SEEING ISN'T BELIEVING

Seeing Isn’t Believing

Here are some quotes from an Op-Ed piece in the NY Times by Harvard Psychologist Daniel Gilbert.  It was written back in 2009, as America was adjusting to the new reality of the financial crisis:

So if a dearth of dollars isn’t making us miserable, then what is? No one knows. I don’t mean that no one knows the answer to this question. I mean that the answer to this question is that no one knows — and not knowing is making us sick.

Consider an experiment by researchers at Maastricht University in the Netherlands who gave subjects a series of 20 electric shocks. Some subjects knew they would receive an intense shock on every trial. Others knew they would receive 17 mild shocks and 3 intense shocks, but they didn’t know on which of the 20 trials the intense shocks would come. The results showed that subjects who thought there was a small chance of receiving an intense shock were more afraid — they sweated more profusely, their hearts beat faster — than subjects who knew for sure that they’d receive an intense shock.

That’s because people feel worse when something bad might occur than when something bad will occur. Most of us aren’t losing sleep and sucking down Marlboros because the Dow is going to fall another thousand points, but because we don’t know whether it will fall or not — and human beings find uncertainty more painful than the things they’re uncertain about.

Why would we prefer to know the worst than to suspect it? Because when we get bad news we weep for a while, and then get busy making the best of it…But we can’t come to terms with circumstances whose terms we don’t yet know. An uncertain future leaves us stranded in an unhappy present with nothing to do but wait.

Our national gloom is real enough, but it isn’t a matter of insufficient funds. It’s a matter of insufficient certainty. Americans have been perfectly happy with far less wealth than most of us have now, and we could quickly become those Americans again — if only we knew we had to.

This Sunday we’re going to see that uncertainty plagues even the most faithful of people.  Abram, known as “the Father of the Faith” has trouble trusting the promises of God, because of some uncertainty in his future.  We’ll also see how far God will go to keep his promises.

MISTAKES WERE MADE

I know I’ve shared this with you before, but it bears repeating. It’s by Jessie Rice, from the Church of Facebook blog:

Dear Fear-Of-What-Others-Think:

I am sick of you, and it's time we broke up. I know we've broken up and gotten back together many times, but seriously, Fear-Of-What-Others-Think, this is it. We're breaking up.

I'm tired of overthinking my status updates on Facebook, trying to sound more clever, funny, and important. I'm sick of feeling anxious about what I say or do in public, especially around people I don't know that well, all in the hope that they'll like me, accept me, praise me. I run around all day feeling like a Golden Retriever with a full bladder: Like me! Like me! Like me!

Because of you, I go through my day with a cloud of shame hanging over my head, and I never stop acting. The spotlight's always on, and I'm center stage, and I'd better keep dancing, posturing, mugging, or else the spotlight will move, and I'll dissolve into a little, meaningless puddle on the ground, just like that witch in The Wizard of Oz. I can never live up to the expectations of my imaginary audience, the one that lives only in my head but whose collective voice is louder than any other voice in the universe.

And all of this is especially evil because if I really stop and think about it, and let things go quiet and listen patiently for the voice of the God who made me and the Savior who died for me, in his eyes, it turns out I'm actually—profoundly—precious, lovable, worthy, valuable, and even just a little ghetto-fabulous. When I find my true identity in Christ, then you turn back into the tiny, yapping little dog that you are.

So eat it, Fear-Of-What-Others-Think. You and I are done. And no, I'm not interested in "talking it through." I'm running, jumping, laughing you out of my life, once and for all. Or at least, that's what I really, really want, God help me.

If you could write a kiss-off letter to one of your greatest fears, what would it be?  Fear of failure?  Fear of poverty?  Fear of death?

It’s that last one, the fear of death, that trips up our hero Abram in our passage for this Sunday.  Just after the point in our story where he hears an amazing promise from the Lord himself, Abram lets his fear push him into making an unwise, even idolatrous, decision.

At least we know he’s not perfect…

                                                                                                      ROBERT LEE

WANDERING OFF TO "GOD KNOWS WHERE?"

The following excerpt comes from Jonah Lehrer’s book Imagine. I should mention that, since its publication, this book has been pulled by its publisher, because it contained falsehoods invented by the author.  Both of these stories, however, are backed up by multiple sources:

Take this clever experiment, led by the psychologist Michael Robinson. He randomly assigned a few hundred undergraduates to two different groups. The first group was given the following instructions: "You are seven-years-old, and school is canceled. You have the entire day to yourself. What would you do? Where would you go? Who would you see?" The second group was given the exact same instructions, except the first sentence was deleted. As a result, these students didn't imagine themselves as seven-year-olds. After writing for ten minutes, the subjects in both groups were then given various tests of creativity, such as trying to invent alternative uses for an old car tire, or listing all the things one could do with a brick. Interestingly, the students who imagined themselves as young kids scored far higher on the creative tasks, coming up with twice as many ideas as the other group. It turns out that we can recover the creativity we've lost with time. We just have to pretend we're little kids.

