Christians Who Mess Up Drive Me Nuts

“Is it possible that God has called us into this work so that we might pray,” Diane Mandt Langberg asks? ( In Our Lives First: Meditations for Counselors,   p.13) She writes for counselors who work with people whose problems are many and varied, tragic and deeply troubling. Given the failures in the church, I can see why the professional counselors who serve so many hurting hearts are in need of revival for themselves.  If they would lead others out of their darkness into spiritual health, the counselors must live what they recommend.

Me, too.

These meditations are having a restorative influence in my thinking, and I commend this volume, especially if it’s beginning to dawn on you that life is hard, and people we care about often behave very badly – too often in the church!

“Our intercession can cover far more people and situations than we can ever help in the literal sense . . . It is in the process of interceding that God’s purpose and wise order is brought about in this world. ” (p. 14)

First, in my own life – for when I turn my mind and heart to prayer for people I love –and not just toss out some rote lines – I see stuff in me that may be contributing to relationship problems. And I recognize how lame my love for them can be.

Second, praying revives my faltering faith. Too many times a day I wander into the pastures of, “Gee, doesn’t universalism (or humanism, or non-belief or skepticism)  sound like a better coping mechanism than the conviction that God is?” (Exodus 3:15; John 8:58) But just coping can’t be all there is to living, can it?

On some days . . . yes it is.

On other days – I don’t want to just cope, I want to live every moment I have left; and I want to help others enjoy their lives. Prayer reminds me to let go and let God do for them exceedingly, abundantly more than I could ask or imagine. He didn’t die and leave me in charge!

When my cousin told her mother that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer, my aunt told me that she became furious with God, whom she not wholly believed existed. As she railed against this God, whom she had doubts about, giving Him "what for" for doing this to her daughter – she caught herself:  If He is real enough to get angry at, maybe He is real enough to hear my prayers? And she prayed.

Finally, praying to the God who hears and invites me to pray, and through this mystery, gives nourishment, strength and guidance. (pp. 14-15) Some days we get slammed with news of Christians behaving badly that is as grim and heartbreaking as receiving a diagnosis of cancer. (If the church is to be Christ’s representatives on earth, no wonder so many people answer None when asked if they have a faith!)

 Like my aunt, I stumble in anger, doubt and fear, not so much at world events, but when Christians blow it.  Worse, I am tempted to judge, dismiss, or rail at others for being so stupid, contemptible, crass, or weak – actions that would lead me right onto a dangerous slippery slope. (Matthew 5:22)

Prayer to the God who hears is the guardrail restraining my heart.  It is the response that expands my hope that life has a purpose and meaning that is beyond “They lived happily Ever after.”   

I turn again to Psalm 116, and hang onto the guardrails of grace – during a very bumpy ride, where my pride goes before many falls.   

Blue Bloods

Frank and the Father

 

We have been fans of  the police drama “Blue Bloods” for a few years. A recent episode touched on the police chaplain’s escape into alcohol abuse; he was deadening the despair he felt, realizing that few of his flock ever came to him for solace, understanding or help to keep doing their jobs – or – simply living.

He said these kinds of troubles have been redefined.

He had been on duty through 9/11 and its aftermath, but now he was “feeling useless as cops who used to seek his counsel were now opting for doctors who prescribed pills and diagnosed them with things like depression and PTSD.”

Frank (Tom Selleck) asked Father Markhum what was different about his recent circumstances, his having dealt with loss for so long, The chaplain lamented that "nobody's coming" to him anymore, given other sorts of counselors and even the meds people take to feel better. And, basically, he had decided to throw in the towel. (Crises of Faith)

In the television drama, bad things happened; how should the characters cope?  The show did goad me to wonder how well I can help a soul in crisis. Some of them faced stuff that has yet to happen to me and mine – but some of it, like broken hearts, happens routinely. The writers on this show raised unanswered questions – and showed hurt that is not automatically healed. 

A dramatization of living in the post-Christian era?

Perhaps. 

How do I answer a sudden cry for help? Are you prepared?  Are we living in such a way, a hurting heart could trust us with their tears? Or, are we living like that chaplain, consumed with rejection and self-pity because of today’s re-definitions of faith, sin, and ethics?

What I liked was those writers pointed to the help and hope God can be, without expressing one-size fits all bromides. We didn’t hear what the chaplain said – only that he offered a fresh cup of coffee, and a sympathetic ear. Counseling and prescription medicine help heal . . . but counsel that ignores God may lead us into more dead ends.

God did not turn all His healing power over to counselors, even those who preface their profession with “Christian.” Nor did he compress the power all into prescription drugs. 

He leaves room for Himself to work in ways we don’t expect. But if we go A.W.O.L., throwing in the towel the way that police chaplain initially did, despairing that nobody seems interested in the healing hope that faith in Christ is, we’ll miss His mysteries, too.  

 “God did not die and leave you in charge!”  And if I slip into thinking God is my co-pilot, change seats!   

