The Reason I Still Believe - Part 4

In the days before my Papa died, I had a problem—a big problem, or so it seemed at the time. The university was only giving me six tickets to my college graduation. Of course, I wanted the people most important to me to be there. That meant my mom, dad, sister, Grandma and Grandpa, my Nana…and Papa. Seven people…I needed seven tickets, but I was only going to be given six. How could I choose? How would this be okay? Not only was someone going to be hurt, I would also miss having one of the people I loved most in the world share one of my greatest accomplishments as I walked across the stage. I couldn’t choose; I wouldn’t choose. I wouldn’t have to. My mom just kept telling me to pray, saying that God would provide. Of course, at the time we both hoped that meant I would be able to get another seat. Yet again, little did we know what God had in mind.

I remember walking down the same hallway my mom did the day John died. Our entire family was there at Nana and Papa’s house. My mom met me at the front of the hall, and again with tears in her eyes said, “You know Jared, God knew that we only needed six tickets.” We both just stood there and cried. As strange as those words sounded, we knew that God wasn’t surprised. What we were just learning, He already knew. We knew that he was holding us in His hands, and this wasn’t something that was ‘just happening.’ God was in control of our lives.
The blow-off class that I had ‘just taken for credit’ had made me ready for a season in my life where the storms would blow. I was able to look back and see how God had prepared me. How awesome is a Father’s love.

Many days would follow when I would doubt not only the goodness of God, but also His very existence. One such time is still very fresh in my mind. How many times did the Israelites see the power and might of their Creator, only to turn and create gods of their own a short time later? Remember what preceded forty years of wandering in the desert? Four hundred years of slavery. Moses had led the children of God out of Egypt in a dramatic exit. They had seen God send plagues to torment their captors; they had seen Him part the sea and then send the waters back to destroy an entire army. Yet, reality would soon be that their memories would fade and Moses would come down from the mountain to find them worshipping a golden calf. Talk about short-term memory.

I find my greatest weapon against unbelief is to remember the times when God was most real to me. I can’t help but believe that God was never more real to Jonah than when he was in the belly of the whale in the sea—or to Samson when he could no longer see. You see, his eyes had been gouged out and he was forced to grind grain after betraying the one secret God had commanded him to keep. Both men came again to believe in God’s mercy and asked to receive. Jonah was spit out onto dry land after reconciling. Samson’s strength was restored, and he brought down the house on the Philistines. I endured loss, but God has restored me. I am still waiting to see what God will do next.

The Reason I Still Believe - Part 3

More than two years later I remember getting into my Explorer to drive to class at the university that I was attending. For some reason that day I felt compelled to pray something I hadn’t been ready to say: ‘God, I can finally freely forgive you for taking John.’ At long last I was through with the condition that said my commitment was dependent on whether those I loved lived or died. Not that I was saying I was ready to endure additional loss, but this time I wasn’t putting my love for God up as collateral. Little did I know He was preparing my heart for what was to come.

It would be months, years before I would see God’s plan for me in it all. Why did He take my best friend from me? What I would one day come to understand is that God used John’s death to strengthen me. I needed to stand on my own. If ever there was a new door to be walked through, John would walk through first—every time. Without him, I had to learn to walk through on my own, alone. I had to become bold--or at least bolder than I was before. I know that revelation alone is not why John died; God had a much greater purpose. For me it was comforting to know that God had a plan for me and was using my greatest loss to change me.

My senior year of college came, and I had elective hours to take. I just needed to find something to sit through; it didn’t even have to pertain to my degree. My good friend Jen and I settled on a class we had heard wasn’t all that hard--big surprise, two college kids looking to get off easy. The class was called Psychology of Grief. We had it a couple of evenings a week I think. Basically the entire class was about the mourning process. The teacher lectured, we talked about our own personal experiences, wrote about them, and watched a couple of films. Sometimes it was even morbidly fun, like when we had to write as many terms or phrases for death that we could think of. Hmm, lets see…like ‘pushing up daises’ or ‘bought the farm’ or ‘six feet under’ or ‘kicked the bucket’—all quite tongue-in-cheek.

A weekend came where I had planned to go home, but I thought about not. After all, it was a three-hour drive home, and I would just have to turn around and make the trek back again less than 48 hours later. Still, for whatever reason I conceded. That Sunday we had just arrived at church and were walking into the sanctuary. Our usually wise-cracking, loveable pastor Brother Bob came to meet us with such solemnity. He asked us to follow him outside. It was there, on the sidewalk in front of the church where I grew up that I learned my Papa had died. Brother Bob said he had gone fishing alone and a passerby had found him lying beside his boat on the ramp. A family member had called the church to find mom and asked our pastor to tell us. I remember my mom being in complete disbelief, telling our pastor that he was joking--it wasn’t true. But we all knew it was—there was no way it couldn’t be.

I knew that I would be the one to take the keys for the ten-minute drive home. It was so close and yet seemed like a long journey. My mother and sister were in no shape to sit behind the wheel, and probably neither was I. As we drove, I remember thinking that we needed to pray. I desperately desired to cry out to God for understanding and for peace. So we prayed, asking for His great mercy. At least I think we did, maybe it was just me. All I remember is hearing God more clearly than at any other time in my life. It was as though he was standing in front me. I heard Him say, ‘Everything about this day will change who you are, but nothing about this day will change who I Am’; words of truth I will carry with me to eternity.

