Sunday, April 17, 2005

Mud Pies or Beach Vacation

Looked into the mirror this morning to see a man glaring at me. He looked vaguely familiar. A lot older than I remember, bags under his eyes, needing a shave and a shower. I don’t think he was very nice at all – he mimicked everything I did. I reached out to smack him and jammed my finger. On his finger. “Who let the old man in our bathroom?” I yelled to Sheila. She ran in thinking I was in trouble. She looked in and realized I really was in trouble. Walking away, shaking her head, she was mumbling. I only caught a few words, something about “I must have a hole in my head” and “what was I thinking” and “the day she got married.” I think she was expressing her amazement at having the intelligence to marry such a wonderful man.

Turns out it was me! Well, it wasn’t really me but an image that looked just like me. The reflection was real, but the reflection wasn’t me. No matter how hard I tried to do something to the reflection, I couldn’t because it wasn’t the real me.

Everything in life is a reflection of God.

I dare you to name anything that is not. Oh, sure, many of them have been so distorted that they don’t look anything like God. That doesn’t negate the fact. This truth has rattled and thrown me against the wall once again.

Think about this for a moment: everything that we enjoy is a reflection of God or His creation. Every pleasure, every desire, every longing, every delight, every wish, every joy. Every experience that warms or breaks our hearts. Everything that makes us laugh or cry. Everything that pulls or drives us. EVERYTHING. Without exception.

How do I know that? Because God created everything, without exception. The enemy has created nothing. He cannot. Rather, he attempts to pervert all of God’s creation to pull us away from Him and into destruction. Satan wants to convince us that the reflection is all there is. Do you see it?

The enjoyment, pleasure, fulfillment …

  • of eating is perverted into over indulgence
  • of work is perverted into workaholism or valuing tasks over people
  • of play is perverted into a selfish pusuit
  • of wholesome laughter is perverted into empty comedy
  • of relationships are perverted into self-seeking expectations
  • of parenting is perverted into a desire for children to make us happy and live through them
  • of the greatest gift of intimacy of a husband and wife is perverted into a self-centered act of lust
  • of intimacy with God is perverted into empty, dry, ritualistic religion
  • on and on and on the list could go
Problem is that we don’t often glimpse the reality behind the reflection. It’s not that the reflection doesn’t exist, it is that it is incomplete. We inhabit the reflection, though it’s promises fall short and its pleasure is short-lived. However, we perceive the reflection to be reality. What else is there? So we settle for far less than God longs to give us here and hereafter.

God has created so much more. Earthly life is a pre-cursor to the forever life. Selfishness is culprit. When we follow our sinful, human desires without embracing the connection with the eternal behind them, we miss it. Oh, how we miss it!

C.S. Lewis understood this truth and expressed it well…
“If there lurks in most modern minds the notion that to desire our own good and earnestly to hope for the enjoyment of it is a bad thing, I submit that this notion has crept in from Kant and the Stoics and is no part of the Christian faith. Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desire, not too strong, but too weak.
We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”
The Weight of Glory and other addresses, by C.S. Lewis. (The Macmillian Company, New York 1949).

It’s not that we want too much, but that we look for fulfillment in all the wrong places.

It’s not that we are never satisfied, but that we look for satisfaction in things that are incapable of delivering.

It’s not that God denies us what we seek because it is wrong, rather He denies us because He knows that what we seek is destructive.

The Bible tells us that Jesus is perched at the edge of our lives in the excitement of giving us what truly brings pleasure and fulfillment. He is longing, hoping, offering to give us far more than we can ask or imagine. It is not that He is willing, it is that He WANTS to.

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." Ephesians 3:20-21 (NIV)
"I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. 18 I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, 19 and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is like the working of his mighty strength, 20 which he exerted in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, 21 far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every title that can be given, not only in the present age but also in the one to come." Ephesians 1:17-21 (NIV)

We can experience a slice of the true on earth and revel in it completely in eternity by surrendering the reflection and embracing the reality of Christ behind it.
  • eating as a reflection of the enjoyment of the future feast
  • work as a reflection of accomplishing the work we were created for
  • play as a reflection of the unquenchable joy of God
  • wholesome laughter as our God given inner delight escaping
  • relationships as enjoying the second greatest gift of God
  • parenting as participating in the creative and formative process of God
  • the intimacy of a husband and wife as experiencing the vulnerable connection and pleasure God gave and a prologue of the depth of relationship we will have with Christ
  • relationship with God as restoring our purpose stolen by sin, that connection that alone brings what we were created for. Not dry, but the most moving experience possible.
  • on and on and on the list could go

Mudpies or holiday. Putting it that way makes it a simple choice. The challenge
is to live it. Will you join me in doing so? Now, go put on your beach hat and
let’s go!

Boldly, Herb

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

Over the Hill or On Top of the Ridge?

I was recently asked to write a few words for a friend who was turning 40. I thought, “Herb, why let this sit on only one person’s desk? Why not clutter up a whole bunch of desks?” So here it is. For those of you on my side of 40 years, I think you’ll especially appreciate this. For those young ‘uns, hold on to this. Someday you’ll need it.

John, they asked me to write a few words in honor of your 40th birthday. They did NOT ask me to attend because they know that I am so much older than you and too frail to travel. I’ve known you for over 20 years and, quite frankly, am amazed you’ve made it this far. But since your parents, your wife and your church have not yet put you away, you might be okay. Let me give you some words of wisdom that most people won’t tell you. As your mentor, I feel responsible to let you in on the truth.

Myths of Turning 40

  • Myth number 1, “Life Begins at 40.”

If someone has not already done so, they will soon tell you this. It is a lie. Mostly told by people who are trying to soothe the pain of aging and share their own misery. It is sometimes said by people who haven’t seen 40 yet and HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT!!


Life does not begin at 40, it just keeps walking on. If it actually began at the big 4-0 it means you would not be married, have children or gained any wisdom at all. Pity your mom if you arrived like you are today!


  • Myth number 2, “Life Ends at 40.”

Usually mockingly said by the young whipper-snappers. They think death is on the door step when you hit 39 years and 365 days. It’s not so, it just freezes up a lot and you have to “reboot” more often.

  • Myth number 3, “You’re not getting older, you’re getter better.” (Usually followed by, “You’re like a fine wine that gets better with age”).

Again, not true. You ARE getting older. Time marches on, buckaroo. And a day older does not automatically mean you’ve gotten a day finer, better or smarter. Fine wine might get better with age. Cheese might get better by fermenting. But the same amount of time will turn bananas into a big mass of bruised goo and potatoes into a stinking mess. Your choice.

  • Myth number 4, “You’re only as old as you feel.”

Sorry, but you’ll never be 25 again, no matter how your sensory nerves communicate with your brain. You are the age you are… and you WILL feel it.

  • Myth number 5, “You can still do anything you put your mind to.”

Those 40 year old football and baseball players are one in a million. The rest of us mortals are limited by the damage age inflicts. My jump shot will never be the same because my knees won’t allow it. No matter how I put my mind to it, I will not hit another home run because my mind doesn’t swing the bat, my aching shoulder do. The rest of my body has a huge say in the matter.

Okay, those are some myths you need to be aware of. Now let me give you some truths of turning 40.


  • Truth number 1, “Old age and experience will beat youth and strength every time.”

This comes from a bumper sticker my dad had. I didn’t understand it when I was in my 30’s and didn’t believe it until after I turned 40. Good choices come from wisdom. Wisdom comes from experience. Experience comes from bad choices. Enough years of that and you ought to be wise enough to overcome the impulses of those young brutes. Or you’ll probably be dead from the effects of the bad choices.

  • Truth number 2, “If it hurts, be thankful you can still feel it.”

Something is going to hurt every morning for the rest of your life. That is not the problem. The problem is when you can no longer feel that it hurts. Be
grateful.

  • Truth number 3, “Entertainment is redefined.”

Webster is not the only one who changes the meaning of words. When you were young a night on the town started early, involved a lot of activity and, sometimes, strenuous movement. It did not involve sitting still. Get ready, that is about to change. A night on the town will soon mean comparing the fiber content of cereal at Wal-Mart, driving through the automated car wash, going home to sit on the front porch to sip iced tea, and going to bed by 10:00. AND YOU WILL ENJOY IT!!

  • Truth number 4, “You will get excited about the simplest, oddest things.”

Laugh if you want, pal, but you will leap with joy (at least you’ll think it is leaping; others will think you are burping) at things you once took for granted.

You will get excited…


when you can remember why you entered a room. Mark it down, some day you will walk into the bedroom, get a puzzled look on your face, turn around to retrace your steps in the often vain attempt to recall your purpose for walking there. You’ll do circles like a dog getting its bed ready. And sometimes that is exactly what you came into the bedroom to do.


when you can sleep after eating anything spicier than toast. At 40 all the enzymes that digested pepperoni pizza at midnight retire and you are left with only
rebellious stomach gremlins that love to keep you up and turn your digestive
track into a roller coaster.


when you can carry on a complete conversation without saying, “huh?” The eyes, the ears, and then who knows what after that slowly fade into the sunset.


when you see a commercial that addresses one of the things that ail you. Who cares about the movie you were watching, what was that commercial?

when you can read a book without propping it up on the other side of the room. Your arms will not be long enough to read the fiber content on the cereal during your exciting night on the town.


Now, John, I don’t mean to sound negative. Frankly I wouldn’t go back to the days when the body worked much better because the downhill slope of the body is such a small part of life.

Here’s the best truth of all – “Your best days are ahead.” You’re not over the hill, you’re standing on a ridge that is half way up the mountain of life. God is doing good things in your life. I’ve watched you grow and succeed and stretch and surrender and strive to be all God intends. Your spirit is soaring. When we are young we don’t stop to consider what is of highest importance. Growing older causes us to reconsider as we realize we will not live forever. We can use the last half of life to more intentionally make a difference that will last.

