Bob's Blog Musings, Reflections, and Invitations

Hudson

2011-06-24T17:21:00.000-05:00

If anything merits a blog it is the birth of a grandchild.

Hudson Christopher Johns was born on June 15th to my daughter Alyssa and son-in-law Paul. Holly and I wasted very little time jumping a flight to Arizona. It has been an amazing week, and I find it difficult to voice what it feels like to be a grandparent – as so many of you told me, there is nothing quite like it.

It has been a joy to bounce Hudson around and to watch my daughter and son-in-law take those first steps of parenthood. They are doing well, supporting and encouraging each other, and experiencing all the variety of issues that go with having a newborn. I am proud of them both.

Something unexpected for me was sharing some of the anxiety parents of newborns feel when you ask all those beginning questions: “Is he doing okay? Is he eating enough? Why is he crying?” And the question we with experience already know the answer to – “Will life ever be the same again?”

Simple, black and white answer – “No!”

I read recently that having a child is an act of faith and an act of defiance. An act of faith in that it expresses the belief that God can bring something good and pure and beautiful into this world. An act of defiance in that parents refuse to let some of the scary things of this world have the final say – they dare, with courage, bring a child into this world, believing this child can not only change their lives but the lives of others.

At one point in my adulthood my Mom told me she prayed for me everyday. I found comfort in that – if no one else prayed for me, Mom did. Her prayers ceased long ago as she went to her heavenly home, but I continue her practice. I seldom miss a day when I do not pray for my children Alyssa and Chad, and years ago I added to my daily prayer their spouses Paul and Becki.

Now with joy I add Hudson to the list.

Anytime Now...

2011-06-11T11:28:00.000-05:00

I had a dream last night about babies being born – no wonder, both my daughter Alyssa and my daughter-in-law Becki are pregnant, and Alyssa is due anytime now. We have our bags packed so we can fly out to Phoenix at a moment's notice (or whenever we can get a flight), and if we had the Star Trek technology my wife would have transported there already.

Our first grandchild (a boy), coming anytime now.

I am finding it a strange feeling to live with the “anytime now” sense of things. Will the call come in the morning hours, the afternoon, or when we have dozed off to sleep at night? My wife does not like to carry her cell phone around, but I discovered this past Sunday that she not only had it in her pocket at church but had it turned on as well, “on vibrate” she said. “Why?” I asked. She said, “In case Alyssa calls telling us the baby is on the way.” I said to her, “Alyssa would leave a message for us.” And my wife looked at me with eyes like I have seldom seen in our thirty-seven years of marriage, eyes that said I had just failed the supreme test of being a father.

“I think you should continue to keep your cell on” I wisely said.

“Anytime now” – I guess lots of things can happen on that kind of timetable, things that bring us joy like having a child or a grandchild, and a number of things that can make us sad or break our hearts. But I am on the joyful side right now – our first grandchild coming “anytime now.”

My sermon text for this Sunday is Psalm 139. The Psalmist is both filled with wonder and fear as he reflects on the presence of God. To God the Psalmist is an open book – before he can get his train of thought going, God knows, and God can even complete his sentences. What overwhelms the Psalmist is the intricate involvement in our lives – God as the Creator, making us and shaping us before our mothers felt our first kick in the womb or heard our first cry. The Psalmist says, “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made” – and I praise God that He has been at work in the life of my daughter, fearfully and wonderfully making a life within her, her first child, my first grandchild.

Anytime now...

Passion Sunday

2011-04-17T16:40:00.000-05:00

The Sunday before Easter is known both as Palm Sunday and as Passion Sunday. Over the years our worship service on this Sunday at First Baptist tends to move from the joyful triumphal entry to the passion reflected on the cross. Such was the case in the message I preached today. I shared a brief bit of prose entitled “Friday” from Calvin Miller’s The Book of Jesus that I have always found haunting. Let me repeat it here, for your further reflections:

On with Friday's grisly business!
Let the broad arm raise the sledge!
Let the hammer ring out upon the nails.
I must not flinch with the crimson flows—
He's only a carpenter—a craftsman who claimed too much.
"I need a black nail, soldier."
Give me your hand, carpenter. What a strange man you are! You stretch
forth your hand too eagerly— too willingly, as though I was going to shake it,
not nail it to a tree.
Steady, man. The first stroke of the hammer is easiest for me and
hardest for you.
For me the first blow meets only the resistance of soft flesh.
The hardwood beneath drives much slower.
For you the first blow is the worse.
It brings the ripping pain and the bright gore.
The wood beneath your wrist does not feel and bleed as you do.

So many depictions of the suffering of Jesus reflect the physical pain of the Savior. The truth of the matter is that the agony of physical suffering paled in comparison to the internal agony and hell our Lord experienced as He bore the sins of humanity. I can not comprehend that – all I can do is thank God for this kind of love.

One thing that captures my attention in Calvin Miller’s presentation is the statement of the soldier nailing Jesus to the cross – “Give me your hand, carpenter. What a strange man you are! You stretch forth your hand too eagerly – too willingly, as though I was going to shake it, not nail it to a tree.” Such an image makes me thing of what Jesus said in John 10:17 –“I lay down my life – only to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down on my own accord.”

No one took Jesus’ life from Him – He gave up His life. He thrust out His hand to be nailed to the cross. Surely it was His love that held His hands in place. Strange indeed, when you consider He did this for you and me...

Lost and Found

2011-03-11T16:25:00.000-06:00

Some weeks are easy to get lost in – this was one of those weeks for a variety of reasons I won’t go into. Regardless, in the midst of the week I found something – a passage in a book that I had marked long ago and had forgotten. It gave me much to think about, and my discovery of the passage made me realize that perhaps this had not been so much a “lost” week as a “life-shaping” week. Let me share the passage with you – it comes from Henri Nouwen’s book The Genesee Diary:

“Did I really live my life or was it lived for me? Did I really make the decisions that led me to this place at this time, or was I simply carried along by the stream, by sad as well as happy events?...”

“I don’t believe that my life is a long row of randomly chained incidents and accidents of which I am not much more than a passive victim. No, I think that nothing is accidental but that God molded me through the events of my life and that I am called to recognize his molding hand and praise him in gratitude for the great things he has done to me.”

“I wonder if I really have listened carefully enough to the God of history, the God of my history, and have recognized him when he called me by my name, broke the bread, or asked me to cast out my nets after a fruitless day? Maybe I have been living too fast, too restlessly, too feverishly, forgetting to pay attention to what is happening here and now, right under my nose.”

Feeling lost? Try listening...

There's No Place Like Home

2011-02-20T17:24:00.000-06:00

First Baptist Church of Rolla enjoys our connections with internationals and we try to give them a taste of life in America. Someone came up with the idea that we ought to show them a classic film – one that had stood the test of time. We decided to show them The Wizard of Oz.

I thought that was an interesting idea and wondered how they might receive it. I have all these memories of this film, first as a child and then as a parent watching the film with my children. I was always in a hurry to leave Kansas and get to Oz. I don’t know if that says as much about the state as it does my love for fantasy, but I did love the change from black and white to color, and I couldn’t wait until the Munchkins emerged from their hiding place and the wicked witch made her appearance in a plume of red smoke.

The internationals seemed to enjoy the movie, and I realized that the film hooks all kinds of images and feelings for us. As children we have our share of fears in the dark – witches and graveyards and flying monkeys, to say nothing about lions and tigers and bears (Oh my!). In the movie Dorothy and her friends go to the Wizard to solve their problems, and eventually they discover the Wizard is a fraud, using smoke and mirrors to create his own brand of fear. He can’t really give a brain, nor grant a heart, or inspire courage – of course, each of the characters receive those things on their journey the way we do, by learning and gaining compassion and realizing that courage only comes in the midst of fear. The ineptitude of the Wizard is exposed when it comes to Dorothy – his bungling attempt to get her back to Kansas ends with stranding her in Oz. That’s okay, for it turns out that she has always had the ability to return to Kansas, once she could click her heels and voice the lesson of the film, “There’s no place like home.” A few of the internationals voiced that phrase several times – they were homesick. One international said, “No, I’d rather be here.”

That was Friday evening – on Saturday morning I spent some time in Revelation 4 & 5. The scene there reminded me of Oz but with significant differences. Angelic creatures that might in some other setting be frightening voiced their praise of God. Creation bowed before the heavenly throne, and though I imagine smoke rose, it was not smoke and mirrors. The power and might of God was not a fraud, and God created a reverent kind of fear wrapped up in the gratitude of a thankful, redeemed humanity. “Worthy is the Lamb” the multitude of heaven cried out, making it clear that Jesus had accomplished what no one else could do: through His blood He gave us a new heart, a different way of thinking, and the confidence and courage that He has overcome all that we fear.

Best of all, He has a better place waiting for us than Kansas or Oz. There's no place like the home God has for us.

Snow

2011-02-04T12:16:00.000-06:00

When I first began to pastor, I served a rural church out by itself on a lonely blacktop road in Tennessee. Snow was something that just didn’t happen much, and then one year that all changed. We went through a series of what we came to call “wicked Wednesdays” and “sinister Sundays”. We called off one worship service after another and prayed for Spring to come.

It was about that time that I discovered an interesting passage in the book of Job. After a flurry of comments and arguments by Job and his fickle friends, God breaks the silence. He overwhelms Job with question after question, basically convincing Job that he (nor any other human being) could ever understand all that God is up to. There comes a time when you just have to trust that God is at work even if everything seems to scream that He is not involved.

In that kind of context God asks Job, “Have you entered the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of the hail, which I reserve for times of trouble, for days of war and battle?” (Job 38:22-23). We have storehouses of salt to melt the snow, and God has storehouses of snow and hail – quite an image. And it is an image – God is trying to help us understand that which is beyond our understanding, and so He calls upon us to look at snow as a way He combats – what? He reserves these storehouses of snow and hail for times of trouble, for days of war and battle – what does that mean?

As I looked out my study window this week with the snow falling, I was intrigued by how everything had come to a halt. We go ninety-to-nothing most of the time, and then a little thing like a snow flake stops it all. Mighty eighteen wheelers slip and slide, and as the snow accumulates, we get stuck inside. We talk about getting cabin fever, about going stir crazy, and about being bored. Interestingly enough, some families reconnect, bake cookies, play board games, find new ways to entertain themselves. We may pray for a sunny day, and we find ourselves longing for Spring.

In it all, I wonder if the battle being fought isn’t for our souls. We squeeze God out with our busyness, we think we are so powerful with our technology, we believe nothing can stop us – and then a snow flake wakes us up. A thin layer of ice reminds us of our own instability and frailty. Being stuck inside forces us to acknowledge our dependency. God doing battle, God waging a war, gently reminding us that He is God and we are far more frail than we will admit.

Maybe we need more snow.

Transformation

2011-01-28T14:15:00.000-06:00

One of my favorite stops during our recent Italy trip was at the San Giovanni in Laterano (St. John Lateran) Church in Rome. The church is dedicated to John the Baptist and John the Evangelist and is the first among the four major basilicas of Rome. Beautiful on the outside, the inside is breathtaking. Huge sculptures of the apostles stand beneath reliefs from the life of Jesus and oval paintings of Old Testament prophets. Each of the apostles have some symbol that speaks of their role or death – Peter and his keys, Simon the Zealot and the saw by which he was martyred, the Apostle Paul and the sword symbolizing his execution as a Roman citizen. All of these were impressive, but I found myself going back over and over to the sculpture I have pictured here, that of Matthew (Levi) the tax collector.