Yo-Yo Ma echoes this idea. "When people ask me how they should approach performance, I always tell them that the professional musician should aspire to the state of the beginner…if all you are doing is worrying, then you will play terribly. You will be tight, and it will be a bad concert. Instead, one needs to constantly remind oneself to play with the abandon of the child who is just learning the cello. Because why is that kid playing? He is playing for pleasure. He is playing because making this sound, expressing this melody, makes him happy. That is still the only good reason to play."

Fear can paralyze.  Creativity and Imagination can free us up.  Seeing something worth having can provide tremendous motivation.

I think this is what’s happening with Abraham.  This Sunday we’re beginning a series within a series.  As I preach through Genesis, I’m going to be talking about Abraham for the next few weeks—more than any of the other people mentioned in Genesis.

This week we’ll be looking at what possessed Abraham to leave the lands and the gods of his ancestors to look for another land that had been promised to him by the Lord.  The writer of Hebrews says it best…

⁸ By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. (Hebrews 11)

I hope we can be inspired to have that kind of faith, as well. 

                                                                                                      Robert

CAN WE GET A LITTLE SERVICE?

Can We Get a Little Service?

I’m looking forward to reading a book set to release in October called Embracing Obscurity.  It’s written by “an established Christian author electing to remain anonymous.” From what I can tell, the basic gist of it is this: God isn’t looking for superstars; he’s looking for anonymous nobodies.  He’s looking for people who will labor in quiet anonymity.  Here’s an excerpt:

One evening, while watering the garden, the sheer sacrifice of true service overwhelmed me. There amongst the tomatoes and parsley, I realized that most of my previous attempts at service were very much like the garden hose in my hand: I was in control, dictating how, when, and to whom I would serve. With my nifty sprayer, I could even stop the water altogether when I felt like it. The "flow" of Christ's love that I gave to others depended on my mood, the health of my career, and even how much sleep I got the night before. Mine was (and still often is) a self-righteous, self-gratifying service.

In contrast, I noticed a soaker hose in the planter across from me. It watered the ground completely indiscriminately. Dozens of holes let the water loose and had no shut-off switch. Life-giving water oozed out all over the place, like it or not! To serve like a soaker hose means to pour out Christ's love from every pore of our beings, not concerning ourselves with the timing, the effect it might have on our productivity, or the worthiness of the recipients. If God has "turned on the water" in our lives, filling us with his life-giving springs, why would we hold them back from anyone? For fear of running out? Doesn't he have an infinite supply of living water?

This Sunday, we’re talking about the next in our set of monthly spiritual disciplines.  September’s discipline is “service.” As best I can figure, true servants are like that soaker hose.  They are indiscriminate when it comes to deciding when or whom to help.  They just allow God’s grace go where it will and serve anyone.

To be a servant like that is to practice a discipline.  It’s not easily done.  It takes practice. And, perhaps better than any other discipline, it has the power to shape us into the image of Christ.

Robert Lee

VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED

Viewer Discretion Advised

This is from an article by Matt Woodley, managing editor of PreachingToday.com:

It was supposed to be the "perfect" town. After all, it was planned by Disney itself. The town of Celebration, Florida, a 16-acre utopian community just ten minutes from Walt Disney World, was developed in order to promote "Disney values." Disney designed the buildings, as well as its education and health policies. Most homes look identical, even with the same plants in the front garden. During winter evenings, the town even gets a gentle dusting of artificial snow every hour on the hour. (If you're familiar with the movie The Truman Show, you probably get the idea).

But this carefully planned, picture-perfect world was shattered in 2010 by two violent deaths: a murder and a suicide. Matteo Giovanditto, aged 58, was the victim of the town's first murder. Just three days later, Craig Foushee, distraught over his impending divorce and bankruptcy, barricaded himself in his home and started firing shots. After a tense standoff with authorities, Mr. Foushee eventually shot and killed himself.

According to a British news article on these tragic deaths, "The incidents have added to signs that cracks are forming in the sugary veneer of the town, where visitors can take horse-and-carriage rides through the picket-fence-lined streets."

This story should sadden but not surprise Christians. On the one hand, these deaths represent the tragic loss of two people made in the image of God and deeply loved by the Son of God. On the other hand, it's a sober reminder of our fallen human nature. No matter how hard we try to sanitize our lives and our communities, we still have sinful hearts and we live in a flawed world. We still yearn for heaven and Christ's coming peace. Perfect towns and white-picket-fences can't hide the human heart—both its bent towards sin and its longing for God's grace.

There’s no sanitizing the story we’ll hear this Sunday.  It is a story of violence and evil, of wrath and punishment.  Oh, who am I kidding?  It’s sanitized all the time.  This story is a favorite topic for children’s Bible classes.  It’s a favorite subject for the murals we paint in our nurseries. I understand why this is, and I’m not saying we should change it, but you have to admit the uncensored version isn’t exactly G-Rated.

But here’s the good news.  As devastating a story as it is, it is also a story of God’s grace and patience and willingness to give second chances.  The bad news is not the only news there is to be heard.