Listen to what the Bible says,
"Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained by a righteous life." Proverbs 16:31 (NIV)

"The glory of young men is their strength, gray hair the splendor of the old." Proverbs 20:29 (NIV)

Here’s to living life boldly on the good side of 40!
Your old brother in Christ, Herb

P.S. I would have written more, but it’s almost 7:00 and Sheila and I are headed out on the town. They’re having a special on fiber at Wal-Mart!

    Tuesday, January 11, 2005

    Are You a Survivor or a Thriver?

    There aren’t many who are ambivalent about the “reality” TV show, Survivor. People either really, really like it or really, really don’t. Those in the first category arrange their schedules to watch. Or they will tape episodes if dire circumstances prevent them from viewing. “Honey, I think Junior chopped his leg off.” “Put a band-aid on it and we’ll take him to the hospital at ten,” a Survivor lover would respond. And don’t even think about telling them what happened if they haven’t yet viewed the tape.

    Those in the second category simply think it’s stupid. “Why would anyone want to watch all that malarkey when I have to deal with cut throats in real life?” these people say.

    “It’s a microcosm of human nature, an interesting study in human nature,” Survivor lovers insist. On and on it goes.

    Personally, I am in the second camp. Hey, I’m a pastor – I LIVE on Survivor Island! I had never even seen a full episode of Survivor until last fall when I was traveling with a good friend who shall remain nameless to protect him from assault by anti-Survivor terrorists. As Jim Callender and I were traveling, we ended up in a motel room on a Thursday night. He is in the first group. “Oh, Herb, it’s great!” he insisted. “It’s a microcosm of human nature.” Thus I was trapped with Jim, forced to view bickering, gossiping, fighting, immunity challenges, and voting to kick some of that human nature off the island. He also made me watch the TV show.

    The next day, as I was teaching, I used the Survivor episode as an illustration. As soon as I asked the question, “Has anyone seen Survivor?” the heretofore unified class was immediately split. “It’s a microcosm of human nature,” exclaimed one group. “It’s stupid,” responded the other.

    About the same time, during some prayer time with God, He pointed out some of the similarities between Survivor and life. Let me give them to you.
    • We’re dropped into a situation we didn’t choose. The participants are put on a boat or a plane, not knowing where they are going. We didn’t choose the situation in which we were born. We were simply dropped into it one day.
    • We have to put with people we didn’t choose, some of whom we don’t like. Survivor participants didn’t get to choose who they are dropped onto the island with. In fact, I’m convinced the producers intentionally choose people who they know will be in conflict. Nor did we choose the family we end up with. And sometimes it seems God intentionally stuck us with people He knew we would struggle with.
    • We compete in unfamiliar ways. Have you heard of some of the bizarre contests on Survivor? No way any of these folks have competed like that before. Unless they lived in a men’s dorm. That might be close. I’ve looked, trust me, and I have yet to find a manual that details the situations we live through. True, the Bible gives us principles and commandments, but so much of life is lived in unmarked territory.
    • There is always a chance we will be eliminated. Every week somebody goes. It could be anyone and sometimes it’s the nicest ones on the show. Every day thousands of people leave this life. Every day there is a chance it could be you or me.
    • It appears the ultimate point is to “survive” and win a temporary prize. Last person standing wins a million dollars or so. A lot of money, but it is only temporary. As we look around, it could be easy to believe that the point of life is to survive the ups and downs to gain money, position, or pleasure. All of that is fleeting. There is much more to life than surviving.
    • It is over quickly and we go home. I don’t know how long it takes to film a season. My impression is a couple weeks. Then the producers draw it out into months of TV episodes. Over quickly and everybody goes home, whether winners or losers. When we’re young it feels like life will last forever. Us old folks know that it is quick and then everybody goes “home” to heaven or hell.
    • There are many watching from far away, both cheering and booing. Millions of TV viewers each week, none seem to be emotionless. Around water coolers fights break out over who should win and who should be booted. All the while another groups stands at a distant mumbling, “That show is stupid.” To which one of the water cooler group responds, “No, it’s a microcosm of human nature.” As we live this life, the hosts of heaven cheer us on while the demons from hell boo us.
    • What we do reveals something to those watching. In this microcosm of human nature we see what people are at their most basic level. What the survivors say and do reveals who they really are. The difficulties peel back the facades. It’s the same with us – it’s not what we say, but what we do that reveals our true loyalties, desires and nature.
    • We must choose between “the end justifies the means” and what is right. This is the part that repels me. The vast majority on the island will do whatever necessary, including lewd and dishonest actions, to stay on the island for one more show. Folks have told me that a few participants show integrity and are sometimes rewarded. True of life as well. Daily, moment-by-moment, we choose between the two philosophies. The vast majority chooses selfishly. A relative few live with integrity and are sometimes rewarded. Other times they pay a dear price.

    Even if we survive to the end, we can still come up empty. IT IS NOT ENOUGH TO ONLY SURVIVE. God has created us to thrive. I challenge you to “Thrive in ’05.” Listen to Jesus’ offer…

    "… Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, "If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. 38 Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him." John 7:37b-38

    God offers to place His Spirit within us so that what we long for, what we thirst for will not just fill us, but overflow, flood, overwhelm us and those around us.

    Paul says that we are not survivors, but “MORE THAN CONQUERORS.” THRIVERS, NOT SURVIVORS.

    "What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? 37 in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us." Rom 8:31,37 (NIV)

    “Okay, Herb,” I can hear you saying, “How?” Glad you asked. Simple and hard – give yourself completely to God by making Him Absolute Lord and Master through Absolute obedience. Every day. Moment-by-moment. Here’s a daily prayer to pray that will lead us that way…

    "Teach me your way, O LORD, and I will walk in your truth; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name." Psalm 86:11

    Do you want to be a survivor or a thriver in 2005? Your choice.

    Boldness and Blessings, Herb

    Tuesday, December 21, 2004

    What is this "MERRY" Christmas Business?

    There’s much sword rattling about the physical display and verbalizing of the phrase “Merry Christmas” these days. It’s getting quite a bit of press.

    But have you ever stopped to ask yourself, “What MERRY Christmas is all about?” Fact is, it’s bothered me over the years and since everyone else is talking about it, now might be the time to lay it out there.

    Is it akin to “Robin Hood and his MERRY men?” What kind of a description for thieves, however noble, is that? Were they really jolly? Was it that they drank so much Nottingham apple beer that they were artificially happy? Did they laugh a lot? That sounds more like the men in tights movie than the brave warrior in the Kevin Costner film. Do you really want to wish others a “TIPSY Christmas?” I don’t think so.

    Or is it, like, merry is like, really giddy and like, giggly and like, the stereotype of like, cheerleaders? You know, like, scattered? (My apologies to all those wonderful, intelligent cheerleaders out there.) Is that MERRY? Do you really want to wish others, like a “GIGGLY Christmas?” Like, I don’t think so.

    Maybe it means hanging enough lights on your house to light the city of Pittsburgh? Is it to highlight frosty, mount genuine deer hide reindeer on your roof with a Santa that waves and chuckles? Is it the glitz and glitter and entertainment and (I’m not kidding - this is a real song) “I want a hippopotamus for Christmas?” Do you really want to wish others a “SUPERFICIAL Christmas?” I don’t think so.

    If not, what is this MERRY Christmas business all about?

    I was recently listening to the radio program, Family Life Today. Dennis Rainey had invited writer Ace Collins to help the audience understand some of the background of Christmas songs and traditions. He explained that the phrase “MERRY Christmas” goes back over 500 years to old England. As with so many words, the meaning has changed from its original use. Rather than happy, MERRY meant “MIGHTY,” powerful, grand, strong. Thus, the Christmas phrase was much more than a nice greeting; it was a desire for others to have a MIGHTY experience of Christ’s birth. Robin’s men may have been happy, but being merry meant they were strong, powerful men. Makes a whole lot more sense.

    Mr. Collins goes on to explain in his book, “Stories Behind the Best Loved Songs of Christmas,”* that the song, “God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen” has a far deeper meaning than our first glance indicates. “Rest” did not mean to sit around in the recliner watching Steeler football. Rather, it meant “to make.” In addition, the comma was not originally between ye and merry, but between merry and gentlemen. Hmmmm, changes everything. With the restoration in hand, what we have is, “God Make You Mighty, Gentlemen.” Whoa! A far cry from, “I hope Santa makes you giddy!”

    Think of the implications.

    Not singing, “I Wish you a Merry Christmas”, but “I Wish you a MIGHTY Christmas.”

    Pretty much destroys, “Have yourself a merry little Christmas.” MIGHTY and little just don’t seem to stick to each other.

    At the end of that best loved Christmas poem, you know the one where your wife is wearing a kerchief and you’re wearing a cap in bed. (What is a kerchief and why in the world would I be wearing a hat in bed?) The part where Santa flies off into the sky, and yells to the sleeping town below now becomes “MIGHTY Christmas to all and to all a good night.”

    As Ebenezer Scrooge is, well, scrooging through Christmas Eve, I wonder if he could have avoided the 3 ghosts if Bob Cratchet had wished him a MIGHTY Christmas. You know, he’s the kind of guy who may have gotten into that.

    Guys may be more willing to shop and decorate if they had to rise to the challenge of a MIGHTY Christmas! Maybe it’s the subconscious idea of “merry/ giddy/ jolly” that deters us.

    And, of all adjectives, the One who came that first Christmas is perhaps described best by MIGHTY. Mild as a child, but MIGHTY as the God-man. Humble, yes. Loving, yes. Kind, yes. Holy, yes. But encompassing all the characteristics of Jesus, HE IS MIGHTY!!!

    So as we approach Christmas in the next few days, let’s start a conspiracy. Instead of the standard “Merry Christmas,” let’s wish others “MIGHTY CHRISTMAS.” That’s sure to turn a few heads! Probably even create some opportunities to talk about the good news of God coming to earth. Which the most important activity of Christmas for those who personally know Him.So, my family and friends, I wish you a MIGHTY, POWERFUL, BOLD celebration of the God of the universe coming to earth to rescue us!! GOD WITH US!