Matthew’s story is told simply in Matthew 9:9-13. He is sitting at his tax collectors booth, likely charging the exorbitant taxes for which such collectors were notorious. Though viewed as traitors for working with the occupying Romans, they were often very rich as they filled their own money bags with whatever amounts they could get above that promised to Rome. We read that Jesus simply came up to Matthew and said, “Follow me,” and Matthew got up and followed. Of course, that was not the end of it – Matthew later in the day had a party, a dinner in honor of Jesus who loved those known as outcasts and sinners. Already Matthew is seen collecting something more important than money – he is collecting followers for Jesus. Some of the religious legalists of the day did not like it and complained about Jesus associating with such sinners. Our Lord’s response was direct – “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous but sinners.”

Whether Matthew previously viewed himself as unhealthy I do not know, but obviously there was something about Jesus’ message that changed his life and altered his eternity. The mercy extended through Jesus began its transforming process, first evidenced by his attempt to introduce his friends and co-workers to Jesus, and then his dedication to following Jesus as one of the twelve apostles. The statue pictured here shows Matthew standing with his foot on a money bag – certainly a symbol of the bags of coins that had possessed him in the past. Because of Christ, the coins had lost their value. In his hands is a Bible, a symbol of his determination to tell others about Jesus, most evidenced by the Gospel of Matthew. What began as a simple calling changed his life, his career, his treatment of others, his life message. Surely this is what transformation looks like.

There were other tax collectors who manifest great transformations, the most famous being Zacchaeus in Luke 19. Once living only for himself, Zacchaeus was transformed into a generous man, suddenly aware of the injuries he had caused and determined to do something about it. The change in his life was apparent to all.

Of course, Matthew challenges us to reflect on our own lives and the priority shifts that come as a result of our relationship with Christ. Surely Jesus wants to be more than just an added dimension to our lives – He wants to be life itself. When that happens transformation takes place and it becomes increasingly evidenced as we who are sick become increasingly healthy, as we who tend to think only of ourselves and cling to our bags of coins (or whatever else we value greatly) respond to such mercy by the dedication of our lives to Jesus and our compassionate outreach to others.

I wonder, if a sculpture was made of you, what would your foot be on? What would be in your hands? Would transformation be evident?

I ask the same of myself.

The Dash In-between

2011-01-17T16:14:00.000-06:00

I have started a series of sermons on faith in the life of Abraham, and this past Sunday I asked folks to write down two dates. The first was the date of birth (I did give permission to cover the date if people didn’t want their neighbor to see it!) I then asked those present to put a “dash” after the date, and then the numbers two, zero, and a question mark. It would be something like “1978 – 20?”. The second date would be the date of death, an unknown for the most part.

I pointed out that we have no control over the first date. We didn’t ask to be born, ready or not we came because of the actions of others. And the second date, the date of death, is a date we have little control over as well. But the dash in between – that is the place of choices, decision making, where we can decide what we will do with our lives.

Abraham at age 75 responded to God’s call and it changed his life and ours. Our choices are important as well. What we do with the “dash in-between" will speak of adventure and faith and the embracing of promise – or of boredom, waste, unrealized potential, unfulfilled longings.

In this context I quote Gregg Levoy from his book Callings: Finding and Following an Authentic Life. I continue to find this quote challenging, and I wanted to share the challenge and discomfort with you:

To sinful patterns of behavior that never get confronted and changed,
Abilities and gifts that never get cultivated and deployed –
Until weeks become months
And months turn into years,
And one day you’re looking back on a life of
Deep intimate gut-wrenchingly honest conversations you never had;
Great bold prayers you never prayed,
Exhilarating risks you never took,
Sacrificial gifts you never offered
Lives you never touched,
And you’re sitting in a recliner with a shriveled soul,
And forgotten dreams,
And you realize there was a world of desperate need,
And a great God calling you to be a part of something bigger
than yourself –
You see the person you could have become but did not;
You never followed your calling.

A powerful and troubling quote indeed – and through Abraham, a reminder that whatever age we find ourselves, we can respond to God’s call to find purpose, life, authenticity, and hope in following Jesus. We can get up out of our recliner and be a part of something far bigger than ourselves.

I hope that will be your choice today and every day as you live out your dash in-between.

The Best Thing About Italy

2011-01-11T09:53:00.000-06:00

It has been a while since I have blogged, a fact my son reminded me about by placing a link to my blog on his updated website. I have no excuses, not really. I find it challenging sending my musings into cyberspace, uncertain as to who might read what I say and if it will make any difference at the end of the day. As a pastor I have this strong urge to be pastoral in some way, and since the blog is connected to the church website, I guess I should. But I also have the desire to speak more personally about what I am thinking, how I process things, how I interact with God. On top of that, it is always a lot more fun reading my kid’s blogs than writing my own.

Back in March 2010 the First Baptist Church of Rolla honored our twenty years of service to the church (I am now in the 22nd year – crazy!). They threw a party, said a lot of nice things, and gave Holly and I a trip to Italy. Our daughter Alyssa and her husband Paul had been to Italy before, and they immediately said they wanted to be there with us, serving as our tour guides. The time of Christmas was set (cheaper, more days for your money, a beautiful time in Italy, etc.) and finally it came.

It was a tremendous trip, one that we will always remember. We were in Florence on December 23rd through Christmas morning, then headed to Rome from Christmas to New Year's Eve. Not being world travelers, my wife and I were uncertain about a number of things, but we couldn’t have asked for anything better. My son-in-law, with a Masters in Antiquities, was a splendid guide, taking us to all the places tourists go and then to places tourists would pay a high price to see. I enjoy Renaissance art and saw original works by Michelangelo, Botticelli, Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, Bernini, Caravaggio – you get the idea. We visited museums, saw churches larger than any I had ever seen, enjoyed Italian cuisine, were amazed at ancient ruins, silenced by age-old catacombs. We walked 8-10 miles a day, traveled by subway, bus, train and taxi. I loved every minute of it – well, we did get lost in Florence on Christmas Eve and got soaked to the bone – but I almost forgot that in the midst of all the good things.

I have been asked the question several times, “What was the best thing about your trip to Italy?” I can name several, sharing the time and the sights with my wife and children, reflecting on ancient Christian origins, overwhelmed by masterpieces of art. But I think the best thing is simply the fact that First Baptist Church of Rolla gave us this gift in the first place. They didn’t have to – a card, a plaque, a gift certificate to a restaurant would have expressed appreciation. But this went way beyond all that, lovingly extravagant, expressing love and care for Holly and myself in a splendid way.

So very much a gift of grace, like those our Heavenly Father gives us on a regular basis through His Son Jesus. Merciful, extravagant, prodigal, amazing grace.

The picture is of Alyssa, Paul, Holly and myself standing before the ruins of the Emperor’s palace in Rome and Circus Maximus – as my son-in-law says, “Think Ben-Hur.”

The Sparrow At My Window

2010-06-23T16:20:00.000-05:00

Once again today I was in my office and heard the chirping of a sparrow right outside my window. As it sat on the window ledge, I had the opportunity to observe the bird, to see its alertness, its vigilance. If I looked closely, I almost believed I could see the beating of its heart as it rested from its flight.

I have no ideas what sparrows think about or what they do besides make nests and empty bird feeders. Though I never thought a sparrow was exceptionally beautiful as far as birds go, the little creature has a beauty of its own. When it took off I followed it with my eyes as long as I could, and then I whispered, “Only the Father knows where the sparrow is now.”

I find it intriguing that Jesus used the example of the Father’s knowledge of sparrows as an encouragement to trust and fearless living. Jesus focuses on our frightened reactions to those who might harm us in Matthew 10, but the wider application is to anything that might threaten us or instill within us fear. Perhaps the greatest fear is to be overlooked by God, forgotten, out of His sight. Frequently I speak to those who believe their lives are lived largely without the awareness of the Father. It is a fearful thing indeed, to fall through the cracks, to be overlooked or forgotten by the Almighty.

But Jesus insists such is not the case. A sparrow can’t fall to the ground without the Father’s knowledge and involvement, Matthew 10:29 tells us. That makes God a great bird-watcher, but does that fact relate to us? Yes, indeed, of course it does – Jesus goes on to say in Matthew 10:30, “And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid, you are worth more than many sparrows.”

What’s the point?

As large as God may be as the Creator and Sustainer of all that is, He notes the distress of even the smallest of creatures. Not only does He know about the sparrow, He has an accurate count of the hair on our heads, seemingly useless and insignificant information – except it tells us how attentive God is to us. As one writer put it, for God to know that kind of information is a way of saying God is engrossed with His people. I like that image – engrossed. Absorbed. Immersed. The way we are to be with Him, and the way He really is with us.

Don’t be afraid, Jesus says – to God you are worth more than many sparrows. Whatever we face in life, whether it be difficult times, disappointing circumstances, troubling relationships, broken health or hearts, we don’t have to face that alone. The One who has His eye on the sparrow has His eye on us. The One who doesn’t miss a hair on our heads doesn’t miss a moment of our lives.

And He wants to do more than just watch us – His longing is to walk with us through that which creates fear, to still our hearts and calm our souls and assure us that He is at work.

His eye is on the sparrow – but more important, His eye is on you and me.

Our Father In Heaven

2010-06-12T11:49:00.000-05:00

I have to admit that the phrase from the Lord’s Prayer, “Our Father who art in heaven”, bothered me for a long time. As a child I remember watching a sci-fi movie where the leading character is able to see into the depths of space, to the end of the universe. It began simply, with being able to see through walls, but as his vision increased, he peered into space. My childhood take was that if he looked far enough, he would finally see God, watching from the distance of billions of light years away.

So where is God? So far away that I can not even begin to comprehend it – that is how things came together in my childish mind. And as I grew, I’m not sure I put away childish things very quickly. Others don't either -- as a pastor I have people tell me that their prayers don’t make it up to God, that at times they don’t even make it past the ceiling. They see God as one who is up there and out there, so far removed that we may have to speak up for Him to hear us, or speak long to get His attention.

In the last blog I spoke with great gratitude about Jesus directing us to call God “Father.” That phrase speaks of such intimacy, closeness, and love. A tremendous privilege, to call God "Father." Is Jesus now trying to correct our misunderstanding – “Yes, God does want you to think of Him as Father, but don’t jump to conclusions – He is so far from you that you can’t even comprehend it” – have we misinterpreted what Jesus was getting at?

No, not at all – in fact, Jesus is helping us understand what kind of Father God is.

For one thing, He is our heavenly Father. Whatever our relationship with our earthly fathers might be, God is so far beyond that. I can use this example – my Dad was almost completely deaf. From my earliest recollections I had to yell to get his attention, and I became increasingly aware of the fact that his hearing aid did very little good. He mostly read lips. Carrying on a conversation with Dad was extremely difficult. When I was in college Dad had a device which was suppose to enable him to hear me on the phone. I would call home and try to talk to him – and you could hear the sadness in his voice when he would say, “I’m sorry Robert, I can’t hear what you are saying – here’s your mother.”

My earthly father had trouble hearing me and carried on very few conversations throughout our times together – our Heavenly Father has no such problem. He hears our shouts and our whispers, and He is always eager to carry on a conversation night or day.

Our Father in heaven – if I think of that phrase in distance terms, I don’t think of God being far removed but of God having an exceptional vantage point from which to see. My daughter says there is a mountain you can climb in Arizona and see the whole city of Phoenix laid out before you. We are so near-sighted in the living of our lives, but our Father in heaven has the vantage point of expanded vision. He misses nothing. He takes it all in. We are never lost from His sight. He doesn’t go around scratching His head wondering what’s going to happen next. To say God is in heaven is to say He sees all. Everyone of us. Personally.

Our Father in heaven – I believe that also emphasizes His closeness. Scholar N. T. Wright emphasizes that earth is our sphere of life and God is hidden from us for the time being in the spiritual sphere of life. He is not distant – He is closer than we can imagine. I think of the scene in 2 Kings 6 when Elisha and his servant were surrounded by the enemy. The servant was terrified, but Elisha prayed that his servant’s eyes would be opened. When they were, he suddenly saw the hills full of chariots of fire, the army of God. They were there all the time – Elisha knew it, but his servant didn’t.

