I walk down the center aisle past silent rows of crimson
seats. Their very emptiness reminds me
of the faces, families, and fun times that we have shared in this building as
we have worshipped, worked, and loved each other.
Now walking into this building Sunday is an exercise in solitude. No children are running the halls, in and out
of classrooms, snatching donuts from the table in the fellowship hall. The hubbub of voices is replaced by my
echoing footfalls as I hurry to the “streaming studio.”
The stream is over and I go online, I see the comments. “We are here!” “Glad to ‘see’ everyone this morning!” “So excited to connect!”
Although they are simple typed comments, they resonate with
a joy and excitement that is familiar.
It is the digital analogue to what used to happen among the rows of
crimson chairs. It is joy in connection,
shared moments, corporate worship, and being known.
Parents send me pictures drawn that morning, or post
pictures of the kids interacting with me on the screen. I didn’t see them, but they saw me and knew
that I loved them and were excited.
We were together even in our solitude.
Suddenly the large empty room down the hall is less haunting. Love has been communicated back and
forth. Connection has been reforged and
friendships not only maintained, but strengthened and broadened. We have not become less connected although
the sensations are lesser. We have, in a
strange and spiritual way, become more bonded.
Our shared experience has boiled away the diluted moments, causing us to
pack more joy even into a small Facebook comment, “we are here!”.
The moments of solitude have made me so much more aware of
the value of our togetherness. We’re
alone, but alone here together.
Several of them had been out on this water since they were boys. As men they had earned their livelihood navigating these waters, through calm & storm. Sure, Matt was not great with boats as he’s always had an office job, but that was ok. This time was bad. This was a tough situation. There were a bunch of them all in this fishing boat and the storm was intense. Even with their experience, they were losing control of the situation and they realized they were facing a life or death moment.
And Jesus was asleep.
He’d been really busy lately and had just come off a major time of teaching. Physically exhausted, he was actually sleeping through the calamity. He was their leader, and although their full understanding of what it meant would take more time, they knew He was of God. So they woke him up, rather upset. “Don’t you care what is happening to us!?!?”
Fear does that to us. Jesus seemed to not care. The reality actually was that he just wasn’t afraid. He could sleep because he was at peace. He knew perfect security in the hands of God. They should have known that too, but they were overwhelmed with the knowledge of their circumstances rather than their knowledge of Him.
So he calmed the storm.
He didn’t calm it because the storm was their problem. He calmed it to show that HE was the answer to their security; that he had greater power than the storm that they thought was a threat.
Peter had his own lesson on this as his very accurate awareness of a dangerous situation out on the water overwhelmed his awareness of his Savior. He sunk into the water after a few steps. Jesus pulls him out reminding him to trust him, not the situation.
I have asthma and am not as young as I used to be. I fear dying less than I fear leaving my family without a father, but the fear is real.
And Jesus is asleep.
I have to remember this so I can sleep too. Jesus is not asleep as in displaying a callous disregard for my situation. Far from it. He is actually far greater than my situation and I have no more to fear from it than from any other threat. No one can touch me because I am His for all eternity. I am seeing waves, and hearing the howling of the wind and it tries to demand my attention, insisting that I dwell fully on what is truly a scary and dangerous situation. Jesus reminds me that he is at peace, and he has offered that peace to me. He never said the storm wouldn’t come or that it wouldn’t be scary. He just reminds me that even the wind and waves obey him and I need to be more aware of HIM than I am of the storm.
“Fear not,” is a phrase God loves. Jesus said it a lot. These days I am discovering again and again how much I need to focus on Him in order to obey that simple request.
I’m praying for you. Pray for me. I pray we can all know the peace that goes beyond the understanding of this world.
They were four, six, and eight years old as we brought them into the hospital room where he lay. The nurses had combed his hair, lowered the bed all the way down, and cradled a stuffed dog he’d been given under his now cold arm. Dad was gone, but to help our young children understand the new reality, they needed to come see, touch, and say goodbye to Papa.