    MIGHTY CHRISTMAS,

    Herb

    "Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his MIGHTY POWER." Eph 6:10 (NIV)

    "For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. 7 For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit OF POWER, OF LOVE and of self-discipline. 8 So do not be ashamed to testify about our Lord, or ashamed of me his prisoner. But join with me in suffering for the gospel, by the power of God, 9 who has saved us and called us to a holy life--not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time," 2 Tim 1:6-9 (NIV)

    *Ace Collins, “Stories Behind the Best Loved Songs of Christmas”, pages 53-57, Zondervan Publishing, 2001.

    Friday, December 03, 2004

    How Big is Jesus This Year?

    A girl of ten years went with a group of family and friends to see the Christmas light displays at various locations throughout the city. At one church, they stopped and got out to look more closely at a beautifully done nativity scene.

    "Isn't that beautiful?" said the little girl's grandmother. "Look at all the animals, Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus."

    "Yes, Grandma," replied the granddaughter. "It is really nice. But there is only one thing that bothers me. Isn't baby Jesus ever going to grow up... he's the same size he was last year."

    Is Jesus the same size for you as He was last year? Does He occupy the same space as He did 365 days ago? In your heart? Your mind? Your soul? Or is He smaller, having less reign in your life?

    Will the Christmas season cause Him to get bigger or smaller? Will the busy-ness push Him out or will your actions pull Him in?

    Sadly, for many, Jesus doesn’t stand a chance. Doesn’t have to be that way, it’s a choice. At the end of the season He can be bigger than ever. And that is incredibly better for us.

    How?

    It’s not complicated, but takes effort. Mary knew the way,

    30 But the angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. 31 You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. 32 He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, 33 and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end."
    34 "How will this be," Mary asked the angel, "since I am a virgin?" 35 The angel answered, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. 36 Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. 37 For nothing is impossible with God." 38 "I am the Lord's servant," Mary answered. "May it be to me as you have said." Then the angel left her." Luke 1:30-38 (NIV)

    Saying, “Yes” by living out 3 priorities will cause Jesus to get bigger in us.

    1. Time with God. What better gift can we give to people than our time? What better Christmas gift can we give to Jesus than to spend time with Him? Time in conversation, listening and speaking. Time with His Word. Time in worship. Time in service to others. But in all times, time getting to know and love Him in personal relationship. That will make Him bigger.
    The season is about Him, after all.

    2. A God-focus on the season. Going against the consumer driven culture that envelopes us by surrendering and focusing on God. In everything we do… sending cards, giving gifts, visiting with family and friends, shopping (yes, gentlemen, even shopping), worshipping, decorating. Whatever we do, doing it through the filter of a priority of God’s firstness. By so focusing we give Him His proper place and He will get bigger.

    3. Salt and light opportunities. Jesus is everywhere during the season. This time of year is an annual unique opportunity to point Him out and what He’s doing in our lives. At every turn, every situation, every chance. Being salt of the earth that flavors and the light of the world that shines the way to real life.

    As we spend time with Him and focus on Him, Jesus will be at the forefront of our minds and hearts. Talking about Jesus is the natural response. We must consciously choose to do so, especially with those who need it most. THAT is the heart of God and will do more to make Him bigger than anything else we can do.

    So … do you want to hit December 26 weary, exhausted, empty and with a smaller Jesus in your soul? Or physically spent, but spiritually refreshed, mentally renewed, emotionally filled and with a bigger Jesus to propel you into the next year?

    Your choice, but you’ll have to make it throughout the season.

    Friday, November 19, 2004

    The Mountain of Impossibility

    Have you ever wondered, (c’mon now, be honest), why God often allows life to be so trying?

    Doesn’t it seem that He should step in to take care of the difficulties just a bit quicker? I mean, why does He have to take us to the edge before He steps in?

    There they were, standing on the beach, waves lapping close to their sandaled feet. Any other time it would have been a calming moment. Not today. The reason they were looking out at the sea is because their enemies were in hot pursuit. Red Sea in front of them, the Egyptian army, complete with horses and chariots, (the ancient equivalent of tanks), quickly closing the distance behind them. God could have parted the waters as they reached them and saved the Israelites the sweat. But He didn’t. He let them sweat and sweat and sweat. They were standing at "The Mountain of Impossibility."

    The man had been blind for over 30 years, since birth. Surely his parents had prayed with hurting hearts when it first became obvious he couldn’t see. "Think of all he will not experience," his parents must have thought. "He will be consigned to begging for life. Is that what you want, God?" Surely he prayed as he got older, but the heavens were silent. God could have intervened any time along those several decades. But He didn’t. He let the man suffer in terminal darkness, until He had given up hope of ever seeing. He was feeling his way around the base of the "Mountain of Impossibility."

    You’ve been there, too. Circumstances, a relationship, a financial dilemma, a health struggle that goes beyond difficult to impossible. Maybe you’re there now. If not, you will be in the not too far-away future. Not because God is not near, but because He is up to something.

    As God moves us (sometimes without us knowing it is Him) through impossible situations, He forces us to stay at the foot of the mountain, staring at its impossibility until it overwhelms us. He makes us linger there, causing realization of the height, breadth, snow, ice, cliffs, wind, dangerous animals, lack of food and equipment, need of a guide, and our inadequacies. It all comes crashing down on our minds, hearts, spirits and bodies until we are compelled to recognize its impossibility, not just its enormity.

    The problem is not that the mountain is big, but that it’s impossible. Big we could handle. Impossible is not handle-able. There is just no way we can cope with it on our own. When He has kept us staring at the mountain long enough for that to truly sink in, then He can do His best work. He has forced us to the point where we have only two choices: to turn away or trust Him. If the Israelites turn away from God’s command to walk toward the sea, they get slaughtered. If the blind man turns away from Jesus’ instructions to wash, he remains blind, but worse, he ends up in hell. That decision to turn away or trust determines what we experience next. Forcing us to that choice is the only way God can build deep trust in us. Moving the mountain is the easy part for God. Getting us to deeply, completely trust Him is hard and requires removing our options.

    Therefore the moments we feel most abandoned are moments of greatest potential for experiencing the things that are most important.

    Read that statement again. Lot of superlatives there. Rightfully so.

    The Israelites cried out to Moses. Moses cried out to God. Moses obeyed and BEHOLD, the mountain moved. Well, actually the sea parted left and right, but it’s pretty much the same thing. God delivered them through the water and from the army. The mountain of impossibility was a moment of miracles, but more important, of trust-building.

    Jesus told the blind man to wash off the spit and mud in the pool of Siloam (John 9). He did and the mountain moved. After 30 plus years the mountain moved and he could see for the first time in his life. The mountain of impossibility was a moment of miracles, but more important, of trust-building for his life and eternity.

    God’s heart is tender toward us. He will not force us to stand at the foot of the mountain of impossibility any longer than necessary. But He will not cut us loose one second early. That would be the harshest cruelty of all.

    There is a catch. The mountains only move for those who obey. Moses obeyed and the mountain moved. The blind man obeyed and the mountain moved. Pharaoh refused to obey and experienced worse agony. The blind man’s pastors refused to believe and their darkness increased for this life and the next. God can only take us to the mountain. He will not force us to obey.

    And it is not a "one mountain and done" experience. There are a multitude of mountains in the obedient Christian’s lifetime, for God is ever trying to get us to deeper and deeper trust. In that trust we experience Him and His incredible work.

    My advice: embrace the mountains of impossibility through quick surrender and trust. Sometimes there’s simply no quick way through those times, but don’t make them last any longer than necessary. Get on to the mountain moving part. It’s a lot more fun looking at them through the rear view mirror!

    "I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."" Mat 17:20b (NIV)

    "For nothing is impossible with God."" Luke 1:37 (NIV)

    "Jesus replied, "What is impossible with men is possible with God."" Luke 18:27 (NIV)

    "Jesus looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God."" Mark 10:27 (NIV)

    Friday, December 19, 2003

    Making History

    It had been an incredibly hectic Christmas season (aren’t they all?). The businessman was busier than he had been in a long time. His fellow merchants encouraged him to seize the opportunity to make money while he could. This was their black Friday, a time to turn a profit. Nothing wrong with that. As Christmas Eve was winding to a close, he was ready to rest and relax.

    You know how it is. Weeks of long days have worn you out. All you want to do is sit down with a nice big bowl of popcorn, think of nothing, do nothing. Just stare at the wall and breathe. So there he was, finishing up the days’ work at the family owned motel. His wife drying the last dish from feeding the over abundance of guests. The kids sweeping the floor and bedding down the animals. ALL of them are looking forward to that big bowl of popcorn. Made with bacon grease.

    Then the knock. He and his wife sigh as they get ready to turn yet another weary traveler away. Opening the door they saw a terrible sight. A young, haggard man and a pale, quickly fading teenage girl, hugely pregnant. As the motel manager stands in the doorway, his wife looks over his arm and the kids peek past his legs to see the couple. In their hearts, in their weariness, they’re glad they have no room. They’d already turned many travelers away. There is NOTHING in them that wants to serve these people, but they all know that there is no way dad is going to turn them away. He will do whatever necessary to find a place for this worn out couple, not because he wants to but because IT IS THE RIGHT THING TO DO. And it cost them.

    The innkeeper has gotten an incredibly bad rap for centuries. But check out the scripture. It does not say anything bad about him. Scripture states reality: there simply was no room available. Fact. But somehow Mary and Joseph were offered room in a barn. Maybe, just maybe, it was this maligned innkeeper. Rather than a villain, I think he is an example for us. Especially during this week leading up to Christmas.

    HE MADE TIME. The innkeeper was busy, but he did not use it as an excuse not to do the things that were important. It wasn’t that he had time. We’ll never have time lying around, just waiting to be used. Time for the right things has to be MADE, seized, grabbed and used. This begs the question, “What are we busy with?” We’re going to busy!! Accept that fact. Life is not going to get unbusy and we can’t wait for the day when things slow down before doing what we should. The decision is to choose to use our time to do God’s things.