In the “Blue Bloods” episode, finally the police commissioner, Frank, sent his hurting son to get the help that he knew the chaplain could and did offer.  Just one person  came to him – just one, and found the chaplain on duty, albeit in a very empty church.

Praying we have ears to hear the cry, and hospitable hearts to help, even in big empty spaces.

A little Humor & Wise Advice: Bob Newhart: Just STOP IT!

Bible Study . . . Again

Autumn nears – and I will return to a group of women to study the Bible; this year it’s Exodus. And I am rereading The Gospel According to Moses, by Athol Dickson. All during a time when ancient countries like Egypt, Syria and Israel are current events.

For many years, I thought I knew what Exodus was about because I had seen the Charlton Heston version. When I finally read the book, and moved beyond the flannelgraph story, I learned the connection between Passover and Communion. (No kidding, even though I was “churched,” I had missed the part about why blood, and not wine, is central to relating to God. Hebrews 9:22)

I learned about Israel’s attraction to idols, even in the midst of God’s miracles and Law. They had seen and heard God’s power; they knew what He required – and they still wanted to worship gods of their own imagination – a persistent problem that plagued the Israelites.

And I have learned their problem and mine are quite alike:  I am prone to whine and wander!  Knowing what Scripture says – and does not say – is so important – but sometimes I feel like the Israelites: Manna again?  (So, You Wanna Go Back to Egypt?)

So, why study what I think I know?   

First – because I can. I have the right to learn about my religion. Years ago we met Egyptian Christians studying how we taught English in high schools in the United States, and they were flabbergasted that with all our freedom of religion here, we did not take advantage of it in sharing our faith.

Second – because, again, I can. I still have my wits about me, and the wherewithal to take some time and study what God did, so that I might understand what He is doing. Moreover, I might be able to encourage or be encouraged by other desert-trekkers.  A kind, edifying word can be as refreshing as a cup of cold water.

Third – because I still usually prefer my own way – and I don’t have another forty years to wander in deserts of my own making. (Isaiah 65:2)

But, fourth – I still have questions. And Moses questioned God. Athol Dickson described why some abandon faith:

“ . . . I abandoned my faith because t seemed I had no right to question difficulties, much less expect answers. I had been taught to accept ready made-dogma rather than to personally take my doubts to God.

 . . . God loves a good question.”  (The Gospel According to Moses, p. 17)

Exodus isn’t only about supernatural acts, or commandments that are impossible to keep; it is about real people – whose desert trek to worship their God turned into something nobody anticipated. All of which raises questions.  

So  – I am approaching the study in Exodus, thinking what it must have been like for an “older” woman to leave Egypt, not knowing if she will get to the Promised Land.   Real women had been enslaved in Egypt – they suffered, because of injustice and oppression; because of persecution and personal failure – women contributed their gold for the making of that abominable calf! (Exodus 32)  They whined, complained, and longed for the good old days, right along with their men – teaching their daughters and sons very poor lessons.

I’d like to offer better lessons and be a better companion. (Joel 2:25-27) But, this raises questions -- a bunch of questions.  

Summer Reading Thus Far

I fell off the pink weather cloud. It was bound to happen.  As the weather warmed, tornados arrived. The gut-wrenching images from Granbury, TX were a foretaste of worse ones sweeping across Moore, Oklahoma – where the tornado was among the strongest. (Deadliest Tornados in USA) When the pictures of the storms’ paths revealed their power to lift houses from their slabs, crush school buildings and toss pick-ups, I wondered at our hope of huddling in an interior powder room, that such a shelter could keep us.

Providentially, I recently had finished reading a biography of Anne Bradstreet. She enjoyed, and lost various shelters that I recognized – an education, prosperity, adventure, marriage and children. And she suffered terrible losses through “storms” – fomented by religious and political upheaval, long separations from loved ones, physical afflictions, disasters, fire, and death.  And she committed her thoughts and prayers to paper, wrestling with God  – in verse – as forcefully as Jacob wrestled with that angel, laying bare her faith, frustration and fears.  (Genesis 32:22-32)

Finally, she left her children a biographical account of how she came to be who she was. She was candid about her character defects; dispassionate, describing her afflictions, and crisp in connecting all the points in biography so that even a child understands and can apply her words – rejoicing in faith, and walking through doubts and disappointments. Reading her poetry is time well spent, set in the context of her biography.

Another book that offered some shelter was one I finished almost in one reading: Sober Mercies – A Memoir – How Love Caught Up With a Christian Drunk. The author, Heather Kopp, is also a writer, and like Anne Bradstreet, a Christian – and is as candid about her troubles as Anne Bradstreet – but in prose. It is a quick read -- Well-written and no-whining – Her autobiography is composed with enough hindsight to be winsome, and enough courage to be oh so helpful to one who is also recovering, or thinking about putting the bottle down.

And she tackles prayer – pointing out that maybe coming to believe in God, as we understand Him – might be more honestly confessed as trusting a God we don’t really understand. Her growing understanding of prayer, God, and trust shone a light into cobwebs that are plugging up my own prayers.