We stopped to pick up my dad at our house and left immediately for Nana and Papa’s house across town. We would spend that day and several of the next there with family. It was my senior year of college, my cousin’s of high school—major milestones that our Papa wouldn’t be there for. It wasn’t that he would miss my graduation in a few months or my cousin’s wedding the next year. It was that he would miss every one for the rest of our lives.

The Reason I Still Believe - Part 2

The day we buried him was darkened by an overcast sky. The cold, December air was broken only by a slow steady drizzle that quickly became a downpour. The scene was more than fitting for what we were about to do.

Dressed in our Sunday best, my family and I shut the doors of the Jeep to begin the five-minute drive to the school’s auditorium for the funeral. Within minutes we had pulled into the parking lot across the street. What happened after that still remains a blur all these years later.

As I walked to the street’s edge to cross, I paused. There was a rushing stream of rainwater that ran along the roadway’s edge. Strange that on a life-changing day like that I would remember something so insignificant. I stepped across the water’s line and kept walking. My family and I crossed the street to the high school’s auditorium. Inside, John’s family and friends found their way to empty seats. I started to follow my family in, but I was asked to stay behind and sit with my classmates. Through the open doors I could see down the aisle to the front. What I saw made me sick, and I turned away.

As my classmates and I made our way to the seats reserved for us, I did my best to avoid looking at the scene at the front of the auditorium. Somehow in the confusion I was separated from my close friends. I simply followed my fellow students and sat in an empty chair by the far aisle. The girl in the next seat turned and began talking to me. I suppose that she believed she was making this easier for me. Nothing she said in that moment made any sense to me, but I tried to answer out of politeness. Suddenly, something she said brought me back to reality.

“So, what do you want for Christmas?” she asked.

I stared at her with a blank look on my face.

“I…I don’t know,” I managed to stammer.

I couldn’t believe what she was asking. My best friend was dead in a box a few feet away, and she was asking me what I wanted for Christmas.

The room boasted a solemn reverence that hung stiffly in the heavy darkness. I slowly drew a tissue to my eyes to slow the steady stream of water that ran along the sides of my face. I clenched my fists in an attempt to steady my composure. Whether anyone knew or even noticed, I would face that day with both dignity and grace. Of all his friends, it was me who had to stand strong. As I turned to face the crowd, I memorized the faces of those who had come that day to honor my friend.

Softly, music accompanied by a voice began to play through the air. The words…those words…they were the words of his favorite song. Those words were the anthem of our friendship. Those words were his heart. The voice sang, And, friends are friends forever / If the Lord’s the Lord of them / And, a friend will not say ‘never’ / ‘cause the welcome will not end / Though it’s hard to let you go / In the Father’s hands we know / That a lifetime’s not too long to live as friends.
When the song had ended, John’s pastor and youth minister stood to speak. I heard few of the words they spoke, and those that I did hear I took little comfort in. I found it nearly impossible to focus, simply casting short glances to the scene at the front of the room.

When the service was over, six men and boys wheeled the box that held my best friend into the foyer. The family stood and followed behind. I cannot remember if the entire room stood next, or if my class rose to leave. I just remember standing in the foyer; feet from where he lay. The tear-stained faces of the people were matched by muffled-sobbing. Somehow I made my way outside. I remember standing there thinking, “It’s raining. It’s raining…it’s raining.” Close friends came up to hug me. I wanted to shy away, but I didn’t. All I could do was simply stand and take it.

The Reason I Still Believe

We were barely into our junior year of high school when John got sick. At first, he thought it was just some ‘little thing’, but the symptoms seemed to persist. A short time later we would know why. I was sitting in Algebra class when the counselor decided to come by and tell us how John was doing. As his best friend, I wanted to know everything. At sixteen I probably was ill prepared for the brevity of what would be. Mrs. Albright announced that the doctors had discovered cancer. There was the word, but what did it mean?

John and I first met at swimming lessons the summer before kindergarten. I don’t really remember how we became friends, we just did. We were alike in so many ways, so different in others. We weren’t the cool kids or the athletic kids, and at our school they were one and the same. We both liked music better than ball, and when the other kids were playing baseball in P.E., we preferred to swing or just sit and talk. We were aware that we were outside the circle, but I think he cared a lot less about that than I. He never needed to impress people…except for girls. The boy was girl crazy, and he didn’t have a mild case. From early elementary on he would buy the girl who caught his eye a Valentine, write her notes, or at times send me as he hid behind one of the big old oak trees. Remember those innocent days when you were too shy to ask ‘Do you like me?’

I can still recall going to visit him during a brief time he was home from the hospital. My friends and I would go together to support him. Perhaps we were too cowardly to go alone. Our visits were brief, but I remember asking John if he was keeping up with his homework. One might think that I was just making small talk, but to me it was the promise that he was coming back to school—the certainty that he would be all right. Maybe even I didn’t realize that was what I was thinking at the time. When he told me that he hadn’t done any of his schoolwork I became concerned. How could he not? He would be behind. We had to graduate together—on time. We had college ahead, and in case he didn’t know it we were going together. Wherever he went I probably would’ve followed. Looking at him, I knew his heart wasn’t in it—the homework anyway. His eyes were tired, his body weak. It was all his heart could do just to keep him alive. He didn’t have the energy or the time to bother with trivial things. John must’ve known; I just wish he would’ve told me.

