first chapter, with this (1:5-7): “God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.”

The deeds of darkness flee the light of God. Sin cannot exist where God is.

John notes later in this letter that sinners are blinded by the darkness. If I stay in the dark, I can’t find my way. I wonder, does this blindness mean I can’t see truth? That I can’t see God? Not that - he must blaze like a bonfire to those in the dark.

It’s interesting to think that darkness isn’t really anything, it’s just an absence of light. To choose darkness isn’t a choice for anything, it’s a decision to avoid God. That’s one of the great lies the Father of Lies tells, that there is something good in the shadows. In reality there are  just stunted, blind creatures, like the ones you find deep in a cave. I find J.R.R. Tolkien’s character Gollum to be a great example of what happens when we choose the darkness.

It’s important for me to remember that when I head for the shadows to hide my sin, I just end up blinding myself and losing my way. If I expose my sin to the blazing heat of God’s love, it will die like a mushroom in the sun. And if I stick close to God, I stay in that safe place where sin doesn’t live.

work, work, work

A lot of people think being a Christian is a drag. To an unbeliever, my religion can look like a bunch of rules and not much fun. 

I can see why they think that, especially when I read Paul’s first letter to the church in Thessalonica. Look at what he’s thankful for (1:2-3): “We always thank God for all of you and continually mention you in our prayers. We remember before our God and Father your work produced by faith, your labor prompted by love, and your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.”

He remembers their work, labor and endurance. And later on he underscores the point by reminding them how hard he worked when he lived with them.

That sounds attractive, doesn’t it. Work and labor? Challenges that require endurance? Sign me up!

But then I look at the other words: work is produced by faith. Labor is prompted by love. Endurance is inspired by hope. My faith makes me eager to work alongside God as he reaches out to the world. My love prompts me to labor in service to God’s people. My hope inspires me to continue on as the world laughs. 

The truth? When I look at the cross, I’m so grateful that I want to do work and endure. I’m eager for it. It gives my life meaning, it gives me a chance to do something for King Jesus. It brings me joy. And isn’t that what all of us want? Meaning in life, and joy as we live it?

Godless chatter

I can’t forget a line from a play I watched several years ago about the work of a local missionary. One converted African tribesman, when told by his friends that they didn’t want to hear more about Jesus, told them, “Then go away. I have no talk but Jesus talk.”

Reading 2 Timothy and thinking of that line, I’m convicted about my own talk. One of the things Paul advises Timothy is to make his speech matter. In 2:16 he writes, “Avoid godless chatter, because those who indulge in it will become more and more ungodly.” A few verses farther on, in verse 23, he says “Don't have anything to do with foolish and stupid arguments, because you know they produce quarrels.”

Godless chatter is anything that doesn’t focus me on God. It seems like a perfect description for much of what I hear at work, or see online. Gossip, off-color jokes, candidate-bashing, talking about others behind their backs, all these things seem godless to me. Most TV shows and movies are godless, especially in the way they get us to think about how we relate to others, seductively or violently. 

And what about foolish and stupid arguments? I don’t argue a lot, but I do sometimes. I can’t remember the last time I argued about anything of substance. Usually it’s about whether the ref got the call right, or whose fault it is that we’re out of Kleenex, or whether or not Dawn actually told me something. How’s that for foolish and stupid.

When I speak thoughtlessly, I risk becoming more ungodly (and dragging others down with me), and I provoke quarrels, which disrupt relationships. What percentage of my words are spent on things like these? A lot, I’m afraid.

“I have no talk but Jesus talk.” What a wonderful claim to be able to make!

Blessings for evil

Peter is a great guy to read during an election year. 

For example, how’s this, from 1 Peter 2:17: “Show proper respect to everyone, love the family of believers, fear God, honor the emperor.” Or maybe 3:9: “Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing.” Or even 3:15-16: “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander.”

The way we Christians do political discourse isn’t always very Godly. My friends on Facebook are very willing to say insulting things about President Obama, or Hillary Clinton, or, depending who they are, anyone opposed to Ted Cruz. The memes go beyond insulting sometimes, and get close to slander. And if you’re a squeamish person, don’t read the comments. It only takes a few before they degenerate to name-calling and profanity. And that’s the Christians. The unbelievers can be worse.

Peter would say, “Show proper respect to everyone. Repay their insults with blessing. Give your answers to why you believe with gentleness and respect.” Why? Because that’s how we inherit God’s blessing. That’s how we shame them for their slander. That’s how we make people wonder what makes us so different.

Someone else's snark doesn't justify mine. God has higher expectations of me than that.

shooting my wounded

There’s a guy I have to work with sometimes who doesn’t pull his weight. He’s kind of a princess -- needy, whiny, entitled. I complain (behind his back) every time we’re on a team. And even when we’re not, I’m growing more and more critical of everything he does.

So when I read Ephesians 4:29, I don’t feel very good about myself. That verse says “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.”

I don’t very often try to build this person up, and I know I’m damaging him every time I badmouth him. And I’m not helping the people I talk to either.

