Never Enough!

One of the most common things I hear as an opening line whenever kids come into to talk to me is, “Pastor Don, I’m so stressed I don’t know what to do.”

In our current society, we push kids, we hurry kids, we sign them up for all sorts of things…and think that it is never enough.  We expect them to be good at EVERYTHING…instead of taking their natural abilities into account.  We push and push for grades.  We enroll them in soccer and t-ball and gymnastics and dance and football and martial arts and we expect them to get all A’s in all subjects.  But what we are really doing is saying, in essence, “you will never be good enough unless you can produce the results.”  Or as one parent put it: “I’m paying the money so you better show me that I’m not wasting it.”  What’s the message there?  My money is very important to me.  I’m going to use some of it to help you develop…but don’t waste my money.  And the implied message is…if you don’t become good at it, you have failed me, and my money, and that is totally unacceptable.

Who says that everyone has to be good at everything?  What if, when they make a C in a class, you ask them what they are really good at and encourage them to pursue that?  What if you told them a C was good enough for an area they were not gifted in, while you encouraged them to pursue what they were gifted in?

What ever happened to individuality?  Instead, we want them to be good at everything…even when we are not!  We want them to make all A’s!  And we’ve gotten them to buy into the notion that unless they do, they will be a failure.

Help me finish these statements: You have to get good grades so that… (you can get into a good college)  You have to get into a good college so that…(you can get a good job)  You have to get a good job so that…(you can make lots of money)  You have to make lots of money so that…(you can be successful and happy).  Where did we get that?

From the world’s system of doing things.   So we put pressure on them to get good grades so ultimately they can be happy.  And what we really are doing is telling them that happiness is a station they can one day arrive at instead of a manner of traveling.  Which flies directly in the face of what God wants to develop in them.  God is more interested in their holiness than He is their happiness.  He wants to develop their character more than He does their bank accounts.  He wants them to find true joy in serving others.  But we short-circuit that in the lives of teens by elevating education and advanced degrees and people with money over serving God with passion.

Don’t misunderstand me.  There is nothing wrong with having an education and advanced degrees.  There is nothing wrong with being wealthy.  But if that is what we are telling kids will bring them happiness, then we have flat out sold them a lie.  And at what cost?  They have more stress in their lives than they can handle and we heap more and more on them telling them they have to do these things to what?  Climb the world’s social and economic ladders.  We tell them that what they are doing is never enough.

God designed that education and advanced degrees and even our wordly wealth all be used to honor Him.  Not some artificial socio-economic structure that we’ve bought into.  But there is something more inherently dangerous in this “never enough” message. 

This attitude carries over into their spiritual life as well.  We portray God as saying…you will never be good enough…but you better produce anyway.  Read your Bible.  Pray.  Witness.  Become a vegan.  Learn to preach.  Do good deeds for others.  Give Bible Studies.  Serve at the church. Get up at 4:30 every morning, exercise, never eat Twinkies (but Little Debbie’s are ok) and if you’re diligent, you just might make it.  But please understand…no matter what you do, it won’t be good enough.

And most will look at us and say, “Then why should I try?”  And we basically say, “Because that’s what God has called good little Christian boys and girls to do!  So do it!”

And we often make it harder than it should be.  

Why do we do that?   It’s perhaps because sometimes we get confused ourselves.  We sometimes don’t feel like we are good enough or are doing enough to make it into the kingdom. Let’s examine that for a few moments.

There used to be taught a theology, that unfortunately still lingers, that went something like this.  First of all, when you accept Christ, he forgives and cleanses you and imputes His righteousness to you.  That’s called Justification.  So far, they are on track.  No problem until we start looking at the “now what?” question.  After I accept Christ, now what?  

This line of theology goes that what happens next is that each day, Christ righteousness will come all the way down and meet you where you are and cover your inadequacies, but that He expects you to grow, so that each day, as you grow, Christ will need to cover less and less, until you have actually grown up to meet Him and you have perfectly reproduced the character of Christ.  This line of thought continues that at the end of time, when Christ stands up and makes His pronouncement about being holy, etc., you will need to stand without a mediator for a time, so you will need to be perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect, in order to make it to heaven.  If not, you are out of the pool and under the curse.

