Will You Trust Me...Even Here?

The disciples were in a storm...a bad one. So bad that they felt they were going to drown, and despaired of life itself. Sound familiar? Feel like you're going to drown in the mass hysteria of the Covid-19 Pandemic? Getting so nervous and panicky you are despairing of life itself? Feel like "we're going in and this is it"? Many are despairing, but you don't have to. Read on.

Jesus had been teaching all day and He was exhausted! So exhausted that He told the disciples to push off and head across the Sea of Galilee. Let's pick up the whole story in Mark. It happens in 6 short verses. Mark 4:35-41 (New Living Translation)

Mark 4:35 As evening came, Jesus said to his disciples, “Let’s cross to the other side of the lake.” 36 So they took Jesus in the boat and started out, leaving the crowds behind (although other boats followed). 37 But soon a fierce storm came up. High waves were breaking into the boat, and it began to fill with water.

Mark 4:38 Jesus was sleeping at the back of the boat with his head on a cushion. The disciples woke him up, shouting, “Teacher, don’t you care that we’re going to drown?”

Mark 4:39 When Jesus woke up, he rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Silence! Be still!” Suddenly the wind stopped, and there was a great calm. 40 Then he asked them, “Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

Mark 4:41 The disciples were absolutely terrified. “Who is this man?” they asked each other. “Even the wind and waves obey him!”

These people had seen Jesus heal the sick, cast out demons, turn water into wine...in short...they had seen Him do the impossible! But when the storm came up, their faith went down. THEY FORGOT HE WAS IN THE BOAT WITH THEM!!! (Have you?)

And then, when they did remember, they asked Him an almost insane question! Look back at verse 38..."Teacher...Don't you care if we drown?" Of course He cared! These guys were a vital part of His mission to save the world! They would be the ones spreading the message! (And so are YOU!)

And then Jesus woke up. He didn't ream them out. He didn't scold them. He simply rebuked the wind and the waves...He said "Be Still!" and they were! Then He asked them a question. It's the same question I believe He is asking us even now. "Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?"

Put another way, I think this is the question that we, as Christians, have to answer every day. See, I believe that things come along to help us realize that we don't have the control we would like to think that we have. The fact is, we never really have had control of anything... except our choices.

Life happens fast, and as a Christian we are constantly having to re-examine where we stand with Christ...and the question is always there. It's His way of re-focusing us. Of calling us back to the basics and helping us reassess where we truly stand in our walk with Him.

And now, in this time of crisis, it is even more important that we both face, and daily answer, the question that Christ puts before us. The question: Will you trust ME...even here?

Oh wait, Pastor Don...He could sleep because He was God. I mean...He KNEW He wasn't going down. He had all of the power on earth. I would beg to differ. If He were all about saving His own life, He never would have gone to the cross. It wasn't death He was thinking about.

In fact, one of my favorite Christian authors, Ellen White, in her book The Desire of Ages, paints the scene a little better for us.

When Jesus was awakened to meet the storm, He was in perfect peace. There was no trace of fear in word or look, for no fear was in His heart. But He rested not in the possession of almighty power. It was not as the “Master of earth and sea and sky” that He reposed in quiet. That power He had laid down, and He says, “I can of Mine own self do nothing.” John 5:30. He trusted in the Father’s might. It was in faith—faith in God’s love and care—that Jesus rested, and the power of that word which stilled the storm was the power of God. {DA 336.1}

So it isn't in our own power that we are expected to meet this thing. It is in faith--faith in God's love and care--that we can rest as well. And we can look up as we hear His question, "Will you trust Me even here?" And though our answer may at first be feeble, we can choose, by faith to answer yes. And we can continue to answer yes until every time it is asked of us, whether in good times or in crisis, we can respond with a resounding yes. That's what is called the Faith Walk.

By faith I say YES...and God leads me one more step. Then asks again, "Will you trust Me even here?" And I choose, again, to say YES! And He leads me another step. I don't have to know every step from beginning to end. If I hold on by faith, He will continue to walk me, with both peace and confidence, through whatever the world or the devil may throw at me.

Will it be trying? Yes! Faith destroying? It doesn't have to be!  So hold on my friends and trust!

To hold on is not so much about bravery or courage, but a learned response from a long obedience in the same direction. It’s about being confident in the One who has called you.
· Hold on to your faith.
· Hold on to your care for one another
· Hold on to Jesus.

Every day Jesus asks you the same question: Will you trust Me even here? And your answer is?

A Conspiracy of Grace

Mike Yaconelli, in his book Messy Spirituality relates the following story that I think illustrates what God is doing in what Yaconelli calls “a conspiracy of grace.”

Little league baseball can be a brutal sport, especially for nine-and ten-year-olds who compete in national tournaments. It was the area Little League championship game. The stands were packed with families of each of the players. One young man brought his mother and father, both grandparents, and three uncles and aunts to watch him play.

The bottom of the seventh-inning was a nail-biter. The other team was ahead by one run, the bases were loaded, two outs, and the little boy with the large family was up to bat. If he made an out, the game would be over and his team would lose. If he walked or hit the ball, he would be the hero of the game. He swung at the first pitch and missed.

“Strike one!” the umpire yelled.

The families from the other team cheered, but his family cheered even louder. “It’s okay, Carl. No problem. You almost hit the ball! Now clobber the next pitch!”

“Strike two!” the umpire yelled after the next pitch.

Pandemonium broke out. Both teams and their families were yelling back and forth at each other. Carl’s family and team was encouraging him; the players and families of the other team were taunting. It was so loud no one could even hear themselves think.