ALONE TOGETHER

Alone Together

This is an excerpt from Eugene Peterson’s Earth and Altar.  Notice the two ways he suggest we can connect to the true help that God gives for a daily life.  He says we need to “Behold” and “Be Still”:

Two commands direct us from the small-minded world of self-help to the large world of God's help. First, "Come, behold the works of the Lord." Take a long, scrutinizing look at what God is doing. This requires patient attentiveness and energetic concentration. Everybody else is noisier than God. The headlines and neon lights and amplifying systems of the world announce human works. But what of God's works? They are unadvertised but also inescapable, if we simply look. They are everywhere. They are marvelous. But God has no public relations agency. He mounts no publicity campaign to get our attention. He simply invites us to look …

The second command is "Be still, and know that I am God." Be still. Quit rushing through the streets long enough to become aware that there is more to life than your little self-help enterprises. When we are noisy and when we are hurried, we are incapable of intimacy—deep, complex, personal relationships. If God is the living center of redemption, it is essential that we be in touch with and responsive to that personal will. If God has a will for this world and we want to be in on it, we must be still long enough to find out what it is (for we certainly are not going to learn by watching the evening news). Baron von Hugel, who had a wise word on most subjects, always held out that "nothing was ever accomplished in a stampede."

This Sunday we’re going to be talking about solitude—the next of the 12 monthly disciplines that our teens are practicing.

We’ll see that solitude is about more than just being by yourself in a room, especially in this age of constant internet access.  Even when we are alone, we aren’t.  (And even when we are with others, we can be alone.)

Solitude is something different.  It’s deliberately withdrawing from other connections (even the ones that are good) and connecting to God.  In the Bible, solitude is often precedes a message from God.

MORBID

I found the following story online:

The tiny island town of Colonsay, Scotland (population 130), is home to a smattering of small businesses. The lone school has eleven students. There is one doctor and two churches, but no resident minister. But most important of all, there are no policemen. That is because the town of Colonsay has been crime-free for as long as anyone can remember. Residents never lock the doors of their homes and often leave their keys inside the ignition of their parked cars.

But in the fall of 2006, something changed. James Harvie, a visiting construction worker, snuck into an elderly resident's home and stole 60 pounds (about $113 US). When the resident became aware of the theft, Harvie was automatically the first suspect because of his status as an outsider. The islanders kept him under a watchful eye before shipping him out on the next ferry back to Scotland, where he was promptly arrested and fired by his employer.

"There are only three boats a week, so there's not exactly a quick getaway," said the shopkeeper at Colonsay's only general store, who gave his name as Mike. But Mike does not believe that this microcosm of the Fall will affect Colonsay as much as Adam and Eve's sin affected all of us. "We'll just carry on as before on the island," he said. "We have a great faith in human nature, which remains."

Living in an urban center like we do, it’s hard to imagine not needing a police force or knowing of only one criminal act in the entirety of your town’s history.  No corner of our fair city is immune to crime.

But before we develop an inferiority complex from standing too close to Colonsay, Scotland, we should note that there is a difference between being crime free and being sin free.  Bring the magnifying glass a little closer and I’m sure you’ll find plenty of flaws in Colonsay’s citizenry.  After all, don’t we have a saying that it’s just “human nature?”

This Sunday we’re going to look at the tragic introduction of sin to the story of God and his people.  The first (but certainly not the last) time the train runs off the rails.  It’s not a happy story. And yet our God is good enough to give us a glimpse of redemption even while diagnosing our disease.  That will be the good news for us, as well.   

A LONG TIME AGO...

In her book Birdology, naturalist Sy Montgomery describes the beauty and intricacy of an ordinary hummingbird.

Hummingbirds are the lightest birds in the sky. Of their roughly 240 species … the largest, an Andean "giant," is only eight inches long; the smallest, the bee hummingbird of Cuba, is just over two inches long and weighs a single gram.

Delicacy is the trade-off that hummingbirds have made for their unrivaled powers of flight. Alone among birds, they can hover, fly backward, even fly upside down. For such small birds, their speed is astonishing: in his courtship display to impress a female, a male Allen's hummingbird, for instance, can dive out of the sky at sixty-one miles per hour … (Diving at 385 body-lengths per second, this hummer beats the peregrine falcoln's dives … and even bests the space shuttle as it screams down through the atmosphere at 207 body lengths per second.)

Hummingbirds' wings beat at a rate that makes them a blur to human eyes, more than sixty times a second …. They are little more than bubbles fringed with iridescent feathers—air wrapped in light …. In most birds, 15 to 25 percent of the body is given over to flying muscles. In a hummingbird's body, flight muscles account for 35 percent. An enormous heart constitutes up to 2.5 percent of its body weight—the largest per body weight of all vertebrates …. A person as active as a hummingbird would need 155,000 calories a day …. Each [hummingbird] is just a speck … yet each is an infinite mystery.

Montgomery doesn't discuss her stance towards faith, but she often expresses her awe and wonder in the presence of God's beauty and creativity. At one point Montgomery quotes a woman who works with baby hummingbirds who says, "You know that kind of awestruck feeling you get when you look at a great work of art? That sense of wonder, that sense of connection to something great and mysterious? It's the same feeling looking at a … hummingbird."

This Sunday begins a new series on the book of Genesis. (Yup, I’m going Old Testament.) And the best place to start is at the beginning—the very beginning—with Genesis 1.