Finally, I just finished The Whole Five Feet: What the Great Books Taught Me About Life, Death, and Pretty Much Everything Else.  I came to this lovely book serendipitously; I bought Whatever Happened to Sophie Wilder? (Recommended by Marvin Olasky in WORLD magazine) And I was looking at other books by Christopher Beha.

The author celebrates learning, living and love – in the midst of tears, and simple pleasures. Describing what he thought about some of the writers in this collection is artfully woven into vignettes he describes of his family, health, and writing.  His recollections of a year devoted to reading through the Harvard Classics reminded me how much I missed in university! He left me with an impression of being on a “grand tour” of all that has been wonderful in western civilization with a gentle soul and friend. He made me reconsider why I keep writing, and that learning is never over as long as we are willing to read and think about what politicians, philosophers, poets, explorers and dreamers have written.

Boston and Bible Study

Yesterday the bible study wound up – it was a nine month inquiry into Revelation; surely this has been a serendipitous use of my time. We went from apprehension about studying what we feared might be too complex or confusing, “end-times,” to being comforted, encouraged and edified no matter how quickly or slowly Christ the LORD returns. In this book, we learned how lost the lost are, and how secure the saved are, for our hope is anchored in HIS character.

His words resound: “Do not be afraid.”

The group Bible study may be done – but I feel like I haven’t wholly grasped it. Revelation is different from any other book in Scripture – to some its message appears hidden or frightening, or inscrutable. But to those who will read and hear, it is filled with [seven] blessings – blessings that meet every need of all the churches to whom John wrote. Its message is so simple a child can understand – as all the children’s leaders so faithfully taught little ones aged 2-5! These kids got it!  

Yet, I struggle to take it all in.

When I look back on what has happened since we began the study: a terrorist attack on September 11, “Sandy,” Newtown Connecticut, wounds, trials and illnesses within our church, and families, ending with another attack at the Boston Marathon, and a tragedy in West, Texas. And now, this morning’s news of murder and mayhem in Boston washes over my heart: What in the world is going on?

Seriously, Barbara?

Weren’t you paying attention?

The bottom line is people who hate God, hate people and want to kill them – for they have believed a lie fomented by God’s enemy and his servants. Christians believe that enemy was defeated at Calvary -- just as the Allied Normandy Invasion in June 1944 broke the back of the Axis. But battles abound – just as they did throughout the months leading up to August of 1945.  And until He returns, we all are on a battlefield.

The horrors have caught many Americans of-guard for we have not endured what other Christians and cultures around the world have endured.

In Revelation 2-3, Christ reveals to John the extent of the battles, internal and external. “Intimidation and persecution” are hallmarks of the spiritual reality that Christ will see us through in the time before His return.   Christ’s promises to those who overcome what He knows we struggle with have never been more precious and essential. The hope and help that God revealed to John on Patmos is as much as a comfort to us today as it was to John. His promises are trustworthy and true.  The point of Revelation is as a movie or picture book of what Matthew meant in his Gospel, 16:18,when he quoted the Lord Jesus Christ:  And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.

Whew . . .

His promises for reward and retribution in Revelation echo the prophets. Like many their messages, this is filled with condemnation and comfort. It is a picture of the sum of all consequences of individual choices.  We see the result of having things our way.  And we see God’s retribution in His time for His people.    

It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God! (Hebrew 10:31)

Therefore – when information overloads my mind, and horror engulfs my breaking heart, Habakkuk [still] helps:

I heard and my heart pounded, my lips quivered at the sound; decay crept into my bones,
and my legs trembled. Yet, I will wait patiently for the day of calamity
 to come on the nation invading us.

Though the fig tree does not bud
 and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails
 and the fields produce no food though there are no sheep in the pen
 and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior.

The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to tread on the heights. (Habakkuk 3, esp. 17) 

God I believe -- help THOU my unbelief.  

Image source 

Certain Hope Easter 2013

First rose 2013

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection into eternal life . . ..  Book of Common Prayer "The Burial of the Dead" (1662)

·      Meaning for life when we see it mangled by each other, crippled and destroyed by human wantonness – when one too many headlines that shocks my heart and crushes optimism. 

·      Purpose for life when it is cut short –

·      Courage for life through the day when I know my own failures, unfaithfulness and cowardice –

A problem well stated is a problem half solved.  ~Charles F. Kettering

How others have hoped:

·      Could life so end, half told; its school so fail?
Soul, soul, there is a sequel to thy tale!
~Robert Mowry Bell

·      But from this earth, this grave, this dust,
My God shall raise me up, I trust.  ~Walter Raleigh

·      There is not room for Death,
Nor atom that his might could render void:
Thou - Thou art Being and Breath,
And what Thou art may never be destroyed.  ~Emily Bronte

·      Faith can move mountains, but don't be surprised if God hands you a shovel.  ~Author Unknown

Job 19:25-27

New Living Translation (NLT)

²⁵ “But as for me, I know that my Redeemer lives,
    and he will stand upon the earth at last.
²⁶ And after my body has decayed,
    yet in my body I will see God!^[a]
27 I will see him for myself.
    Yes, I will see him with my own eyes.
    I am overwhelmed at the thought!