Sounds a little scary, but it also sounds plausible, so let’s examine it a little more closely.  If I tried to live a Christian life under that system, I would soon become very frustrated.  The frustration would come because I still come up against my sins and my sinful nature again and again, and it would seem that I may never reach the goal, no matter how hard I try.  As a matter of fact, when I really get honest, I realize that I will never  reach the goal!  No matter what I do, it will never be enough.  And the natural reaction would be to give up in defeat before I ever got started good.

But what does this theology do with Christ’s words in Matthew 11: 28?  "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.   29 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.   30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Where is the easy yoke and the light burden?  Living under this theology is heavy and defeating.  As a matter of fact, it’s a lie because it puts the emphasis on what I have to do instead of on Christ.  It actually puts me and my works in competition with Christ and His sacrifice for me. The fact is, I will always be in need of Christ and His grace.  Always! Anytime a theology becomes more dependent on me, instead of Jesus, I need to put it aside.

John 14:6   Jesus answered, "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

John 6:37 All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never drive away.

See, I may never have enough, do enough, or be enough to make it on my own, but it’s not about me. It’s about Jesus.  Now THAT is Good News!!!

Lessons From a Truck Stop Diner

Occasionally, I get an e-mail that makes me stop and think.  The one that follows is a great example of what it means to be part of a functional family, which is what God has called His church to be.  Read it and see if you don’t agree.  (The author is unknown, at least to me, but if it belongs to someone you know, I will gladly give credit where it is due!)

“I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Steve. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy.  But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn't sure I  wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Steve. He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Down syndrome. I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade. The  four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me, the mouthy college kids traveling to school, the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded "truck germ;" the pairs of white shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Steve so I closely watched him for the first few weeks. I shouldn't have worried.

After the first week, Steve had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck mascot. After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Steve got done with the table. Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully put the dishes and glasses onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag. If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.

  Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker, which stopped to check on him every so often, admitted

they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Steve being sent to a group home. That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Steve missed work. He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new  valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Down syndrome often had heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months. A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery and doing fine. 

Fannie, my head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the   

good news. Bell Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of the 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table. Fannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look. He grinned. "OK, Fannie, what was that all about?" he asked.

"We just got word that Steve is out of surgery and going to be okay."

"I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?"

Fannie quickly told Bell Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Steve's surgery, then sighed. "Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be OK," she said, "but I don't know how he and his Mom are going to handle all the bills.  From what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is." Bell Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Fannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables.

Since I hadn't had time to round up a busboy to replace Steve and really didn't want to replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do. After the morning rush, Fannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and funny look on her face.

"What's up?" I asked. "I didn't get that table where Bell Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off," she said, "this was folded and tucked under a coffee cup." She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed "Something For Steve". "Pony Pete asked me what that was all about," she said, "so I told him about Steve and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this." She handed me another paper napkin that had "Something For Steve" scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds.

Fannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply, "truckers." That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Steve is supposed to be back to work. His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I arranged to have his mother bring him to work, met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back. Steve was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop  grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting.

"Hold up there, Steve, not so fast," I said. I took him and his mother by their arms. "Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me." I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room. I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins. "First thing you have to do, Steve, is clean up this mess," I said. I tried to sound stern. Steve looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had "Something for Steve" printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table. Steve stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it.  I turned to his mother.

"There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. Happy Thanksgiving."

Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well. But you know what's funny? While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Steve, with a big, smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table. Best worker I ever hired. Plant a seed and watch it grow.”