    HE MADE ROOM. You may be thinking, “Herb, you don’t realize that I don’t have anything.” I can’t tell you how many times people have told me, “If I win the lottery, get a new house, get a better job, and on and on … THEN I’ll be able to do good things for people.” God doesn’t need our stuff, He needs us. Once we make ourselves available God, will use what we have. Look through the Bible to see Moses’ staff, David’s sling, Gideon’s trumpet, Jehoshaphat’s choir, Balaam’s donkey. Simple, every day stuff. God has made a career of using the simple things people have. He doesn’t use what we don’t have, how could He?

    What did the innkeeper have? A barn. Can you see the other innkeepers on motel row as the innkeeper started clearing a place for Mary and Joseph? No beds, no rooms, nothing but a stable with animals and straw. His family had some food, perhaps a stool, some rags, odds and ends. They used what they had to make a difference that will be remembered for all time. Which shows us…

    HE MADE HISTORY. What an honor to be the owner of the shed where God showed up to save the world! I am absolutely sure the innkeeper had no idea who was standing at his door. It didn’t matter to him. He did the right thing for people who needed him and, without realizing it, he made history. So can we, just don’t expect to know it at the time.

    Let’s hear it for the innkeeper. Maybe no room in the inn, but plenty of room in his heart. There’s always room for what God wants as we kick out the clutter in the way.

    Have a great Christmas.

    Luke 2:1-7 (NIV) "In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. 2 (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) 3 And everyone went to his own town to register. 4 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. 5 He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, 7 and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn."

    Tuesday, December 16, 2003

    Valuing the Valuable

    I looked around after walking and walking and walking. I was in the same place. How could this be? I had to be making progress. The sweat pouring out of my body told me so. The ache in my muscles could not have been for nothing, could it? But it was excruciatingly obvious I was in the same spot from which I started at least forty-five minutes and two miles before. Same scenery, same building, same place. In spite of great effort I had made no progress at all. Then I stepped off the treadmill. In my basement.

    Did I getcha? Actually I did make progress because my purpose was not to get anywhere, but to get exercise. In fact, it was very worthwhile because I prayed for a while and then read a great book while I walked. If I had been trying to make my way to a specific, physical destination, the treadmill was wrong. When we want to cover ground, we need to get off the treadmill to travel on solid ground.

    Our dog hasn’t been for a walk in a while. She loves going for jaunts. She covers twice as much ground as we do, back and forth, back and forth sniffing out varmints. I thought about putting her on the treadmill to get some exercise. She’s looking pretty lethargic, you know. I explained to Sheila, "Just put her on slow and let her walk. As she gets used to it we can speed it up … and see what happens." I thought I was being helpful. Well, sure it might throw her right into the washing machine, but hey, no pain, no gain. Sheila wasn’t amused.

    If you’re like most people I see these days, you’re on a treadmill, too. Different from the one in my basement, but just as draining. It’s called Christmas. You know, the season of joy to the world, glad tidings, peace on earth and good will toward men. That’s not what I saw at Wal-Mart. It’s more like grab from the world, sad tidings, give me a piece of the earth and my will against other men. Especially during the wrestling match at 5:00 am on Black Friday by the $49 DVD players.

    Does anyone believe this is an accident? That the season that is supposed to celebrate the coming of God Almighty to the world in human flesh has turned into a treadmill to nowhere? That wears us out and leaves us spent? Could it be it is a carefully designed strategy to cause us to miss that which is of utmost value? Think about it – if you attempted to prevent people from experiencing "God with us" what would you do? Wouldn’t you distract, disrupt, hurry, overwhelm, and appeal to their selfishness?

    Immediately below our relationship with God, what is most important during the Christmas season? People. But what do the pressures of our culture cause us to zero in on? Material possessions and activity. Who made it a rule that we have to spend money that we don’t have, to do things that will wear us out and strain relationships with people we don’t take time to love? Who said that the tree, the decorations, the cookies, the dinner, the presents, the cards, the stuff all have to be perfect? How many times have we gotten upset with very people we are doing all this stuff for because the stuff didn’t go the way we thought it should go? Sure, we all have things we have to do, but does it really have to be like this? I have a suggestion.

    We have 8 shopping days until Christmas. During these days, let’s create a conspiracy to value the really valuable – God and the people in our lives. Slow down, eliminate some of the activity, decrease the focus on material stuff and deeply enjoy the purpose of the season. Take time to just sit with God, hum some carols, (sorry, the musak at the mall doesn’t count), and allow God to refresh us. Make time to be with, really be with, not just occupying the same area with our loved ones. Realize it is okay to let some of the stuff go. Really, it will be okay. Pause to realize how fragile life is, that it is important to value our loved ones today.

    Part of the problem is that we take it for granted that people will always be with us, so we don’t take time to value them. We get caught up with stuff, climb up onto the Christmas treadmill until we realize the "moments" that could have been during the season have passed us by. We didn’t make any progress at all in our relationships; in fact we made some of them worse.

    I hope the following anonymous poem provides perspective. I wish I’d written it.

    If I Knew

    If I knew it would be the last time that I’d see you fall asleep,

    I would tuck you in more tightly and pray the Lord your soul to keep.

    If I knew it would be the last time that I see you walk out the door,

    I would give you a hug and kiss and call you back for one more.

    If I knew it would be the last time I’d hear your voice lifted up in praise,

    I would videotape each action and word so I could play them back day after day.

    If I knew it would be the last time I could spare an extra minute,

    To stop and say, "I love you," instead of assuming you would KNOW it.

    If I knew it would be the last time I would be there to share your day,

    Well, I’m sure you’ll have many more, so I can let just this one slip away.

    For surely there’s always tomorrow to make up for an oversight,

    And we always get a second chance to make everything right.

    There will always be another day to say, "I love you,"

    And certainly there’s another chance to say our "Anything I can do?"

    But just in case I might be wrong and today is all I get,

    I’d like to say how much I love you and I hope we never forget.

    Tomorrow is not promised to anyone, young or old alike,

    And today may be the last chance you get to hold your loved one tight.

    So if you’re waiting for tomorrow, why not today?

    For if tomorrow never comes you’ll surely regret the day,

    That you didn’t take that extra time for a smile, a hug, or a kiss,

    And you were too busy to grant someone what turned out to be their last wish.

    So hold your loved ones close today and whisper in their ears

    Tell them how much you love them and that you’ll always hold them dear.

    Take time to say, "I’m sorry, Please forgive me, Thank you, It’s okay."

    And if tomorrow never comes, you’ll have no regrets about today.



    Let’s celebrate this Christmas and New Year’s season by valuing what is truly valuable.

    "Show me, O LORD, my life's end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life. 5 You have made my days a mere handbreadth; the span of my years is as nothing before you. Each man's life is but a breath. Selah" Psalm 39:4-5 (NIV)

    "And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." 1 Corinthians 13:13 (NIV)

    Tuesday, November 25, 2003

    Getting Grateful

    The problem does not lie in our lack of action, but in our lack of gratitude. When we get grateful, we will act.

    Simon the Pharisee had invited Jesus to dine at his house. As they were reclining at the table a woman of ill repute showed up. In that culture, one did not sit to eat as we do, but leaned on one elbow toward a low table. The poor were allowed to drift in for handouts and thus the woman
    slipped in. The woman stopped at Jesus’ feet. As Simon and Jesus ate, the woman wept, her tears falling on Jesus’ feet. Impulsively, she wiped them with her hair. Without thought, she kissed the clean feet. With abandon she poured expensive perfume on them. With abandon, no thought of propriety she expressed her love for Jesus.

    Simon harrumphed. "If Jesus was really a prophet, he would know the kind of woman is touching him and would NEVER allow such a thing to happen." It’s a scary thing to think such thoughts around God. Though Simon’s words were not spoken aloud...

    40 Jesus answered him, "Simon, I have something to tell you." "Tell me, teacher," he said. 41 "Two men owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii (20 months wages), and the other fifty (2 months wages). 42 Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he canceled the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?" 43 Simon replied, "I suppose the one who had the bigger debt canceled." "You have judged correctly," Jesus said.

    44 Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. 45 You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. 46 You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. 47 Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven--for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little." Luke 7 (NIV)


    Simon had not even offered Jesus the most basic of common courtesies. Ordinarily a servant would wash guests’ dust caked feet as they entered the home. Simon didn’t even offer a basin for Jesus to wash his own feet. A kiss, much like our handshake, was a common practice to welcome a guest. To place a drop of perfumed oil on an honored guests’ head was simply being considerate. Simon did none of it, but the woman, probably without forethought, took care of those courtesies with abandon.

    The problem did not lie in Simon’s lack of action, but in his lack of gratitude. The woman reveals to us important truths.

    WE LOVE WHEN WE ARE GRATEFUL.

    WE GIVE WHEN WE ARE GRATEFUL.

    WE SERVE WHEN WE ARE GRATEFUL.

    Our actions simply flow out of a heart full of appreciation. The difference between Simon and the woman is that she knew the truth of who she was and what she owed Jesus. He gravely mistakenly thought he was a good person.

    We need to "get grateful" to get our actions right. How? Adopt 3 realities.

    1. WE DESERVE NOTHING BUT HELL.

    The sinful woman knew that, but Simon thought he deserved much. Religion always teaches us that if we do more good than bad then we deserve God’s love and rewards. Problem is that it is just not true. At the moment of committing one sin, we deserve nothing but hell.

    2. WE HAVE BEEN FORGIVEN SO VERY MUCH.

    The sinful woman knew she was guilty of much sexual sin. Simon was comparing himself to her and others who were murderers, adulterers, thieves and the like. Problem is that we have to compare ourselves to Jesus. If we are not that good, we are not good enough.

    Take a moment here. Think about what you would consider your very worst sin. Got it? Now email it to everyone in your address book. No, wait, I was just kidding. But it did send a chill up your spine, didn’t it? Why? Because we are GUILTY. However, if you have accepted Christ as personal
    savior, God has completely erased it, buried in the deepest part of the ocean and doesn’t even remember it anymore.