Wrinkles appeared on the nine-year-old’s forehead as he waited for the next pitch. As the ball left the pitcher’s hand, it became very quiet. The ball sped towards Carl. It seemed like it took forever to cross the plate, but cross the plate it did, and Carl swung with all his might.

“Strike Three—You’re OUT!”

Not only was Carl out, the game was over. And he was the cause of the loss.

The winning team went crazy, their families swarmed onto the field, and everyone was dancing, laughing, cheering and celebrating. Except Carl’s team. As Carl’s team walked off the field, dejected, they mingled with their families and headed back to their cars in silence.

Except for Carl. Carl was still standing at home plate, devastated, alone, his head down in disgrace.

Suddenly someone yelled, “Ok, Carl, play ball!” Startled, Carl looked up to see his family spread out over the field. Grandpa was pitching, Dad was catching, mom was at first base, Uncle David at second, and the rest of the family had covered the other positions.

“Come on Carl, pick up the bat. Grandpa’s pitching.”
Bewildered, Carl slowly picked up the bat and swung at Grandpa’s first pitch. He missed, and he missed the next six pitches as well. But on the seventh pitch, determined to get a hit, Carl smacked the ball to left field. His aunt ran, picked up the ball in plenty of time, but the first baseman, Mom, must have lost the ball in the sun, because it went right through her hands into the dugout. “Run!” everyone yelled.

As Carl was running to second, the first baseman recovered the ball and threw it. Amazingly, Uncle David was blinded by the sun as well. “Keep running!” yelled someone, and Carl headed for third, where the throw went at least two feet over the head of the third baseman. “Keep running, Carl!” and Carl raced for home, running as hard as he had ever run. The ball was thrown with deadly accuracy as the catcher, Dad, blocking home plate, waited to tag him out, but just as Carl reached home plate, the ball bounced in and out of the catcher’s mitt, and Carl was safe!

Before he knew what happened, Carl found himself being carried around on Uncle Dave’s shoulders while the rest of the family crowded around cheering Carl’s name.
One person who was watching this amazing event commented to a friend, “I watched a little boy fall victim to a conspiracy of grace!”

Carl, the loser—the one who struck out, failed his team, disappointed his family—went from loser to hero. Carl, who would have been left with that awful memory of failure, was instead given a memory of grace, love and acceptance. He heard God’s Love song.

Just like a certain woman at the well. Just like the disciples, or the lame or the blind or those with leprosy. And God continues to sing that same song to you and I today.

Through people who show us a conspiracy of grace. Through family members who hold us in our darkest hours. Through scripture and sunsets. Through prayers and petitions on our behalf. God continues to sing His love song to you and to me. “It’s alright. I’m here…and I love you more than you will ever know. I’ve forgiven you already through the blood of my sacrifice, so whatever it is, confess it and let’s move on. I want to make you whole and happy and free. I want you truly know Love at its’ deepest level. I want you to know Me.”

All that’s left to do now, is respond.

Allowing God's Love Song to Dissolve Your Past

Haunted by your past?  Can't seem to shake it?  You aren't alone, you know.  It's  happened before.

Go to the well of Samaria in John 4 and see the search of a woman trying to escape her past and hear the Song of God's Love in response to her life. Religion has told the Samaritan woman about the possibility of a Messiah, and then she meets the real Messiah, who immediately recognizes her thirst and offers her the living water of His grace.

What this woman expects from the Messiah is a lengthy critique of her life, or an enlightening lecture on what she should do or a justifiable reminder of the consequences of her destructive choices on others. What she receives instead is compassion, gentleness, kindness and a way out of the ruins of her life. She hears God’s love song for her. Jesus goes straight for her longings, finds them and, in the process finds her. And in so doing, His love song liberates her from her past.

After her conversation with Jesus, the woman at the well is just beginning a whole new way of living, but none of the facts of her life have changed! She is still living with a man who is not her husband. She still has been divorced 5 times. Her reputation is still a disaster. Jesus often told people not to tell anyone what He had done for them, but not this woman.

Her faith is only a few minutes old and already she becomes an evangelist with a huge impact on her community. What does she say? Not much. “Uh….come see a man who told me everything I’ve ever done.” Everyone in town knows what this woman has done. Big deal. What she says is not the point. The fact that she can talk about her shameful past publicly is what grabs their attention.

Her words are few and seemingly insignificant, but her saying them is very significant. In effect she says, “I know you know who I am, but I just met a person who liberated me from my past, my reputation, and I am no longer the person you think I am. I am no longer hostage to my bad choices. I am free!”

Still, nothing has changed. But everything has changed. Her neighbors can hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes. Her words are all they need to race to the man she describes. For reasons they don’t understand, who this woman is now seems more relevant than who she was then.

The implications for us are almost overwhelming. Those of us who want to move on from our past, those who have come to the end of the road, can start with our unchanged life, now. We don’t have to wait until we are “mature.” We don’t have to move to a new town or convince others we are serious; we simply start. We begin. We hear God’s Love Song and respond. We take the first bumbling, stumbling, teetering steps toward the spiritual life, even if we are not very good at it.

What a gift of God.  To leave the past in the past.  And as we continue to tune into the Song of Love and allow it to permeate our guilt-ridden hearts, our very lives begin to change and a daily new beginning will allow that past to melt into the story of our lives, where it has meaning and significance but no power to harm us anymore.  It simply is the setting to show off still another example of God's Amazing Grace.