It’s a passage that’s seen its share of controversy over the last century or two.  I’ll talk a little bit about that controversy.  But I don’t want the real message to be obscured over the current debate over creation.  The real point is “that sense of wonder” that Montgomery is talking about and the fact that, from the Bible’s point of view, it is an expected response to God’s power and goodness.

FATHER'S DAY 2012

Father’s Day 2012

The following is an excerpt from a book by Gregory Spencer entitled Awakening the Quieter Virtues:

One of the louder virtues in American culture is efficiency. It's what makes the clock of capitalism tick. We are remarkably skilled at getting things done, at thinking "yes, we can," and then putting forth our best effort to accomplish many tasks in a short time. Often efficiency serves us well. But this way of valuing time can tick-tock into our worldview, leading us to measure everything by the stopwatch. Time: we march against it, beat it, save it, manage it, spend it, and try not to kill it or waste it. If efficiency becomes a dictator instead of a servant, generosity is usually oppressed. We feel we must fill days with industrious busyness.

When my daughters were young, I too frequently bemoaned how little time I could give to writing. One friend said, "Your girls will only be toddlers once. Don't worry so much about being productive." Another friend gestured to my daughters and said, "Spence, here are your publications!" These friends encouraged me to view time…by the opportunity presented, time according to what the season calls for. Time well used…is time that appropriately meets the needs of the moment, not…time measured by the demands of the clock.

I can certainly identify with the impulse to wish the hours away.  Last week I was out of town.  That means a whole week of freedom from morning routines and bedtime routines.  I looked after myself and no one else. [Except for the occasional play session with my nephew, which doesn’t count.] So, this week, it’s been so much easier looking after my kids.

But, normally, when every night is the same crazy routine of getting kids through dinner, homework, baths, stories and into bed, I find myself longing for the time when they’ll be more independent. And yet I know: Conventional wisdom says, “Be careful what you wish for. You’ll miss this once it’s gone.”

And, when I can hear that and accept it, I do a better job realizing that these kids are one of the few really important things I’m doing in this world.

As we get ready for Father’s Day, I’m just hoping to remind those of us who are dads just how important a role it is.  May God help us do our best at it.

WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?

What Do You Think You’re Doing?

The following is from a story that appeared in Time magazine last year:

While staying alone in her convent, an 85-year-old Catholic nun got trapped inside a broken elevator for four nights and three days. She tried pushing the inside elevator door, but the electricity went off. She had her cell phone with her, but there wasn't a signal. Fortunately, she had carried a jar of water, some celery sticks, and a few cough drops into the elevator.

At first she said to herself, This can't happen! But then she decided to turn her elevator into a personal prayer retreat. "It was either panic or pray," she later told an interviewer for CNN. She started viewing the experience as a "gift." "I believe that God's presence was my strength and my joy—really," she said. "I felt God's presence almost immediately. I felt like he provided the opportunity for a closer relationship."

I think the key is in that last statement.  This Sunday, in keeping with our teens’ focus on a different spiritual discipline every month, we are going to be talking about prayer.  I think this woman’s experience can help us understand something about prayer.

It’s true that it is a discipline, something that must be worked at.  It’s true that it is not always easy.  But I think we do well to remember that prayer, like every other spiritual discipline is not an end in itself.  It’s a means to the end of having a “closer relationship” with God.

And I think the way we feel about prayer is actually just a result of how we view God and our relationship to him.  A healthy relationship with and understanding of Him will generally lead to a healthier prayer practice in our daily lives.

¹⁷ 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 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 his holy people, ¹⁹ and his incomparably great power for us who believe. (Eph. 1)

PURITY

   Most of you are already aware of this, because you heard Doug King’s announcement last Sunday, or because you received an email about it earlier this week.  But perhaps you’re either a guest or you’re not on the email distribution list.  (If that’s the case, and you’d like to be added, please write it down on your attendance card.) 

Today, Greg Rose, one of our shepherds, will be filling in for me.  He’ll preaching on pornography and the damage it does to Christian lives.  Greg will be talking about the power that it has over so many, the shame that those who struggle with it experience, and ways that we can encourage confession, grace, accountability and prevention.

We realize that this is a difficult topic to discuss.  (That's part of what makes it so powerful.)  We also realize, as a guest, it might not be something you want to hear about on your visit to a new church.  Finally, we know that there are some children who are usually too old for Children’s Worship but too young for this subject matter.

We want you to have plenty of time to decide what is best for your family.  For those who aren’t ready for their children to hear about this, Eric and Holly Harrell have kindly offered to open Children's Worship to children who would normally be too old to attend.  This will let the adults and young adults (whose parents wish to allow it) to hear this important message. The point of all this is not to be lurid.  Nor is it an attempt to point fingers and make anyone feel ashamed.  The point of talking about this is to invite more people to experience freedom.

We want to give appropriate notice, but we don't want to scare you away.  Greg has spoken about this to churches before.  And he's speaking this Sunday with the full support of the other shepherds.  This is an important issue that deserves our attention.  While we haven't entirely ignored it, we haven't said as much as we should have. I believe Greg’s willingness to talk about it provides a good step in the right direction.

