FBC News - July 7, 2013

June 16, 2013
From the Pastor:
We have had a tremendous time this past week in
Vacation Bible School. I know Joyce will bring the update
this morning for the week, but I just want to say what a
good week it was and how well all of our workers did. For
many in our church family, the decorations alone tell us
about this special week. Many, many others got engaged
in some way, from registration and meals to leading a
group of children. Every worker is essential, and I was
impressed with how every worker took seriously what
they were doing and saw opportunities that were eternal
in nature. One of the dangers of VBS is that we can see it
just as a nice thing we do for children in the Summer. It is
a nice thing we do, but it is so far beyond that. Children in
our city have the opportunity to hear of God's plan for
their lives, and the leaders offered Jesus to them in so
many different ways. Seeds were sown and I believe what
we have done will be used by God ultimately to change
lives and eternities. To Joyce, to all who served in VBS,
I want to say "Well done!" Ultimately that is what God
asks of us, to use what talents, to use what abilities, to use
what opportunities we have to impact others. You have
done that with spirit and heart and determination -- well
done! Now is the follow-up phase of Vacation Bible
School, where we as a church family make contact with
children and their families. I hope you will want to be a
part of that -- if you don't know how, talk to Joyce about
the opportunities before us.
* * * * *
2013 Zambia Shoebox Harvest Distribution
The 2013 Zambia Shoebox Harvest Distribution was
“Immeasurably More” than anyone could have imagined.
You are invited to learn more about how God is using the
shoebox gifts to bring “Good News; Great Joy” to the
children of Zambia as Janice Hartinger shares her story on
June 30, 2013 at 6:00 pm, FBC, Rolla.
Operation Christmas Child
National Collection Week is
November 18-25, 2013
Deacon of the Week: Paul Hefley
Van Driver for June: Laura Petru
Head Usher for June: James Crump
Flowers
The flowers today are given by David and Ruth Allen, in
celebration of their 51st wedding anniversary on June 9.
CALENDAR
SUNDAY, JUNE16
Father’s Day
Prayer/Bro. Bob/Searcher’s Rm . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8:30 am
Bible Study . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9:00 am
Morning Worship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10:30 am
No Evening Activities so all may enjoy time
with your families.
TUESDAY, JUNE 18
Health Walk in M/C . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8:30-10:00 am
Staff Meeting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11:00 am
Hard Core Music Concert-Youth in M/C . . . . . 6:30 pm
Dickerman Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7:00 pm
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 19
Health Walk in M/C . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8:30-10:00 am
Youth-“The Edge” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6:00 pm
Mid-Week Bible Study . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6:15 pm
Chancel Choir . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7:00 pm
THURSDAY, JUNE 20
Health Walk in M/C . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8:30-10:00 am
Bridal Shower for Alicia Whitaker in FH . . . . . 6:30 pm
SATURDAY, JUNE 22
Josh Boland “Almost Home” Concert at FBC . . 5:00 pm
SUNDAY, JUNE 23
Prayer/Bro. Bob/Searcher’s Rm . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8:30 am
Bible Study . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9:00 am
Morning Worship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10:30 am
Jr. Worship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10:45 am
Property & Space Comm. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5:00 pm
Deacon’s Meeting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5:00 pm
Outreach & Evangelism Comm. . . . . . . . . 5:00 pm
Evening Worship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6:00 pm
Youth-“Shine” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6:00 pm
Bridal Shower
Please join us for a
Bridal Shower in honor of
Alicia Whitaker
Thursday, June 20
6:30 p.m.
Fellowship Hall
Registries at
Target & Amazon.com
The Great Give-Away
2013 is Coming!
Cleaning out closets, storage areas,
garages, etc. this summer?
Donate those items to the “The Great Give-Away”!
Gently used and new items are welcomed.
Ask your friends and neighbors
to donate items, too!
* * *
Mark you calendar for Saturday, September 21 and
plan to be involved in this ministry
to our community.

Hudson

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...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.