The final time that I saw him, and spoke to him was all too brief. We were allowed back in teams of two, so the four friends who had made the drive to the hospital split up. I remember walking in to ICU to meet someone I hardly knew. The only thing I remember from that final time was John asking me to move from in front of a fan they had blowing on him. I just remember feeling out of place. Many saw the signs and knew the fate, but I believed. He would be transferred to a hospital another hour away. It was a long way, but my mom made the drive for me. She knew how important this was. The last time we traveled to the hospital I didn’t even get to see him. His mom told me that she didn’t want me to—she said I wouldn’t recognize him and wanted me to remember him how he was. I said I wanted to anyway but deep down I was afraid. I resented that decision being made for me for a long time. Today, I think I’m thankful for her foresight.

I believed—right up until the end. I believed naively, no selfishly, that God would save him if only for me. He had to—after all, I believed. That was my part, right? Just believe. Those around you are quick to offer hope by saying, ‘All you can do is pray’. So I did. I prayed and believed for a miracle I would never see. I can remember vivid details from the day he died. We were at my Nana and Papa’s house visiting my mom’s family. I was in the kitchen. My mom had gone to the back bedroom to call the hospital and check on John’s condition. She wasn’t gone all that long. When she came around the corner into the dining room, I knew. It was obvious; I could see it in her tear-stained eyes. He hadn’t taken a turn for the worse; he was gone this time. I remember sinking to my knees against the kitchen cabinets, saying and shaking my head ‘no’ on the way down. The kitchen was quiet except for my crying. No one knew what to say—there was nothing to be said. My mom comforted me. It was over in a few short months.

THE COMPASSION OF THE CHRIST

The news that she had been married five times was shocking to say the least. She didn't seem like the type of woman who would take a vow before God so lightly; and yet she had. I didn't know what to think. One marriage, maybe; but even that I would have frowned upon greatly. Five? Really? You've got to be kidding me. All I could do was shake my head. But that's not it; she also had a live-in boyfriend. I won't mention her name, because there is no need. After all, it's not her name that's as important as her deeds that serve the purpose of my point.

Funny what can come up over a cup of coffee. I was tired from a long day and had stopped at the local Starbucks for something to drink. The barista smiled as I asked for a cup of hot chocolate with mint, one of my favorites. Perhaps her smile was because there I was, standing in a place known for their espressos and lattes, and I was ordering the one thing that would be on a kiddie menu if the coffee giant had one. I noticed how tired she looked and commented on how it must have been a long day.

“Too long,” she laughed. “But, I'm about to be off, and then I have to go pick up my kids from my ex-husband.” The conversation sort of carried itself from there. I'm not sure why, but people seem to bare their souls to me sometimes.

As much as I liked her, I didn't feel sorry for her; after all she had made choices. Perhaps if she had decided differently, she wouldn't be standing there talking to me as she made my drink. She wouldn't have to bother picking up her kids from their father. While that may sound somewhat cold, keep in mind that I just met this woman and didn't know her from Adam or Eve. Yet, here she was speaking as if she were searching for something; for someone possibly. I don't know what she wanted or expected from me. I was just an average Joe who stopped in for a cup of one. She handed me my cup, and I smiled back as I turned to walk away. I didn't know what she needed; I just knew it wasn't me.

Though this story may be heavily veiled, I am of course writing about the woman at the well. The difference is that her encounter was with Christ and it turned out, well very differently than this simple parable of mine. Jesus had been on a long journey, and he sat down to rest at Jacob's well. Soon thereafter a Samaritan woman came out to draw water, and Jesus asked if he could have a drink. Forget the fact that Jews did not associate with Samaritans; here was God himself associating with a sinner he knew was guilty. He had her rap sheet. Yet, Jesus knew she was searching for something; for someone. She just didn't know this was Him sitting by the well. The woman said to Him that the Messiah would explain everything. Jesus told her that it was He. And He did explain everything. He named her sin and then, He had compassion. What happened next is amazing: the Bible reads that many others believed because of her testimony.

In the Catholic church divorces are not granted. Neither are they recognized from other institutions. You are married for life. The Vatican only permits annulments in a case where the couple can prove the marriage was never valid. Yet just because the Pope doesn't recognize it, doesn't mean that people aren't getting divorced. In protestant churches they are so recognized that you are likely to be relegated to a back pew out of view. After all, we Christians want to contain the spread of sin. God forbid we fail to judge you; better you than us. In Malachi, we take God's words, 'I hate divorce' to mean that you're unclean for all eternity.

But divorce is only one sin of which we fail to find compassion for our fellow human beings. Speaking to Moses, the Lord called himself 'the compassionate and gracious God'. David again prays those words in one of the psalms. In the New Testament we read that Christ 'had compassion' many times during his ministry. So what exactly does the word mean?

compassion n. a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering

The word compassion itself comes from the Latin compassus meaning 'to sympathize' and is combined with pati, translated 'to suffer'. Simply put, compassion means to sympathize with suffering.

One of my favorite songs is called 'Give Me Your Eyes' by a Christian artist named Brandon Heath. In it he sings, 'Give me Your eyes for just one second/ Give me Your eyes so I can see/ Everything that I keep missing/ Give me Your love for humanity/ Give me Your arms for the broken hearted/ Ones that are far beyond my reach'. How different would people appear to us if we looked at them through the eyes of Christ? Would we see someone who's made one too many mistakes or one who's never too far from grace? And would we look at the ugliness of their sin, or the beauty that is God's salvation offered to them?

In Matthew 9 we find Christ preaching to the people and healing them of disease and sickness of every kind. The Bible again reads that he had compassion on them. Then in Chapter 15 of the same book, Jesus has compassion on the crowd of 5,000 because they are hungry and in need. He saw fit to meet not only their spiritual but also their physical needs. I love in Matthew 20 that as Jesus passed by a pair of blind men on the road, they cried out to Him. The Scripture says that the crowd rebuked them, but Jesus had compassion on them. He touched their eyes, gave them sight, and they followed behind.