The roses are again budding in our garden – the wordless evangelist across the street has put on green gossamer foliage . . . my hope is that faith, in Christ, will not disappoint – that it is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. (Hebrews 11:1)

Happy Easter 2013

Hopes gleaned from Christians quoting and the Quote Garden

Fire! Fire?

The sound of the alarm worked faster than a bottle of Geritol – dispelling all the leisure we were enjoying this Saturday morning.   I set the fire alarm off this morning – again.  A whooping siren straight away follows the five-second warning beep; the sound disables my ability to think or remember the code which I must enter into the system to silence the amplified horn’s cry for help.  Mercifully, Doug remained calm, and entered the code and checked in with the fire department – although his first impulse was to try to disable the smoke detector – an impossible aspiration with our hard-wired system.

No, I wasn’t playing with matches – I had cooked bacon in the oven, a method I’ve used for decades that enables fat to drain away while it crisps the meat evenly. (Bake bacon @ 400 degrees, 20-25 minutes, in a broiler pan with a spot of water in the base of the pan.) I had removed the bacon and was toasting the bread when the horn blasted. Nothing even smelled like smoke.

In some ways the fire alarm exercise was a concrete application of the passage in Scripture I’ve got to prepare for a class and I hate it.  David does the unthinkable.  (2 Samuel 11-12) The good part is that God sends help; the bad news is why  David needed the help! What he fancied -- what he thought was within bounds, given that he was the king -- cost more than he could pay – so others paid.  Adultery, murder, the abuse of a general and his soldiers, and a child’s death . . .

Whew. Making breakfast never was such a welcome distraction! I wanted to lay aside this study!

Having read recently of a man who perished because of fire, preceded by the smell of smoke, I am grateful we have such a sensitive system. If nothing else, the sound got my blood pumped into places I didn’t know I had. 

Serendipitously, that clanging alarm, the rush of adrenaline it brought, and then trying to describe how it all felt also keeps me from glossing over one of Scripture’s actual horror stories. I don’t do what David did!  I don’t see any smoke. But, God knows I can go A.W.O.L. often enough – never a good place to be, given I have an enemy and a tendency to do things my way.  (1 peter 5:8) And if these challenges were not enough, I live in a time when even in the church we seem to have a hard time calling evil, evil. (Isaiah 5:20-21)

And when I say we, I include myself!

I am too comfortable in my times; I nod off – ignoring and excusing how our culture or the church got to be where we are and I do the same for my own actions and desires. As Nathan, sent by God, penetrated David’s conscience effectively this week’s lesson – alarming as it is – reminded me how simply temptation(s) can corrupt decisions.  Because I haven’t done exactly what David did – doesn’t mean I can’t, or won’t.  But God has not resigned – He answers as surely as fire department did, responding quickly to the prayers that David prayed – a “fire extinguisher” worth remembering!  

^1-3Generous in love—God, give grace! Huge in mercy—wipe out my bad record.
   Scrub away my guilt,
      soak out my sins in your laundry.
   I know how bad I've been;
      my sins are staring me down.

 ^4-6 You're the One I've violated, and you've seen
      it all, seen the full extent of my evil.
   You have all the facts before you;
      whatever you decide about me is fair.
   I've been out of step with you for a long time,
      in the wrong since before I was born.
   What you're after is truth from the inside out.
      Enter me, then; conceive a new, true life.

 ^7-15 Soak me in your laundry and I'll come out clean,
      scrub me and I'll have a snow-white life.
   Tune me in to foot-tapping songs,
      set these once-broken bones to dancing.
   Don't look too close for blemishes,
      give me a clean bill of health.
   God, make a fresh start in me,
      shape a Genesis week from the chaos of my life.
   Don't throw me out with the trash,
      or fail to breathe holiness in me.
   Bring me back from gray exile,
      put a fresh wind in my sails!
   Give me a job teaching rebels your ways
      so the lost can find their way home.
   Commute my death sentence, God, my salvation God,
      and I'll sing anthems to your life-giving ways.
   Unbutton my lips, dear God;
      I'll let loose with your praise.

 ^16-17 Going through the motions doesn't please you,
      a flawless performance is nothing to you.
   I learned God-worship
      when my pride was shattered.
   Heart-shattered lives ready for love
      don't for a moment escape God's notice.

 ^18-19 Make Zion the place you delight in,
      repair Jerusalem's broken-down walls.
   Then you'll get real worship from us,
      acts of worship small and large,
   Including all the bulls
      they can heave onto your altar!