The Hound of Heaven

God’s love is so amazingly persistent, that He will continually seek you out. Nothing can separate you from God’s love—even if you try to be separated from God.

Francis Thompsen found that out. Francis Thompson was running, running. He was running from his father, from his failure as a medical student, from God himself, and yet, by the end of his life, had learned to what extent God will pursue a person.

The author of what has been called the greatest ode in the English language characterized God as a relentless pursuer, calling Him “The Hound of Heaven.” Thousands have read "The Hound of Heaven" with tears, for it is the story of God's pursuit of us, who, like Thompson reject him, and try to flee from him.

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind...

The poet knew that: "All things betray thee, who betrayest Me." But still he ran--into the slums of London, into starvation, dirt, drug addiction and disease. But why?

...For, though I knew His love Who follow'd,
Yet I was sore adread
Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside...

How did he get so low? In 1859, he was born into a well-to-do Roman Catholic home. But his parents wanted him to become a physician, a career he detested. He failed his exams three times and then fled to London.

He failed every occupation he tried. Although his father sent a little money to him in care of a library, he was refused admission because he was so shabby. When he collapsed in the street, a prostitute rescued him. Some poems he scribbled on sugar paper were printed by Wilfred Meynell, who finally rescued Thompson. Under the care of a Franciscan community, Thompson escaped his drug addiction, but his health was permanently injured. He died November 13, 1907, having finally given himself to “Hound of Heaven”.

If you haven't read it--or if it is has been awhile, I've included it here. It's not an easy read because of turn of the century language. But as you read, you begin to pick up on how desperately he ran...and yet he realizes how great the Love of God really is.  Did you know that God is still persistently pursuing you?


THE HOUND OF HEAVEN

Francis Thompson

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the midst of tears

I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,

From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat—and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet—
'All things betray thee, who betrayest Me'.

I pleaded, outlaw-wise,
By many a hearted casement, curtained red,
Trellised with intertwining charities;
(For, though I knew His love Who followed,
Yet was I sore adread
Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside.)

But, if one little casement parted wide,
The gust of His approach would clash it to:
Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue.
Across the margent of the world I fled,
And troubled the gold gateway of the stars,
Smiting for shelter on their clanged bars;
Fretted to dulcet jars
And silvern chatter the pale ports o' the moon.

I said to Dawn: Be sudden—to Eve: Be soon;
With thy young skiey blossom heap me over
From this tremendous Lover—
Float thy vague veil about me, lest He see!
I tempted all His servitors, but to find
My own betrayal in their constancy,

In faith to Him their fickleness to me,
Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit.
To all swift things for swiftness did I sue;
Clung to the whistling mane of every wind.
But whether they swept, smoothly fleet,
The long savannahs of the blue;
Or, whether, Thunder-driven,
They clanged his chariot 'thwart a heaven,
Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o' their feet:—

Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue.
Still with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbed pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
Came on the following Feet,
And a Voice above their beat—
'Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me.'

I sought no more after that which I strayed
In face of man or maid;
But still within the little children's eyes
Seems something, something that replies,
They at least are for me, surely for me!
I turned me to them very wistfully;
But just as their young eyes grew sudden fair
With dawning answers there,
Their angel plucked them from me by the hair.

Come then, ye other children, Nature's—share
With me’ (said I) 'your delicate fellowship;
Let me greet you lip to lip,
Let me twine with you caresses,
Wantoning
With our Lady-Mother's vagrant tresses,
Banqueting
With her in her wind-walled palace,
Underneath her azured dais,
Quaffing, as your taintless way is,
From a chalice
Lucent-weeping out of the dayspring.’

So it was done:
I in their delicate fellowship was one—
Drew the bolt of Nature's secrecies.
I knew all the swift importings
On the wilful face of skies;
I knew how the clouds arise
Spumèd of the wild sea-snortings;
All that's born or dies
Rose and drooped with; made them shapers

Of mine own moods, or wailful divine;
With them joyed and was bereaven.
I was heavy with the even,
When she lit her glimmering tapers
Round the day's dead sanctities.
I laughed in the morning's eyes.
I triumphed and I saddened with all weather,
Heaven and I wept together,
And its sweet tears were salt with mortal mine:
Against the red throb of its sunset-heart
I laid my own to beat,
And share commingling heat;
But not by that, by that, was eased my human smart.

In vain my tears were wet on Heaven's grey cheek.
For ah! we know not what each other says,
These things and I; in sound I speak—
Their sound is but their stir, they speak by silences.
Nature, poor stepdame, cannot slake my drouth;
Let her, if she would owe me,
Drop yon blue bosom-veil of sky, and show me
The breasts o’ her tenderness:
Never did any milk of hers once bless
My thirsting mouth.

Nigh and nigh draws the chase,
With unperturbed pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy;
And past those noisèd Feet
A voice comes yet more fleet—
'Lo! naught contents thee, who content'st not Me.'

Naked I wait Thy love's uplifted stroke!
My harness piece by piece Thou has hewn from me,
And smitten me to my knee;
I am defenceless utterly.
I slept, methinks, and woke,
And, slowly gazing, find me stripped in sleep.
In the rash lustihead of my young powers,
I shook the pillaring hours
And pulled my life upon me; grimed with smears,
I stand amidst the dust o' the mounded years—
My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap.
My days have crackled and gone up in smoke,
Have puffed and burst as sun-starts on a stream.
Yea, faileth now even dream
The dreamer, and the lute the lutanist;
Even the linked fantasies, in whose blossomy twist
I swung the earth a trinket at my wrist,
Are yielding; cords of all too weak account
For earth with heavy griefs so overplussed.
Ah! is Thy love indeed
A weed, albeit an amarinthine weed,
Suffering no flowers except its own to mount?