                                                   -Robert

Create in me a pure heart, O God,
and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
¹¹ Do not cast me from your presence
or take your Holy Spirit from me.
¹² Restore to me the joy of your salvation
and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.  (Psalm51)

FINISHING THE ENSEMBLE

Finishing the Ensemble

In his book Uncensored Grace, Pastor Jud Wilhite recounts the story of Cody Huff, a homeless man who lived in a field near his church in Las Vegas.  Cody’s slide into homelessness had begun from an unlikely place.  He had been a successful professional fisherman with features on ESPN and with $600,000 in savings. But a crack addiction had led to the loss of all his savings, his house, his motorcycle and his boat.

One day, some volunteers from Central Christian Church were handing out food in a nearby park and they offered Huff an opportunity to take a shower in their nearby church building. Although he loathed the idea of going to a church, Cody was desperate to clean off, so he warily ventured over.  This is how Cody describes it:

I walked into the church, and this lady named Michelle, who knew me from the homeless ministry, said, "Good morning, Cody. How are you?" Then she looked at me, and she said, "Cody, you need a hug." And I said, "Honey, you don't want to touch me because I haven't had a shower in 3 months." If Michelle heard me, she didn't seem to care. She walked up, and she looked in my eyes, and she gave me a big hug and told me that Jesus loved me. In that split second, I was somebody. She even remembered my name. That was the point where I knew that God was alive in this world.

That first experience of God’s love led to a relationship with the Central Christian Church and a renewed faith in Christ.  Huff began holding a Bible Study with other homeless people in the nearby park.  In three years time, Cody went from destitution to having a marriage, owning his own business and running a ministry to homeless people.

And it all began with someone who was unashamed to show God’s love to someone who didn’t look or act (or smell) like her.

After listing all of these virtues in Colossians chapter 3 (compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience) Paul finishes by reminding the Christians in Colosse, “ And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity (Colossians 3:14).”  I think Cody’s story is a perfect example of why Paul places love at the very top, the glue that “binds them all.”

This Sunday, we’re going to talk about what that love looks like, and why it surpasses every other virtue. I hope that our church can embody that for people who come our way as well.

MAKE WAY

Make Way

And now, a lesson in Spiritual discipline from Van Halen.  That’s right.  That Van Halen.  Who would have thought that the band responsible for “Jump” and “Panama” and songs that my mother would have died to know I knew could also teach me about meditation?

In an ongoing effort to join our teenagers in working through a different spiritual discipline each month, this Sunday we’re going to talk about meditation. Before you get all worried, thinking that I’m going to have you chanting “ohm” in the pews, let me tell you that Christian meditation works a little differently.  I hope you’ll give it a chance, because it can really make a difference in your spiritual life.  How? Back to Van Halen…

Van Halen has a notorious stipulation included in their contracts with potential concert venues.  Before the band would play somewhere, that place had to agree to, among other things, a bowl of M&M’s with all the brown ones removed. 

So were these rockers just a bunch of divas? Perhaps they were, but not because of this. A picked over bowl of M&M’s served another purpose.  Lead singer, David Lee Roth, explained it in a memoir:  “Van Halen was the first band to take huge productions into tertiary, third-level markets. We'd pull up with nine 18-wheeler trucks, full of gear, where the standard was three trucks, max. And there were many, many technical errors…When I would walk backstage, if I saw a brown M&M in that bowl, well, we'd line-check the entire production. Guaranteed you'd run into a problem.”

The failure of a venue to pay attention to a small detail like brown M&M’s served as a warning that something important might also be missing.

And that right there is the point of meditation.  Meditation allows us to slow down and pay attention.  It calls on us to stop rushing around and gives God an opportunity to be heard above the noise and confusion.  Meditation is the means to an end.  It enables us to catch the big stuff that God is saying.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

If you haven’t done so already, call your mother!

I recently rediscovered a poem by one-time U.S. Poet Laureate Billy Collins entitled “The Lanyard”.  The narrator of the poem remembers making a lanyard for his mother while at summer camp.  Here is an excerpt:

…I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp…

I love this poem, because it’s such a fitting picture of the way things work.  I love the contrast between the gifts of the mother and this one cheap, useless piece of plastic.  Our mothers give so much.  And nothing we give in return can measure up to the mountains of blessings they pour out onto us.

So today, on Mother’s Day, I hope you have been given something.  I’m sure that whatever you were given in no way measures up to what you have given out.  But I hope that it still reminds you just how important you moms are.  May God bless you as you bless us.

                                                    -Robert

ATMYGATE SUNDAY

At My Gate Sunday

In his book Seismic Shifts: The Little Changes That Make a Big Difference in Your Life Kevin Harney tells the following story:

A little boy sat on the floor of the church nursery with a red rubber ball in each arm and three Nerf balls clenched on the floor between his pudgy little knees. He was trying to protect all five from the other children in the nursery. The problem was, he could not hold all five at once, and the ball nearest to his feet was particularly vulnerable to being stolen. So, whenever another child showed an interest in playing with one of the balls, he snarled to make it clear these toys were not for sharing.

I suppose I should have stepped in and made the little guy give up one or two of the balls, but I was too wrapped up in the drama of it all. For about five minutes, this little guy growled, postured, and kept the other children away from the balls. Like a hyena hunched over the last scraps of a carcass, this snarling little canine was not in the mood for sharing. The other kids circled like vultures around the kill, looking for a way to jump in and snatch a ball without being attacked and bitten. I honestly did not know whether to laugh or cry as I watched.