(Taken from Psalm 51, the Message)

What I Learned from Frank Schaeffer

Typos, Spell-check and A Christian Witness

I write because I can’t paint or sculpt. Although I am gaining some mastery with brushes, paint and paper, I can’t get on the paper all my heart sees through my eyes.  The same is true for the clay; I can shape some thoughts through the clay. Alas, my fingers are not nimble enough to smooth the clay without thinning it. One of my clay creations –an angel -- testifies to my limitations.  So, I keep up my writing – arranging and rearranging words.

Reading informs us, conversing trains us – but writing shows how much and how well we know about a subject according to Sir Francis Bacon. ( Reading makes a full man, conference a ready man; writing an exact man.) This blog – a journal I share, a thesis under construction – is my humble canvas and words my medium, rather than acrylics or watercolors.  Its entries are as clay I’m manipulating.  I use words so you, gentle reader, can know me and think well of me – and so that both of us can think about ideas, events; problems and their solutions. 

So, when I review a selection and discover silly typos, or misspellings that the spell-check overlooked, I am embarrassed. Mercifully, I can edit the errors. Excuses may abound: I was so excited about an idea; it was late – or too early in the AM; or, I had mistaken information. But the impression of inattentiveness or ignorance has been made. I wish I could say as Henri Rousseau did, “Excuse my scribbling, it is late, and I have a poor candle.”  But, poor lighting doesn’t cause carelessness and ignorance.

Fatigue may cause some writing gaffes; so can laziness.Immaturity, pride, and hurt hold back a writer more profoundly. Writing what is true, useful, and God-honoring sometimes slams me against this trio of character typos, showing me maturity is not always an attribute of age; humility is still hard to get hold of, and I’d rather blame anybody but myself for the fall-out of stuff in my life.         

So, why bother?

Good writing should inform the writer, first, and so, overcome his or her ignorance. 

Immaturity, pride and hurt are not attractive, useful or edifying. Artists and writers – and Christians – who will not edit them, look silly  -- careless and ignorant.  “Editing” this trio is constructive. Editing this trio means looking away from the mess, and asking for help. As editing my writing means making changes someone else suggests, editing immaturity, pride and hurt means making changes.    

Last night on Cspan  we watched Frank Schaeffer discuss his new book Sex, Mom, and God: How the Bible's Strange Take on Sex Led to Crazy Politics—and How I Learned to Love Women (and Jesus) Anyway.   Listening to him, I wondered that he has never had an editor challenge his assumptions and generalizations; one who will  help him make changes in the trio of character typos that limited his talk, and writing. (I read Addicted to Mediocrity and Portofino) Or, is it he chooses not to edit his words?

However, Mr. Schaeffer taught me some lessons worth learning:

1.     Pray for Christians who are leaders, like Francis and Edith Schaeffer were. Pray they never inadvertently neglect or harm their children – and pray their children will feel the love of God, who will never fail them though their parents do. 

2.     My memory is not infallible; it is colored by immaturity, pride and hurt. Therefore, use The editor!  (Psalm 19:12-14, 119:105)

3.     Accepting my parents’ failures, forgiving and learning from them is healthier than exposing their nakedness.  Their character deficiencies may be basic sculpting tools  God uses to whittle me into shape.  (1 Peter 4:7-12)

4.     Recognize and mourn over the church’s failures -- and change the parts I can. (Matthew 5:23-24, 18:15; Galatians 6:1) 

5.     Words are powerful tools or weapons. (James 3:1-18)

When I write about anything, may I write as one growing-up, willing to learn, and ready to be healed.  And please excuse my typos!

·      By swallowing evil words unsaid, no one has ever harmed his stomach. (Winston Churchill)

·      Language is the apparel in which your thoughts parade before the public. Never clothe them in vulgar or shoddy attire. (George Crane, author)

·      Blessed is the person who, having nothing to say, abstains from giving wordy evidence of the fact. -- attr to George Eliot

Quotes from Christians quoting.com

Do You See the Reset Button?

I did it again. I set off the alarm, and the police showed up in less than five minutes. This time, I remained calm when the smoke detector erupted, sensing my charcoal toast, and signaled the siren on the roof. (The last time I got so flustered by the shrieking siren I forgot the override code.) However, I did not have the correct number to alert the emergency dispatch there wasn’t any fire; so the police arrived. The officer told me I should check with the company because I couldn’t get the declaration “FIRE” from alarm’s keypad.

I called the alarm company and a tech support person called back – and walked me through everything I did, and then reminded me to look at the key pad, and see the “reset” button. If all the smoke is gone, hit it – it may take some time to reset if the air is even a bit smokey – but it will reset the system. Next time – God forbid – after I disarm the alarm – call the emergency dispatch desk, and then, hit the reset button.

All this on the Saturday before Easter – the eternal gift that is better than a reset button. I’ve done a bunch of dumb stuff – I do wrong things – and knowing me, I will do things that are like the toast I burned for the rest of my life. But when Christ walked out of that tomb, He pushed the reset button on my life, having paid the bill for all my sins – even knowing all I would do, even after the hour I first believed. (Isaiah 53:1-12; Colossians 1:13; 1 John 1:9-2:2)

At Christmas, we may wish the Lord a “Happy Birthday.” On Easter, all I can say is “Thank you.” And God, help me hit the reset button again.