Ah! must—
Designer infinite!—
Ah! must Thou char the wood ere Thou canst limn with it?
My freshness spent its wavering shower i' the dust;
And now my heart is as a broken fount,
Wherein tear-drippings stagnate, spilt down ever
From the dank thoughts that shiver
Upon the sighful branches of my mind.
Such is; what is to be?
The pulp so bitter, how shall taste the rind?
I dimly guess what Time in mists confounds;
Yet ever and anon a trumpet sounds
From the hid battlements of Eternity;
Those shaken mists a space unsettle, then
Round the half-glimpsed turrets slowly wash again.
But not ere him who summoneth
I first have seen, enwound
With glooming robes purpureal, cypress-crowned;
His name I know and what his trumpet saith.
Whether man's heart or life it be which yields
Thee harvest, must Thy harvest-fields
Be dunged with rotten death?

Now of that long pursuit
Comes on at hand the bruit;
That Voice is round me like a bursting sea:
'And is thy earth so marred,
Shattered in shard on shard?
Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me!

'Strange, piteous, futile thing!
Wherefore should any set thee love apart?
Seeing none but I makes much of naught' (He said),
'And human love needs human meriting:
How hast thou merited—
Of all man's clotted clay the dingiest clot?
Alack, thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art!
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,
Save Me, save only Me?

All which I took from thee I did but take,
Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might'st seek it in My arms.
All which thy child's mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:
Rise, clasp My hand, and come!'

Halts by me that footfall:
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
'Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest!
Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me.'

Of Stinky Feet and Sewer Breath

As their wedding day approached, a young couple grew apprehensive. Each had a problem they had never before shared with anyone, not even each other. The groom-to-be decided to ask his father for advice. “Father,” he said, “I’m concerned about the success of my marriage. I love my fiancée very much, but I have smelly feet. I’m afraid that my future wife will find them, and me, disgusting.”

“No problem,” said his father, “All you have to do is wash your feet as often as possible and always wear socks, even to bed.” The young man thought this sounded like a workable solution.

Likewise, the bride-to-be decided to take her problem to her mom. “Mom,” she said, “when I wake up in the morning my breath is truly awful.”

Her mother advised, “In the morning, get straight out of bed, head for the bathroom, and brush your teeth. Don’t say a word until you’ve brushed them—not a word.”

The bride-to-be thought the suggestion was certainly worth a try.

The loving couple was finally married in a beautiful ceremony. Not forgetting the advice each had received—he with his perpetual socks and she with her morning silence—they managed quite well.

About six months later, shortly before dawn, the husband woke up horrified to discover that one of his socks had come off during the night. Fearful of the consequences, he frantically started searching the bed. This, of course, woke his bride. Without thinking, she blurted out, “What on earth are you doing?” “Oh no!” he gasped as he recoiled in shock. “You’ve swallowed my sock!”

Maybe you don’t have stinky feet or sewer breath, but chances are you have some embarrassing or disgusting secrets that you hope nobody ever finds out about. But no matter how hard you try to keep some things a secret, you can’t hide anything from God.

He knows you very well. He knows you so well, that according to scripture, He even knows how many hairs you have on your head….including the new count after you brushed your hair this morning. He knows all the good, the bad and the ugly about you.

But in spite of all that he knows, God still loves you. In fact, he wants to know more about you because he’s interested in you and cares about you. He thinks the world of you. He loves you so much that he gave his only son to die for you. And all he asks in return is your acceptance of that love.

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!!!

Stop. Look. Listen

Have you noticed...or is it just me?  Life seems to be moving faster than ever.  And so much has happened in the past few months that it is almost too much to process.  Births, deaths, people moving, jobs drying up, the economy tanking...again.  So how does one deal with everything that life throws their way without totally losing their mind?  Here's what I've found to be helpful.

Step 1)  Stop.  In the middle of it all...just stop!  Psa. 46:10   says      “Be still, and know that I am God!"  But that isn't the end of the verse.  It goes on to say, "I will be honored by every nation. I will be honored throughout the world.”  So here's the question:  When you stop, ask yourself if the way you are living your life right now is honoring God in front of the nations...or at least the people in your community.

Step 2)  Look.  Look to God in the middle of your stuff.  When David was being pursued by Saul and found himself hiding in a cave, he began crying out to God...but in the middle of his prayer he really nailed it down.  Here's what he said.
Psa. 142:0      A psalm of David, regarding his experience in the cave. A prayer.
Psa. 142:1         I cry out to the LORD;
         I plead for the LORD’s mercy.
2      I pour out my complaints before him
         and tell him all my troubles.
3      When I am overwhelmed,
         you alone know the way I should turn.
     Wherever I go,
         my enemies have set traps for me.
4      I look for someone to come and help me,
         but no one gives me a passing thought!
     No one will help me;
         no one cares a bit what happens to me.
5      Then I pray to you, O LORD.
         I say, “You are my place of refuge.
         You are all I really want in life.
6      Hear my cry,
         for I am very low.
     Rescue me from my persecutors,
         for they are too strong for me.
7      Bring me out of prison
         so I can thank you.
     The godly will crowd around me,
         for you are good to me.”