Then it struck me: This little boy was not having any fun at all. There was no cheer within ten yards of this kid. Not only was he unhappy, but all the other kids seemed sad as well. His selfishness created a black hole that sucked all of the joy out of that nursery…. When church was over and his parents came to pick him up, he left the balls behind. I guess the old saying is true, you can't take it with you.

Blessed are those who outgrow their possessiveness, for they are able to relax.  I’ll bet you can identify with that boy trying so desperately to control and hang on to everything.  I can.  I have felt that tightness, that guardedness.  I have felt the anger and fear that come with a lack of generosity.  What a blessing it is when I’m able to let go of something and experience trust that God will more than provide for all of my needs.

This Sunday is At My Gate Sunday—a day where we highlight the work that’s being done by our partners at the Use Offot Church of Christ in Nigeria.  The funds we share with them have the opposite effect of the actions of the boy in the story.  Because you are willing to sacrifice a little bit, a great deal of good work is being done.  People are getting medical help, children are getting an education and young people are learning a trade.

WARDROBE CHANGE

Wardrobe Change

In his book, Tattoos on the Heart (a book I can’t recommend strongly enough) Gregory Boyle retells the story of a 15-year-old gang member named Rigo. Rigo was getting ready for a special worship service for incarcerated youth when Boyle casually asked if Rigo's father would be coming. The following is a summary of their conversation:

"No," he said, "He's a heroin addict and never been in my life. Used to always beat me."  Then something snapped inside Rigo as he recalled an image from his childhood.

"I think I was in fourth grade," he began, "I came home. Sent home in the middle of the day … . [When I got home] my dad says, 'Why did they send you home?' And cuz my dad always beat me, I said, 'If I tell you, promise you won't hit me?' He just said, 'I'm your father. Course I'm not gonna hit you.' So I told him."

Rigo began to cry, and in a moment he started wailing and rocking back and forth. Boyle put his arm around him until he slowly calmed down. When Rigo could finally speak again, he spoke quietly, still in a state of shock: "He beat me with a pipe … with … a pipe."

After Rigo composed himself, Boyle asked about his mom. Rigo pointed to a small woman and said, "That's her over there … . There's no one like her." Then Rigo paused and said, "I've been locked up for a year and half. She comes to see me every Sunday. You know how many buses she takes every Sunday [to see me]?"

Rigo started sobbing with the same ferocity as before. After catching his breath, he gasped through the sobs, "Seven buses. She takes … seven … buses. Imagine."

Boyle concluded this story with an analogy. God, as revealed in the person of Jesus, loves us like Rigo's mother loved her son—with commitment, steadfastness, and sacrifice. According to Boyle, we have a God "who takes seven buses, just to arrive at us."

In our passage for this Sunday Paul reminds us to “clothe ourselves with compassion.”  And he bases his charge on the same fact as Boyle.  We show compassion toward others because Christ has shown compassion for us.

Forgiveness

[Hopefully, as you are gathering for worship this Sunday, we’ll be on our way back from a week in Tennessee.  Mike Dossett will be preaching for me.  Here’s an old bulletin article that matches his sermon topic.  Looking forward to seeing everyone this Wednesday night- - - - - Robert]

Say you’ve got a little time to kill and you want to create your own little civilization and then rule over its inhabitants as their deity.  Well it just so happens that there’s an app for that. One of the most popular apps for the iPhone is a game called “Pocket God.”  Here’s a description of the game as given by the app store: “What kind of god would you be? Benevolent or vengeful? Play Pocket God and discover the answer within yourself. On a remote island, you are the all-powerful god that rules over the primitive islanders. You can bring new life, and then take it away just as quickly.”

In my never-ending pursuit of journalistic integrity I decided to purchase this app for myself…errr, I mean for you.  You know…just so I can tell you what it’s like.

After playing it for ten minutes, I have figured out how to strike the islanders with lightning, set them on fire, flick them into the sea, dangle them over a shark until it eats them, and deprive them of bathroom privileges until they pop. (To the game-makers’ credit, this is all portrayed in a very “Tom & Jerry like” manner.)  I also discovered how to give them fire, help them catch a fish, and roast a seagull for them.  But I must point out that there are many more opportunities to wreak havoc than to create prosperity.

I guess we understand why. It’s more fun, isn’t it?  I think most people, if given absolute power over an imaginary group, prefer to have a little bit of not so harmless fun with them.  From a human point of view, wrath is easier to imagine (and enjoy) than mercy.

That’s just one of the reasons that Jesus’ statement below is so revolutionary.  People who follow Jesus’ command on this are turning things upside down.  They’re really upsetting the apple cart.  What we expect is revenge.  What Jesus gives is forgiveness and love and prayers for our enemies.

It also tells us something about our understanding of God as opposed to who God really is.    How Blessed are we that are God is “slow to anger and abounding in love!”  When our God picks us up, it is not to toss us into a volcano.  It is in order to embrace us.