Follow-Up

So, I made it to Church -- on time, even. Corporate worship in a building, though, was not as delightful as our backyard had been earlier.

However, if I had chosen worship in my garden this morning, I would not have heard, “Amazing Grace” sung and signed by the youth choir – reminding me of the spiritual and physical gifts I have as a follower; I would not have seen friends who have come through a hard fight against cancer, smiling and worshiping; I would not have been able to join with others and give. And I would not have been disciplined. For that is what this sermon was this morning – a reproof – which ran over time! At twelve past noon, I saw some of the congregation fidgeting, by 12:15 P.M., some arose and left – ostensibly to retrieve their offspring from the Sunday school. Yes, I grew uncomfortable – but I recognized this was a reproof I needed to hear.

It was given by a guest preacher, a former associate pastor of the church, and a founding member of our denomination (Presbyterian Church in America): Paul Gunter Settle. His text was Matthew 16:13-20; his topic, “Confessing Christ.” Pastor Settle’s sermon hemmed me in on one level. Christ, who is God, is the only way to God. However, on another level, hearing again that I am not God, has freed me of the responsibility of detail managing even myself.

From Genesis to Deuteronomy, through Daniel and Isaiah; from John chapter 8, through Paul’s descriptions, and concluding with Christ’s Revelation, Pastor Settle quoted the passages* that expanded Peter’s answer for all the disciples, as well as offering an answer to the proposition that Christ never claimed to be God. He spoke quietly, unwaveringly, unfolding the Scriptures which describe who Christ is – the Son of the Living God – concluding with a question: “Whom do you say He is?”

This older teaching elder resolutely admonished the congregation – perhaps as Paul warned the Colossian church. (Colossians 3:16-17)

Why?

Perhaps he believes (as I wonder) if something unfathomed has happened in our country and the church in the last decades – and it’s time to be sure the church knows why Peter answered Christ so passionately, speaking for the others. And now is the time to equip us -- night really is coming:

. . . so proclaim the Message with intensity; keep on your watch. Challenge, warn, and urge your people. Don't ever quit. Just keep it simple. You're going to find that there will be times when people will have no stomach for solid teaching, but will fill up on spiritual junk food — catchy opinions that tickle their fancy. They'll turn their backs on truth and chase mirages. But you — keep your eye on what you're doing; accept the hard times along with the good; keep the Message alive; do a thorough job as God's servant. (2 Timothy 4:1-5 from THE MESSAGE)

Profess Him rightly – for one day, He will profess you.

"Stand up for me against world opinion and I'll stand up for you before my Father in heaven. If you turn tail and run, do you think I'll cover for you?”
(Matthew 10:32-33 from THE MESSAGE)

Without raising his voice, threatening or accusing; without devolving into conspiracy theories, the pastor spoke to folks like me, who are prone to wander, and forget Whom it is we serve.I doubt those flowers could have posed so direct and detailed a sermon as Pastor Settle did – God I believe You; over come my doubts! (Mark 9:24)

* A Sampling of verses describing who Christ is:

Genesis 3:15 and Isaiah 9:6-7
Exodus 3:14
Deuteronomy 18:15
Isaiah 53
Daniel 7:22
John 1:1-18
Colossians 1:15
Revelation 1:12-18 and remember the Voice who confirmed Christ as His Son, first at the baptism before crowds, and the Transfiguration. (Matthew 3:17, Luke 9:35-36)

Proof?

I am looking for proof – something unmovable and strong that will support my death and make sense of my life; some thing –concrete evidence that as it sustains me, like food and drink, will make sense so others will have an “Aha!” response.  The search becomes more pressing as the days whiz by – I am approaching the end of my life and I want to know if it will be the beginning of a new life. I may not have all the time I need to discover the evidence, however,  if news reports are credible there is a band of folk who relentlessly  wish to quicken my sure demise – terrorists who believe their God wills it.

So, in addition to reading the Scriptures, I read about other people’s search; the most disturbing one has been  Walking Away from Faith: Living with Doubt & Unbelief  by Ruth Tucker; the most recent book has been  The Rage Against God: How Atheism Led Me to Faith by Peter Hitchens. Both authors describe experiences, their own and others’. My search is not unique. Nor, are my doubts and fears when I pursue the God of the Bible.  

Bible study always raises as many questions as it answers – which is why  The Gospel According to Moses  by Athol Dickson was helpful:

    “God loves and honest question. . . if I feel a need to ask a question because of a loving desire to draw closer to God, I should ask as many ways as possible, even if the only answer is repeated silence.” (pages 17, 26-27)

As a brand new Christian, I talked often with my pastor, William Mahlow. I think back to what he said to folks who wanted to know if God were real: Read the Gospel of John. You will have an answer – the question, then, is what will you do with that answer?