Christ did not simply have pity on people; He healed the hurting. Jesus not only sympathized with with them, He worked to alleviate their suffering. He wanted to lessen the pain and lighten their load. So in the end, the question is this: Do you have compassion on them?

Compassion will cure more sins than condemnation. -Henry Ward Beecher

THE FACE OF RACEism

xenophobia: an intense dislike and/or fear of people from other countries or of people significantly different from oneself

We know what racism looks like, right? Images of the Ku Klux Klan dressed in flowing white with their pointed hats that stand so high; eye holes cut out to reveal the darkness of their souls. Flash to the scene of a burning cross on a family's front yard or a noose hanging loosely from a tree. But those are just a few of the things we consider racism to be, when in reality those are only things that represent what racists believe. So, why is it that I've never considered me? I refuse to look in the mirror because of the fear I too will be found guilty.

Not long ago I walked out of work to get in my car and head home when I happened to see a roofing nail embedded in my tire's tread. Thankfully, the wheel was at an angle where it was visible. I contemplated changing the tire there but decided against it seeing as I was in my perfectly pressed pants. It was getting late, but I figured I could find a shop open of some kind. I drove down the streets hoping that I wouldn't have to go very far with a puncture hole in my tire. There was a station open and I slowed down, but decided to drive right on past. The sign read, 'Le' something, and because it was on the north side of town it wasn't a far stretch to guess that it was owned and operated by Hispanics. I tried to rationalize that I probably would have trouble communicating with them, and so I simply drove on to Wal-Mart where I was certain that wouldn't be a problem. Still, I couldn't shake the guilt of feeling as though there was something much more sinister in my heart; something that threatened to tear it apart. Keep in mind there is no small sin, because we die in the end.

18 He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing. 19 And you are to love those who are aliens, for you yourselves were aliens in Egypt.
-Deuteronomy 10

How quickly we forget. God reminded his people that there was a time when they too had experienced racism. Hitler's Nazi Germany was not the first time in history that the Jews had been oppressed. I love the Lord's command to love those who lived among them because of the favor and grace he had shown when they lived in the Land of the Pyramids.

But do those words from the Old Testament apply to us today? Yes! Not only would racist words never have passed through Christ's lips, He never would have entertained the thoughts in His mind. As one of our pastors recently reminded us, Paul charged us as Christians to take every thought 'captive'. Just as a child born into wealth knows not what it is to be poor, so Americans born into freedom know not what it is to be oppressed. Those in the majority can sympathize with those in the minority. In fact, I believe it is our calling as Christians to do so; not only our calling but His command. After all it is He who said that He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien.

My trip to Honduras was the first time that I've ever been out of the country, one of the first times that I've ever flown, and the first time that being white didn't quite feel right. It wasn't apparent at first. After all, I was in a group of Americans and it was as though I projected the subconsious security of my citizenship. Yet there came a time where I became keenly aware that I was not like the Hondurans. My skin color, my language, and my way of life was in stark contrast to theirs. Here I was living albeit for short time among them, I was somehow out of place—the gringo. It was like a slit of light in the night, giving me a glimpse into what it must be like.

I've prided myself (perhaps that's the problem) on being color blind; and think that I am most of the time. But am I really so blind to think that I am above the same sin that others are caught up in? Who are we to think that we are of such a great gender, denomination, or even race? We are called to embrace those God has created; not merely tolerate them. The antonym of racism is not tolerance. God expects more than minimum obedience. With Him it is all or nothing; everything not something. So love as He has loved you, or don't expect His love at all.

"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." -Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

That said and read, his words are still being fought for today. We will soon begin our first four years under the leadership of America's first black president. While we may or may not agree with President-Elect Barack Obama's policies and politics, we as Christians can come alongside and celebrate the further fulfillment of Dr. King's dream. But we must remember that this was not a vision unique to Dr. King. God was and always will be the first to defend those who are oppressed and in need. So, I urge you to look in the mirror and see what signs of racism, if any, there may be.

Tough Love

Sometimes love comes so easily from others and flows freely from us to another. Rarely do we feel as though love must be earned; we simply want to return this gift of grace. But let's trade place. What happens if love must first come from us?

The reason for this blog is fairly apparent: I'm struggling to love a particular person right now, and I feel as though I have a justifiable reason for not. I could do without them in my life, after all they're not exactly a candidate for my wife (for that I will make a great sacrifice). Perhaps that's not reason enough for you, but it suits me perfectly in the pursuit of covering my sin to save my own skin. The thing is I'm completely content with mere politeness in passing but that's not what God is asking. Relax by the way...if you're reading this it's not about you! LOL

19We love because he first loved us. 20If anyone says, "I love God," yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. 21And he has given us this command: Whoever loves God must also love his brother. 1 John 4

What I am relieved to know is that I cannot possibly do this on my own. We love because He first loved us... Notice the word in bold: first. Love is not inherent. It does not come from us; it is a response to Him. As fallen men of sin there is no one in Heaven or in Hell apart from God himself who can compel us to do this thing we were created to do that's been corrupted—life interrupted. We'd like to blame Adam and Eve but we probably wouldn't have written the beginning any differently had we been given the same opportunity.