When I dwell on the opening phrase of the Lord’s Prayer, using it as a pattern and a starter for my own prayer, my heart and soul goes in these kinds of directions. I spend time with the Father knowing that He hears. I relax in His superior vantage point, knowing that He knows what is going on and will direct me as I trust in Him. And I ask Him to help me live with the awareness that I am never separated from His presence, that I don’t have to worry about my prayers making it beyond the ceiling. I pray that I might have eyes to see His presence with me always through His Son Jesus.

Our Father in heaven.

Father

2010-06-04T13:07:00.000-05:00

My wife and I recently had the joy of visiting our children. Our daughter Alyssa and her husband Paul live in Arizona, and our son Chad and his wife Becki live in Kansas. The time in Arizona was vacation time, tolerating what Alyssa seemed to think was “cool” weather (85-90 degrees) but immensely enjoying our all-too-brief time together. Our stay at Chad and Becki’s house was for a different reason, a much needed study break while Chad and Becki were at work. I still remember the shocked look on Becki’s face when she came home from work, saw all the chairs removed from around the dining room table, and my books and papers strewn all over the place. “Oh my!” were her only words. I wonder what she was thinking?

It was during that study time and as a result of a word I heard several times that this blog (or maybe a series of blogs) came to mind. The word was “Father.” Most often “Dad,” a time or two “Pops,” even a “Daddy” – but also the word “Father.”

I was taught what is called “The Lord’s Prayer” at an early age – my most distant memories include praying that prayer as it is written and has been prayed through the centuries. I have to confess I largely prayed it without comprehending what I was saying. They were only words that tumbled off my lips, filled with the faint hope that God might be moved by this magical incantation.

When I became a Christian in truth and not just in description, I turned from the formal prayers I had memorized to more personal, spontaneous prayers. The Lord’s Prayer became something seldom repeated, on special occasions or in community services.

And then one day I discovered the prayer again.

I was preaching a series on the Sermon on the Mount, and I stared at the words of the Lord’s Prayer in Matthew 6 and wondered what I would do with them. It was in that process that I realized that they were not so much words to be repeated as a pattern or structure to help us in our praying. I immersed myself in each word, spending time in prayer dwelling on the meaning of each phrase. I discovered that the prayer was of immense help, guiding me in a conversation with the One who, through His Son Jesus, wanted me to call Him Father.

Think about that for a moment.

Everyone on the face of this earth who knows me calls me by my name or title – Bob or Robert or Dr. Johnston or Pastor or whatever. But from the billions of people in this world there are only two people (or four if their spouses so choose) who have the right to call me “father.” So few among so many.

This is how Jesus instructed us to address God. He could have given us many other titles or names – they are all found in the Bible. But I find myself deeply moved and eternally grateful that God wants us to think of Him as “Father”. I recognize that some, based on their relationships with their physical fathers, may find that difficult, depending on how their fathers treated or mistreated them. But stripped of all the limitations we earthly dads have, to call God “Father” speaks of tremendous love, extravagant grace, enduring compassion, and eternal relationship.

Jesus told a story about a foolhardy kid who turned his back on all the good things his father had taught him. We dads worry about that, and we are deeply concerned when our children seem to forget what our best gifts to them have been. In the story Jesus told, the child took off on his own for who knows how long, wasted everything he had, and finally came to his senses. He determined he would go home, not as a son but a servant. While he journeyed home rehearsing his speech, his father, who evidently had been on the look out, saw him in the distance. It was then that this father did a rather undignified thing in his day – he ran. With all his heart and strength, he raced to his young prodigal. His son started his speech but was stopped short – his father embraced him, gave him the symbols of sonship, and poured out on him prodigal love.

I think of that passage when, upon the nudging of the Lord’s Prayer, I call God “Father”. I think of the extravagant gracefulness of that father, and realize that Jesus wants us to think of God in this way, as one who is absolutely delighted to have us come to Him in prayer. That invitation changes absolutely everything about prayer – and for that I thank our Father.

Words

2010-05-14T13:57:00.002-05:00

It has been a while since I have written a blog. There are lots of reasons – a busy schedule, days that rushed by, distractions and preoccupations, stress, two sermons and a Bible study every week, fatigue. But the most honest reason – I lacked the words.

I am in Arizona visiting my daughter and son-in-law, taking a vacation, goofing off.

And thinking about words.

A lot of a pastor's life revolves around words. Every Sunday I stand in the pulpit of the church I pastor and speak words. But they are not just any words – they are careful words, thoughtful words saturated with prayer, Bible words, hopefully Spirit-led and Spirit-filled words.

Scholar Thomas Long says sometimes words are just words. I can get up and say all sorts of things, about my love for my children and how I adore my wife and how grateful I am for my church family – but all those things could be just words, Long says. No meaning. No truth. No depth.

Words.

I am reading Eugene Peterson's book Tell It Slant and he observes that though Jesus spoke words, He never wrote words, at least any that have been preserved. The words He wrote using His finger as a pencil in the Jerusalem dirt the day religious leaders tried to trap Him (John 8) were gone when the dust settled. Jesus didn't write any words – He left it to His followers to write the blogs, the Gospels, the accounts of what Jesus did and how He changed their lives and eternities. Words, yes – but words with power and meaning from the One who was the Word become flesh and who was and is God's ultimate Word to us.

When words are spoken honestly and with heart, they expose our hearts, tell the truth, impact others. That is why words must be chosen carefully. That is why our words must reflect who we are and Whose we are. I just happen to say a lot of words that people hear, twenty or thirty minutes of them on a Sunday morning, a lot more on an evening Bible study, and who knows how many in the conversations I have.

I hope I say them well – I pray my words will ultimately be words from God Himself.

I realize that words are not just Sunday things for me or you, they are everyday things, and for the person who follows Jesus, our words must never cease to reflect the One who has changed our lives and eternities. Whether our words be many or few, our conversations long or short, something of the grace of God, the love of Jesus, the presence of the Holy Spirit needs to slip through.

When that happens, don't our words become more than just words?

Eugene Peterson observes that though Jesus both preached and taught, He also engaged in lots of conversations about subject matter which at first might not seem spiritually important. He told stories about farmers and judges and victims, about coins and sheep, prodigal sons and heart-broken fathers, wedding banquets and going to war, midnight awakenings and begging for bread, about cooks and beggars and manure. The stuff of life, in other words. The many things that occupy our time and fuel our words. Conversations that are pregnant with opportunities to say more than just words.

It occurs to me that with all the talking we do, we need to be aware that God wants to say some pretty important things through us. Some of those things happen when a pastor gets up to speak on a Sunday, but they also happen every day of the week in all our conversations. As Christ-followers, we reflect our Lord, and when we converse about all the mundane things of life, we need to remember that our words say something not just about us, but about Him as well.

No wonder James advises us to be quick to listen and slow to speak. Maybe then our words will be more than just words.

The Journey With Jesus

2010-04-08T15:24:00.003-05:00

I decided back in January to spend a year with Jesus. Reading a chapter a day in the Gospels, I could read all four Gospels four times in one year – actually, 356 days if I don’t miss any. I am on my second pass through and it has been an interesting journey.

First and foremost, I have found it difficult to read just one chapter a day. Some days I get so caught up in other things I miss reading a chapter – other times I start reading, and I can’t stop, I want to see what happens next. But all in all, as I said, I am on track – I finished my first pass through before the end of March.

Second, because I spent 2009 preaching through Mark’s Gospel, my journey has actually been a bit jarring. I got to know Mark really well in 2009, preaching close to fifty messages from the book. I knew something of the rhythm of the book, the journey with the Lord, and so when I began to read the other Gospels as an attempt to continue the journey, I noticed something striking. Each Gospel gets at Jesus in a different way. It is like four different pictures of the same person, taken from different angles. You begin to notice things. Matthew is so orderly, and he waits until chapter 8 to give the miracles Mark gives in chapter 1. Luke has the rich parables that speak of the Father’s love for us. John knows we have read the story before, so he lets us see things from a different perspective, catching us off guard, including things not told elsewhere, like the raising of Lazarus from the dead. Four different angles to understand and appreciate Jesus more.

Third, I have been amazed at how respectful Jesus is of the decisions others make. He is content to share the good news of the Kingdom and then let us decide. He believes fully that it is the Holy Spirit who convicts and converts, something I need to remember. He looks with love as a rich young ruler chooses to walk away, but he doesn’t go running after him and say, “Wait a minute, maybe I can make it easier for you, how about you sell just half of what you have?” He lets us make our own decisions, even if those decisions have dire consequences. I have been encouraged to trust God’s work more, and to love others more deeply with no strings attached.

At times my reading is more disciplined – I read through four chapters in Joshua for my Wednesday Bible study, I pour over a half dozen passage in preparation for Sunday night, I print out and pray over the text for Sunday morning... oh yeah, I have to get that Gospel chapter in! Those are the days I wonder if it does any good – except the Lord has an amazing ability to bring to my attention some passage, some verse, some word. Sometimes I think it is like the meals we eat – we may devour some meal mindlessly, preoccupied with something else – but at least our bodies have been nourished. I have learned that God can take what we expose ourselves to and do amazing things.

Isn’t that just like God?

The first pass through I read from the New International Version. This quarter I am in The Message. It is one of my favorites for devotional reading of Scripture – in many ways, it is like a Bible and a commentary rolled into one. I recommend it highly.

This morning I read these verses from Matthew 6: “And when you come before God, don’t turn that into a theatrical production either. All these people making a regular show out of their prayers, hoping for stardom! Do you think God sits in a box seat? Here’s what I want you to do: Find a quiet, secluded place so you won’t be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace.”

And so I did.

Christ the Victor

2010-04-02T08:11:00.002-05:00

John 13:1 declares, “... Having loved His own who were in the world, He now showed them the full extent of His love.”

The full extent – the breadth, the length, the height, the depth.

Literally John says, as the New American Standard words it, “He loved them to the end.” To the point of completion. To the very end of His strength, His heart, His soul.

To the wondrous cross.

How can we get at such extravagant love? It always exceeds our ability to comprehend or fully understand, and so all we can do is give an example, an approximation, an image.

There is a classic image of the cross that has always intrigued me. As Good Friday approaches, maybe it will enrich your meditations on the tremendous sacrifice of our Lord.

Through the years the image of what Jesus accomplished on the cross has been called Christ the Victor. There on the cross Jesus struck the deathblow to evil and sin.

Like a warrior He went to battle – only this was a battle unlike any the world has seen.

Typically a warrior sought to defeat his opponent by inflicting a wound so severe that it renders a response impossible. That is not what we see on the cross – it looks just the opposite.

But there is another way to defeat an opponent. Instead of hammering an opponent into submission, a warrior could choose to stand still and take his enemy’s best blow – to absorb all the blows, one after another, until the enemy literally exhausts his power and collapses.

That is what Jesus did on the cross. He suffered the worst that evil could hurl at Him.

Rejection by His own people in the streets of their capital city.

Hatred from all the experts in His own religion.

Injustice at the hands of the Roman court.

Disloyalty and betrayal by two of His closest associates, Peter and Judas.

Abandonment by His followers.

Public shame at being stripped naked and ridiculed as an impostor, “King of the Jews.”

The agony of the torture of crucifixion.

And in it all, the constant pressure of temptation to give it all up, to smash these ungrateful creatures with thunderbolts from heaven.

Jesus just stood there and took it -- taking on Himself the sins of the world, holding Himself in place – it wasn’t nails that held Him there, He chose to stay there. He took all that was thrown at Him, suffering to the end, taking every sin that could be thrown at Him -- and finally dying.