It wasn't long after this prayer that Saul had to go to the bathroom...and he chose David's cave without knowing it.  David could have done him in right there and then, but chose to continue to trust in God to deliver him instead of taking matters into his own hands.

Step 3)  Listen.  Again from the Psalms:
Psa. 85:8    I listen carefully to what God the LORD is saying,
         for he speaks peace to his faithful people.
         But let them not return to their foolish ways.
9      Surely his salvation is near to those who fear him,
         so our land will be filled with his glory.
Psa. 85:10         Unfailing love and truth have met together.
         Righteousness and peace have kissed!

Did you catch that?  When you listen for God's voice, He speaks peace to His faithful people.  That's it. 

Stop.  Look.  and Listen.  It isn't just for railroad crossings.  It's for whenever you come to any crossroads in life and feel a bit overwhelmed.  It's for when you are moving so fast that life is zooming past and you feel out of control.  It's for when you need peace in your heart and the fear to be removed.  Stop, Look, and Listen  and find His peace today.

Vending Machine God

Dad holding my son, Donnie to get a drink

"If you let Dad die, God, I’ll quit the ministry,” I muttered to myself as I sped down I-205 towards my parent’s house in Portland, Oregon. Up to this point, my life had been one of pleasant memories, successful youth ministry and happy times with my family. To be sure, we had our moments, but now, suddenly I was faced with one of the most difficult situations of my life.  We had watched as a rather large lump under dad’s right arm had turned into an ugly, oozing, bleeding, ulcerous tumor that was approximately 7-9 inches across. The diagnosis: melanoma, the worst form of skin cancer.  The prognosis: 3 to 6 months.

We prayed. We wept.  We encouraged others to pray with us.   Thousands from all across the country, even across the world, prayed that dad would be healed.  I felt sure that healing was in the bag.  If it had to do with the amount of prayers or the sincerity of prayer, then dad should have been healed.  If it had to do with faith and seeking the Lord, then dad should have been healed. But he wasn’t.  He died.

A few Sundays before dad died, he could not stand up without two or three people helping him out of bed. I had spent the greater portion of the night praying.  I really wanted God to work a miracle.  I had read the stories in the gospels of all the people that Jesus healed. I had read the stories in Acts where Peter (Acts 5:15,16) was walking through crowds and people were clamoring to put their sick in his shadow as they passed and they were healed. I had read stories of
Paul (Acts 19:11,12) walking through crowds who were passing their handkerchiefs and aprons over to Paul so that he might touch them and send them back, and Acts declares that all of them were healed.

Then there were the proclamations of Jesus, “If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.”( Matt 21:22) “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” (Matt 7:7) “Then the Father will give you whatever you ask in my name.” (John 15:16)

I had believed. I had asked.  I didn’t doubt that God could do it. I had prayed hard and long that night, yet somehow, was still like the disciples in the Garden. Somewhere along the line, I had fallen asleep.  Now doubt plagued me. Would my sleeping preclude my miracle?  Never mind that I had only averaged only 3-4 hours of sleep for the previous 3 weeks as I sat by the bedside of my dying father. Never mind that I was driving 40 minutes one way to go home at least once during each 24 hour period and see my family, and that usually for only an hour or two. This particular night, I had decided that I would keep a prayer vigil and pray all night. Yet, I found myself waking up on the floor of my study at 4 am loathing the weakness of my humanity. “Lord, I believe!” I cried, “Help my unbelief!”

About 6 o’clock, I felt an impression to go to dad’s and say to him, “In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and be healed.” And so now I sped down I-205 wrestling with myself and God. The struggle raged.  Inwardly, I said, “If I go and do this thing, and nothing happens, I’ll be really embarrassed.  How would that look for a pastor?”  On the other hand I thought, “But if I don’t, that could be the very thing that saves him.” I thought of Namaan’s servant saying, “If he had asked you to do a big thing, wouldn’t you have done it?” I wrestled.  I prayed.  And then the thought came, “If you let Dad die, God, I’ll quit the ministry.” The turmoil continued to rage for most of the trip down.  As I turned into dad’s neighborhood, a peace overtook me, and I was resolute that God wanted me to go in and pray and ask Him to raise dad up. I was confident that God would do that.

I entered the room. No one was with dad at the time, so I told him that I felt impressed that we should pray for his healing once again, only this time I felt that God was calling on us to demonstrate our faith in Him by actions.  Dad said, “I think you are right.  I appreciate that about you...always being a man of faith.”

I prayed. Hard.   And then I said, “in the name of Jesus Christ, I say to you, get up and be healed.” Without hesitation, dad holding on to my hand, swung his feet off the bed and began to feebly stand. About halfway up, he gathered strength from somewhere and straightened all the way up.  We both stood there holding on to each other for a magical moment wondering if indeed the healing was happening, and then he said, “Help me lay back down.  God may heal me in stages.”  I helped him back into bed and then he said, “Thanks for your faith.  Thanks for your love that would prompt you to pray for me. And don’t worry.  God will heal me.  Now or then.”

I left the room very bewildered and very embarrassed.  Angry with God for asking me to do that.  Angry with myself for possibly misreading His cues. Angry because it felt as if the devil was just taunting me.  Throwing my faith in my face as totally preposterous.  Was it a lack of faith?  Was I acting on what I believed God wanted me to do? Why would God have me do something that He wasn’t going to answer.

I don’t think dad ever mentioned it again and I wondered if he was embarrassed by it. He didn’t seem to be.  The thing that got me was that his trust was immediate.  He was willing to try whatever means were available because he loved us and he loved life so much.  And he truly believed that God was going to heal him.  So to him, I don’t think he was embarrassed, even though I was.