Answer this question for me: Why do we expect others to earn our love? We fail to give the grace we've been given. A high price was paid for us. We owe nothing. Christ picked up the check by dying a brutal, painful death; and he did it without our love. Basically, we're taking a gift we've been given and attempting to sell it on the open market that's meant to be our mission field.

Somewhere we got the idea that love is supposed to be easy. Perhaps it was the quiet whispers of the Enemy. That explains why we bail on friendships instead of offering forgiveness, and we opt out of our marriages because of 'irreconcilable differences'. Loving first without the promise of it being returned requires us to do so selflessly.

45bHe causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. 46If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? Matthew 5

I say bring on the IRS man; I'd rather love him. But seriously, what would it look like if we show the same love we give our family and friends to another human being in desperate need of him? That person may have fallen from our good grace, but they haven't fallen from His. My flesh can't really comprehend.

So what do we know to be true about L-O-V-E? It is part of our pursuit of God-like perfection. Matthew 5:48 Love sums up all of God's commands. Matthew 22:40 It is a sign that we are followers of Christ. John 13:35 Love is part of living a life worthy of the calling we have received. Ephesians 4:1 It is a sign of purity in us. 1 Peter 1:22 Those who love know God. 1 John 4:7-8 And God will be seen through us. 1 John 4:12

Leviticus 19:18 is another great verse about love: Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against one of your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the Lord. I am the Lord...I love that line. Simply translated, he's saying 'Who do you think you are to not do as I have done unto you?!'

The lesson on love can be summed up in one simple verse. And this is love: that we walk in obedience to his commands. 2 John 1:6 Sometimes we have to get our godly girdle on, cinch it up and love even when it's tough.

Keeping Pace In The Right Race

I thought that I liked my life, well elements of it anyway, that is until a conversation with a friend a few days ago. What I learned is that not only am I discontent with where I am, he made it clear that my life is not envied by him or apparently anyone else for that matter. After all, I'm approaching 30, still single, I live with three others guys, and I'm at a job that I hate. Okay, so maybe that's not exactly what he said, but it was close! When I asked him why he is so dead-set on finding a wife at such a young age, he replied: 'Because I don't want to end up like you!' Wow. I probably would have fallen backwards in my chair had the springs not bounced back and sent me flying forward. Did he just say that? It's been a long time since my feelings have been hurt. It just doesn't happen easily; but those words ripped through me like a kitchen knife through a Monet painting. I tried to explain away my lackluster life with, 'Now that I'm older I know who I am.' And, 'I enjoy having roommates; I think it will prepare me for marriage.' Then, there's, 'I spent so much time focused on my career after college'. But even I wasn't buying it.

I don't think my friend knew how much the words had stung. I've known for a long time that I wasn't happy or even content with where I am. Perhaps the hardest thing was realizing that someone else thought I had hit a dead end. Then again, I began to think about what is more important to me: what I want for my life? Or living out God's calling on my life? The physical or the spiritual? To the Christian the answer is obvious. Yet, I have no reason to boast here. Saved at the age of 11, one should reasonably expect that I would be some sort of spiritual giant, not the tallest in the land, but well on my way. Instead, my growth is stunted at 27.

3If anyone thinks he is something when he is nothing, he deceives himself. 4Each one should test his own actions. Then he can take pride in himself, without comparing himself to somebody else, 5for each one should carry his own load. Galations 6

A former mentor of mine is completely sold on God's sovereignty. He is worthy, and we are worthless; that is without His gift of grace. My friend says we are all depraved. (adj. : morally corrupt, perverted). In essence, we are sinful people. Our perfection has been perverted.
Why is it that we always want to compare ourselves to others? The truth is sometimes we want to feel better about ourselves. It's the reason I watch Dr. Phil. There's always someone on his stage who's life is much more screwed up than mine at the time. But we also don't want to be behind. The human condition often leads to competition. Yet, the Bible tells us to take responsibility for ourselves: compare the current me with who God's called me to be. I'm perfectly okay for 'it' to be all about me when others are looking to see. I just don't care for self-scrutiny.

Have you ever noticed how runners win races? They never look behind or to the left or right. They look straight ahead. Looking back to see who's coming up will only serve to slow them down, and looking to the side could create a distraction from the finish line. If we want to win this race, we must keep pace. Paul said he had his eyes on the prize. I don't think there's anything wrong with being inspired by those you consider to be giants in the faith. The problem is when we compare ourselves to them. I think they serve as an example of where we're headed, not where we are or where we've been.

Words are easily said and readily read. How many times have we heard that faith without works is dead? So my question is this: are your words those of a committed, compassionate Christian looking to serve as a post-resurrection John the Baptist? Looking to proclaim the way just as J the B prepared it? Or are you a simply a used car salesman Christian who's pitch is to tell someone they're going to hell unless they buy into your pigeon hole religion?

Living Works of Art

Few days are as perfect as the early days of fall in eastern Oklahoma and western Arkansas. The extreme heat has subsided, replaced by a cool, fresh breeze. It makes for what I like to call ‘porch-sitting’ evenings. How well I remember sitting on my grandparents’ front porch in my hometown. Their little brown house with the bright orange door had two wooden swings that hung facing one another across a wide concrete platform. I would sit opposite the two of them, talking about important things and nothing all at once. The conversation would shift from how I was doing to ‘do you know who so and so is and that they’re related to such and such’.

The sweet sound of wind chimes gently striking against one another was occasionally interrupted by the sharp chirp of a bird in a nearby tree, a passing car, or the annoying bark of a dog to which my grandpa replied that he should go get his gun (one of many you can be sure). Of course the only real threat he posed was not to the dog but to everyone else in the vicinity of the crying canine considering my grandpa was legally blind. How I miss that stubborn, funny old man and his outspoken and gentle at the same time wife whose love was as close to Christ's as I've ever experienced.