    We have been forgiven so very, very much.

    3. Our forgiveness cost God exorbitantly.

    We can easily become so familiar with the idea that Jesus forgives us that we forget how much it cost. The Father sent His very own son to die in your place so you could be stamped "NOT GUILTY", given the love and presence of Almighty God and welcomed into heaven someday. God did not take that lightly. It cost Him the lashes on Jesus’ back, the thorns stabbing his head, the nails in his hands and feet, the spear in his side. And worst of all, it cost Jesus being abandoned by His father, separation from God – the true meaning of hell. The agony caused him to cry out just before he died,
    "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Mark 15:34b (NIV)

    The human race was literally racing to hell without hope when God stepped in. And it cost Him everything.

    When we live with these realities undergirding our attitude toward life, WE WILL BE GRATEFUL. We will love, we will serve, we will give with abandon toward God and others.

    As you think about your actions over the past week, which are you most like, Simon or the woman? C’mon, be honest. I challenge you to get grateful this Thanksgiving week. It leads to experiencing God and hearing His words of approval,

    48 Then Jesus said to her, "Your sins are forgiven." 49 The other guests began to say among themselves, "Who is this who even forgives sins?" 50 Jesus said to the woman, "Your faith has saved you; go in peace."

    Tuesday, November 04, 2003

    Bob and the Box

    Bob was walking through his neighborhood on a sunny Saturday morning, doing nothing of importance, enjoying the day. Off to the right of the sidewalk, he noticed a box. Not hidden, but a bit off the beaten path. He dodged the water puddles to investigate, lifting lid of the box to reveal stacks of hundred dollar bills. In shock he dropped the lid into a puddle. Quickly he scooped up the lid, grabbed the box and headed for home.

    He set the lid in the sunshine on the kitchen counter to dry and the box on the table. Stacks of hundred dollar bills!! Bob counted them, slowly, deliberately. 50 bills in each bundle. 200 stacks in the box. Exactly a million dollars!! Immediately he phoned the authorities to report his find. Bob’s mind spun with thoughts of all the detective shows he’d ever seen. Could it be a ransom, a blackmail, a robbery?

    Bob lived in a very small town. The entire police force consisted of the county sheriff, Cliff, and 3 part-time officers. Several hours later, Cliff showed up at Bob’s house.

    “No”, Cliff said. “Nothing has been reported about missing money.”

    “What should I do with this? It’s not mine and someone is sure to be missing it.”

    “I don’t trust the office to hold that much money. My officers are out of the building most of the time.”

    “I have a commercial safe here at the house. I could keep it here for now, especially if no one else knows about it.”

    “Not a bad idea. I’ll check the nationwide reports for any clues,” Cliff replied. “That sure is a lot of money, Bob. You know that if there’s no report after a year, the money will be yours.”

    Now there was a thought Bob had not even considered. Bob looked at the calendar. June 9th. He was an honest man with a comfortable life and had not even contemplated keeping the money. The thought was fleeting. “C’mon,” Bob thought to himself. “What are the odds that a million dollars will not be missed.” Bob laughed as he pictured it, someone looking into their trunk, realizing their box of a million dollars was missing and saying, “Oh, well. Didn’t really want that anyway.”

    Cliff called Bob the next day to let him know there was still nothing being reported about missing money. “Just keep it safely tucked away,” was all the advice Cliff provided. It was a very small rural town, after all. Bob wondered to Cliff, “Do you think the owner might give me a reward?” He got a bit excited, “What if he gave me just 1/10th of the money to say thanks? That sure would go a long way!”

    Several months went by uneventfully. Most of the time Bob hardly remembered “the money”, except when he opened the safe to get his wife’s jewelry or check his insurance papers or grab a new book of checks. One day Bob mentioned “the money” to his best friend and told him the story of finding it. Ron thought Bob was pulling his leg, so Bob opened the safe and showed him “the money”. Ron whistled in awe and congratulated Bob on being such an honest person. In fact he made such a big deal about it that it made Bob feel really good about himself. So good, in fact, that he began to show the money to some of his other friends. “The money” became a topic of conversation, a focus of visits by friends. Bob found himself opening the safe, pulling out the box and showing people several times a week. It became a source of pride for Bob’s entire family.

    One day in January, Bob carried the box out to the dining room table yet another time and said to the visitors with a bit of flair, “Here it is, MY million dollars.” Bob’s wife, Maggie, looked at him in shock. “What did you say?” “I said, ‘Here’s the million dollars.’” Bob replied. “No, you didn’t. You said, ‘Here’s MY million dollars.’” “No, I didn’t. Why would I say that? It’s not mine, I’m just keeping it safe.” “You said ‘MY’ not ‘the’” Maggie insisted. Because there were visitors, they both dropped it.

    The next week the money was on the dining room table again between Bob and Ron. Both were quietly looking at it, simply admiring the money. “You know, I think my money deserves a better box,” Bob said as he went to another room. He came back with a plastic case with a hinged top and Bob’s name displayed on the front. He placed the money gently into the case and admired how well he was taking care of the money. Ron and Maggie both noticed the change. It was no longer “THE money.” It had become “MY money” in Bob’s mind and words.

    In February, conversation turned to what Bob was going to do with HIS money after June 10th. He decided that he would give half of it to charity, invest 25% to put his kids through college and pay off his house and share the remaining 25% with his friends.

    In March Bob decided that he would give ¼ instead of ½ of HIS money to charity, invest 25% to put his kids through college and pay off his house, keep 25% for himself, and share the remaining 25% with his friends.

    By April Bob was spending time every day looking at the money, worrying about the money, thinking of ways to avoid taxes on the money. He was no longer coaching his son’s teams, helping his daughter with her homework or taking walks with Maggie. Ron no longer dropped by because he was tired of looking at “MY money.” As Bob looked at the money on tax day, he decided he was going to be very generous and give 10% to charity, invest 25% to put his kids through college and pay off the house, keep 50% for himself and share the remaining 15% with his friends.

    In May Bob stopped going to work and stopped showing the money to visitors. He pulled the blinds and didn’t answer the door. Maggie took the kids to stay with her mom until after June 10th and told Bob she wouldn’t be back then unless the old kind, fun and loving Bob came back. He sat by the safe thinking about “MY money.” And he decided that he would give 1% to charity, (“that’s a lot of money, you know”), invest 25% to put his kids through college and pay off the house, share a few thousand with Ron and keep at least 70% for himself.

    On June 2nd Cliff knocked on Bob’s front door. Standing with him was a distinguished, elderly gentleman. Bob’s heart went to his throat. Cliff kept ringing the doorbell. “I know you’re in there, Bob. Open the door. He let them in and was introduced to Charles, a resident of the Dutch Hill Retirement Center.

    “About a year ago I was preparing to move,” Charles began.

    Bob knew what was coming. Not the particulars, but he knew that this old man was trying to take away “his money.” He had to be a crook or a con man.

    “Growing up during the depression caused me to mistrust banks. So all my life I saved my money in the attic. I kept it in a metal case I brought home from the war, so it was safe from fire. When we were packing up my house for the move, my son finally convinced me to put the money in the bank.”

    “A likely story,” thought Bob. “He’s even got Cliff duped.”

    “Last June I was on my way to the bank with the box of money. I’d counted out exactly one million dollars to put in the bank and I gave the rest to the grandkids.”

    “Yeah, yeah, yeah. He’s really worked up all the details.”

    “I realize now that I shouldn’t have gone by myself, but this has always been such a safe town, and it was only two blocks to the bank, and it was such a nice morning, that I decided just to walk the box of money to the bank. That’s really the last thing I remember. Evidently, about halfway to the bank I had a stroke, fell to the ground and dropped the box. A couple of joggers found me, called the ambulance and I’ve spent the last year recovering from that stroke. My short term memory was erased by the stroke and I’d forgotten completely why I was out that day until my son recently checked my bank statements and realized the million was not there. We called Cliff and here we are.”

    Bob was dumbfounded. His mind was in overdrive trying to conceive of some plan to keep “HIS money.’ His stomach was in knots. His emotions were ready to erupt.

    “Bob,” Charles continued. “I know that you must have thought the money would be yours.”

    “Oh, not at all,” Bob said sarcastically. Charles didn’t seem to notice the edge in his voice.“

    I would like you to give me 10% of the money. That is all I really need right now to live on.”

    “10%!! He’s asking for $100,000 of my money. A few hundred would be fine, but that’s way too much money.” thought Bob to himself.

    “I want you to invest the other 90% and use the interest for your family, your friends and other worthy causes.”

    Bob’s mind began to spin. “He wants to control ALL the money!! How could he ask such a thing,” he thought.

    “From time to time I may ask you for a portion of the money for a special cause, but other than that I want you to manage it for me.”

    Bob sat down as the room began to spin.

    “And, Bob. When I die the money becomes yours. As your reward.”

    Bob’s emotions exploded as he jumped to his feet toward Charles. “You want $100,000 of my money right now?” he screamed at Charles. “You want me to hand it over just like that? That’s 10%, 1/10th of all my money that I’ve worked so hard to protect!”

    Cliff stepped forward. “Bob, it’s all his money,” he said trying to calm him.

    Bob kept shouting. “And you want to call the shots on the rest of it?”

    Cliff grabbed Bob’s arm, “He’s offering you an incredible gift, Bob. Don’t you remember when you first found the money, you said you’d be happy with 1% as a reward. Now you’re acting as if it’s actually yours and Charles is taking it.”

    “Well, it is!”

    “No, Bob. It’s not your money and Charles is giving you the chance of a lifetime. You need to apologize and take him up on it.”

    STOP Here for a moment. What is the ending of this story? You can finish it any way you would like, because it is your story. Charles represents God and Bob is each one of us. Here are some possible endings.

    1. Bob grabs the box, runs and tries to keep the money. The result: the police track him down and haul him off. We can try to do that and we will face God as a policeman at the judgement.