Oh, and that part in the verse that says “according to their needs?” This guy has family problems I sure wouldn’t want, health problems and dysfunctional relationships that would drag anyone down. What he really needs is a listening ear and some consideration for how hard his life actually is. What I give him, even though he never knows it, is another kick in the ribs.

Why do I do it? Because I forget two things: That he and I are both broken people trying to get whole again, and that my grateful response to Jesus needs to be that I love his people. I forget because I’m too focused on getting what I want done, and he’s a drag on my efficiency.

But he’s a brother - yes, I’m talking church work, not my day job - and he’s wounded. Instead of shooting him, I should give first aid, at least until a better medic than me comes along.

Here’s the thing: if I didn’t have unwholesome thoughts, then unwholesome words wouldn’t be a problem. I need to fix the way I think. I need to value what God values, and do what Paul admonishes elsewhere: think about good and beautiful things.

heroes and witnesses

I’m behind on my movie watching. I haven’t seen the last two Hobbit movies, and stalled on the Avenger series at Thor II.

Of course, the serious Calvinist inside me says don’t bother, but there’s some really good analysis out there that suggests movies like this tap the need that we all have for a Savior. Everyone wants to know there’s something or someone out there stronger than the evil. We need heroes.

Hebrews 11 is the famous chapter about heroes of the faith. I read it again this morning and it is inspiring. It’s like reading the Cliff Notes version of the Old Testament. But this morning, three things struck me about this group.

First, they were all sinners like me. In fact, verse 34, as part of a list of what made them so successful, says that their weakness was turned to strength. The only thing special about this group was their total dependency on God.

Second, this is the cloud of witnesses that watches me run my own race (Heb 12:1ff). Too often we read Hebrews 11 and 12 separately, and miss the fact that these witnesses aren’t generic, they have names like Abraham and Gideon. That’s supposed to inspire me; these heroes are in the stands cheering me on, like former team members still wearing the school jersey.

But the third thing is that, as inspiring as it is to have these faith heroes watching my race, there’s a better hero for my wall poster: Jesus himself. 12:3 recommends that I consider Jesus, who endure so much opposition from the world, as my inspiration not to grow weary and lose heart.

Oh, and one other thing that’s noted about all the great faith heroes: they didn’t get comfortable here on earth, fitting in and chasing earthly goals. No, 11:16 says, “Instead, they were longing for a better country - a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for him.”

There’s the goal of running well. And those are heroes to inspire.

Therefore . . .

“Therefore” is one of my favorite words.

Admittedly, I don’t use it much, or hear it much, but I read it a lot, especially in the New Testament. And, in scripture, when I read “Therefore,” I know things, if you’ll pardon a badly over-used buzz-phrase, are about to get real.
Hebrews 10:19 is a great example. The authors have spend nine and a half chapters explaining in detail everything Jesus did to fulfill God’s promises, especially the promist to save us. And then we get that wonderful word, “Therefore . . . “ and some practical words about how this applies to my life. That’s what I love about that word: It can mean either “Here’s why you care” or “Here’s what you do.”

In Hebrews 10, if we noodle through it, we end up with a nice little list of three to-dos:
1. Draw near to God with a sincere heart and the full assurance that faith brings. Whatever direction you’re heading, turn to face God and walk that way. Or run, depending on your need.
2. Hold unswervingly to the hope we profess. That hope, remember, is guaranteed by God himself, it’s a sure thing. It’s the anchor for our souls, so if we let go, we could drift anywhere.
3. Consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Living for Jesus is hard. Most of the world wants us to fail, and every day people drag us down. We need to encourage each other to be like Jesus, full of love and always doing good things.

The Why for all this came in all those earlier chapters; now, I have this three-part instruction on how to show my thanks for the wonder of my salvation. And, by the way, to start living the benefits immediately.

The best guarantee ever

The guy building my house just told me, “That’ll be done in three weeks. I guarantee it.” I hope he’s right.

I read about hope in Hebrews this morning. A lot of Hebrews 6 is about hope, including a passage (v7 and following) that says, “Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, he confirmed it with an oath. God did this so that . . . we who . . . take hold of the hope set before us may be greatly encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” Later verses discuss how Jesus guarantees this new hope.

Here’s what hit me: the hope that anchors our souls is a sure thing because it comes with a God-given triple-warranty. First, the Father swore on his own name that his promises to us would be true, in the Old Testament. Second, Jesus sealed the truth of those promises with his blood. And third, Jesus, the great high priest, is working now to make our hope reality.

The Father guaranteed our hope with his covenant. Jesus guaranteed it with his death and resurrection. So this future we hope for, the promise of peace, the end to pain and sorrow, the glory of eternal, heavenly life, will happen. It. Will. Happen. It can’t not happen.

That’s how this hope is way different than me hoping my builder comes through - nothing can prevent it from being fulfilled. I can’t stop it, Satan can’t stop it, all the endless bickering and backbiting of a bitter, lost world can’t stop it. Every promise of God, especially his covenantal promise to take care of us and bring us home, is a sure thing. It’s already done.

Think about that when life gets too much.