We live in an age where we have moved death as far from us as possible. Even our language reflects this as we are more apt to say someone “passed” than say they “died.” My grandparents’ generation experienced the loss of children more often, and before the age of funeral homes (now remembrance centers), the deceased would be housed in the living room for the neighbors to come pay respects. Death was more closely connected to life.
We need to realize that we are likely returning to such a time. The rate of mortality of the current pandemic, which may get even worse if the current steps to slow the virus are removed, mean that many that we know and love may die in the next year. My wife and I have sat down and discussed the reality we may now face. We are likely to find death close to us repeatedly this year. Uncomfortably close.
The Psalmist called it the valley of the shadow of death. The valley is not something you enter when you die. The shadow is cast onto our lives while we are here. Every time we draw near death, either our own or someone close to us, we find ourselves in the shadow.
As Christians, and those of us who shepherd others spiritually, we need to be thinking and preparing the enter to valley of the shadow of death. We must be prepared not just to face our own death, but to cope with death as it impacts our lives. Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we should fear no evil. I don’t want to die yet, nor do I want my kids, my mom, or my friends to die. We all will though, and in a time of pandemic, perhaps sooner than I thought. My hope must rest in the Lord as I face the valley of the shadow.
I’m praying for you and us all as we face the valley without fear through Jesus. I’m having the hard conversations, reflecting on the fact that I and my loved ones are all “but a vapor.” In these times, we do not have the luxury of pretending otherwise.
If you don’t look in the mirror much, you can try to ignore the march of the years. I started graying twenty-five years ago, so looking old is nothing new. Turning 50 recently has captured my attention as those big numbers with zero on the end tend to do. Many hit this age and struggle. I’ve been thinking a lot about this particular milestone in the last month or two and have been developing some perspective. I call it “Act III”
Act I was the first 25 years. They were mostly taken up by learning. I graduated Bible college at 22 and moved back to Maine and by 25 I had completed terms of service in 3 different churches (with some overlap) and had done two-years of full-time Camp ministry. I had learned a lot. While I have never stopped learning, for narrative purposes we go on to the next Act.
Act II, or the next 25 years coincides with things settling down into more doing (while always learning). I was 26 when I arrived at Bean’s Corner to begin the ministry that has defined so much of my life. I was 25 when I became the “Assitant Director” of Camp Berea, and 28 when I became Director. Act II has been primarily about doing and serving.
Act III now arrives. More years lie behind than before. While I do not know the number of those years, I know an endpoint is coming. I will still seek to be learning. I will still seek to be actively serving, but Act III reminds me that the Play must come to an end. It is time to focus on the next production. I will not be in that one, but I can prepare others for it.
It is time to teach more, mentor more, develop others more than just continue to do my own thing. While I do not feel wise nor intelligent, God has been gracious enough to teach me many things and give me many experiences over the years. As I look back at 24 years at Bean’s Corner and 31 years at Camp Berea, as well as many other ministry experiences, I know I have perspective and ideas that may make the path easier for the ones that follow.
One thing I am sure of. While I hope to linger longer to finish bringing my children into adulthood and serving the Lord more, I know that whatever lies before is already enough. As I sit at the milepost marked 50, I am well content and filled with a sense of blessing. God has given me a much fuller life than I ever dreamed of when I was in high school or even college. I have been able to do so many things I never dreamed and most importantly, share in the lives and spiritual journeys of many men & women. I pray that Act III allows me to help prepare the next generation for fruitful ministry as we pursue the Mission of Jesus, to make disciples.
If you’ve been part of my journey so far, thank you!
I am part of a group of Gospel writers who each week give us a writing prompt. This promot was “When Silence Speaks” and had a 300 word limit. This is my attempt at the prompt. It represents first a reflection of my childhood, then two scenes from adulthood.
Socks, boots, snow pants, mittens, scarf, hat, coat, and finally ready. Finally step outside into fourteen inches of white. It blankets the world and still falls in steady cascades of quiet. It is silent. The world is rendered mute under the noiseless assault underway. This universe is robbed of color and sound. A deep breath of sharp air assaults the lungs and a pure joy fills the heart. The silence speaks to my heart. Peace, beauty, and wonder abound and the silence assaults my ears in the most delicious of roars. It is so quiet. I trudge deep into the woods listening attentively as the silence continues its concert.