On such a pink cloud, I was I could not fathom how anyone could question anything about God. Getting walked out into a desert or two – watching others go through their deserts – however, can generate a few questions. So, too, seeing each other stumble in the trek, harming each other can raise doubts that God is infinite and personal.

I am studying the Gospel of John, again, and am working through chapter 6. John described  Jesus as clearly infinite and personal when He

•  fed 5000 people from a few loaves and fish
•  walked several across a stormy sea
•  confronted the Pharisees with a challenge that offended many disciples
•  comforted the twelve who remained.

Is this the proof for  meaning in my death and life? The answer remains a question:
      “Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words that give eternal life.” (John 6:68-69 TLB)

Checking my Pulse:

Reflections Upon John Chapter 2

Autumnal vision can be skewed by memories and emotions. And I am worried and discouraged about many things – my own failures and limitations,  those of the church, and enemies who want to destroy America, and the church, literally. Reading through John’s account of the wedding and the Temple purging, I gleaned comfort when I saw an application for my changing age and stage. In this account, I see God in Christ drawing very close to His people privately to meet a highly personal need, and publicly to restore right worship.

Circumstances can rob me of joy. John endured many worrisome and discouraging circumstances. However, John believed God was faithful, and since he had a pulse, he had a purpose in a situation that the world might judge as a supreme failure.

• The Romans still controlled Jerusalem.
• He had been exiled, cut off from the churches he shepherded.
• Tradition says his face was plunged in hot oil.
• He had seen the Temple torn down, and the Jews dispersed.
• He knew many were persecuted for the Lord’s sake.

So,  John stayed focused on his mission – making Christ known so others might believe and have life in His name.  John wanted others to know that happened when Christ, Jesus of Nazareth, lived with His people as His hour came. John described when and why he and the others put their faith in Jesus of Nazareth, and why many did not.

Christ’s first miracle connected an Old Testament promise of fine wine, restoration and revival to a literal occurrence. “The beginning points to the end.” (Pastor Skip Ryan) Next, the Lord did something that took John and the disciples many years to understand. It was not a miracle; it was Christ’s  job. (Malachi  3:2-4) Nothing escaped His notice – including the heart of man. 

At my age, I can feel myself running out of many things I took for granted. At my age, I also know I can’t know all the sins that impede my prayers – and I can’t turn a blind eye to my failures and those of the church. (Psalm 130:3-6 )  How reassuring it is to read John’s account of the Lord doing what He came to do,  quietly, personally, and then publicly  – perfectly.

“But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.” (John 20:31)

Eve’s Problem – and Mine

When the woman saw that the tree was good for power, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was desirable to make one wise, she took from its fruit and ate; and she gave also to her husband with her, and he ate. (Genesis 3:6)

Eve was created to be in the very place I would enjoy: the delight of her husband, living in a glorious garden with no pests, and no laundry. Yet, when offered a taste of something God proscribed, that’s the very thing she went for – fruit from the tree of knowledge because it looked tasty –  and would make her wise. In fairness to Eve, the serpent deceived her, challenging her to question what God said. (1 Timothy 2:14)

Where I live isn’t excellent in every way – as was the garden where Eve first lived. (Genesis 1:31) I live in the aftermath of their free choice. But, it’s way more pleasant than what Eve encountered when she and her husband were driven from the Garden.  In fact, I enjoy many of its fruits; I am grateful for its bounty. But, too often I can be as complacent as Eve was, not stretching, as she might have, for the fruit from the tree of life. (Genesis 2:9) And so when I hear the question, “Did God say  . . . ?” I can slide into doubt if God really said what He said. If He didn’t, then maybe I can be in charge and do what pleases me?

At the root of my doubt is disobedience – mine or someone else’s. I will not do what I should do, and I embrace what I should not. Or, I stumble into doubt because another Christian sinned. The thought, “God can’t be real if He let’s this go on,” flits by, and sometimes I invite it in for a chat, plunging myself into dark waters. 

Though presented with a powerful deception, could not Eve have asked Adam about challenge, or, God? My question goes beyond what Scripture teaches – but it is a life line in the watery darkness of doubts. But, I must look away from the temptation and search for God. Longing to enjoy pleasure, and to be wise, I am so like Eve, unless I look beyond my sin, or the sin of someone else. And when all I can see is failure – it’s hard!

The tree of life was not hidden from Eve and Adam – nor, is it hidden from me because of the Scriptures.

    Wisdom . . . a tree of life to those who take hold of her,
    And happy are all who hold her fast. (Proverbs 3:18) 

Christ is not hiding from me. He is as close as I permit; like Peter, though,  I can’t always handle the closeness.   . . .  "Master, leave. I'm a sinner and can't handle this holiness. Leave me to myself." (Luke 5:8   THE MESSAGE ) And left to myself, I am hopeless! (Romans 7:24) Fortunately Christ never left Peter, nor forsook him, and so I have hope. (Romans 7:25- 8: 39)  

    God, God, save me! I'm in over my head,
    Quicksand under me, swamp water over me; I'm going down for the third time.
    I'm hoarse from calling for help, Bleary-eyed from searching the sky for God.
    (Psalm 69:1-3 from THE MESSAGE )

My hope: 

I'm not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. (Philipian 3:12 from THE MESSAGE )


Now, let me get on with the laundry.