Now THAT'S what I'm talking about!  Family!  When one is in need, the rest gather around to help.  That’s family.  When one hurts, the others surround him/her to bring encouragement and love.  That’s family.  When one can’t see where the next step is to be placed, family members guide the steps.  God has called us to be a family.  A functional family.  Not to fight, bicker and complain, but to love, uphold and lift up.  Functional families build up rather than tear down.  Functional families work to strengthen another’s weaknesses rather than shutting them out because of their shortcomings.  Functional families talk to rather than about each other.  And functional families support in the face of crisis rather than back away.  

Tell me--are you a functional family member?

The Cure for the Bad News Blues

I don’t know about you, but I tend to enjoy the twisted humor of a good news, bad news joke.  I may not laugh outright, but I will often find myself letting out an amused groan.

Art Gallery Owner to one of his artists: I have some good news and some bad news.

Artist: What's the good news?

Gallery Owner: The good news is that a man came in here today asking if the price of your paintings would go up after you die.  When I told him they would, he bought every one of your paintings.

Artist: That's great!  What's the bad news?

Gallery Owner: The bad news is that man was your doctor!

See, there is always that little twist on the end that gets you.  You just don’t see it coming.  Here’s another one.

Criminal Lawyer to his client: I have some good news and some bad news.

Client: Well, give me the bad news first.

Lawyer: The bad news is that the DNA tests showed that it was your blood they found all over the crime scene.

Client: Oh no!  I'm ruined!  What's the good news?

Lawyer: The good news is your cholesterol is down to 130!

You didn’t see that coming did you?  That’s what makes the good news, bad news jokes work: the surprise ending.  And then there are some that have only an implied ending.

Doctor: I have some good news and some bad news.

Patient: What's the good news?

Doctor: The good news is they are naming a disease after you!

I’ll let you figure out the bad news.  Some of you are still saying, “I don’t get it.”

If they name a disease after you, it means it so new, they have absolutely no cure.

The life of Joseph is one whole good news-bad news story full of twists and turns that you could never see coming.  Favored son.  Despised brother sold into slavery.  Rises to the head of Potiphar’s house.  Does the right thing and ends up in prison.  Rises to the top position in the prison and interprets dreams for two of Pharaoh’s servants.  Is forgotten for 2 more years. Gets promoted to the top position in all of Egypt.  And you can imagine Joseph saying at each turn, “Wow…I never saw that coming.”

What inspires us about the life of Joseph is that he seems to take all of it in stride.  He’s a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy.  Once he gets beyond being the favored son with the multi-colored coat and pampered lifestyle and sold into slavery, he grows up quickly and has to make some hard decisions.  One of those decisions is that no matter what comes he will be faithful to God.   He didn’t wait until he got placed in the middle of the tests.  He pre-determined that though he did not know what lay ahead, he would be faithful, and that made many of his other choices much more simple.  It also caused him a lot of trouble as well.

We see that his faithfulness is what caused him to rise in Potiphar’s house, but we forget it was also his faithfulness that landed him in prison.  We get that it was his faithfulness that helped him rise in the prison and interpret the dreams, but we forget that it was his faithfulness that helped him hang on for 2 more years after having been forgotten.  And we rejoice when we see his faithfulness rewarded by moving into the second in command of all of the land.  But he then had to face his own demons, when his brothers showed up to buy food. 

If it had been you or me in that position, I dare say it may have been much harder for us to let it go with just testing them to see if they were changed men.  We would have had an opportunity to at least turn the knife a little bit and maybe make them suffer just a bit more than Joseph did.  And the act of forgiveness could only come through being faithful to seeing God’s bigger picture for all of their lives.

What is the cure for the bad news blues?  It’s really about perspective.  Our human perspective would have us looking to our bad news and dwelling on it.  We study every angle of our bad news and we fixate on it and we ruminate and stew and look for solutions.  Our hearts are weighed down and our souls are downcast.  We can’t see beyond the bad news.  That’s our perspective. But there is another perspective that brings a much larger view of our circumstances.  Let’s go back to our good news, bad news motif.

Good News. God created a perfect world. Bad News. Satan introduced sin as well as sickness, pain and death. Good News. Jesus came to die and rescue us from sin and death. Bad News. We still have a sinful world address and see and feel the results of sin. Good News. Jesus will return in the clouds of heaven, take us home for eternity and end the bad news forever.