    2. Bob pretends to agree, but keeps the money for himself. The result is the same as the first.

    3. Bob accepts Charles’ offer, returns 10%, manages the other 90%, enjoys the benefits and at Charles’ death receives a great reward. That is God’s plan – provided for now, pleasing to God and in heaven we will receive a great reward.

    So watcha’ goin’ do? The choice is yours.

    Mat 6:19-21 (NIV) "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20 But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

    Monday, September 22, 2003

    I Want My Heart Back!

    It has been a lifetime crusade for Indigo Montoya in the movie Princess Bride, this search for the man with six fingers on his right hand. He explains that this man commissioned Indigo’s father to craft a special sword that took a year to make. The six fingered man returned and demanded the sword at 1/10 the promised price. The man killed his father when he refused. Indigo loved his father and challenged the man to a duel. He spared him but scarred his face on both cheeks. He was eleven years old. "So I dedicated my life to the art of fencing. Then I began to search for the six fingered man. When I find him I will say, ‘Hello, my name is Indigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die.’ But it’s been twenty years and I’m starting to lose confidence."

    Later in the film, Indigo finds the six fingered man and chases him through the king’s castle. As he rounds a corner, his enemy throws a dagger into Indigo’s stomach. He gasps, falls against a wall and whispers, "Sorry, Father. I tried. I tried."

    His adversary mocks, " you must be that Spanish brat I taught a lesson all those years ago. Incredible. You’ve been chasing me all these years only to fail now. I believe that is the worst thing I’ve ever heard. How marvelous!" Indigo pulls the dagger out as he attempts to stand.

    "Good heavens! Are you still trying to win?" jeers the six fingered man. He walks toward Indigo and thrusts his sword. Indigo has just enough strength to block the attack and step forward. "Hello, my name is Indigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die" he mumbles as he falls against a table. Again the murderer attacks. Indigo defends himself a little stronger.

    "Hello, my name is Indigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die." He begins to walk haltingly forward as he protects himself against a third attack. With every step he regains strength, "Hello, my name is Indigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die." His passion returns. He moves from defense to offense and shouts, "Hello, my name is Indigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die!"

    "Stop saying that!" barks the six fingered man as Indigo backs him against a table. He stabs each shoulder. The man knows he’s in trouble.

    "Hello, my name is Indigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die!" Indigo slashes the man’s left cheek.

    "Offer me money."

    "Yes!"

    "Power, too. Promise me that." Indigo slashes the man’s right cheek.

    "All that I have and more. Please."

    "Offer me anything I want."

    "Anything you want!" The six fingered man raises his sword to swing. Indigo grabs his hand, delivers the death thrust, and with faces inches apart says, "I want my father back." Indigo drops him to the floor, dead, justice accomplished for his father.

    While praying, walking on the treadmill last week, God brought that scene to my mind. Then my soul surprised me. From the depths of my heart came this cry...

    "I WANT MY HEART BACK!!"

    I want every corner cleared and free. I want to live and love with passion. I want to be free to be all God created me to be.

    I believe that is the cry of your heart, too. The heart-cry of every person.

    Problem is that early on our enemy began to steal our hearts. Through temptations, hurts, disappointments, lack of love, abuse, condemnation, legalism, unreasonable expectations, and on and on the list of his methods go. Satan steals a corner here, a corner there. Until either we lose heart or build such a wall around it that we no longer function "with heart."

    I’m not talking about feeling or emotions. Rather, I’m talking about the real you. Your heart is who you really are. It is the place of motives, desires, creativity, courage, commitment, dreams. It is the location of conscience, creativity and deepest thinking. Emotion is simply the real you coming out. Your heart is where God gives life. Through giving into temptation we give Satan pieces of our hearts. Through the actions of others Satan causes us to hide our hearts. The result is we live "without heart", without the abundant life Jesus came to give us.

    I know what some of you are thinking, "But I’m a Christian, so my heart is already back." Not quite. There is a difference between forgiveness and reclaiming our hearts. Forgiveness cleanses us of the guilt of sin. Reclaiming our hearts, our true selves only comes from allowing Jesus to kick the devil’s influence out, transforming our hearts into His image and living in step with God. Intimacy and freedom.

    Indigo was not a murderer, he was a man with a little boy’s heart – still stinging from the loss of his dad.

    We still sting from the loss of our heart until we snatch it back and give it to God.

    Indigo refused everything, all the offers of the six fingered man. His request for money, power, everything he wanted was only because he wanted to prove that there was nothing of value that could buy him.

    When we value nothing more than God’s possession of our hearts, we will begin to reclaim our hearts and be transformed.

    Just as the six fingered man mocked our hero, telling him how marvelous it was that Indigo was going to fail, that he wasn’t good enough, that he was a loser, our enemy attempts to convince us of those same lies.

    When we cling to the truth of God, we will respond to life "with heart" to be what we were created to be and accomplish what God has created us to do.

    How about you? Want your heart back? Then you’re going to have to fight for it, in the power of God. Start today. Tell Satan, "I want my heart back!" Tell God, "I give my heart back to You, do whatever You want." You will rediscover your heart.

    "Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life." Proverbs 4:23 (NIV)

    NOTE: This edition was inspired by John Eldredge’s book, "Waking the Dead." I highly recommend it in your crusade to reclaim your heart.

    Friday, July 25, 2003

    Seeing the Father's Heart

    A poem for Curtis and Libby Fletcher as they are perched,
    waiting for the future God promises to deliver.


    “Doesn’t my dad love me? Doesn’t he care?”
    Wondered the fifteen year old boy.
    “He could change these circumstances
    He could make life so much easier, if he only would.
    He has the power. He has the freedom.
    Why, oh why, does it seem he likes me to squirm?”

    “Why is it so painful to help my son?”
    Wondered and wept the dad.
    “It would be so much easier to cut him free of the discomfort,
    the frustration, the anxiety.”
    But he didn’t.
    Though he could hardly restrain from doing so.
    In truth, he intentionally forced the teen into uncomfortable
    circumstances that could have been sidestepped.
    Because he knew the discomfort would not last,
    But that the character and confidence would.
    Though the child could not see it nor understand.

    All that the lad could see and feel was the pain.
    It seemed deeper knowing the dad could remove it and didn’t.
    Sometimes he felt betrayed though the father repeatedly voiced,
    “I love you, son. Dearly. Undyingly. More than you know.”
    Yet the pain seemed so much louder than the words.

    The dad wanted him, oh how he wanted him,
    To see beyond the pain to the father’s heart.
    His eyes moist often as he watched the struggle
    Heard the cries, wiped away the boy’s tears.
    The father’s heart was blurred from his child,
    His distress and inexperience held that vision away.

    Only now that the boy has become a man
    Can he look back to see the father’s heart.
    to see the pain was temporary.
    to see the benefits are lasting.
    to see that he could trust the father’s heart through it all.

    Only now that the boy is past the earlier pain
    Seeing it in the 20/20 vision of hindsight
    Can he understand that it would not have been kindness
    or love or care or help at all to remove the pain.
    Rather, now he understands that had the father removed the pain
    It would have been the greatest cruelty of all,
    For the father would have stolen from the son’s present and future
    The ability to be all that he was meant to be
    And have the heart of the father beating within him.
    (July 6, 2003)

    Curtis and Libby,
    (and all readers of From Where God Sits)

    I pray that increasingly you will be able to see past
    the financial, mental and emotional discomfort of these days.
    To catch glimpses of the Father’s heart.
    Not only with the intellect of faith that comes
    When the mind is wrapped around knowledge.
    But with the hearts of children pulled up
    onto the lap of the Father, wrapped in His arms,
    feeling the tingle of His whiskers
    and the breath of His words as He expresses His delight in you.
    Dearly loved, protected, provided for
    And promised a hope-filled future.

    Trust the Father’s heart. No matter what comes or what you feel.
    Trust the Father’s heart.


    "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. 14 I will be found by you," declares the LORD, "and will bring you back from captivity."" Jeremiah 29:11-14a (NIV)


    (This poem was inspired by God and written especially for a good friend of mine and his wife following a phone conversation. Curtis has been out of work for over a year, in spite of the fact that he is one of the smartest and most talented men I know. God has closed door after door after door after door. Would you pause to say a prayer for Curtis, Libby and their three sons if this poem encouraged you?)

    UPDATE - September 22, 2003 - THANKS!! to all who prayed for Curtis and Libby Fletcher. Within 2 weeks Curtis was offered a job by a company that had told him they didn't have anything for him, though they had all but promised a job for a couple months. I'm convinced your prayers made all the the difference!!

    Sunday, June 22, 2003

    Charley and the Nis

    There once was a boy, or so the story is told, who went for a hike in the woods. He came upon a group of youth, about his age, gathered in a circle. “C’mon over,” they invited. Tentatively he walked toward them to notice that each one had a small animal looking thing. It was tiny, furry and friendly, crawling over the one who was obviously its owner, nuzzling and purring. He stepped into the circle. Introductions were exchanged. He stared at the animals until one boy laughed and said, “You’ve never seen one of these before, have you? This is a “nis”. See, on the side of each are the letters, n, i, s. It’s a wonderful pet, easy to care for and it makes you feel incredible. Here, hold one.” With that the boy reached into a box, pulled out a black and white nis and handed it to Charley. It was furry and had a long body. As soon as it touched his hand it crawled up Charley’s arm, on to his shoulders and laid across his neck. “It likes you,” one of the girls in the circle squealed. Indeed, it did, purring and content. Truth was that Charley liked the nis, too. As it laid across his neck it radiated a warmth that started at Charley’s neck, ran down his back and legs, through his arms. Charley felt good, very good. The warmth lulled him into a twilight relaxed state. There was something about this nis,” thought Charley as he sat down to join the others in the circle.

    When Charley returned home that night he took the nis with him. Every day it would curl up quietly in a corner until Charley came home and every evening he would spend time with it. He didn’t have to feed it, it found food for itself and it seemed to draw energy from their time together. As the days went by, the nis grew. Soon it stretched from one arm to the other when it lay on Charley’s shoulders. It still sent good shivers through Charley but he could feel the weight growing, not uncomfortable, but certainly noticeable.