After much thought, here is what I think the point must be. (Or at least some thoughts that can be drawn from the whole experience.) First, I think that God may have been testing me to see if I would trust Him no matter what. I had thought that if dad died, I would leave the ministry.  What use would it be to serve a God who didn’t answer prayers?  Why minister to the goodness of a God that wasn’t so good?  I think God’s point was, “Hey, no matter what happens, I will still be in control and you don’t h
ave to worry. I will take care of your dad.  And I will take care of you.  So do you believe me or not?”

Second, I would have regretted never trying it if I had kept silent and dad had died. I could truly say that I had tried everything, and could rest knowing that God had another plan.  If I had never experienced that, I could never have forgiven myself, and so I think God gave me the urge to go ahead and try what I had read in the Bible. I think God wanted me to see that sometimes all of the notions that we have, or all of the “magic” words we want to speak do not hold the power. Only God does.   I figured that if those words worked in the Bible, they just might work now, and that if I didn’t try them, they might have been the words to save dad.  But such is not the case.  

God is not moved by our “magic” words. He is moved by our heart.  He isn’t interested in our notions. What He wants is to be loved freely.  With no strings attached. With no “magic” words.  And He risks being misunderstood and spurned rather than perform to my tune. The love He wants me to share with Him is not a love based on manipulation or insecurity. It is a love based on a deep abiding trust.  And the question comes back, “Do I trust Him no matter what?” If I only trust Him when things are going my way, then I have a conditional love. If I only trust Him when He responds to my “magic” words, then I have reduced Him to a vending machine God; put in the right amount, say the “magic” words and out will pop your desired outcome.  That’s not a relationship.   It’s manipulation.

When I say to God...”do this and I will love you” or “don’t do this and I will not love you,” I am basing my relationship on my own immature desire to manipulate Him to get what I want.  God has never worked that way.  Not even when it would have saved Jesus’ life.  Herod wanted Jesus to perform a miracle in exchange for Jesus’ freedom.  He didn’t yield because He wanted our love to be from a genuine response to His love, not from a manipulated response based on what we might get.

And so, I am finding a deeper relationship with God, even though dad died. Even though healing didn’t occur the way I wanted.   Why?   Because I can’t blame God for all of the misery...we chose it.  WE sinned, not God.   But He commended His love towards us in this, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8

Love only wants a genuine response.  So Love stretched out His arms and died.   To show us He loved us.  To show us that though the devil has made death to be a fearful thing, we need not fear it.  To show us that he understands even the worst of what happens to us, and yet has promised us a better day. And because of that promise, I still have something to share in the ministry. And because of that Love, I’ll stay in the ministry until that day. A day when all will be made right.   A day when we will see why things didn’t work out here.  A day for joy instead of tears.   And a day when dad will be raised up.
 

Indoor Rapelling (or the coolest way down to lunch)

Somewhere in my younger life I got the impression that to be a good Christian, one had to look like they had just sucked on a lemon and have breath that smelled like they had refused dental care because of the Lord’s imminent return, as it would just be a waste of money.  
 
I think I got the impression from a few of the older ladies in our church when I was growing up, one in particular, who backed me into the corner of the church porch with her cane and wilted me down with both her breath, and a verbal barrage about not “being ready for the Kingdom with behavior” like mine.  Her style of Christianity was fine, I guess, but it sure didn’t appeal to me. Besides, I reasoned, if she were going to the Kingdom, it would be reason enough for me to stay away.
 
I just wasn’t wired that way.  I had a hard time keeping my mind on anything very long.  If there was any lull in the action, I could think of something to occupy it.  My mind would race along with new ideas popping in all the time.  I just never knew when something new would come in.  And I wasn’t always good at deciding whether it was a good idea or a bad one until I had tried it.
 
“Wherever did you come up with that idea?” my second grade substitute asked after she discovered all of the boys in their seats after recess and mud on the windowsill. During recess one of my friends and I had been discussing the “girls are always first” rule.  He had stated that he didn’t like waiting all of that time, because he felt some of the girls took advantage at the water fountain and drank like camels and used up all of the guys time to get a drink.  Then we were all told to cut it short because we needed to get back to class.
 
I simply observed that it was actually a shorter distance to the ground-level windows of our classroom than back around the building to line up.  All of the guys could climb through the windows, I reasoned, have their drinks and be in their seats before the girls line got there.  We would tell the substitute that our teacher always let us do that to save her time.  What did substitutes know anyway?  We passed the word and Operation Windowsill was born.
 
It worked as planned, except that I hadn’t factored in the substitute’s lack of patience as she waited with all of the girls in the hot sun outside.  I also hadn’t figured it would actually get us in trouble since we didn’t do any damage.  All of us got marched back down the hall and had to line up outside, and then each of us got a whack on the seat with the paddle as we were then sternly told, “Now WALK down the hall and to your desk.”
 
Then there was the time in seventh-grade when my friend, Charlie and I decided to test the theory of gradually increasing the temperature of water on a frog to see if it would jump out.  It didn’t. Stupid frog actually stayed in and met his demise.
 
Or the time in high school when another friend and I put on garbage cans with a “push” lid, and tried to follow the night watchman that we had dubbed “Barney Fife”, up the center campus sidewalk. Each time he would spin around with flashlight in hand, we would stoop down on the side of the sidewalk in the garbage cans.  “Hmmm,” he would mutter, “I could have sworn I heard something.”   It would have worked if we hadn’t gotten fancy and tried to criss-cross the sidewalk each time.  As we were running across we accidentally banged into each other. When he spun around this time, he found himself face to face with two garbage cans with legs!  It was hard outrunning him with those cans, but somehow we managed.
 