Had sin won? Was it left standing? Who would get up?

We know.

“Jesus, my redeemer, name above all names;
Precious Lamb of God, Messiah, Hope for sinner’s slain.
Thank You, O my Father, for giving us Your Son,
and leaving Your Spirit till the work on earth is done.”

Grotesque Display

2010-03-27T12:21:00.004-05:00

I have been preaching a series of reflections on the cross in the church I pastor, a series entitled How Deep The Father’s Love For Us. The title comes from a beautifully written and reflective musical piece by Stuart Townend. The words of this modern-day hymn have often been in my mind these past few weeks. The first couple of stanzas go like this:

How deep the Father’s love for us,
how vast beyond all measure
that He should give His only Son
to make a wretch His treasure.
How great the pain of searing loss
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the chosen One
Bring many sons to glory

Behold the Man upon the cross,
my sin upon His shoulders;
Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice
call out among the scoffers.
It was my sin that held Him there
until it was accomplished.
His dying breath has brought me life;
I know that it is finished.

I look for every way possible to grasp more completely what our Lord accomplished on the cross. I have come to the conclusion that we could never grasp the enormity of the pain we cause God if not for the cross.

Writer Henri Nouwen tells the story of a family he knew in Paraguay. The father was a doctor and he spoke out against the military regime of the country and their human rights abuses. In retaliation, the local police took revenge by arresting the doctor’s teenage son and torturing him to death.

The people in the town were outraged and wanted to turn the boy’s funeral into a protest march, but the doctor chose another way of expression.

At the funeral, the father displayed his son’s body as he had found it in the jail -- naked, scarred from the electric shocks and cigarette burns and beatings. All the villagers filed past the corpse, which lay not in a coffin but on the blood-soaked mattress from the prison.

It was the strongest protest imaginable, for it put the great injustice and the horrifying wrong on grotesque display.

That is what God did at Calvary – He put His Son on grotesque display. We see Him there, with the blood and the bruises and the torture – and as we pass by, we are confronted with the fact that we are the ones who put those nails in His hands. We are the ones who, through our sins, beat him and bruised him and tortured him.

The prophet Isaiah exclaimed in Isaiah 53:4-5, “Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows... he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities.”

How would we ever grasp the pain we have caused God except for the cross? How deep the Father’s love indeed!

Snickers Bars and Lent

2010-03-17T11:26:00.002-05:00

I grew up in a tradition of Christianity that practiced Lent, the forty days leading up to Easter. I have to admit that as a child, I didn’t really understand or appreciate Lent – it was that time of year when I was supposed to give up something that had some value to me and I was supposed to learn something. I normally chose Snickers bars. I really love Snickers bars, especially if they are frozen. It was tough to set aside my habit for forty days. Of course, I would never give up Butterfinger bars – that was my true favorite in those days. I would crunch them up and put them on ice cream. Every day after school. For forty days. But I did give up Snickers bars.

When I became a Baptist I gave up many of my childish ways, which included the practice of Lent. No church I have been a part of these last forty years has practiced any form of Lent, and it only enters my mind when I see it is time for Lent on the Christian calendar and many of us Baptists (not all) wonder what it is all about and skip it.

I must admit that I have thought about Lent more this year.

Part of the reason is that I have had some conversations about Lent with some of my church congregation. They have wondered what it is about, if it is a good idea or not.

The other reason is my Wednesday evening Bible study where we have spent time surveying the Old Testament, and we have come across these predictions in Deuteronomy that once the children of Israel got fat and prosperous in Canaan, they would forget all about God. As long as things were tough in the wilderness and they had to rely daily on God’s provision of manna and water, they maintained at least some level of dependency on Him. But once they got into the land of promise, the milk and honey was too much for them. As Moses predicted, they forgot about God.

The observance of Lent is never mentioned in the Bible nor found in a Bible dictionary, which is one reason many Christians do not observe Lent. As I understand the history of Lent, it came into existence when Christians became fat and prosperous, when it was no longer dangerous to be a Christian and we began to enjoy a life of ease like other people in the world. As one writer put it, we began to enjoy our soft couches and our leg of lamb. The pattern of the Old Testament was repeated with people forgetting about God, at least in practice. Lent was a period of time to reflect, to do without so that we might become attuned once again to how dependent we have become on things. It is not about Snickers bars or Butterfingers, but about what our treasure is and where our hearts are. My childhood practice really never cost me much, which is why Lent did me little good. It never struck at the heart of my addictions, of what was truly important to me, what I craved or yearned for or felt life would be over if I lost. If my belly cried out, “I can’t live without a Snickers bar,” my mind would say, “Buy a Butterfingers – this will all be over in forty days.”

I read recently that Lent is like practicing dying – by spending time in reflection on what God has done, marking forty days with true self-denial in some form, we learn the depth (or superficiality) of our Christian faith while at the same time gaining some freedom. We die in order to live – we loosen the grip of whatever it is that tends to control us, and in the process we discover new life.

That sounds a lot like Jesus – “What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world but forfeits his soul?” “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself, take up his cross and follow me?” “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be.”

I have some Christian friends who practice Lent, some in their congregations and others personally. Forty days of self-denial in the wilderness enabled our Lord to have a sharp focus – we don’t live by bread alone, nor to simply please others, or to sell our souls for whatever kingdom we might desire. Maybe forty days of giving up something that is truly important to us, of limiting the influence of that which we feel we have to have, might bring a sharper focus in our lives. What’s more, if we can change our practice of faith for forty days, maybe it will be effective for a lifetime.

We don’t have to wait until next year for Lent to come around. You don’t have to say, “Too bad, Lent is almost over, I will do it next year.” No, that is the marvelous thing about being a Christ-follower – any day is a good day to start some self-denial. To give up something. To substitute something better, like giving yourself for the sake of others instead of gratifying yourself.

I let my wife read this blog before I printed it, just to make sure it wasn’t a bunch of nonsense. She said she liked it. Then I mentioned to her that maybe she could give up chocolate chip cookies for 40 days.

She looked at me in horror and decided this wasn’t a very good blog after all. A bunch of nonsense.

Maybe I hit a sore spot – but then, what was I doing telling her what she should give up? What about me?

Twenty Years

2010-03-12T07:59:00.003-06:00

Last week the church I pastor celebrated the fact I had been their pastor for twenty years. Twenty years – that is a long time by anybody’s measurement. The church threw a great party for me. I was excited and nervous and proud and humbled, all at the same time. They were still glad I was their pastor – and I was glad too. The party was wonderful.

Twenty years. I got married when I was twenty years old. After twenty years of marriage, I sort of knew what I was doing. I’m sure my wife thought I needed at least another twenty, which means I’m not there yet.

When I came to First Baptist of Rolla, I had no idea my wife and I would stay for twenty years. At that time our kids were still in elementary school, and I figured we would be around ten or twelve years. There were opportunities to move to new places of service, but that never happened. I would continue to look at First Baptist and feel that there was so much unfinished business and I didn’t want to leave things half-way done.

There have been times I wondered if God had forgotten me. Tough times when things weren’t going the way I thought they should. Paul encourages young Timothy to preach in season and out of season, and I have to admit there have been lots of out-of-season times. But there have been many good times and some truly wonderful times and I have always felt the tug of the Holy Spirit back to this place. I decided God hadn’t forgotten me after all.

I had a friend tell me that when you have been in a church as long as I have, people begin to treat you like an old piece of furniture. They just take it for granted you are there, and they don’t see the richness of the grain or the comfortable fit or the continued usefulness. I suspect the same can be said for pastors looking at their congregations – it is easy to freeze people to what they once were, to not grant the possibility that God may do a new work in a person’s life. I pray all the time that God would grant me the ability to see others through His eyes, to see what He is up to and how His work of transformation continues. I want to see other’s giftedness, their value to God, their worth to the Kingdom. Dear God, don’t let twenty years blind me to what You are up to in the lives of those I have devoted myself to serve.

I have always feared failure – that is probably something most of us fear to one degree or another. However, I tend to see success and failure in terms of Jesus’ parable of the talents. You remember, a series of talents were given, amounts of money that could be used or saved or squandered, and after a season the master came back to see what had been done. A couple of servants used their talents well, winning them the “well done” of the Master. One had a jaundiced view of the Master, negative and hostile and fearful. “I buried what you gave me,” he said – “here, you can have it back.” The master did not say well done.

I would lie if I claimed I never had those urges to say, “Here Lord, you can have this congregation back, I can't lead them. I don’t have a clue what I am doing or what you are up to – have what is yours.” But those urges are eclipsed by other prayers, “Lord, I don’t have a clue what I am doing or how to be the leader and servant you want me to be – so help me, train me, compel me to grow if you must, use the gifts You have given to me – and in the end, may your work flourish and may I be successful in Your eyes and may I hear your well done.”

I believe God is doing a good work in this church. We are doing things we haven’t done in a long time, if ever. Our focus is more outward, the church is leaving the building (if reluctantly at times), we are paying more attention to the community in which we live. We are looking less and less like a cookie-cutter church and more and more like a dynamic church shaped to meet the needs of those around and to share Christ in that context. It can be messy and confusing at times, and even frustrating, but also exciting and invigorating. Not long ago I had a friend ask if he could submit my name to a prestigious church. I looked at the church’s website and was bored by what I saw. It seemed so neat and tidy and dead. Of course I would go wherever God would want me to go – but all the Holy Spirit did was tug me back here. I was grateful.

At the wonderful party the church had in our honor there were several people who said they hoped I would stay another twenty years. That was nice of them. I smiled and thanked them – but do you realize how old I would be if I stayed another twenty years?

However long the Lord permits me to stay, I am grateful. I serve at the Lord’s pleasure. I hope you do too.

Midnight Closeness

2010-03-01T15:43:00.002-06:00

I shared a favorite story with our Sunday night Bible study group this past week. We are in the midst of trying to bring some light into the darkness that surrounds the existence of evil and suffering in this world. I made the point from the book of Job that we are largely unaware of the vastness of God’s care for us – and then I shared the story Keith Miller told in his book Habitation of Dragons.

Miller speaks of a tender scene in his own life. In the middle of a winter’s night his daughter cried out in the darkness, “Daaady!”

You can imagine his surprise, for his children normally called out for their mother. The moment she called he got up, stumbled into her room, and carried her into the bathroom.

The only light was a soft red glow shining on her face from the gas wall heater. He sat her on the little potty chair and bent over to hold her so she wouldn’t fall. Her head lolled gently to one side and then she would catch herself, but never quite awaken. He would steady her, protecting her, holding her.

As Miller gazed at his daughter, he was filled with the most amazing sense of gratitude and love. He tousled her long blond hair, kissed her gently on the nose, and thought, “Some day you and I will remember this as a time of great closeness.” He pictured talking about this night when she was a grown girl, how they both would smile and laugh and remember.

But then he realized -- she would never remember this midnight closeness -- because she had been asleep the entire time he was holding her. She would not remember, for she was not even aware.

And neither are we!

We are not aware of how God cares for us during those long nights of doubt, those times when we are spiritually asleep, suffering loss, immersed in pain or fear, oblivious to His presence. We are not aware of even a fraction of what God does for us, how in His care He sustains us and walks with us and picks us up and loves us.

Job’s last words are those of amazement. Job 42:5, “My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.” What Job sees is the fact that there was never even one moment when God averted His gaze from his life.

Remember that the next time your life is plunged into darkness for whatever reason. When you are tempted to panic, when you feel the wintry blast of fear, remember our Lord’s promise to be with us always. He hasn’t abandoned you or gotten distracted. As Psalm 139 declares, He is intimately acquainted with all our ways.

Even when you forget all that, take courage in the fact that He has not forgotten you. You may sleep through those moments of midnight closeness, but He never does.