                                                                                           -Robert

  “You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven.” –Jesus, Matthew 5:43-45

EASTER 2012

Easter 2012

This will be my 39^th Easter.  I don’t remember all of them.  I don’t remember most of them.  I don’t even remember a third of them.  In his book A Thousand Miles in a Million Years Donald Miller astutely points out how little of our lives we actually remember.  It’s a little frightening when you think about it.  It might be that I can’t even reconstruct a single Easter in its entirety.  Not even last year’s.  All I have are snapshots in my mind:

• ·        From childhood, I remember the goodies: white wicker baskets inundated with plastic green grass and so much love-it or hate-it candy.  (People seem to either love or hate Cadbury Crème eggs and those marshmallowy easter eggs).
• ·        I remember a lot of polyester suits (almost always pastel blue) and a lot of clip-on ties.
• ·        I remember sunrise services at my grandmother’s church, Mt. Olivet Christian Church in Rose Hill, Virginia.  How cool the air was and how wet the grass was and how strange it was to be at church before dawn.
• ·        I remember the out-of-tune piano and the equally out-of-tune voices that sang “Low in the Grave He Lay” and “Victory in Jesus.” I didn’t know they were out of tune, and I loved them for their volume.
• ·        I remember a lot of ham.
• ·        As an adult, I remember a lot of Easter dinners at the Cuthrell’s.
• ·        I remember walking around with my children in the front yard and pointing out the hundreds of eggs sitting in plain view while they slowly crouched and placed them in their baskets.
• ·        Now I I remember watching a child run with a pack of older children into the backyard and search frantically for every well-hidden egg they could find.

There’s more, I’m sure, but nothing’s coming to mind right now.  Thirty-nine Easters seems like a lot, given how little I remember from all of them. 

This Sunday we will gather together and celebrate the first Easter, a significantly more memorable one than any of my thirty-nine.  And that’s the way it should be.  You’d think the fact that I can remember so little of my own might cause me some distress, but I find it oddly comforting.  Maybe because it puts things in their proper perspective.  It’s a perspective I’ll try to share with all of you this year.  And if I can’t?  Well, we’ll always have pastel polyester and Cadbury Crème.

DEATH GRIP

Death Grip I found this online and instantly wished I could go on Facebook and share this, along with that greatest of all Facebook compliments: “LOVE. THIS.” (The extra period makes it emphatic.)  It’s written by a guy named Jessie Rice on his blog, The Church of Facebook: Dear Fear-Of-What-Others-Think: I am sick of you, and it's time we broke up. I know we've broken up and gotten back together many times, but seriously, Fear-Of-What-Others-Think, this is it. We're breaking up. I'm tired of over thinking my status updates on Facebook, trying to sound more clever, funny, and important. I'm sick of feeling anxious about what I say or do in public, especially around people I don't know that well, all in the hope that they'll like me, accept me, praise me. I run around all day feeling like a Golden Retriever with a full bladder: Like me! Like me! Like me! Because of you, I go through my day with a cloud of shame hanging over my head, and I never stop acting. The spotlight's always on, and I'm center stage, and I'd better keep dancing, posturing, mugging, or else the spotlight will move, and I'll dissolve into a little, meaningless puddle on the ground, just like that witch in The Wizard of Oz. I can never live up to the expectations of my imaginary audience, the one that lives only in my head but whose collective voice is louder than any other voice in the universe. And all of this is especially evil because if I really stop and think about it, and let things go quiet and listen patiently for the voice of the God who made me and the Savior who died for me, in his eyes, it turns out I'm actually—profoundly—precious, lovable, worthy, valuable, and even just a little ghetto-fabulous. When I find my true identity in Christ, then you turn back into the tiny, yapping little dog that you are. So eat it, Fear-Of-What-Others-Think. You and I are done. And no, I'm not interested in "talking it through." I'm running, jumping, laughing you out of my life, once and for all. Or at least, that's what I really, really want, God help me. God help me, indeed.  I wish I could just write a letter for that and so many other idols that plague me. But I can’t.  I’m going to have to take another course of action. One that Paul talks about in Colossians 3:5-11, our passage for this Sunday.  So what idol would you like to write a kiss-off letter to?                                                                                             -Robert 1 What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase? 2 By no means! We are those who have died to sin; how can we live in it any longer? 3 Or don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? 4 We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. (Romans 6:1-4)