So, given my history of unique ideas coming from a lull in the action, it should have been no surprise that my History of Western Civilization class in college, became a veritable think-tank.  A time of churning out the ideas.  Some good.  Some not.  But who’s to know till you try?
 
History was at 1 p.m. And, as any college student can tell you, there is no worse time to have to take a class than right after lunch. There is no blood leftover from the digestion process to go to your head and actually make it work.  And when you have a history teacher that has been teaching the one o’clock slot for years because his delivery matched the time slot, you’ve got a real recipe for disaster.
 
Our professor was a real nice guy, but his delivery of the material was designed to aid in the sleep and digestion department.  We had a class of about 120 students.  History majors had dibs on the front seats, and then it was alphabetical from front to back down each row. I sat, alphabetically, about half way back in the middle. Which is too far back for my type to get anything from a class which doubles as a sleep aid.
 
The Prof would look down at his lectern, simply reading the material. Every so often, not at any regular intervals, mind you, he would stop, look up and smile.  Then he would look back to the lectern and proceed in his best monotone.
 
So this is what I got. “In the year, humahumahum, there was humahum, blah blah blah humahumahuma.” Pause. Look up. Smile.  Look back down.  “Furthermore, they wanted to hummmmmahummma….” Snore.  And my grade reflected my rapt attention.
 
I woke up one day in the middle of class to make an accidental discovery.  My arousal from slumber inadvertently coincided with one of his “pause and smile” points.  I accidentally happened to hear what he said just prior to the smile, and realized that it was a humorous statement.  Well, as humorous as history can be under the circumstances. I was jazzed.  To think—each time he smiled, he was spewing forth historical humor, and I was missing it.
 
I woke up several friends around me to share my discovery.  “Hey, you know when he smiles?” I asked.  “Yeah, so?”  “Well, every time he smiles, he’s just told a joke!”
 
“No way!”  
 
“Way!  Just watch.”  I now had about 12 in my immediate area watching and trying to listen intently. Suddenly he looked up and grinned. Somehow we had missed it.   
 
“Excuse me, sir,” my friend Rick now had his hand in the air, “but could you repeat that last line.”
 
The Prof looked truly pleased for any sign of life and was only too happy to oblige.  He reread the line and it was, indeed, somewhat humorous.  Of course we all burst into laughter, and again, looking intensely pleased he made a note in the margin.  I think it must have been, “This is a very funny joke.  Pause longer, smile broader.”
 
His notes were so old they were yellow, and one day, as he turned the page, the page actually broke off.  It was the first time anyone ever heard him say anything in class that wasn’t scripted.  I didn’t actually see it break, but those who did, described it as a scene of extreme frustration and bewilderment. He had flipped the page and the papyrus had actually broken.  (Ok it wasn’t papyrus, but it had to be the first run right after they discovered paper.)  Anyway, he couldn’t figure out what to do.  A horrified look crossed his face, and the awkwardly long pause is what woke me up.  
 
I woke up to actually hear him utter his now infamous, unscripted statement.
 
“Hmmmmmm,” he said. Just like that. “Hmmmmmmm.” Then he continued, “Guess I’ll have to retype that page.  (Yes, boys and girls, this was back in the day before computers, when every page had to be re-typed, not just reprinted.)
 
At any rate, he abruptly went on with the lecture, and I went into warped-mind mode.  A few days earlier, I had discovered a little door at the back of a mechanical closet in the student center.  Being the curious sort, I opened it to see where it went.  Well, as luck would have it, it didn’t go anywhere, it just sat in its frame and swung back and forth.  But on the other side of the door, I made a grand discovery.  The little door was actually an access door to the space above the college dining hall.  Not having time to do anything with this new information at the time, I had closed the little door and gone on my merry way.  
 
Now, in the middle of history, my mind began to formulate a plan.   Wouldn’t it be cool to somehow tie on to a beam up there, open one of the ceiling tiles and rappel down to lunch?  Oh, that would be cool!  But I would need help.
 
My friend, Ronnie, quietly slumbering two rows over, was well known for his mountain climbing skills.  He had all sorts of equipment.  He would be a great choice for a partner on this escapade.  I hastily wrote a note describing my discovery and my idea and passed it to Rick, sitting next to me, to pass over to Ron.  Rick quickly scanned the note and then passed it on, while leaning back my direction to let me know that he wanted in on the gig too!
 
As soon as class was over, we headed for the student center.  We slipped into the closet, and swung open the magical access door.  Wonderment and glee played on Ronnie and Rick’s faces as we eased out onto the catwalk above the dining hall ceiling.  It was a whole huge room by itself.  Ronnie quickly located a beam above the ceiling grid that would work, and we lifted one corner of the tile to see where we would be in the dining hall.  Perfect.  We would drop right into the front left corner closest to the tray return.   There was an exit nearby, so we could make our grand entrance and then if necessary, beat a hasty retreat.  
 
We decided since the next day was Thursday, and as such, there was chapel just before lunch, we would all take a chapel skip and set up while everyone else was in chapel.  Then, after chapel let out, the dining hall would fill up quickly with the chapel rush.  We would wait until it got fairly full, and then make our big appearance.
 