Wicked Wednesdays and Sinister Sundays

2010-02-16T21:47:00.004-06:00

The first church I pastored was a rural church in west Tennessee. You turned off the main road, traveled about three miles and wound up at Latham's Chapel Baptist Church. It was a great church to begin one’s ministry, and I was blessed with a gracious church family. Every Sunday they would say to me, “Pastor, you just keep preaching better and better.” I thought it was a huge compliment – looking back at the notes from those early sermons, I now know the truth. I couldn’t have gotten any worse.

Being removed from the main road made things difficult in the winter. A little bit of snow stopped all traffic in its tracks in rural Tennessee. Most winters not much snow fell, but one winter was extraordinary, a bit like this winter. For seven or eight weeks (I forget exactly which) we had snow every Wednesday and Saturday. A few of those Wednesdays we just canceled church, but after three or four, we moved into town where the roads got cleared off. The Saturdays were more difficult. The snow would wait to come when it was dark on Saturday night, and we would wake up to a few inches of snow on the road in the morning. We canceled every Sunday night during those weeks and half the Sunday mornings. We started calling the days wicked Wednesdays and sinister Sundays.

What is a pastor to do when he doesn’t preach? There were lots of other things to do – we still had funerals, risking our own lives in the process. There were hospital visits to make and counseling needed. I was attending Union University some twenty miles away, and I made it to most classes. Best of all, I found lots of time to study, reflect, and pray. I finally had time to prepare some of my sermons in advance, seek God’s leadership for the journey ahead, read some books, and truly improve my preaching skills. Honestly, I got to the place where I enjoyed those snow-filled Wednesdays and Sundays.

I looked up snow in the Bible and read this verse from Job 38:22, God’s response to Job’s demand that God give him the meaning of all his suffering: “Have you entered the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of the hail which I reserve for times of trouble, for days of war and battle?” I thought that was a strange verse and a strange response – what kind of battle does God fight with snow and hail? In the context God is simply saying to Job, “You can’t understand most of what I do, how do you think you could understand why suffering comes?” But the reference to snow and hail – I decided to preach a sermon about it during that snowy winter. I entitled the sermon “Snow and God’s Providence.” I indicated the biggest battle God fought with snow was one against human arrogance. I talked about how God used a little thing like a snowflake to stop cars and trucks in their tracks and bring everything to a halt. However strong and mighty we might think we are, a few tiny snow flakes exposed our weakness.

I thought it was a pretty good sermon. The folks at the church said I was getting better and better. To this day I see snow as God battling our arrogance.

Wicked Wednesdays and sinister Sundays – maybe they will do us some good if we pay a little prayerful attention.

Rare Form

2010-02-10T11:04:00.004-06:00

After a long day my wife and I were getting ready to watch a little TV before bed when she said to me, “You’re in rare form tonight!”

I can’t tell you exactly what I did to bring that comment from her. I had just made a very sarcastic joke – was that what she reacted to? It was a Monday and Monday’s are not always a pastor’s best day of the week – was it showing? Recently it seems like I have had more plates spinning in the air than I can keep going (you remember that old trick, don’t you) – was my panic showing? Maybe I was jittery because I had too much coffee – I don’t know.

You are in rare form – I can’t even tell you if that was a compliment or a judgment, but as I played with the phrase, it occurred to me that the world around us ought to be able to say that about Christians. “You are in rare form” – meaning that what others see in us is not what you see in everybody.

When I first became a Christian I had a co-worker named Scott. Scott’s language rose from the gutter and so did his personal ethics. Even so, Scott was a likable guy and after awhile he asked me a question: “Are you religious or something? I notice you aren’t like the rest of us – what gives?” I was most pleased that he could tell the difference, even though I was a irritated that it took his nudging to share my faith. Scott didn’t embrace Christ, preferring to, as he put it, "take his chances." Perhaps later on he did – I am just grateful that I was in rare form before Scott.

I think Anne Graham Lotz describes what rare form ought to be manifested in the life of a Christ follower in her book My Heart’s Cry. I want more of Jesus, she says – but what does that mean? Her chapter headings give us insight: I want more of His voice in my ear, more of His tears on my face, more of His praise on my lips, more of His death in my life, more of His dirt on my hands, more of His fruit in my service – you get the idea. More of Jesus in every area of our lives.

My prayer is that these things would not be occasional or fleeting, rare indeed, but normal, natural, a daily thing. Paul says in Galatians 2:20, “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

Simple translation: more of Christ in every area of my life more of the time.

Definitely not rare form.

We are reminded in 2 Corinthians 4:7 that we have the treasure of Christ in jars of clay. My fear is always that what people see the most is the jar of clay. My heart’s desire is that they see the treasure shining forth. My prayer for myself and those Christ followers I journey with is that such a thing would not be rare form but our typical way of life. We will, of course, need God’s surpassing power to pull that off.

Rare form – I wonder what my wife was referring to?

Random

2010-02-01T20:37:00.006-06:00

I gave a book to my daughter Alyssa this past Christmas that I got for myself. I did it on purpose – I was interested in the book and thought my daughter might enjoy it. Beyond that, I thought we could talk about our reactions and reflections on what we read. Last year my son Chad did the same for me – he gave me the space trilogy by C. S. Lewis and for the next four months we talked about it. A highlight of the year for me, and I hope for him as well.

Anyway, I gave this book to Alyssa by Don Miller entitled A Million Miles In A Thousand Years. I had read an earlier book by Miller and thought this one might be interesting though I know Miller is not for everyone. I thought the book might be a good read and good discussion for us.

Alyssa and I do not have much experience reading and talking about books together. A few years ago she urged me to read Fyodor Dostoevsky’s book The Brother’s Karamazov. I trudged through the book with great effort and then called her to talk about it (about four months later, as I recall). Looking back, I don’t think she believed I would read the Russian novel in the first place. When I finished it and wanted to talk about it, she confessed that it had been years since she read it, that she had read it in a hurry, and she didn’t remember the parts I was asking her about. We talked about her skimming the book again (Ha!) and then we would talk about it. That was three or four years ago now. No discussion yet.

Back to Miller’s book – he starts out with a series of random reflections on life, a bit like this blog. He talks about a friend who wrote down every experience he could remember and came up with five hundred pages of memories. Miller confesses that the narrative of his life would not be near so long – in fact, he even wonders what to make of all the experiences of life. They seem so random, some highs and lows and all sorts of things in-between. The question is, what story do they tell? Where is life going with all of these disconnected experiences?

That idea speaks to me because each day can be somewhat random for me. The one sure thing I face each week is the relentless return of the Sabbath with its sermon preparation, but other than that, any given day can be a smorgasbord of unexpected experiences. It can be so random, and most days I don’t mind it at all. I have learned that ministry takes place in those random moments as much or more than the planned moments, and that God speaks at unexpected times in unusual ways. At the same time, I have to admit that there are moments I look back and realize that I can’t get all the random events to hang together – I am not always sure what story they tell. Miller feels the same and hopes that some day in eternity he might tell God about all his experiences and God will let him in on what it all meant.

What a random blog – is there a point? Yes, of course!

I often return to the narrative in Genesis 37-50 about Joseph precisely because his life was so random and unexpected. You remember, as a teenager he had some pretty brazen dreams and he dared boast about them to his brothers. They hated him for it and did their best to destroy his dreams, which they did for a number of years. And then more than twenty years later it all makes sense – he tells his brothers that, though what they did was a random act of violence, God was at work using whatever randomly came into his life to bring him to the place where he, Joseph, could be the savior of his family.

I like Joseph’s story because it makes me realize God really is able to pull together all these seemingly random moments of life, the good and the bad and the in-between, and accomplish something far greater than we might realize. In my better moments I tell God that I am okay with that, that I don’t need to know the story line yet, that I will simply trust Him on the journey.

And then there are those times when I stare at some random moment and say, “Father, what is that about? Where does that fit in?”

Are you going to try and tell me you don’t do the same thing?

Prayer As Showing Up

2010-01-25T21:25:00.003-06:00

Through the years as a pastor I have had people ask me more questions about prayer than about anything else. My observation is that most of us feel that we pray badly – that we don’t spend enough time or say things the right way or know best how to approach the Father. Our troubles are intensified when we have in mind what we believe God ought to do, and then He doesn’t follow our prayerful advice. It is so maddening, who does He think He is – God?

Even with all the questions, most people would just like to know how to pray better. It is with that in mind that I recommend the advice Philip Yancey gives in his book Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference? He suggests that the most significant thing we can do in prayer is to just show up. “The writer Nancy Mairs says she attends church in the same spirit in which a writer goes to her desk every morning, so that if an idea comes along she’ll be there to receive it. I approach prayer the same way. Many days I would be hard-pressed to describe a direct benefit. I keep on, though, whether it feels like I am profiting or not. I show up in hopes of getting to know God better, and perhaps hearing from God in ways accessible only through quiet and solitude.”

Showing up – may not sound super spiritual, but it is something I seek to do each day. Whether I am reading Scripture or the words of one of my mentors in writing (like Philip Yancey), I show up most days ready for whatever God may have. Yancey refers to it as the discipline of regularity – those regular, consistent times we enter into God’s presence with our hearts open. I must say, there are times I receive something quite significant – I read a few verses, or a phrase, or a quote, or even a word, and I am plunged into a conversation with God over whatever it is that confronts, challenges, comforts or calls me. Most of the time it is more subtle than that – I spend time quietly in the presence of the Lord, sensing nothing that significant but speaking my heart nonetheless, and then I go on. Showing up.

Of course, that's not the end of it. God is not confined to a single conversation or a structured time of the day. Even when He is the quiet partner in prayer, I discover His amazing ability to bring to my mind some Scripture passage, image, quote, or whatever else is needed for an unforeseen event of the day. He honors my showing up by responding to prayer in His own time and way.

Makes sense. He can do that, you know – He is God!

My advice for the week – why don’t you try showing up for prayer?

Children

2010-01-19T08:27:00.002-06:00

We had the joy of having both our children and their spouses home for Christmas a few weeks ago. It was a first for us – our daughter Alyssa and her husband Paul will celebrate their fifth anniversary this year, and our son Chad and his wife Becki their first. This was the first Christmas where we were all family together. I loved it – and the time slipped by so fast. It was as if they got there one day, and were gone the next. The house seemed empty and too quiet.

It is a strange thing – you pray for your children, that God will bless them and keep them close to Him, that they will grow and enjoy God’s good gifts and find a spouse that is as a gift from God. And then as those things take place, you realize that their lives take a different path than yours. You pray they always remember the things you taught them. You ask God to keep them close to Him. As son-in-laws and daughter-in-laws enter the scene, you find yourself praying for them just as you do your own children. You realize, in my case, that where only two people on the face of the earth had the right to call me “father,” now there are four.

You rejoice in their successes, agonize over their hurts, ask the Heavenly Father to direct them, and pray that the choices they make, the paths they travel, will be God-honoring. And you trust them to that Father who is so much greater than any parent can be.

As young newlyweds, Holly and I took off to Tennessee, some twelve hours from my parents. Because of college and work demands, I didn’t get to see my parents but once a year. I tried to call when I could, which wasn’t enough (my kids do much better). One day we were leaving my folks after a visit of about a week. I took one last glance at my parents as we drove off – they were standing outside watching, my Dad holding my Mom in his arms, and I suddenly realized my Mom was crying. I don’t know why it didn’t dawn on me before – my leaving caused her pain. She was grateful for all God was doing in our lives, thankful that I had “turned out alright,” but still – things would never be the same.

We have tools my parents never had. We can Skype with our kids, see their faces, hear their voices, enjoy time with them even though they may be hundreds of miles away. But it can never be the same as seeing their faces in the flesh, feeling their hug, enjoying just being with them.