When we begin to view life from this perspective, we can truly be thankful.  Not for all of the bad news, but that because of the Good news, we aren’t doomed to a bad news life forever.  And that no matter what comes, God will take the bad news in our lives and use it to create good news.  Listen to the words of scripture and gain a new perspective.

Rom. 8:18-28              I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.  19 The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed.  20 For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God.

Rom. 8:22       We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.  23 Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.  24 For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has?  25 But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.

Rom. 8:26       In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.  27 And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God’s will.

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

Did you see any good news in there?  God wants you to be saved more than you want to be saved.  God sent Jesus to provide a mighty deliverance and He has sent the Holy Spirit to help us in our weakness.  And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. 

Know Your Enemy!

Eph. 6:12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

Is Satan powerful?  Yes.  Is God more powerful?  Absolutely.

"He ain't got no teeth!"

Writing in Moody Monthly, Carl Armerding recounted his experience of watching a wildcat in a zoo. "As I stood there," he said, "an attendant entered the cage through a door on the opposite side. He had nothing in his hands but a broom. 

Carefully closing the door, he proceeded to sweep the floor of the cage." He observed that the worker had no weapon to ward off an attack by the beast. In fact, when he got to the corner of the cage where the wildcat was lying, he poked the animal with the broom. The wildcat hissed at him and then lay down in another corner of the enclosure. 

Armerding remarked to the attendant, "You certainly are a brave man." "No, I ain't brave," he replied as he continued to sweep. "Well, then, that cat must be tame." "No," came the reply, "he ain't tame." "If you aren't brave and the wildcat isn't tame, then I can't understand why he doesn't attack you." Armerding said the man chuckled, then replied with an air of confidence, "Mister, he's old -- and he ain't got no teeth."

That’s the devil.  Ever since Jesus died on the cross, he "ain’t got no teeth."  He can growl and he can roar, but he’s a defeated foe. As long as you stay in league with Jesus, there is nothing he can do to hurt you.

But ignore him.  Pretend he isn’t there.  He’ll be all over you.  You have to be up to the spiritual battle.  You must always be on your guard.  One final verse.

1 Peter 5:8-11   Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.  9 Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.

10        And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. 11 To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.

Living in the Land of the Un-graced

I have a confession to make. I have never told anyone what I am about to tell you. Not even my wife, though I think she must have suspected something. And I struggle with how to tell you this news this morning. Yet I feel the time has come for me to confess this to you honestly. And I will understand if you do not want me as your youth director after I confess this. I am prepared to accept that.

I am a terrorist (more like an unholy terror). Let me be quick to also add that though I belong to a group, I am not part of the al Quaida organization and have no responsibility for the World Trade Center and Pentagon attacks of September 11, 2001. Though I am a pilot, I have never planned, nor would I ever plan on using a plane as a deadly weapon to bring about destruction of human life. I am also not into biological warfare. Nonetheless, I, and people in my group, can cause sleepless nights of anxiety. We can be ruthless when we feel we need to be. We operate quietly and without detection, for the most part, moving in and out of unsuspecting people, leaving behind us a trail of fears. The FBI nor the CIA has us listed, so they aren’t even watching us. We are pretty much free to move in and out of the population at will. As a matter of fact, we have quite a few operatives on the inside of the government, and to date, word has it that we have not yet been noticed.

My cell isn’t in to a quick death. My group is dedicated to long-term torture. We enjoy watching people dangle on a rope, fear in their eyes and terror in their hearts. And we have the ability to rip, shred and filet almost anyone. And what’s more, we can’t get enough. It’s not something I necessarily want to do. It’s something I almost feel I have to do.

I also have to confess, that many in my cell are are often found sitting with you in church each week. Don’t worry, if nobody moves, you won’t get hurt. Any given week, I see quite a few who are in my cell group and we are recruiting all of the time.