Looking back, those are the memorable moments I love most; being surrounded by loved ones while seeing the simple sights and hearing the slight sounds of God’s magnificent creation in the background. As one of our teaching pastors recently asked, ‘Who but God could come up with that?’ I firmly believe that all creativity comes from God himself; after all, He is the Creator of everything! Yes, man can take and pervert His perfection, but we cannot create anything that the mind of God has not already conceived. All of our art is merely a reflection of what has already been done.

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. – Ecclesiastes 1:9

Note the wording there: nothing new under the sun. What about from above? God has promised us a new heaven and new earth. His creative juices haven’t stopped flowing. Perhaps one day we will get to see the Master Artist at work. The Great Commission calls us to go into ‘all the world’ teaching and preaching the gospel. Yet, Paul writes in Romans that even without having heard the story of salvation, man cannot be unaware of God’s existence.

For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse. – Romans 1:20

Creation itself tells the story of God. His art is alive. Forget about the splashes of paint and charcoal markings on a canvas; forget about the sculptures carved from marble; forget about the actors on a stage attempting to portray something He has already conveyed. We are part of His art. We have a real role to play. Why waste our time worshiping things that don’t and won’t make a difference in eternity?

"Of what value is an idol, since a man has carved it? Or an image that teaches lies? For he who makes it trusts in his own creation; he makes idols that cannot speak. – Habakkuk 2:18

Since a man has carved it… What makes us think we’re so great? Pride has prejudiced us against the beautiful reality that unless we create to reflect His glory, then our work is in vain and our art has no value.

Live as if…ALL EYES AND EARS ARE ON YOU

The thing I hate about sharing from a stage, is if you’re anything like me, when I’m sitting in the congregation, I expect the person bringing the message to know what they’re talking about and be living it out in their lives. But what you’re about to find out is that I am a fellow struggler, a man in need of God’s grace as much as anyone.

If you know anything about me, you know I’m not much of a sports fan. I stopped playing little league in the first or second grade, and I understand very little about baseball, basketball, or football. But in the course of doing my job, sometimes I have to pretend as if I am interested. I will never forget one Arkansas game last season when the ump made a call that Coach Dave Van Horn didn’t agree with. He came out of that dug out with a look of seething rage and he got up in that umpire’s face and was eventually thrown out of the game. I was shocked by his reaction and lack of sportsmanship. I was stunned by his obvious lack of self control. I remember nothing of the highlights from that game. I couldn’t tell you if Arkansas won or lost. But I do remember the coach’s reaction. I know nothing about Coach Van Horn. He may be one of the greatest guy’s on the planet, he may love his family more than anything, he could be a Christian. But what I do know is that what happened that day just a few minutes out on that field shaped who I believe him to be. Kind of scary, huh?

In Acts chapter 16 Paul is on his second missionary journey and he has brought Silas along with him as his traveling companion and helper. At this time they’ve traveled to Philippi where they’re spending several days with the believers there. One day as they’re going down to the place of prayer a demon-possessed slave girl begins to follow them shouting that they “are servants of the Most High God and they have come to tell you how to be saved”. And this goes on day after day until Paul just can’t it anymore and he commands the demon to come out of her. Now, this of course doesn’t sit well with her masters who see her as their meal ticket. So, they dragged them before the judges and accused them of treason against Rome. Here’s what happened next:

23 After they had been severely flogged, they were thrown into prison, and the jailer was commanded to guard them carefully. 24 Upon receiving such orders, he put them in the inner cell and fastened their feet in the stocks. 25 About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the other prisoners were listening to them. 26 Suddenly there was such a violent earthquake that the foundations of the prison were shaken. At once all the prison doors flew open, and everybody’s chains came loose. 27 The jailer woke up, and when he saw all the prison doors open, he drew his sword and was about to kill himself because he thought the prisoners had escaped. 28 But Paul shouted, “Don’t harm yourself! We are all here!” 29 The jailer called for lights, rushed in and fell trembling before Paul and Silas. 30 He then brought them out and asked, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?”

The thing I take away from Paul and Silas’ jailhouse rock experience is this: all eyes and ears are on you. Look carefully, read it slowly, or you’ll miss it. Verse 25 says “…and the other prisoners were listening.” All eyes and ears were on them. The other prisoners were watching and listening to see how Paul and Silas were handling this. How were they reacting to being thrown into prison unfairly? The Bible says, “They were praying and singing hymns to God.” Now, I don’t know about you, but if I’m in prison I’m probably going to be more concerned with my one phone call. I’m going to want everyone to know about the great injustice that has been done. My first thought isn’t that I’m going to praise God and seek Him. But should it be? Look at what happens…a mighty earthquake causes the prison doors to fly open and the prisoners’ chains to fall off. Because of what the jailer saw and experienced by watching and listening to these two men, he and his entire household were saved. That’s what the Bible says. This man’s reaction to how Paul and Silas dealt with a difficult situation was to ask, ‘What must I do to be saved?’

The small group that I am a part of at my church recently read a book by John Piper entitled, Don’t Waste Your Life. Piper quotes 1 Peter 3:15 which reads, “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.’ He then asks: Why don’t people ask us about our hope? Why don’t people ask us about our hope? Piper gives the obvious answer…probably because we look as if we hope in the same things they do. We act and react just like them, and they are
looking and listening. All eyes and ears are on you…all eyes and ears are on me. We have a responsibility as believers, and I think if we look the same, we have only ourselves to blame.