Thursday, we worked the plan.  Ronnie showed up with all of his gear.  He’d even gone so far as to put on his little German leather knickers and lederhosen, to give it the alpine flair.   We checked to make sure no one was looking and then ducked into the mechanical room.  Once inside the attic of the dining hall, Ronnie located the right spot again and slipped a piece of webbing over the top of the beam and brought it back through, tying it off to make a loop.  
 
Next, he tied the rope to the webbing and then pulled seat harnesses out of his climbing pack. After giving each of us one, he showed us how to put them on and how to clip in and went over safety procedures. We became aware of the cafeteria starting to buzz below us.
 
Chapel was out and the rush was on.  We had told no one of our plan, except my roommate Keith, so he could take pictures of the big event.  We waited until the noise below us grew very lively, and then Ronnie stooped down and picked up the tile, moving it out of the way.
 
“You’re first, Keele,” Ronnie said.  “This was your idea, so go for it.”
 
“What do I do? What do I say?” I stammered, suddenly thinking maybe this was not such a good idea. 

“Just clip in and go. As far as what to say…say something witty like you always do, and we’ll build on it when we come down,” Ronnie said as he dropped the rope through the hole in the ceiling.
 
A hush suddenly fell on the crowd and Ronnie clipped me in.  I swung off the catwalk over the hole and began my descent.  I got about halfway down and stopped as I looked all around the dining room.  About a thousand people were staring back at me.  I looked back up towards my comrades.  Rick gave me the thumbs up sign and grinned.
 
“We should have turned left instead of right back there, guys!”  I said, still looking up.  The crowd roared.  I slid on down the rope and landed right beside the academic dean who stood holding a tray waiting for me at the bottom of the rope.  How had I missed seeing him before now?
 
“Keele,” asked the dean, “does your mother know you’re out doing stuff like this?”
 
“Um, no sir,” I said, “And it would probably be best if you didn’t tell her either.”
 
He laughed and walked away! I was to later find out that he thought this was some sort of SA announcement and that I had asked permission from Mr. Evans, the cafeteria director.   I looked around and there was Mr. Evans, who naturally assumed since the dean was laughing and walking away, I must have asked permission from the dean. So he turned and went back into the kitchen.
 
Rick was next. He came down about halfway and stopped.  “Whoa, we should have gone over a lot further!”  He said.  Again the crowd laughed.  
 
He came on down as I said, “No, I think we should have turned left instead of right back there.”
 
“No, we should have gone over farther!” he countered.
 
“Let’s see what Ronnie thinks!” I said.  “Hey Ronnie!”
 
“Yeah?”
 
“Come on out and give us your opinion.”
 
“Ok, just a second,” came the voice from the attic.
 
I told you that Ronnie was wearing the little German leather knickers and lederhosen.  What I didn’t tell you is that Ronnie decided to really look the part, so he had put on his climbing pack with an ice axe and crampons and ropes all on the outside of it.  In fact, he is wearing so much stuff, that his ice axe gets stuck in the ceiling as he tried to come through it.  Ronnie had to pull himself back up with one hand and free his ice axe with the other, then turn and wiggle his way through the hole in the ceiling. Once free of the ceiling, he slid down about halfway.
 
“Hey—this ain’t the girls dorm!”  The crowd roared its delight yet again.
 
“I told you we should have turned left instead of right!”  “No, we should have gone over farther.”  “You guys said we’d be in the girl’s dorm.”  We went around and around with our lines as we walked out the nearby exit.
 
For months, people would stop me to ask me why we did it.  “To bring a smile to someone’s face, and to let them know that you can have fun as a Christian,” was my only answer.
 
Some would just laugh and walk away.  Others would walk away shaking their heads muttering about reprobates. Still others would simply make a statement about how Christians should act, implying that our behavior wasn’t truly representative.
 
Let me ask you a question: Do you think God loved me any less at the bottom of the rope than he did at the top?
 
Somehow we’ve gotten the idea that God the Father is sitting up on his throne as, humorist Ken Davis portrays Him, saying, “My people are having fun.  NO!” as he stomps on the ground.
 
I think Ken is right when he continues.  “What God is probably really saying is: ‘Hey angels, come look at this idiot. Ah, I love this guy!’” (video: A Twisted Mind)
 
See, what I’ve learned since being cornered by a cane and halitosis is that God isn’t stuffy at all.  God loves me, warped ideas and all.  God loves you, too.  Which brings me to my point.
 
 God’s vision for me: Life as He lives it.  When you’ve got the most Creative Person in the universe, how could He settle for a boring drab life?  God is concerned with the quality of human life.
 
3 John 2 says: I pray that you may enjoy good health and that all may go well with you, even as your soul is getting along well.  (NIV)

God wants you to enjoy life.  Maybe not slide down a rope into the dining hall, but truly enjoy life.  Too many of us slip into a humdrum life of just going through the motions.  We go to school, go to work, go home, go to bed.  And in between, we seek to fill our days with artificial things; the glitz and glamour of this world.  And we wonder where the joy is.
 
While that may be ok for a little while, God has much bigger plans for you and I.  Check out one of my favorite texts in all of scripture.
 
“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 a hope and a future.”        Jeremiah 29:11 NIV

God cares about your life!  He cares about how you live it, because He wants you to maximize it.  Don’t use the line: “You only go around once” as an excuse to throw your life away.  God’s vision for you is life as HE lives it.  Full. Abundant. Exciting. Creative. Adventurous. Free of guilt, shame and despair. He wants you to have a quality life. To have LIFE as He lives it.