My children are far more attentive to my wife and I than I was to my parents. It saddens me that I didn’t get it – that I didn’t realize that, though the years bring change, they do not minimize the love or lessen the prayers. Twenty years ago I came to First Baptist Church of Rolla, and I remember the conversation I had with my Mom before I decided God was in that move. She wanted to make sure I would be happy, that I would be cared for, that it was the right thing to do. And then she said, “I’ll be praying for you.”

To my knowledge my Mom prayed for me every day from the day I was born – I do my best to follow her example, praying for my children.

See the picture – aren’t they a fine bunch!

Putting Yourself Aside

2010-01-12T16:03:00.003-06:00

One of my favorite passages of Scripture is Philippians 2:1-11. As far as I am concerned, it is one of the most majestic passages in the New Testament. Theologically it is a great hymn of praise for the work of Christ, a profound glimpse into the mystery of the incarnation, of God taking on flesh in the person of His Son, of the way God became Immanuel, God with us. A wordy sentence, yes, but how do you describe what all of this means in just a few words!

Of course, the passage has a practical purpose – it is part of Paul’s plea to the Philippians to maintain unity, to strive for a greater love for each other, and to have the shared purpose of exalting Christ. It is a call to follow the pattern of Jesus by putting others before ourselves, being a servant, setting aside self-interest. This is where this tremendous passage nails me.

I read this passage as the text for a deacon ordination service in the church I pastor this past Sunday. It is a great passage for service, calling us to have the same attitude which was also in Christ Jesus – to take upon ourselves, as one version puts it, the mind of Christ.

But I have a problem with that.

It’s not that I think the idea is wrong; on the contrary, it is so right. If we are truly Christ-followers, then of course we will seek to pattern our lives after Jesus.

But I find that easier said than done.

C. S. Lewis highlights the struggle I have – is it yours as well? He writes:

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through;
I want God, you, all my friends, merely to serve my turn.

Peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin;
I talk of love – a scholar’s parrot may talk Greek –
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

That is how Lewis puts it with his lofty prose – Don Miller in his book Blue Like Jazz puts it more crassly, and more to the point – “Six billion people live in the world, and I can only muster thoughts for one. Me.”

I don’t like that fact about myself, and I tend to believe I am not alone. We can talk a good game, speak of things like love and service and putting others first – but frankly, that doesn’t happen easily. That is why I keep coming back to Philippians 2. Eugene Peterson puts it in the same frank way Miller does in The Message – “If you’ve gotten anything at all out of following Christ, if his love has made a difference in your life, if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you, if you have a heart, if you care – then do me a favor: Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends. Don’t push your way to the front; don’t sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don’t be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand.”

I keep coming back to these words because I must. Vain conceit and selfish ambition are just natural for me – isn’t it for you as well? And so day by day we keep coming back to the admonition to put on the mind of Christ, and we keep coming back to the example of Jesus and the attitude displayed by His great act of self-emptying. We come back with the prayer, “Lord, make me more like you.”

It’s a cinch I can’t pull it off on my own.

Worship Good And Bad

2010-01-04T09:31:00.002-06:00

Well, I decided to take up my own challenge and spend a year with Jesus. A chapter a day out of a Gospel will take me through all four Gospels four times in 356 days. I’ve printed the text out with a wide margin for notes and thoughts and a chronicle of my journey. I don’t intent to blog it here, but there will probably be times when something strikes me.

Like today.

Matthew chapter two is a chapter on worship good and bad. It is a familiar passage, one we hear during the Christmas season, our embellished story of three Wise Men from the Far East bringing their costly and symbolic gifts to the baby Jesus. You’ve heard the sermons – I won’t preach one here.

No, what caught my attention was the frequent reference to worship. The Magi come before Herod in their search and indicate they have come to worship this one who has been born King of the Jews. Herod is disturbed, but he uses worship language as well – “As soon as you find him, report to me, so I too may go and worship him.” Sure Herod – we know worship is the farthest thing from your mind!

When the Magi finally reach their destination, they worship. They do things like bowing down, opening their treasures, and presenting their gifts. And when they don’t return to tell Herod where the newborn King is, Herod responds with his own brand of self-worship, seeking to eliminate the opposition with the murder of the innocents.

Is the worship over at this point? No, I don’t think so. Joseph has taken his family out of the country to keep them safe, and in the dead of the night he has a dream. Joseph always dreams – I wonder if he ever felt cheated that he didn’t get any angelic visitations in broad daylight but only dreams in the dark of the night. Or maybe he was relieved. Anyway, he has a dream, and he responds by taking his family back to Israel. He has another dream, and he responds again, finally taking Jesus to Nazareth.

I wonder a lot about worship – are even these thoughts prayerfully offered to whoever will read them an act of worship? What does worship mean to you or me on a personal level, and what about a collective level when we gather with brothers and sisters in Christ? Matthew tells us that the Magi bowed down and worshiped Jesus – does that mean they sang songs? Prayed prayers? Read Scripture? Actions are recorded – they opened their treasures – they presented gifts. So what is it that I treasure, good or bad, that I need to “open” for the Lord? What gifts do I need to give? And is there any Herod in you or me – he was lying about his desire to worship, he had a secret agenda. Do we ever have a secret agenda? Are we after something in our worship? Is that why we complain sometimes that we have not worshiped, because we have not gotten what we are after? A lot of questions, I know.

We uses phrases like “worship service” – in this chapter the two come together, both worship and service. Worship involves things we need like singing and praying and giving and telling God what is on our mind and in our hearts – but worship also puts us at the service of God, like the Magi and Joseph traveling and bowing and protecting and acting in response to God.

Maybe that is the test of worship for us – not what it does for us, but what we do in response.

Julie, Julia, Jesus and 356 Days

2010-01-01T15:05:00.002-06:00

The first day of 2010 – I often think of Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 at the start of a new year, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot...” – and you can read the rest and reflect on what time it is now for you, and how you will spend the time God has given you in this new year. Just remember that a lot of choices go into how we spend our time, in positive and negative ways, for our growth or our detriment.

One of the books I will be spending time with in 2010 is Philip Yancey’s Grace Notes. It contains daily heart-to-heart conversations about God, yourself, the world, and about everything else. I like this comment from the January 1 reading: “Because of Jesus we need never question God’s desire for intimacy. Does God really want close contact with us? Jesus gave up Heaven for it.” Did you catch that? Jesus gave up heaven so we could have close contact and intimacy with the Father. That is so beyond my comprehension that all I want to do is get to know better this One who loves us so.

Which brings me to the title of this blog and my invitation for the new year.

A couple of weeks ago Holly and I watched the movie, Julie & Julia. It was a truth-inspired tale of Julie Powell, a disenchanted young woman who decides to enliven her uneventful life and find purpose by cooking her way through Julia Child’s classic cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Julie decides to spend 365 days working through the 524 recipes, and she delights the ever-growing readers of her blog with her steps and missteps. In the end she has done more than master the art of French cooking – she has found purpose and joy in life.

I am not suggesting that you follow Julie’s example and work yourself through a cookbook in a year. As my wife Holly and I watched the movie, I was struck at how much Julie was inspired by what she read and the person (Julia Child) she was getting to know. Writing a blog about each day helped cement things in her thoughts and soul – but I am not suggesting that either.

Inasmuch as Jesus gave up heaven by coming into our midst so we could know Him intimately, I would suggest that you give the next 365 days to a pursuit of Jesus.

Did you realize that if you simply read one chapter out of a Gospel a day, you can cover the four Gospels four times in a year – actually, in 356 days? What’s more, if you seek to apply what you read, reflect on Jesus’ character, make Jesus’ choices, live a life that mirrors His, you will find more purpose and joy than you could ever find in a cookbook, to say nothing of the greater intimacy you will discover. Blog about it if you want, journal it and you will hang on to your insights, but whatever you do, pray about what you read each day and you will find your life changed. You will not only know the Gospels in a way you never have before – with prayer, you will know Jesus as you never have before.

What a great way to spend the time God has given you in this new year!

Christmas Leftovers

2009-12-27T09:31:00.002-06:00

After Christmas there seems to be all sorts of leftovers – food in the fridge, half-price sales in the stores, a mess in the house. Joyfully we anticipated the coming of Christmas, but now that it is over, what do we have to show for it? Leftovers?

I think there is a great question for us to ask on the Sunday after Christmas – I am asking the congregation I pastor this question and I ask you as well – over this Christmas season did you get a chance to see Jesus?

The apostle John talks about that – he got to see the glory of God manifested before his very eyes. I love the way he words it in 1 John 1 – "What was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we beheld and our hands handled, concerning the Word of Life – and the life was manifested, and we have seen and bear witness and proclaim to you." Historically John was one of those blessed few who saw the glory of God in the flesh.

There were others who had seen the glory of God – the splendor, the majesty of God Almighty. Isaiah in the temple, Moses before the burning bush, Israel in the cloud, Ezekiel and God’s throne. But this was different for John. "We beheld his glory," John says in John 1:14 – but it was not a glory that overwhelmed people, not a brilliance that blinded, not an excellence that shamed. No, as one writer put it, His splendor was robed in the coarse garment of human nature; His brilliance shone through the prism of human flesh, His excellence was seen in the light of our common day.

We beheld his glory, John says – and in his gospel he tells about the ministry of Jesus, His compassion for a woman at a well, a failure from every other person’s standards, an outcast, one who had crossed the line – and yet one who could receive from the Creator of the universe life.

We beheld his glory — we saw the lame walk, the leper cleansed, the hungry fed, the blind see.

We beheld his glory – and for John, that meant the suffering and the cross. John 1:14 declares, "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory" – we saw what he had come for, the moment in time when the cradle was replaced by a crown of thorns, when the baby’s coo became the Creator’s cry, when a mother wept not in joy, but in horror. We beheld his glory – His battle with death, His confrontation with sin, His paying of the ultimate price – that we might live.

We beheld his glory – that Easter morning the grave was opened and confusion and chaos was replaced by the shout, “He is alive! He is alive!”

We beheld His glory – the glory that brings the same confession as that which slipped from the lips of Thomas – “My Lord and My God!” Thomas saw the face of God in Jesus.

“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory.” And so here is the leftover question of the season – have you seen Jesus? If not, it’s not too late.

On Christmas And Having Christ Within...

2009-12-20T16:05:00.002-06:00

Every year she’s there. You can’t miss her, she is just off center, a look of love and adoration on her face. She has a robe on, and for some reason it is almost always blue. Her hair is covered, with a strand or two escaping the folds, long, often dark, sometimes blond, maybe red, a slight wave.

She is the mother of Jesus, and once a year we honor her, we give her a place in a manger scene, we dress up a little girl in a bathrobe and give her a plastic baby doll and let her walk on stage. Mary, the mother of Jesus. Mary, the one the angel called “blessed.”

A lot of Christians don’t know what to do with Mary. Many things have been said about her through the centuries, and a good number of those have no basis in Scripture. Some even reflect a gross misunderstanding of Jesus. Bottom line, nobody knows us like Jesus, and a mother’s love is a distant second to the love of the Savior.

Still, Mary was in on things from the beginning. She received the angel’s greeting, and she pondered what it meant to have the Lord with her. If she has anything to teach us, it is in her response. Listen to her words in Luke 1:38, “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said.” What a contrast that is to other Biblical characters. When Abraham heard God’s promise, he didn’t know how to respond. Sarah responded with laughter. Zechariah asked for proof. But Mary simply responds with belief, a belief wrapped up in obedience. That should be our response as well.