Oh, I’ve tried to get out a few times, but you don’t understand the pressure from the rest of the group. If I were to quit the organization, I would be the next victim on the list… and I’ve seen what happens to those who are considered traitors. It is not a pretty sight. So though I might want to quit, I’m just too afraid.

Who is this group? What is its’ name? Before we have people running out of here calling 911, I suppose I’ll tell you, and then you will have to check and see if you, too, are already part of this group. Our organization is called - Ungraced. The Ungraced Organization or the UO for short. Let me explain.

We are a group of people who, though we are called to live in God’s grace, and though we have accepted His call to do so, continue to distribute un-grace to those around us. And as a result, our words and our actions strike anxiety and fear into those around us and steal delicate hours of sleep. We don’t need biological weapons. Our words and actions alone can do the damage.

When confronted or offended by a Person (or we could call them Person A), does our operative launch a full out offensive on Person A?  No. Too dangerous. Could blow his/her cover as an operative for the Un-graced. Rather, he/she takes their anger and cloaks it in politeness, smiles and handshakes, until they are safely out of the confrontation zone. Then it’s action time!

Quickly gathering their ring of friends and supporters for a clandestine meeting, they plot an all out offensive. The guard is dropped and the statements fly. “Did you hear that?” “What was that about, huh?” “That Person makes me so mad! We can’t let them get away with this! Here’s what let’s do!” And that plan of action is put into effect. A little word here. An insinuating remark there. A well-poised question and the trap is set. Now…a little patience and whamo… Person A is in the crosshairs and running for cover and our operative smiles and knows that Person A won’t be quite so quick with their disagreeable statements the next time out. Person A has been successfully intimidated and is now running on fear.

The situations are different, but the results are the same. Fear. Intimidation. Anxiety. Irritation. Anger. Sadness. Guilt. Loss of sleep. Loss of appetite.    When we choose to operate out of un Grace, rather than God's Grace, we cannot change those results.

Philip Yancey, in his book, “What’s so Amazing about Grace?” recounts the story from Simon Wiesethal’s book: The Sunflower. It recounts a small incident that took place during the “ethnic cleansing” campaign of the 2^nd World War. It is a story that does much to explain what propelled Wiesenthal to become the foremost hunter of Nazis and a relentless public voice against hate crimes. The book centers, interestingly enough, on forgiveness.

In 1944 Wiesenthal was a young Polish prisoner of the Nazis. He had looked on, helpless, as Nazi soldiers killed his grandmother on the stairway of her home and as they forced his mother into a freight car crammed with elderly Jewish women. Altogether, eighty-nine of his Jewish relatives would die at the hand of the Nazis. Wiesenthal himself tried without success to commit suicide when he was first captured.

One bright, sunny day as Wiesenthal’s prison detail was cleaning rubbish out of a hospital for German casualties, a nurse approached him. “Are you a Jew?” she asked hesitantly, then signaled him to accompany her. Apprehensive, Wiesenthal followed her up a stairway and down a hallway until they reached a dark, musty room where a lone soldier lay swathed in bandages. White gauze covered the man’s face, with openings cut out for mouth, nose and ears.

The nurse disappeared, closing the door behind her to leave the young prisoner alone with the spectral figure. The wounded man was an SS officer, and he had summoned Wiesenthal for a deathbed confession.

“My name is Karl,” said a raspy voice that came from somewhere within the bandages. “I must tell you of this horrible deed—tell you because you are a Jew.”

Karl began his story by reminiscing about his Catholic upbringing and his childhood faith., which he had lost while in the Hitler Youth Corps. He later volunteered for the SS and served with distinction and had only recently returned, badly wounded from the Russian front.

Three times as Karl tried to tell his story, Wiesenthal pulled away as if to leave. Each time the officer reached out to grab his arm with a white, nearly bloodless, hand. He begged him to listen to what he had just experienced in the Ukraine.