My friend Mark’s little boy is 18 months old. I don’t really understand why he won’t just say Mason is a year-and-a-half, but apparently you go by months until you’re two. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll understand when I have kids, but anyway he was telling me that a few weeks ago he was changing Mason’s clothes for bed. They were in the living room, and when Mark had gotten him into his p.j.’s, he handed him his clothes and said, ‘Mason go put your dirty clothes in the hamper.’ Now, up until that night Mark had just always gone and put Mason’s clothes in the hamper as he went to put him down for the night. He had never said anything to him, never tried to teach him, to get him to grasp the concept. Truth be told, I think he was way more concerned about him ‘getting’ the potty than picking up his dirty clothes. But Mason took the clothes in his hand and went to put them in the hamper. How did he know? He knew because he had watched what his dad had done with the dirty laundry. He had seen Mark take his clothes night after night after night and deposit them in the same container, the same way, every day. I don’t think Mason even knew what the hamper was. He just knew what to do because he had been watching his dad. Mason’s eyes and ears were on Mark.

Here’s why this is important to me: because this is the single greatest conviction in my life right now. It may or may not surprise you, but I can go from ZERO to ANGRY in less than 60 seconds. There are times when the smile that you see staring back at you from the TV isn’t authentic. It’s about as fake as Shake N’ Bake is real home cooking. As quick as I was to judge, I can relate to Coach Van Horn. The newsroom is my baseball field. There are two things that make me really angry. When I’ve put a lot of time and effort into something and it goes wrong or when something happens that makes me look stupid. Inevitably, one of the two happens frequently at my job. Not long ago we were in the middle of the show and something went wrong. I don’t even remember what it was. When the camera switched off of me, you could read my reaction on my face. I didn’t even try to hide how I felt about what had just happened. The producer came in my ear said something like, “Wow! The wrath of Jared.” Not long after that, I got the director’s attention so I could give him the heads up that I was changing something; a simple courtesy. But he responded with, ‘Who are you?’ I laughed it off as a joke, as if I didn’t know what he meant. But, I knew.

For me it’s anger…maybe for you it’s gossip. Sometimes I think word spreads more quickly in the church than it does in the world. Perhaps some struggle with living faith out in their lives during a difficult time. Whatever it is for you, they all ruin His reputation in the world. What we do will never change who God is. Our actions will never have an impact on His holiness. But what we do and say does have an impact on how people see and perceive who He is. That is our responsibility, and more often than not we take it too lightly.

Sometimes we forget that ‘the other prisoners are listening.’ They are listening, hoping to hear about freedom from their struggles. They know we claim to have been saved, yet instead of seeing us living as if we are set free, they see us wearing the very same chains in the very same way.

I think the hardest thing for me to admit is that we cannot do this on our own. I’ve tried. Paul said ‘What I don’t want to do, I do…What I do want to do, I don’t do.’ Apart from God there is no good in us.

If I wanted to grow grapes on my own, all alone I couldn’t. Only a grape vine can produce the fruit that I desire. It’s the same with the Holy Spirit. If we want to produce the fruit of the Spirit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control, then we have to be connected to The Vine. Jesus says, ‘I am the Vine and you are the branches.’ What happens to the branch that is not connected to the vine? It withers up and dies. The fruit rots.

A grape vine will only produce grapes. It will not produce tomatoes or squash. It is incapable of producing anything else. In the same way, the Vine that is Christ will only produce the fruit of His Spirit in our lives. He will not produce anything else. If we are connected to Him, we will produce love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Several months ago I was up at the church and just happened to be sitting in on a conversation that turned to something that had happened out on the golf course over the weekend. Our senior and executive pastors are huge fans. I’m really glad that I was there that day because I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have heard the story, and I know that I wouldn’t have heard it told this way. Ed, the senior pastor was telling about how he and the guy he was playing golf with were out on the course playing one of the holes when all of a sudden this golf cart comes flying over the hill, screeches to a halt in front of them, and an angry guy jumps out screaming, cursing, and threatening them. From what they could gather, a stray golf ball had hit his wife, and he was ready to hit someone. Ed said the situation escalated to the point that the guy was so mad that he actually took a swing at him. Of course, everyone on staff asked the obvious question, did you swing back? Now at this point it would appear as if he would be justified. Whatever happened, even if it was their ball to begin with was an accident. But Ed said, “No, I just put my hand out to stop him.” Ed said that he was reminded of he was and kept thinking that if this man’s wife was hurt they needed to make sure that she was okay. He said, I thought, ‘What is it in this man’s life that’s causing him to react this way?’ Clearly, it came across Ed’s mind that he’s the pastor of one of the largest churches in the city and that whatever happened out on that golf course wasn’t going to stay out on that golf course. But I think when Ed said that he remembered who he was, I think he also meant he remembered WHO’s he was. He was reminded that he is a Christ follower, and that other people were watching and listening to see what he was going to do.

We were once prisoners, enslaved to sin, but thanks be to God he broke the chains we were in. So I challenge you this week to live as if all eyes and ears are on you…because they are. The world is watching and listening. Will they see and hear Christ, or will they see and hear you?

Conspiracy Theory

con·spir·a·cy
An evil, unlawful, treacherous, or surreptitious plan formulated in secret by two or more persons; a plot.