Leaves piling up and grey skies mute the expanse. Docks are pulled out, boats covered and stored, and shutters on the screens. October on the Lake has chased everyone back home to warmer houses and busier schedules. The sand crunches under my boots as I stride to the water’s edge and gaze out over miles of mirror. It is a symphony of color as reds and oranges drown out the muted evergreen, reflecting for full effect in the smooth surface of the water. The bald eagle soars high overhead. As my feet stop, the last quiet crunch of sand fades away. It is silent. The silence speaks to my heart of days gone by and generations of my family that enjoyed this lake. In the silence, the collected experiences of those who came before me swirl around me and I hear them. Fall air fills the lungs with the flavor of passing nature and seasonal change.
A wrinkled hand and ragged breath. Dim unseeing eyes but still warmth in the touch. Then change and the breath grows weaker. Weaker. It is silent. Dad is gone. The silence speaks a last goodbye.
Now and then, a friend or community member has declared to me, “you’re a good man.” One of the most interesting things about being told that is the immediate rush of blood to my ego, which, in its pure and distilled form, is my biggest obstacle for goodness.
I’m willing to accept that from an average human viewpoint that I’m at least a neutral guy and probably even a reasonable “good” person in that I have not committed any major crimes and do try, most of the time, to avoid minor infractions as well. I’ve never aced the test, but I do try to be generous, honest, kind, and observe behavior that is considered by most “good.”
It is the flip side that most people see less of that is my problem. I am selfish every day in small and often easy to hide ways. I have thoughts and attitudes running rampant through my head at times which would convict me if broadcast on a screen. I struggle with impatience, a judgemental attitude, and many more violations of goodness. Then there are my good moments which are sometimes the result of less than laudatory motivations. Sometimes I do good things for reasons much less noble. Being good sometimes gets me what I want, whether it be praise, reward, or some other positive result. Sometimes I am good just to avoid a bad outcome, not because of any virtue. (For instance, I always obey the speed limit in the presence of law enforcement).
And Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone.
(Mark 10:18)
So am I a good man? In a comparative sense maybe, but not objectively. Any honest core sample will reveal far too many impurities to be considered really good. So why do people call me a good person? The biggest reason is that there is a contravening force at work in me. Fighting against my selfishness, my self-centered motives and my desire for ease and reward, is an outside force that I have welcomed in. This Spirit is actually good and represents not comparative goodness, but absolute pure goodness. He comes, not because I did something that merited it, but because He did something that allows me to accept Him.
Some time back I invited Him into my existence and asked Him to remake the confused and flawed being that is me. The renovation isn’t complete, and there are many many times that you will still see me clearly with its flaws and blemishes. Fortunately, there are other times where His influence and love are behind the wheel and I am truly selfless, gentle, loving, merciful, and gracious to others. Light shines forth, not originating in me, but reflecting through me. When this happens, sometimes others realize they have seen a good man.
They have. That good man is not me, but when I’m yielded, you will see Him in me. He’s a good man.
… not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— (Philippians 3:9)
A mighty warrior thunders a challenge and promises death to all who would draw near. The people shake. Seasoned warriors, even the tall and impressive king, cower in fear at the mighty brute. Then a young man, not as great of stature and without armor or sword strides confidently down the hill. He sees no threat, merely an opportunity to once again demonstrate who his God is. The giant falls.
The air is filled with the roaring of the lions, the roaring of the fire. Young men face the roar and rather than cower, honor their God and are confident that whatever happens, they will have victory and demonstrate who their God is. Emerging from the roar, there is no mark on any of them. A sure threat has had no power.
A no-longer-rich man looks upon loss and destruction beyond what many will ever know, yet as even his wife urges despair and death, he declares, “though he slay me, I will hope in Him.”
A culture decides to say “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas” and the people scream and shudder and cry out that war is upon them and defeat hovers overhead, ready to crash down and destroy them. A culture shifts and men and women with decades of service in the Lord’s army groan and mourn that defeat is crouching at the door. Powerful forces threaten.
They forgot.