    One day Charley was so busy that he didn’t spend any time with the nis. The next morning he awoke to find the nis crouched 2 inches from his face, with a purr that sounded much like a wheeze. Strange, thought Charley. He had never heard that sound before. He picked it up, placed it on his shoulders to realize that it wasn’t quite as warm as before. Throughout high school the nis comforted and seemed to help Charley.

    As the days moved on, the nis continued to grow. Instead of lying in a corner, it would bother Charley in the morning as he prepared for work, it would greet him at the door when he came home, it would follow him throughout the evening constantly crawling on to Charley’s shoulders whether he wanted it to or not. As the nis grew heavier, it also grew colder. In fact, it seemed to suck energy and warmth out of Charley instead of putting it into him. The nis became ever more demanding. It was staring Charley in the face when he awoke, when he ate, when he read, whenever he did anything. And it seemed to be losing its soft fur and the once alluring purr was sounding more and more like a hiss.

    Charley didn’t know how it accomplished such a feat, but one Tuesday he answered the phone at work to hear a hissing calling his name. He thought it was a crank call and was about to hang up when he to recognized that sound. No, it couldn’t be, he thought. He listened. It was, but how? This creature was calling him at work. As he listened he felt the weight of his nis upon his shoulders though it was not there and they sagged. Every day the call would come. Sometimes several times a day. His production decreased, his mood declined, his relationships suffered.

    A couple weeks later, having awakened, washed, shaved, and eaten to the stare and hiss of this animal, he headed for the door looking forward to the privacy of his ride to work. In front of the door stood the nis, blocking Charley’s path. Having grown to the size of a Labrador, it was impossible to step over. Charley walked to the back door, but the nis raced to block it. To the side door, the garage door, the same. When Charley tried to push it out of the way, it bit him. Charley was not seriously hurt, but shocked. This was not what he had brought home so many years before. “Just this once I’ll stay home from work with you,” said Charley, thinking perhaps the nis was sick. All day it lay around his neck, sinking him deeply into the couch.

    The next day the nis attempted to block Charley’s way. He knew he could not stay home from work so he resignedly placed a leash on it and took it with him to work. Though no one seemed to notice or perhaps care, it was a pain to have the nis at work. It went wherever he did, staring and hissing and weighing him down. Charley’s productivity, already declining from the impact of the phone calls, nose dived with the thing actually at work. Yet he couldn’t get out the door without it. At the end of the week Charley’s boss pulled him aside. “I don’t know what’s going on, son. You used to be such a good worker, but lately, well… If you don’t pick it up, I’m afraid we’ll have to let you go.” So that was it, the nis was going to get Charley fired.

    And as for relationships, that was a bigger problem. Charley’s friends had at first thought the nis was cute, but as it grew and began to hiss, they refused to be around it. They feared it and warned Charley it was taking over his house and his life, but he didn’t believe them. Some of Charley’s other friends had their own nises. They, too, had discovered they couldn’t get out of the house without theirs. And his girlfriend had long ago given him an ultimatum. He hadn’t intentionally chosen the nis over his girlfriend. It was just simply that as much as he tried, Charley couldn’t part with it. So alone he was. With his nis.

    Even on Sundays, when he went to church, it was there. Charley would try to leave the nis at home, but it would somehow, always go with him. It seemed to especially bother him there. Charley would try to listen to the sermon or lesson or words of encouragement from a friend, but the hiss would get so loud he couldn’t concentrate.

    He was thinking about all this, how his life had not gone as he had imagined and how the nis was the source of so many of these problems when he felt the nis on his shoulders and strangely around his neck. When he reached up to his throat, he realized that instead of draped across his shoulders, it was somehow wrapped several times around his neck, getting tighter. Instead of fur he felt scales. He looked to his right, where the head of the nis would always lie purring. It appeared to be changing. Like a strobe light that flashes, one second it would be the nis he always knew and the next second be a creature he had never seen before. Beady eyes, a split tongue flipping in and out of a scaley mouth, and somewhere to his left rattles. Then back again to the soft, warm, furry, black and white pet that he loved and added so much to his life.

    “Charley,” hissed the creature. “It’s over. It’s time to take you home.”

    “What was happening?” Charley moaned in terror. “The nis is my friend, my companion, my strength. It is so small, so soft, so gentle, so delighting, so invigorating. How could it be changing into something ugly? How could it have taken over my life, my relationships, my work, my everything?”

    “Oh, I’ve not changed,” hissed the creature. “You’re seeing what I’ve been all along. Now I am fully in control Its time for me to take you to the other side. Nothing can help you, you are mine!”

    “NOOOO!” Charley screamed in confusion. “Someone, anyone help me! Isn’t there anyone who can rescue me?”

    At that moment the front door burst open. Calmly an unassuming man, dressed in white, walked in surrounded by a group of people also dressed in white. Gently, but firmly, he said, “Charley, this creature has been ruling your life for a long time and you didn’t even realize it. You’ve been unwilling to see it? Do you realize it now?”

    “Yes,” said Charley meekly.

    “Charley, I can rescue you, free you from this creature. But more than rescue you, I offer to treat you as a son, provide for you, make your life what you were created to be. Look at these people with me, they are free and you can be like them. Do you want that?”

    “Yes,” choked Charley, the pressure increasing around his neck.

    “Charley, listen carefully. If I rescue you, you must surrender your life to me forever. No more playing with this or any nis. Are you willing to do so?”

    “I guess so.” Charley mumbled, more focused on the nis than the man’s words.

    “NO. Charley, look at me. You must make a deliberate choice to serve me. Will you?”

    “Yes, but I don’t see how I can do that.” Several of the folks in white walked to Charley, put their arms around him. “We didn’t think we could do it either, but it is possible. Just surrender. And we’ll help you.”

    “Charley, one more thing,” continued the man in white. “You must be willing to allow me to destroy this creature.”

    Charley balked. He remembered all the times they had together, back in the early days when it was small, and soft, and made Charley feel so good. Maybe it would be that way some day again. Surely it wasn’t as bad as it looked right now. Maybe it was just having a bad day, or maybe it was sick. We could have those good times again, couldn’t we? Charley vacillated even as the nis squeezed tighter and tighter.

    “Charley, look at your nis. Hear the rattles. Feel the hiss. It is evil. It does not love you. It has deceived you all these years, waiting to control your life and eventually murder you. There is nothing good in it. It only wants to destroy you, now and forever.”

    The man in white waved his hands over Charley’s eyes. As he did, something like rose colored contacts fell from his eyes. Charley looked, saw the nis, really saw it, for the first time saw it. He saw the ugliness, felt its grip around his throat, smelled the stench of its scaly body. As the light of understanding came on, Charley realized that the nis was moments away from killing him.

    “Charley, you must hate this thing and surrender yourself to me.”

    “I do,” he cried.

    “Charley, the nis must die. I know you are unable to kill it. That is why I’m here. I only need your pledge to me and your permission and I will kill it.”

    “Yes, yes, I surrender. Save me.”

    With those words still hanging in the air, the man in white grabbed the creature with amazing strength and lifted it from Charley’s neck. Oh, the freedom in that moment. Freedom he had not experienced in, well, forever. He felt safe and loved and light hearted and giddy and so many things that he couldn’t describe. What wonder!

    In the exhilaration of rescue he had almost forgotten about the man in white. Finally Charley glanced to the right to see the man lifting the snake. For a moment it appeared he would dash it to the ground. Instead, he draped the creature around his own neck. Without resistance the creature wrapped itself around him, choking, squeezing. The man dropped to the floor in agony, yet did not resist. The creature continued to squeeze until there was no more life. Charley was in shock. How could this be? The man was so strong. He saved Charley, he could have saved himself. Fear began to grip him again. With the man dead, surely the creature would return to do the same to him.

    Frozen, Charley could only watch. The nis did not move. In fact, it could not. It was as if the murder of the man by the nis had also taken its life. Both lay still.

    As he stared at the man and creature in an awful heap, he noticed for the first time in years the letters on the side of the animal. The letters long ago pointed out by the youth in the circle. They were different. From this angle, with the light of understanding, in the freedom granted Charley by the man’s sacrifice he realized that the letters were not “n, i, s”, at all. Rather, they were “s, i, n.” Sin. It was not a nis, but a sin that had lured him, manipulated him, controlled him and nearly destroyed him. The man in white had taken Charley’s sin, wrestled it, and died to set him free.

    Still staring, suddenly the man in white sat up, threw off the sin, smiled at Charley. Scars from the attack circled the man’s neck. “Deadly, nasty, horrible creatures, those sins. But not deadly, nasty or horrible enough to destroy the Son of God or those who surrender to Him. Now, let’s experience the life I have for you.” With that He put His arm around Charley’s neck and gently guided him away. When his Savior’s arm touched Charley’s shoulders, a strange thing happened. A warmth radiated into Charley’s neck, across his shoulders, down his arms and legs. But instead of lulling him toward twilight, it filled him with a keen awareness of life and reality. In that moment Charley realized that the warmth of the nis/ sin was a counterfeit of what he was experiencing now.

    Every day Charley sees the creatures. Every day Charley hears the whisper of invitation again. Sometimes another type of nis, often the same breed as his. Sometimes the whisper is nearly overwhelming. But when he looks up, into the face of his Savior, the power comes to walk away from the invitation and into the warmth He provides. Much to the anger of the creatures.