Humanity loves to be intrigued. Admit it; we are enthralled by scandal and mystery. We brew it, are baited by it, and buy into it. John F. Kennedy and Elvis…the Oklahoma City Bombing and September 11th. Who shot the president that fateful day in Dallas? Could the King still be alive, or has he really left the building and this life? Did Timothy McVeigh really commit the crime alone and did the government know? How could hijackers skirt security and overpower the pilots of planes to take thousands of American lives? There must be more than we’re being told. These are just some of the questions raised following major, life-changing, world-shaking events. But as Ecclesiastes teaches, there is nothing new under the sun, and it was in fact the Son whose resurrection was responded to with one of the greatest conspiracy theories of all time.

11 While the women were on their way, some of the guards went into the city and reported to the chief priests everything that had happened. 12 When the chief priests had met with the elders and devised a plan, they gave the soldiers a large sum of money, 13 telling them, "You are to say, 'His disciples came during the night and stole him away while we were asleep.' 14 If this report gets to the governor, we will satisfy him and keep you out of trouble." 15 So the soldiers took the money and did as they were instructed. And this story has been widely circulated among the Jews to this very day.

– Matthew 28

Truth be told, Christ would not have won a popularity contest during his day. The chief priests saw him as a threat, and they weren’t willing to take the bet. Their reps were at stake, and they weren’t about to lose their temple cred to a dead man; or even worse, one that was resurrected. You can chalk it up to a hell-bent and bound power trip.

Matthew is the only gospel writer that gives account of the chief priests’ conspiracy. I’m glad that he trusted us with the whole truth. Perhaps the others were concerned about perpetuating the absurdity. Instead, Matt turns their story into somewhat of a mockery. He basically writes, “Here’s what they said, but no, He has in fact risen from the dead.”

Conspiracy theories always seem to spread and rarely reveal any clue of concealed truth. They instead cause chaos, create dissension, conceive disbelief, and cultivate distrust in everything we once knew to be true and held firm to. Just go back to the beginning: the serpent tried to convince Eve that God was conspiring against humanity.

4 "You will not surely die," the serpent said to the woman. 5 "For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil."
-Genesis 3

Satan still does that to you and me. Thousands of years have passed, and yet his play book remains virtually unchanged. The stupidity is that we still fall for the fake just like Adam and Eve did that fateful day. The whispers say, ‘God doesn’t understand…Does he really know what’s best?...He’s holding you back.’ What will you choose to believe? God’s truth, or a conspiracy theory? If Satan is the father of lies (John 8:44), then he and his henchmen must be behind the conspiracy theories in our lives.

The High Price We're Willing To Pay To Disobey

Let’s face it, sin is in. It’s been somewhat of a permanent trend since Adam and Eve. As long as we’re getting away with it, we buy into the lie that it makes us content. So many times I have been sorry for my sin not because I have hurt the heart of God but because I regret the punishment it brings upon me. The truth is, even the Bible admits that sin is fun for a season. Somehow we find that reason enough to engage in acts of disobedience.

In Joshua 6 we find the Israelites poised to take the land God promised them. They’ve wandered in the wilderness for 40 years, now Joshua has commanded them to march around a city six times. But then came the seventh day when they were to lay claim to Jericho. Before they began their now daily regiment, God gave a warning to His top man:

18 But keep away from the devoted things, so that you will not bring about your own destruction by taking any of them. Otherwise you will make the camp of Israel liable to destruction and bring trouble on it. 19 All the silver and gold and the articles of bronze and iron are sacred to the LORD and must go into his treasury." - Joshua 6

But as it was in the beginning, it only took one man’s sin to do them in. Adam sealed our fate to this day. Death is the punishment we face.

12 Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all men, because all sinned— 13a for before the law was given, sin was in the world. – Romans 5

This time it was another man whose name began with an ‘A’ that would doom his fellow man. Achan chose to disobey God’s command and keep some of the devoted things for himself. Scripture says that God’s anger burned against Israel because of what he did. Yet, no one else knew and the Israelites went ahead with a plan to conquer Ai as part of their next quest. Little did they know that God would not go with them. The spies were so confident that they told Joshua not all of the men would have to go; just two or three thousand. In the end, 36 of their men died and the Israelites were chased from the city.

Isn’t that how it always is? We seem to think that our sin is our business. After all, we’re convinced it doesn’t affect anyone else. And yet here is this example that clearly shows the price we’re willing to pay to disobey. God had warned them. Yet, all it took was Achan’s act of disobedience to bring judgment on an entire nation. In the end Achan and his family paid the price with their lives. But his sin also took 36 other men.

20 When Achan son of Zerah acted unfaithfully regarding the devoted things, did not wrath come upon the whole community of Israel? He was not the only one who died for his sin.' " – Joshua 22

Sin does not always have an obvious, direct affect. Sometimes there are repercussions that we don’t always connect. Still, they are there nonetheless.

There is something missing when you compare the Israelites’ triumphant victory at Jericho to their failed attempt in Ai. God’s blessing is blatantly absent. Here’s what He had to say before their first battle for the Promised Land:

2 Then the LORD said to Joshua, "See, I have delivered Jericho into your hands, along with its king and its fighting men. – Joshua 6

Yet, God is strangely silent as the men prepare for a second time. The Israelites were confident in their own abilities and went into battle alone. They didn’t even know that the Lord was no longer with them. That’s the way it is in our lives. We think that we can continue in sin and that God will bestow his blessings upon us. Then we’re surprised when we fail. The danger lies in this: like Israel, we are often unaware that God has left us. Our sin does us in. So, let me ask you this: Is sin really worth the high price we must pay to disobey?