Greater is He in His people than the power in the world. The very gates of hell cannot prevail and death itself already whimpers in the corner, defeated and defanged, no longer able to touch His beloved ones. He told us to fear not, for He has overcome the world.
There are giants, there are lions, there are flames, there are losses and trials, but they have no power except to allow us to stand and demonstrate who our God is. It is time for the church to stop cowering with King Saul and join David, Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego, and Job to declare the One who goes before us, and who now calls out to the world, “Repent, the Kingdom of God is at hand. Be reconciled to God. God made Him who knew no sin to be sin, so that we may become the righteousness of God!”
A few days ago we watched “Fiddler on the Roof” as a family. I have long loved the musical and was eager to expose my kids to it. My son’s response was to observe that it started out good and fun and then got rough and sad. We had a discussion about the treatment of the Jews in much of history.
Today we started watching the Civil War by Ken Burns and listened to the accounts of the disease, death, and indignity that was part of living as a slave in the USA. 4 out of 100 would live to be 60. It is not a fun show.
We don’t like this stuff. If we can avoid it, we try to. Human suffering is not something we like to see, dwell on, or think about any more than we feel we have to. We want happy endings, feel-good moments, and pleasant stories with good memories.
The sad truth is that the story of human civilization is the story of human suffering and most of it at the hands of other humans. Sometimes we cause the suffering directly, and other times through inaction or failure to appreciate the results of our actions and choices.
In Fiddler on the Roof, the local constable hates to do what he’s doing but he’s just following orders. He can’t risk his own position and even if he did, it wouldn’t change anything, so why try. That thought animates so much of human suffering. “There is nothing I can do about it, so why try.” When that phrase echos from thousands of voices, the reason for such agony in the world quickly becomes apparent.
God is deeply motivated by human suffering. He has allowed us to plot our own path, but He has told us what is good and what He wants. 1. To do Justice: This isn’t about enforcing laws, rather Biblical justice is about making sure the weak and powerless are not victimized and neglected by those who have resources and power. 2. Love Mercy: We want to ignore mercy because it, by definition, does not make people pay for all their mistakes. We want to withhold good from the guilty, forgetting that the heart of the Gospel is that Jesus died for the guilty. 3. Walk Humbly with God: Humbly first remembers that we have been recipients of mercy, that we have nothing within ourselves and are but poor sinners. Our lives don’t belong to us, neither do our resources. All belongs to Christ. If this became central to our response to our fellow humans, human suffering would be mostly diminished. There would still be illness and natural disasters, but some of the causes and many of the impacts of even those would be ameliorated by the efforts of those who have the resources and power to help.
This is Jesus. He came down from heaven, laid aside His glory and privilege, and became not just human, but a poor and suffering human who took on the reality of human suffering. He lived with, loved, and healed many who were sick and suffering. He showed a different way. Then, in His greatest act, He laid down His life on the cross, choosing to take on the spiritual debt, the great need of our souls, and pay, out of His life and fullness, the price of our redemption. There has never been a greater provision of Biblical justice, mercy, and humility. He also mentioned that we should do likewise.
I, like most of us, do not like to dwell too long on the misfortunes and suffering of others. It is easy to pass it off as not my concern, or outside of my ability to do so. I am part of the problem. Are you?
My wife sat down next to me as we began family movie night holding an absolutely beautiful slice of warm, fresh, pepperoni pizza. It was about 5 pm and I was not planning on eating pizza because it would keep me up. I’ve reached that delightful age where I can’t eat just anything, at least not a few hours before bedtime. But it looked really, really good. My mouth began to water. Knowing that I should stick to my guns, there was only one thing to do. I holstered those guns and went out and grabbed a slice. It was good. An hour later, and into the night, it was not good.
Since I wasn’t sleeping, I had time to reflect on my decision and the nature of evil in the world. My decision was a small one, with very limited consequences. I chose what looked and felt good over what I knew was right, but it was such a minor thing, it wasn’t a big deal. Nothing some tums and a later bedtime couldn’t overcome.