    "No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money." Matthew 6:24 (NIV)

    "Jesus replied, "I tell you the truth, everyone who sins is a slave to sin. 35 Now a slave has no permanent place in the family, but a son belongs to it forever. 36 So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." John 8:34-36 (NIV)

    Tuesday, April 29, 2003

    When Heaven Weeps, When Heaven Responds*

    A thousand people sit
    Looking at the back of the head before them
    The building ornate with sculptures
    Stained glass all around
    Watching as a man in a robe talks
    Looking up or looking down
    Solemn words in solemn tones
    He pronounces a dignified and reverent “Amen”
    The crowd of individuals file out
    They call that “prayer”
    And heaven weeps

    A hundred people kneel
    Looking at the back of the head before them
    The building austere
    Windows covered, no one seeing in or out
    Watching those around them
    All kneel with their foreheads to the ground
    On special rugs for this special act
    Several times each day
    Repeating special words they’ve been taught
    By men who are “holy.”
    After the final bow, the crowd of individuals file out
    They call that “prayer”
    And heaven weeps

    A community gathering is called
    A special need has arisen
    Varied people from varied walks of life
    The building used for assorted occasions
    A woman walks to the music stand
    Unfolds a piece of paper at the proper time
    Where her name is printed beside the word “invocation”
    Asking the group to stand and bow their heads
    (it’s the way these things are done here)
    She puts words to voice
    Far away, very old, very formal
    Obvious by what she says
    At the end the crowd joins in
    Repeating words from the Bible starting with “Our Father”
    After the final amen, the crowd of individuals file out
    They call that “prayer”
    And heaven weeps

    A family gathers around a browned bird
    Pumpkin pies, cranberries and stuffing
    The event of autumn
    For family members far and near
    Anxious to glutton themselves
    But obligated to pause to “give thanks”
    Grandfather voices words to One he barely knows
    Hesitating not to speak with Him
    Pressured by those around the table
    Who also have not spoken to Him
    Except in emergencies and wants
    The stiff words are completed
    All say amen and dig in
    They call that “prayer”
    And heaven weeps.

    A young boy misses his dad
    Called to defend his family and country
    In a place far away
    With a name he can’t pronounce
    Tears running down his cheeks
    Hidden in the darkness
    The little one pleads out
    “God, if You can see my daddy
    From where you’re sitting
    Please put your arms around him
    Like he does when I’m scared
    And make him invincible like Superman.”
    From beside him shines a smile
    Heaven calls that “prayer” …and responds

    A small group of believers
    Gather in a small house because they care
    One reads from a well worn black book
    As if reading a letter from an familiar hand
    Another leads in a song sung in several keys
    Very little talent, but very deep passion
    As if sung in honor of a intimate friend
    They pause, speak in turn to that One
    In deep conversation that brings
    Tears and laughter and peace
    From within the circle shines a Smile
    Heaven calls that “prayer” …and responds

    A runaway truck
    A minivan full of family
    A country road on a rainy day
    A squeal of tires
    A cry from front seat and back
    “God! help us!”
    Heaven calls that “prayer” …and responds

    An old man in tattered clothes
    Beaten hat, beaten eyes
    Softly enters a very old church
    When no one is around to look down their nose
    He lights a candle, lays coin in a cup, kneels at a rail
    Whispers words that only One can hear
    Words of desperation, of repentance, of sorrow
    He rises to return to his cardboard house
    His life changed only on the inside
    Meeting eternity tomorrow alone but for the angels unseen
    Heaven calls that “prayer” …and responds

    A noisy office filled with people going
    All directions for all reasons in all hurry
    Telephones ringing, copiers copying,
    Fax machines faxing, doors banging,
    Conversations from every corner
    Rats running the human race
    At the desk in the back with the worn chair
    Beside no windows and free of doors
    A man puts his hand on the shoulder of another
    Without bowing his head or closing his eyes
    In the middle of the cacophony of the race for success
    He asks for One beyond all the mess to reach out
    Into the life of his friend and fails to say amen
    From between the two One smiles
    Heaven calls that “prayer” …and responds

    Much of what the human race calls “prayers” are simply
    Sounds uttered by human tongues without passion
    Touching not the One prayer is intended for
    Done for the benefit of humans
    Out of duty, ritual, tradition and rote
    The One is not touched
    Power is not moved
    Heaven weeps
    And earthlings miss their destiny

    The words of the sincere who speak out
    With intensity, deep need, deep love
    Touch the heart of the One who hears
    Who loves and answers and
    Cares and makes a difference
    In lives and eternity
    Not because they speak
    But because they lean on Him in deep friendship
    The One is touched
    Power is moved
    Heaven is rapturous
    And earthlings experience their destiny

    Will you?

    * This poem was inspired by the poetry and life of Jim Harvey, a poet and a man of prayer.

    "He said to them, "You are the ones who justify yourselves in the eyes of men, but God knows your hearts. What is highly valued among men is detestable in God's sight." Luke 16:15 (NIV)

    "We live by faith, not by sight." 2 Cor 5:7 (NIV)

    Monday, April 07, 2003

    Worthship That is True

    You blink and instead of standing in your driveway, you are on a dusty road. Instead of sweater and slacks, a robe. Instead of shoes, sandals. Instead of a briefcase, a palm branch. Hundreds of people are crowding the street you’re on. A cacophony of sound moves toward you from just beyond view. Children squeal, women sing, men shout. Not sure if the mob is mad or happy, you step into the doorway of a building.

    The wave of sound moves closer. Conversations, exclamations, hurried calls to “come see” turn into shouts of praise and spontaneous singing. The source of commotion finally comes into view. Seated on a donkey is a man, thirty something, riding slowly through the streets of this primitive city. Men spontaneously design something of a makeshift carpet, laying their outer robes on the roadway before him. Women and children wave palm branches in some type of salute. Ah, the reason for the one in your hand. All join the chorus being repeated, known to everyone except for you, "Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the King of Israel!"

    "Must be the king of the country," you whisper under your breath.

    "Not yet," replies the man next to you. "But we hope he soon will not only be king of Israel, but the one who frees us from Roman oppression as well."

    You watch as the focus of all the attention rides by. Doesn't look like a king. Seems awfully ordinary, much like the men in the crowd. You marvel at the whole affair. Never in your life have you experienced such emotion from an assembly. It is not only what you hear, but what you can feel. Seems the entire city is shouting, singing, waving branches.

    Then He looks at you. Not a passing glance, as one stranger to another. A knowing look as if He has known you forever. And you Him. Drawing your heart toward His as time stands still. Ordinary on the outside, but extraordinary in that look. You now grasp the reason for the excitement, He is more than a man.

    You feel the power in the crowd. Surely they will crown him king whether the city fathers like it or not. The air is magnetic, pulling you into the momentousness of it all. Even you, a stranger from another time and place, can see the rightness of the parade. You wave the branch and shout the praise.

    Palm Sunday. Surely, of all the days that ever were, that was a day of true worship. A day when Jesus received the praise and honor that was long overdue him. When God was recognized as God. We even call it, "THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRY." But was it true worship? Things are not always as they appear.

    Fast-forward a few days. Same city, but the powerful intensity of the throngs has changed from “love” to “anger”. Instead of praise for His life the crowds shout for Jesus' death. The one they claimed as king, they refuse to allow to be released. The one they exalted, they mock as He is beaten. The one they believed would free them, they demand be bound and confined. The one they sang to, the murder on a cross. Had so much changed? Had Jesus done something that removed His deserving praise? That made Him deserve death?

    The problem was not in the divinity of Jesus, but in the expectations of the people on that Palm Sunday. They were praising him, worshipping him, honoring him because they thought he would give them what they wanted. For hundreds of years the Roman Empire had cruelly occupied Israel and now the Israelites desperately wanted freedom. THAT'S what they expected Jesus to give them. He didn't. Though He could have easily done so, He blatantly refused. And, boy did it make the people mad. They turned their backs on Him. Their leaders killed Him. Their desires blinded them from truth… and what they needed most.

    In missing Jesus, they missed what they longed for most. They exchanged God’s greatest offer to pursue an invention of their own imaginations.

    Ever been there with God? We praise Him, honor Him, sing to Him, profess to give our undying loyalty to Him. Why? Because He deserves it? We’d like to believe that, but too many times it is not true. We do offer worship because we believe that God will give us what we want if we will “praise” Him. WHAT ARE WE THINKING? Same thing the crowds were thinking so many years ago. Human nature doesn’t change.

    So it goes…"Oh, God, save me from this mess and I’ll serve you forever!” Or “heal me, correct my mistakes, let me pass this course, or (fill in the blank) and I'll give You first place for the rest of my life!" That's not worship, that's called, "Let's make a deal." Then when God doesn't do what we want because He knows it is not best, we bail out on Him just like the Israelites. Worship is not a way to get what we want from God.

    True worship is giving “worthship”, honoring God because He is God. Period. No strings attached. It is making God #1 in our lives, everything we do and say. One form is singing, praying and studying the Bible with others on the weekend. But it is far from confined to that. Bugs me that there is a genre of music called “praise and worship.” Every kind of music by a Christian should honor God as God. Should be worship.

    True worship is “worthship,” recognizing that because God is God we must give Him complete control of our lives. No deals, no if-thens, no requiring God to hold up His end of some contract we manufacture and He never signed. It is loyalty to God no matter what. Had the Israelites worshipped Jesus that way, they would have turned the city upside down with praise on Easter Sunday when God did the work He intended all along that was best for all. But NOOOO, they bailed when things didn’t turn out their way. And lost the greatest moment of all.

    One of the best pictures of true praise comes from an unlikely source, Job. Not job, as in where you work. Job, you know, the guy famous for all his problems, like “the trials of Job.” Well, he ought to be famous for more than his troubles. We ought to recognize him for his worship. Listen to his words…

    "Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him;" Job 13:15a (NIV)

    THAT is true worthship. In the middle of the trash heap of life, when there was nothing else that could go wrong, Job still honors God as God. He expresses his total loyalty to God and then backs it up with his life. Whoa! Would we do that?

    That is the question I’d like you to ponder as you approach your Palm Sunday this week. Worship well, sing praises, do church with your church. But as you do ponder…as people look at our lives, is there a fluorescent arrow pointing them to God? Do they see “worthship?”

    "Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God." Hebrews 13:16 (NRSV)

    "Let us therefore make every effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual edification." Romans 14:19 (NIV)

    "And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him." Hebrews 11:6 (NIV)