In one small town, abandoned by the retreating Russians, Karl’s unit stumbled onto booby traps that killed thirty of their soldiers. As an act of revenge the SS rounded up three hundred Jews, herded them into a three story house, doused it with gasoline, and fired grenades at it. Karl and his men encircled the house, their guns drawn to shoot anyone who tried to escape.

“The screams from the house were horrible,” he said, reliving the moment. “I saw a man with a small child in his arms. His clothes were on fire. By his side stood a woman, doubtless the mother of the child. With his free hand the man covered the child’s eyes, then he jumped into the street. Second later the mother followed. Then from the other windows fell burning bodies. We shot… Oh, God!”

All this time Simon Wiesthenthal sat in silence, letting the German soldier speak. Karl went on to describe other atrocities, but he kept circling back to the scene of that young boy with black hair and dark eyes, falling from the building, target practice for SS rifles. “I am left here with my guilt,” he concluded at last:

In the last hours of my life you are with me. I do no know who you are, I know only that you are a Jew and that is enough. I know that what I have told you is terrible. In the long nights while I have been waiting for death, time and again I have longed to talk about it to a Jew and beg forgiveness from him. Only I didn’t know whether there were any Jews left…I know what I am asking is almost too much for you, but without your answer I cannot die in peace.”

Simon Wiesenthal, an architect in his early twenties, now a prisoner dressed in a shabby uniform marked with the yellow star of David, felt the immense crushing burden of his race bear down on him. He stared out the window at the sunlight courtyard. He looked at the eyeless heap of bandages lying in the bed. He watched a bluebottle fly buzzing the dying man’s body, attracted by the smell.

“At last I made up my mind,” Wiesenthal writes, “and without a word I left the room.”

The SS officer soon died, unforgiven by a Jew, but Wiesenthal was liberated from a death camp by American troops. The scene in the hospital haunted him like a ghost. Over twenty years later, he finally wrote down the story and sent it to the brightest ethical minds he knew: Jew and Gentile, Catholic, Protestant and irreligious. “What would you have done in my place? he asked them. The second half of the book records their responses. Of the thirty six who responded, only 6 said he had erred in not forgiving the German.

My thought: The fact that it haunted him and tormented him for so many years would indicate that he had made the wrong choice. Grace extended rarely comes back to haunt you.

Where are you today? God is calling you and I to be gracious people. Not people who arch our backs and dig in our heels when we are provoked. Not people who work to plan our next attack and figure out ways to get what we want. Rather, He calls us to grace. First, for our own needs, and then once we are full of grace, for offering it to others.

The gospel of grace begins and ends with forgiveness. And people write songs with titles like “Amazing Grace” for one reason; grace is the only force in the universe powerful enough to break the chains that enslave generations. God's love and grace alone melts ungrace.

Let me finish with these words 2Tim. 3:1-5   You should know this, Timothy, that in the last days there will be very difficult times. 2 For people will love only themselves and their money. They will be boastful and proud, scoffing at God, disobedient to their parents, and ungrateful. They will consider nothing sacred. 3 They will be unloving and unforgiving; they will slander others and have no self-control. They will be cruel and hate what is good. 4 They will betray their friends, be reckless, be puffed up with pride, and love pleasure rather than God. 5 They will act religious, but they will reject the power that could make them godly. Stay away from people like that!

God is calling you and I to quit the Ungraced Organization. He’s calling us to live a gracious life. One that is quick to forgive wrongs and extend grace, even if the other person isn’t sorry. He is calling you to be one that extends grace in the face of the seemingly unforgivable. There are only two options: Be gracious or get even. Forgive or grow bitter and exhaust your life on making sure they get their just due. Be a gracious saint or an ungracious terrorist. What about you? Are you willing to give up terrorism? Are you willing to release it to God?

Lord, I’m choosing this day, to tear up my card and quite the organization. I’m turning around, again, and saying yes, Lord, thank you for Your grace and that I’m not condemned. Help me to be a gracious person dispensing Your grace and forgiveness to others who offend me. I give You the terrorist in me today. Take it and make me who You want me to be. In Jesus name. Amen.