Death Grip I found this online and instantly wished I could go on Facebook and share this, along with that greatest of all Facebook compliments: “LOVE. THIS.” (The extra period makes it emphatic.)  It’s written by a guy named Jessie Rice on his blog, The Church of Facebook: Dear Fear-Of-What-Others-Think: I am sick of you, and it's time we broke up. I know we've broken up and gotten back together many times, but seriously, Fear-Of-What-Others-Think, this is it. We're breaking up. I'm tired of over thinking my status updates on Facebook, trying to sound more clever, funny, and important. I'm sick of feeling anxious about what I say or do in public, especially around people I don't know that well, all in the hope that they'll like me, accept me, praise me. I run around all day feeling like a Golden Retriever with a full bladder: Like me! Like me! Like me! Because of you, I go through my day with a cloud of shame hanging over my head, and I never stop acting. The spotlight's always on, and I'm center stage, and I'd better keep dancing, posturing, mugging, or else the spotlight will move, and I'll dissolve into a little, meaningless puddle on the ground, just like that witch in The Wizard of Oz. I can never live up to the expectations of my imaginary audience, the one that lives only in my head but whose collective voice is louder than any other voice in the universe. And all of this is especially evil because if I really stop and think about it, and let things go quiet and listen patiently for the voice of the God who made me and the Savior who died for me, in his eyes, it turns out I'm actually—profoundly—precious, lovable, worthy, valuable, and even just a little ghetto-fabulous. When I find my true identity in Christ, then you turn back into the tiny, yapping little dog that you are. So eat it, Fear-Of-What-Others-Think. You and I are done. And no, I'm not interested in "talking it through." I'm running, jumping, laughing you out of my life, once and for all. Or at least, that's what I really, really want, God help me. God help me, indeed.  I wish I could just write a letter for that and so many other idols that plague me. But I can’t.  I’m going to have to take another course of action. One that Paul talks about in Colossians 3:5-11, our passage for this Sunday.  So what idol would you like to write a kiss-off letter to?                                                                                             -Robert  1 What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase?  2 By no means! We are those who have died to sin; how can we live in it any longer?  3 Or don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?  4 We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. (Romans 6:1-4)

Death Grip I found this online and instantly wished I could go on Facebook and share this, along with that greatest of all Facebook compliments: “LOVE. THIS.” (The extra period makes it emphatic.)  It’s written by a guy named Jessie Rice on his blog, The Church of Facebook: Dear Fear-Of-What-Others-Think: I am sick of you, and it's time we broke up. I know we've broken up and gotten back together many times, but seriously, Fear-Of-What-Others-Think, this is it. We're breaking up. I'm tired of over thinking my status updates on Facebook, trying to sound more clever, funny, and important. I'm sick of feeling anxious about what I say or do in public, especially around people I don't know that well, all in the hope that they'll like me, accept me, praise me. I run around all day feeling like a Golden Retriever with a full bladder: Like me! Like me! Like me! Because of you, I go through my day with a cloud of shame hanging over my head, and I never stop acting. The spotlight's always on, and I'm center stage, and I'd better keep dancing, posturing, mugging, or else the spotlight will move, and I'll dissolve into a little, meaningless puddle on the ground, just like that witch in The Wizard of Oz. I can never live up to the expectations of my imaginary audience, the one that lives only in my head but whose collective voice is louder than any other voice in the universe. And all of this is especially evil because if I really stop and think about it, and let things go quiet and listen patiently for the voice of the God who made me and the Savior who died for me, in his eyes, it turns out I'm actually—profoundly—precious, lovable, worthy, valuable, and even just a little ghetto-fabulous. When I find my true identity in Christ, then you turn back into the tiny, yapping little dog that you are. So eat it, Fear-Of-What-Others-Think. You and I are done. And no, I'm not interested in "talking it through." I'm running, jumping, laughing you out of my life, once and for all. Or at least, that's what I really, really want, God help me. God help me, indeed.  I wish I could just write a letter for that and so many other idols that plague me. But I can’t.  I’m going to have to take another course of action. One that Paul talks about in Colossians 3:5-11, our passage for this Sunday.  So what idol would you like to write a kiss-off letter to?                                                                                             -Robert  1 What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase?  2 By no means! We are those who have died to sin; how can we live in it any longer?  3 Or don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?  4 We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. (Romans 6:1-4)

THE BIG REVEAL

The Big Reveal

The following comes from an article for Preachingtoday.com by Van Morris of Mt Washington Kentucky:

For 11 years, Mary Leonard of Louisville, Kentucky, has dealt with polymyositis, a rare inflammatory tissue disease that invades the muscles. There is no known cause or cure.

Mary's case turned deadly when the disease invaded her heart. In fact, in March of 2010, Mary was told by doctors that she had 24-48 hours to live. But after 20 days in a hospice center, another 51 days in rehab, and a number of days at home, Mary is still alive. She's now reflecting on the changes that take place when you learn your time is short.

"I call myself an average Christian," Mary says. "I don't know exactly why God has done this for me, but I do know that life looks different now."

Mary offers five life lessons she learned through the ordeal:

1. Know that prayer is powerful.
2. Mend fences now.
3. Release the reins of life to God.
4. Know that God is able—more than able.
5. Put your focus on what really matters.

In other words, things change drastically when we remember that life is limited.  We spend so much time trying to forget that fact.  Understandably so.  It’s not fun to dwell on our own mortality.  But, unfortunately, when we refuse to acknowledge our own finiteness, we cheat ourselves of the perspective that it brings.

The fact that Mary has spent so much time “walking through the valley of the shadow of death” has enabled her to tend to what really matters in life: trust in God, important relationships, etc.

This Sunday we will continue talking about Colossians 3:1-4, our theme passage for 2012. It has perhaps the most hopeful reminder I’ve ever seen of our mortality.  It reminds us that we are headed toward something.  More specifically that life in Christ is headed toward something—a purpose, a goal.  Our lives are not aimless.  God is at work in your life right now, he’s wanting to work in you to create something wonderful.  Can we remember that today?

                                                                                                 Robert Lee