Follow-up on Granite Countertops

I have enjoyed the fall out conversations from my discovery that granite countertops may pose health risks. Some  granites have been reported to have higher radioactivity – perhaps creating a link to cancers. But, lo, and behold, I learned the science is not so definite and the warning may be tied to advertising wars: the countertop competitors may have magnified the scientific details. And this from the man who gave me the great deal.

One says there is a threat; another says the threat is without proof; which do I believe? If death, even a terrible death like cancer, is the result of acting on a seemingly innocent decision, what then?

My religion teaches that my days are numbered and known by my Creator; my Savior comforts me, assuring me worry will not add a thing to my life. (Psalm 139:16; Matthew 6:27) My Redeemer promises I will see Him, even after my skin is destroyed. (Job 19:25-27; John 11:25)

But,  my Friend asks me, as He asked Martha: “Do you believe this? " (John 11: 26) 

Martha confessed her faith, called her sister, and finally let the burial stone be rolled away, demonstrating her belief. (John 11:27-41)  My circumstances are not so dramatic as Martha’s, but, the Lord Jesus’ question remains. He wants to know if I believe He is the Life, the Conqueror of death and my Deliverer from its snares? Alas, it is a question I struggle with, even as I answer “Yes!”

We are remodeling a house that may well be around after we are not; we made improvements – granite countertops – which were formed and will endure after we die. Until Christ returns, this material world will outlast us. Yet, the life God promises me is more real than the granite, and will endure His fire –

My flesh argues; my heart replies – my hope defends and delivers me:

     "LORD, make me to know my end, And what is the extent of my days, Let me know how transient I am.

     "Behold, Thou hast made my days as hand breadths, And my lifetime as nothing in Thy sight, Surely every man at his best is a mere breath. Selah.

    "Surely every man walks about as a phantom; Surely they make an uproar for nothing; He amasses riches, and does not know who will gather them.

    "And now, Lord, for what do I wait? My hope is in Thee.

    "Deliver me from all my transgressions; Make me not the reproach of the foolish.
    (Psalm 39:4-8)

And deliver me from my own foolishness – please.

Getting Out of Life Alive

Many have said death is not what scares them – it is what leads to it. Older women and men I have known are quick to affirm, old age is not for sissies – and the golden years come replete with much brass. If our minds stay clear, our bodies may not cooperate; if our minds fail, our bodies may survive.

Mrs. Palfrey, who took up residence at the Claremont, in the novel and movie bearing her name, did so to minimize the burden her aging and decline would cost her family – robbing them of an opportunity to come to terms with death. She confronted the end of her life in surroundings she chose, with strangers who became comrades. Some simply helped her manage the details of daily living, like sorting out appropriate dress. Others enabled her to reflect on all her life’s blessings. Yet, none could keep her from her final appointment.

Mrs. Palfrey’s winsome spryness, regret and loneliness engaged me – perhaps because if God permits I will be facing what she faced. Maybe you will, too? But God, who lent her life, was not her final comfort; William Wordsworth was – especially his thoughts from “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud.” Facing death, she remembered creation’s infinite delight – “. . . a host of golden daffodils . . . flash[ed] upon that inward eye . . .” filling her heart with pleasure.

If only the end of one’s life were so serene, albeit solitary. Is there not a comrade for this time for me and thee – a group of sympathetic companions whose words will fill our hearts – with more than memories of golden flowers that are here today, and gone tomorrow?

Surely, thinking on creation’s beauty is a tonic. Springtime – the daffodils – heralds hope; as Martin Luther observed, “Our Lord has written the promise of the resurrection not in words alone, but in every leaf in springtime.” But what of autumn? Is there a helper here?

Isaiah spoke of One who knew us before our birth:

“. . . I will be your God through all your lifetime, yes, even when your hair is white with age. I made you and I will care for you. I will carry you along and be your Savior.” (Isaiah 46:3-4 TLB)

And the psalmist, a son of Asaph, knew Him, too.

“. . . When my skin sags and my bones get brittle, GOD is rock-firm and faithful . . . ”(Psalm 73:23-28 from THE MESSAGE )

Mrs. Palfrey, nearing the end of her life, sought solace in solitude; she found serendipitous companionship and poetry. She believed that she would never get out of life alive, and wanted to control her end. Approaching the home stretch of my life, I believe I will get out of it alive. I also believe that yielding control to Someone greater than I is how I will live.

"And as for me, I know that my Redeemer lives, And at the last He will take His stand on the earth. Even after my skin is destroyed, Yet from my flesh I shall see God; Whom I myself shall behold, And whom my eyes shall see and not another . . . ( Job 19:25-27)

Photo Source