We are all like this. There are moments every day when we know better, but the stakes are low and what is before us “looks right in our eyes.” We don’t need to worry or feel guilty because these are small meaningless decisions. These small meaningless decisions can add up. They do add up, and not just in their consequences, but the habit they represent in us. We decide what is right and what we will do based on the moment, and what looks good in our own eyes.
The evil in our world is an amalgamation of millions of these little moments. We tend to want to ascribe evil to the large evil deeds of villains and to be sure those exist too. However, the general atmosphere of evil that lurks around every corner comes directly from our human heart and our desire for one piece of pizza, one moment of indiscretion, one minor indulgence of what looks good to our eyes. Each of these little moments finds us recreating that moment in the Garden of Eden where Eve looked at a fruit that God had said it was not good to eat, and she decided that it was good, that she wanted it and by golly, she was going to have one. Her and then her husband’s small choice was a big one, and my one slice of pizza perfectly recreated that moment as I do my part in perpetuating evil in this world by doing what is right in my own eyes.
The word “Tribalism” has come to define our modern political situation here in the United States. We tend to define our identity, loyalty and now even our convictions, not by independent values, but by our tribal identity. If our party does it, it’s a principle. If the other party does it, its somewhere between hypocrisy and a crime. Our party is patriotic, their party is unAmerican. And on it goes.
I regularly witness Christians deeply embedded in this tribal warfare, expressing strong tribalism and shaping their values around their tribe. Truth itself is given a partisan filter and loyalty to our tribe becomes defining.
So the first question is, if we are Followers of Christ, have we confused who is in our tribe? Then the second question is, have we confused what our tribe represents. Finally, have we confused what it means to fight for our tribe? Let’s take these one at a time, and briefly overview how the Bible answers these questions.
Who is Our Tribe?
But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.
(1 Peter 2:9)
While I am registered to vote in one political party (and in the past have been a state delegate for that party), it is not my tribe. My tribe is the people of God, consisting of all those who have accepted the gift of God’s salvation through the sacrifice of Christ. That means that my tribe stretches across both major political parties in the USA as well as across the borders of the USA to include many who live in other countries around the world. When we prioritize our local political tribe over the members of our true tribe, we forget a warning from Scripture.
Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers. For what partnership has righteousness with lawlessness? Or what fellowship has light with darkness? What accord has Christ with Belial? Or what portion does a believer share with an unbeliever? What agreement has the temple of God with idols? For we are the temple of the living God; as God said, “I will make my dwelling among them and walk among them, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.
(2 Corinthians 6:14-16)
My tribe is the temple of the living God. Neither political party in America, NEITHER, can claim that mantle. Both are full of unbelievers and represent narrow political interests that are not based on the Kingdom. I might find more in common with one party over the other, but neither party represents the Kingdom. That’s my tribe, and again, my tribe is not based in the USA but in the Kingdom to come.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.
(2 Corinthians 5:17-20)
We could spend paragraphs and paragraphs quoting various passages from the Bible; the Great Commission, the commands to love our enemies and bless those who persecute us, the commands to appear as lights, to lead as servants, and on and on. We represent Christ, not a moral code. He came to save, not condemn, and Scripture says that He is holding back returning in judgement because the work of saving isn’t done yet (2 Peter 3:9). So our tribe is assigned the job of not passing judgement but declaring reconciliation, of being living representatives of Christ, not modern-day embodiments of the Pharisees.
How Does Our Tribe Fight?
So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God. Give no offense to Jews or to Greeks or to the church of God, just as I try to please everyone in everything I do, not seeking my own advantage, but that of many, that they may be saved.
(1 Corinthians 10:31-33)
And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all. See that no one repays anyone evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to everyone. Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
(1 Thessalonians 5:14-18)
Neither Nancy Pelosi, nor Donald Trump, nor George Soros, nor any other human figure is the target of our fight.
For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.
(Ephesians 6:12)
In Conclusion, it is vital that if we want to help transform the culture of the USA or whatever land we live in, that we remember who is our tribe, what it means to be the People of God’s own possession, and what it means to live that reality out each day in our conversations, in our social media posts and memes, in the values that we show before the world. Without Christ, no one will be saved, no earthly country will ever be great, and no law will bring righteousness.