We speak of having Jesus within us as Christ followers. Paul gives us a basis for that when he says in Galatians 2:20, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me.” Max Lucado says that we must not miss out on the reason we are placed on this earth, to be so pregnant with heaven’s child that He lives through us. I really like that image – so pregnant with heaven’s child that He lives through us. What would that be like for us to have Christ within? Lucado writes these reflections in his book, Next Door Savior:

To have my voice, but him speaking.
My steps, but Christ leading.
My heart, but his love beating
in me, through me, with me.
What’s it like to have Christ on the inside?

To tap his strength when mine expires
or feel the force of heaven’s fires
raging, purging wrong desires.
Could Christ become my self entire?

So much him, so little me
that in my eyes it’s him they see.
What’s it like to a Mary be?
No longer I, but Christ in me.

And it all begins as we give God Mary’s response, “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said." May that response be our Christmas gift to God this year.

Old Friends

2009-12-13T15:51:00.002-06:00

Something happened this week that brought delight to my soul. Three old friends made contact with me in as many days. Two of them were from a church I pastored in the early 1980's, and the third was a pastor friend I hadn’t seen or heard from in more than twenty-five years. Through Facebook, emails, and phone calls, we caught up on the happenings of those silent years, and I was reminded that life went on for each of us even if we had completely forgotten about each other’s existence. I am sure those years carried a lot of joys and sorrows for each of us, but it was good to know that God had continued His kindness to each, and that each of us had a journey to share.

We sometimes forget that the first Christmas was the breaking of the silence by an old friend – in this case, I should capitalize “Friend.” The Old Testament era ends with God’s people struggling to form a faith community again, clinging to the promise that some day God would send the Christ. As the years passed, I wonder if some forgot – forgot the promise, forgot the hope, maybe even forgot the Father. Those years were shaped by all the things that shape our lives – the ups and downs of economy, the birth of babies and the death of elders, the expected and the unexpected, the hoped for and the feared. And then one day God broke the silence – angels spoke to an old man and a young maiden, a dream assured a worried husband, and before all was said and done the heavens exploded with shouts of glory and the assurance that God, having once broken the silence, would never be silent again. As John puts it in John 1:14, “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”

Christmas reminds us of that Friend who wants to journey with us through life. He split the heavens and came in person into our midst, and now He comes to reside in the heart of every person who will receive Him. Spend some time catching Him up on the joys and sorrows of this past year. Yes, I know, He already knows them all, but it will do you good and you will find your spirit lifted and your soul delighted as you journey with this old Friend who promises never to leave you or forsake you. What a friend we have in Jesus -- One who will never lose touch with us!

Thirty-Five Years

2009-12-07T09:55:00.003-06:00

Thirty-five years ago on December 7, 1974, my wife Holly and I were married. I have said to our children that we were just kids and didn’t know what we were doing, and I think there is more truth to that then I care to admit. I didn’t know how great marriage could be but also how difficult and challenging. For whatever reason, I thought if you picked the right person it was easy. I am sure there have been times in our marriage where my wife wondered if she picked the right person – but then, maybe she understood more what marriage would mean than I did.

I am fond of quoting David and Vera Mace when I perform weddings. They write, “A wedding is not a marriage. A wedding is only the beginning of an undertaking that may or may not, someday, develop into a marriage. What a couple have on their wedding day is not the key to a beautiful garden, but just a vacant lot and a few gardening tools.”

A vacant lot and a few gardening tools – most of us thought we were getting more than that when we said, “I do!” The years of marriage include a lot of hard work, breaking up the soil, tossing out the rocks, pulling weeds, planting seeds. But the years of marriage, if we work at it, also yield a great garden to enjoy with your beloved. I think it also makes us better people if we will accept what marriage offers us. We learn to put the other person first, deny ourselves for a greater good, be mature rather then petty, giving rather than grasping. I am not saying that this happens automatically or easily – in fact, we will wind up doing a lot of praying in the midst of it all. But again, when we accept what marriage offers, the payoff is tremendous and the joy is sweet.

Lewis Smedes once said that his wife had been married to seven different men in her lifetime, and everyone of them was him. My wife could probably say the same. We do change, just as our lives together change. Simplistically we may divide marriage according to tasks, whether it is starting out, having children, coping with teenagers, or facing the empty nest. But we do change – we change with the passage of time and the best marriages change as well, growing deeper and wiser and greater and stronger and more loving than ever. That has certainly been my experience, and for that I am grateful.

My son Chad was married this past year, and he shared a quote with me by C. S. Lewis. Lewis talks about “falling in love” as the engine that gets a marriage started, but it takes a lot more to keep it going. For Lewis love “is a deep unity maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced (in Christian marriage) by the grace which both partners ask and receive from God.”

Those are wise words – the unity of marriage requires an act of will, a daily choice to put the other before yourself. It is strengthened by habit, which means we all should pay attention to what our marriage habits are, whether they help or hinder marriage. And marriage calls on both partners to receive and extend the grace of God.

Thirty-five years ago I said I would take Holly for better for worse, in sickness and health, for good times and bad, be we rich or poor. I didn’t really know what all that meant then – but I have to tell you, thirty-five years later I am exceedingly grateful to share my life with Holly and I can’t imagine life in any other way. My wife said that thirty-five years is a long time – but we both agree it is not long enough!

Chosen

2009-11-29T16:26:00.002-06:00

John Ortberg writes, “To be loved means to be chosen. The sense of being chosen is one of the very best gifts love bestows on the beloved... On the other hand, there is no pain quite like the pain of not being chosen.” I understand that last part – I have the emotional scars to show for it. I still remember the fourth grade experience of a bunch of kids playing a game. Two boys claimed the right to choose teams, and they went back and forth, “I want Jim.” “I want Doug.” “I want Mike.” On and on the choosing went.

The dread of that moment is still with me, etched in my psyche. I have to be honest, I was never very good at sports of any kind. Too clumsy, awkward, two left feet, not the right genes – I don’t know, I just know that when God gave out talents in the athletic arena, He gave me zero talents. You can guess what happened that day – down to the last two, and then one – the team leader griped, “Oh, I’ll take Johnston if I have to.”

A childhood experience, of course. Builds character. Makes you search for what you are good at. Creates strength. You’ll be good at something. I heard all of those things and said them and more to myself. But it took a long time for me to find out what I was good at, and those many experiences of being picked last created a good bit of self-doubt.

I projected much of this on God. I didn’t blame Him for my lack of athletic prowess, but I was quite sure that if He began dividing folks up that I would be at the tail end, not completely worthless but not much better – “Oh, I’ll take Johnston if I have to.” I tried to believe God loved me, but frankly, I had a hard time believing that.

I was in college when the message got through my dense skull. I still remember Bill and Ruth Martin encouraging me to change John 3:16 from “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son” to “For God so loved Bob.” I struggled to believe that – and then began to read the New Testament with new eyes, recognizing that God truly did love me, not because I was valuable to His team or exceptional in skills, but because I was valued by Him. He loved me because He loved me – amazing! I experienced this overwhelming sense of being chosen – of being wanted by God. I looked at what Jesus did with new eyes – it was as if God said, “Bob, I did all of this for you.”

Chosen – it really is a wonderful thing. Marriage at its best conveys much of that, a person picking us out, knowing us warts and all, and they say, “I choose you.” It truly is a tremendous gift – but no one outdoes God. I love the way Paul begins Colossians 3:12, “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved...” The holy part is what God does, not what I do. And the chosen part, the loved part, that is God’s as well.

Colossians 3:12 and the verses that follow tell us the kind of spiritual clothes our Lord wants us to wear – things like compassion and kindness and humility and patience – it is a fairly complete list, I hope you will look at it. But this isn’t a list of necessary characteristics to earn God’s love – these are things we strive to do simply because we are loved. Because we are chosen. Because one day God said, “Oh, I’d love to take Johnston!” Thank You Lord!

God's Heartbeat

2009-11-22T16:29:00.002-06:00

Have you ever heard your own heartbeat? Chances are you have. You exert yourself and you can hear your heart beating as you try to catch your breath. Or maybe you lay in just a certain way and you can hear your pulse beat in your head, the gentle throbbing just at the edge of your awareness.

What does your heartbeat say? Sounds like a stupid question, I know. My heartbeat isn’t very eloquent – the best I can translate it, it says something like “Thump-thump, thump-thump.” Our hearts don’t say much except to a doctor who knows what an irregular or unruly beat means – for us, it is just a steady beating of a drum that means we are alive.

We celebrate Thanksgiving this week, and I will spend time thanking God for a good number of things. Included will be gratitude for my family and friends, for good health, and for the privilege of serving such a great and gracious God. I will let you in on a little secret – I will also spend time listening to God’s heartbeat and thanking Him for that as well.

God’s heartbeat – I am speaking in images now, but I think you can get the point pretty easily. You hear God’s heartbeat in an amazing Scriptural passage known as Psalm 136. The Psalm starts out with a triple plea to give thanks to God, and then there are statements that direct our attention to God as the One who created us, redeemed us, and sustains us. Pretty standard stuff for the Bible. What sets this Psalm off from all the rest is the refrain, the steady, recurring, ever beating, never stopping, always pulsing “thump-thump” of God’s heart. Only, God is more eloquent – twenty-six times the refrain sounds in Psalm 136, “His love endures forever.”

Writer Peter Wallace says this refrain continually and repeatedly reminds us that God loves us. Despite our weaknesses and failures, our circumstances and struggles, even our doubts and fears, God’s love for us is unswerving. “His love endures forever.”

The Apostle John reminds us of God’s tremendous love for us as manifested in Jesus’ determination to go to the cross for our sins. John 13:1 says, “Having loved his own who were in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his love.” What was the “full extent” of His love? He let His heartbeat stop on the cross so that when our heartbeats stopped in death, we would awaken in eternity with Him. Now, that is a love that endures forever.

Take some time this week and try to listen to your own heartbeat – and then listen to God’s heartbeat as reflected in Psalm 136 and in all the experiences of life as you follow Jesus. Sing a song of gratitude for the God who made us, saved us through Christ, walks with us through life.

Thump-thump, thump-thump – “His love endures forever.”

Falling From Grace

2009-11-18T14:56:00.001-06:00

Periodically I spend time praying and planning for future sermons. This has been a week for doing that, and I am spending time with the theme of grace. I recognize why grace is so important to me – before I came to Christ I felt I was completely unacceptable. I had this mental image of God as stern, unloving, and lacking compassion. Becoming acceptable was something I had to achieve, and it didn’t take me long to recognize that wasn’t going to happen. Imagine my surprise when I was blindsided by the tremendous grace of God found in Jesus (sounds like a good sermon title, “Blindsided By Grace”). Jesus did for me what I could not possibly do for myself, and I love Him for it.

I love Him for it, I say – and I imagine many Christ-followers would say the same. But something often happens, and I am trying to get a handle on it. Those who are touched by grace and immersed in the love of God often become ungracious and unlovely – in short, unChrist-like. There are many relationships this affects, but it especially affects our relationship with those who are watching us. Sheldon Van Auken wrote, “The best argument for Christianity is Christians: their joy, their certainty, their completeness.” And what is the best argument against Christianity? Van Auken continues, “When Christians are somber, joyless, self-righteous, smug, narrow, repressive – Christianity dies a thousand deaths.”

What’s up? How can those who enter the kingdom of God through the gracefulness of God come to the place where they do not reflect that gracefulness in their day-to-day living? To put it in Luke 15 terms, how can young prodigals greeted by the tremendous love of the Father become elder brothers who look in judgment at those around? How can we fall so far from grace? How does the drift occur – and what can we do about it?

Slightly Imperfect

2009-11-09T18:52:00.002-06:00

Not long ago my wife and I stopped by a candy store. I have to be honest, we weren’t going to buy any candy – we were there for the freebies. You know the ones I'm talking about, the samples they promised in big letters, the “slightly imperfect” pieces they could not sell but which would taste just as good as the unblemished variety. I would like to say that we had a great time, but to our dismay, the only pieces of candy were the kind no one wanted – and they looked like it. Mold wasn’t exactly growing on the candy, but – what was that white, fuzzy, stuff?

Slightly imperfect - I guess that describes a lot of things. My wife married me almost thirty-five years ago – I wonder when she discovered that I was “slightly imperfect?”

I have two great children whom I love, and my wife and I probably counted their fingers and toes when they were born and declared them perfect. Of course, then we brought them home from the hospital and, well, you can guess the rest. At least we love them – imperfectly, of course.

I like the way The Message translation gets at God’s choice of us in 1 Corinthians 1:26f: “Take a good look, friends, at who you were when you got called into this life. I don’t see many of ‘the brightest and the best’ among you, not many influential, not many from high-society families. Isn’t it obvious that God deliberately chose men and women that the culture overlooks and exploits and abuses, chose these ‘nobodies’ to expose the hollow pretensions of the ‘somebodies’?... Everything that we have – right thinking and right living, a clean slate and a fresh start – comes from God by way of Jesus Christ. That’s why we have the saying, ‘If you’re going to blow a horn, blow a trumpet for God.’”

You get the point – everyone of us is more than a bit “slightly imperfect.” You want something to thank God about? Here it is – knowing you and me as we are, He chose to love us, come to us through His Son, and offer us life. He came to us nobodies and made us somebody because of Jesus. Slightly imperfect, yes, of course. A bit moldy, tossed aside and neglected by others, perhaps. But God wasn’t looking for the unblemished variety that wouldn’t see their need for Jesus in the first place – He is content with the less than perfect that He might do His perfect work of grace in our lives. He knew what He was getting and chose us anyway. So go blow a trumpet for God and celebrate His tremendous grace.

Time Change

2009-11-01T16:26:00.002-06:00

This was the weekend the time changed for those of us in Missouri. We “gained” an hour, meaning that when our clocks said 10:00 PM, it was really only 9:00 PM. You go to bed by the old time, and you get to sleep an extra hour. We like the time change in the Fall; the one in the Spring where we “lose” an hour is not so loved.

I’m not sure my children, and especially my daughter, has ever forgiven me for the time change. When they were young, we never told them about the time change in the Fall – we just put them to bed at the normal time, let them fall asleep, and then went around the house and changed the clocks. My wife and I enjoyed another hour of solitude and our kids knew nothing about it. However, come Spring, we told them for a week before that they would have to go to bed early. On Saturday we would start changing the clocks so they could get accustomed to the idea that bedtime at 7:30 PM was really bedtime at 8:30 PM.

My daughter never got it. Since she was never told about the Fall change, she didn’t realize the Spring change just completed the cycle. It didn't make sense to her as she got older. It seemed like we were always losing time but never getting it back. She went through a long phase in her life where she lived in her own time zone, refusing to change her watch and even refusing to wear one.

She now lives in Arizona where the time doesn’t change.

The writer of Ecclesiastes 3 says, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.” All the things you would expect are listed – a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to harvest, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh. There is something of a balance to life, a rhythm, and we are called to make the most of what life throws at us. Ephesians 5:16 even tells us to make the most of time because the days are evil. We don’t know what the day may bring, but we know every day brings opportunities to live life well under the Lordship of Christ. We can love God with all we are and love our neighbor as ourselves, a good response to the evil that may come our way.

My daughter would point out that Ecclesiastes 3 says nothing about a time to change our clocks. She’s right, of course. It also doesn’t say there is a time to forgive her father for not telling her about the time change, but maybe she will do it anyway.

A Long Ways Away

2009-10-26T21:51:00.002-05:00

A year ago today (October 26) I had the privilege of preaching in the Bethel Baptist Church of Chisinau, Moldova. I spent some time looking at the pictures I took and watched a little video clip of my preaching in this historic Baptist Church with my translator. I will always be grateful for that moving experience.

For those who do not know, Moldova is a small country located next to Romania. An organization called the Future Leadership Foundation asked me to be a part of a three person team to provide a training retreat for leaders of the Moldovan Baptist Union. It was a tremendous experience and I appreciate the work of the Future Leadership Foundation as they partner with Christian leaders in former Soviet Union countries to encourage those leaders in their growth and service. I was honored and humbled by the experience – I don’t know how much those leaders were encouraged by me, but I know I was by them.

One of the leaders in Moldova is named Peter. The church I pastor, First Baptist Church of Rolla, Missouri, not only paid my way but helped fund the retreat for Peter. We have kept up with each other from time to time through email, and recently I received an email from Peter stating he was in the United States in a place called Georgia, and he wondered if Rolla was close enough to drive over to see him. I wish it was – when Peter writes about God’s work in the church he pastors, I am in awe. The challenges are great, the country’s opposition fierce, and yet Peter and his church family remain focused on sharing Jesus with all they meet. I realize how complicated things can get for me at times, how comfortable and convenient things are for American Christians, and how easy it is for American churches to lose sight of what really matters. Peter’s emails always help me regain my focus.

Rolla is a long way from the state of Georgia, and even farther from the country of Moldova. But Peter and I always promise each other we will do something that the distance can not stop – we promise to pray for each other. God’s unlimited reach, that is how I once heard prayer defined – I am so glad God is not hindered by the distance.

Tent of Meeting

2009-10-19T22:22:00.003-05:00

We have been studying the book of Exodus on Wednesday nights, and we spent last Wednesday talking about Moses’ intercession for the rebellious children of Israel in Exodus 32 and 33. His prayer was filled with boldness and drenched with intimacy. He spoke His heart to God, and God listened. Three times Moses prayed – three times God responded in a wonderful way.

Of course, all of us would like to be able to pray prayers of intercession like Moses did. We often miss the fact that Moses’ intercession put God’s people even before himself. At one point he ties his own fate with that of the people – God, if You are going to blot their names out, blot mine as well (Exodus 32:31). Such selfless, sacrificial praying was effective as Moses interceded for God’s people.

In our study I asked those present why Moses was so effective in praying. Many things were offered – his honesty, his self-sacrifice, his willingness to persevere. I focused on a brief interlude between the second and third intercessions, found in Exodus 33:7-11. I see this as a parenthetical section, helping us to understand that the strength of Moses’ intercession comes from his intimacy with God. The verses speak of a “tent of meeting” where Moses would go regularly to spend time with God. His habit was so well known that the Hebrew people would see him go to the tent and they would worship at their own tents as the cloud representing God’s presence rested on the tent of meeting. Obviously Moses was able to be bold, authentic, intimate, and effective because of the time he spent with God in that tent.

I have thought a lot of the tent of meeting and have tried to figure out where mine needs to be. I recognize how easy it is to come to God with a list of requests but shortchange things when it comes to just being in God’s presence. Purposely and intentionally pushing away from everything else that gnaws at us or demands out attention can be difficult. Just spending time in God’s presence, praying His Word, listening and stilling oneself in His presence, can be a challenge. Even so, we all need a tent of meeting.

I suppose I have several places where my tent of meeting might be, but I find myself sitting on the floor in my office behind some short file cabinets near the preaching and pastoral care section of my library. If my secretary came in and saw me there, she probably would think I was just checking a book out, but God knows that this place seems to be a place I can still my mind and listen to His voice. Maybe there is some symbolism in it all – if I am to effectively proclaim God’s Word and minster/intercede for the people God has placed in my care, I need to spend time in the tent of meeting.

What about you – where is your tent of meeting?

Just Quotes

2009-10-12T21:37:00.002-05:00

My wife and I flew out to Phoenix this past week to visit our daughter and son-in-law. We had a great time eating ourselves into oblivion, walking their dog Sydney, watching movies, playing cards and the Wii, and even climbing a mountain (it was an easy trail, no big deal). On the trip out and back I did a little reading – John Ortberg’s book, Love Beyond Reason, and Dave Gibbons’ book, The Monkey and the Fish. Ortberg’s book is warm and encouraging, and Gibbons’ book is challenging – let me share a few quotes from each.

From Ortberg –

“As Lewis Smedes put it, it may be a very bad thing that I needed God to die for me, but it is a wonderful thing that God thinks I’m worth dying for.”

“Love notices. Love listens. Love remembers.”

“The secret is to be so filled with the life of Jesus that in touching the world, instead of its infecting us, we infect it.”

“If there is one way that human beings consistently underestimate God’s love, it is perhaps in his loving longing to forgive.”

“The church is a place for people who need do-overs. That is what God does.”

From Gibbons –

“Jesus is the trickiest part of the Christian faith to understand and the most difficult part for churches to keep alive.”

“You can be a church and lose your perspective on what activities are truly valuable.”

“The issue is not just sharing our message but becoming the message... And since our message is Jesus’ message – the extravagant love of God for a needy world – the stakes could not be higher.”

In reaction to a church member’s acknowledgment that he had gone into enormous debt to get things, having a picture of a BMW on his desk that he wanted to buy – “I asked myself, ‘What is my BMW? What picture have I placed on my desk? What really motivates me to do the things I do?’”

Just quotes... but inasmuch as they continue to be on my mind, maybe they are far more.

A Father and Son Conversation

2009-09-28T16:20:00.002-05:00

I am finding the idea of a blog to be interesting, especially since I am not sure who all will read this. I imagine that visitors to the site might check it out, along with a few members -- perhaps with time that will change. My son was the first to write a comment -- and today being a typical Monday we sent a few emails back and forth. Surprise of surprises -- this is my blog for the day, a conversation between father and son.

Chad – I am enjoying listening to Dad’s sermon on marriage from August 2nd! I tell you, it’s much easier to listen when you don’t have to sit through hymns first, and when you can see how much time he has left on his sermon on the iPod.

Dad – So you are counting the minutes until the sermon is over? It should sound familiar -- reflective of what I said at your wedding. Have a great week! Love, Dad

Chad – Ha! No, but it was just funny to realize I could see how much more was left. J Can’t d0 that in church! Sara and Li Kwen will be able to continue listening to your sermons now if they want! I think this will be a really good thing to have your sermons as MP3s. Did you see I commented on your blog?

Dad – I did see -- I don't have the hang of the blog yet, nor do I know who in the world is going to read it. If I had a "following" I might do more with that -- I am uncertain how to "market" it or if it is ready to be marketed -- but we will see.

Chad – Post about it on Facebook and see who shows up. You’d be surprised at how many people read blogs.

Dad – That means I will have to work hard to say something meaningful... not something I do very well on a Monday morning...

Chad – Well, a blog is not necessarily a place where finished things live. You can grapple with things on them, get people to weigh in on things, share stories, humor, happenings, etc. It’s a good way to keep a record of things.

Dad – Yeah, maybe I suffer under the notion that as pastor I have to have everything figured out and others need simply to say, "Oh, how wise you are!" -- at least, I think that is what some of my church folks expect -- or maybe I just think they expect it.

Chad – You can be wise and still not have everything figured out. J I think you’re a “wise guy” in the best way possible.

Dad – So maybe I will just use this series of correspondences as my blog for the day, the dialogue between father and son on a Monday

Chad – You sure could!

And now I have!

Website changes

2009-09-25T07:27:00.002-05:00

The pastor's blog is a new addition to our website and one I am looking forward to using. Our site administrator, Rob Hribar, has made a number of changes on our web page to make it easier to navigate and to be more user friendly to those who make their first visit. My hope and prayer is that this may be just one more way that we can impact the lives of those visit our site.

Hebrews 12:15 in the NIV has weighed on my mind all week. Though I have read it many times, only recently did the first part of the verse have such impact -- "See to it that no one misses the grace of God." That is truly my desire and the desire of the First Baptist Church family -- we don't want anyone to miss out on the grace of God found through the Lord Jesus, and so we are on the look out for ways to make connections with people, build relationships, and share God's love.