Dave Zuchelli's Blog, page 52

Traveling at the Speed of Dark

This coming weekend is (depending on where you live) marked by the need to turn our clocks forward. If my calculations are correct, we will lose an hour of sleep. At least, that seems to be how most folks view it. I, myself, never gain nor lose sleep. I put my head on the pillow, fall asleep in about thirty seconds, and wake up when I’m done. I don’t usually care what the clock says.

I love the change of time (at least the spring one), because I love daylight. I love sunshine. I love that extra hour of being able to do something outside without a coat or a floodlight. As my Dad used to say, “It’s comin’ our way!”

Every time I think about the time changing, I think about a precious saint who has now gone on to be with the Lord. Her name is Jane. If she was still with us, I know I could count on her to arrive at worship an hour late. When the time changed in the spring, she would slip into one of the back pews as we were singing the final hymn. I used to love the look on her face as I gave the benediction and the congregation would begin filing out.

As funny as that always was, she was even more amusing in the fall. I don’t know how many times over the years she would show up, take her place in a pew, and begin a discussion with me.

Realizing what was going on (reminded by the fact that no one else was around), I would eventually say to her, “Jane. Do you realize worship doesn’t begin for another hour? The time changed last night.” Her face would get all twisted, she would make a noise of disgust with herself, and (as she walked out the back door of the church) she would say she’d return in an hour.

There are probably a lot of Jane’s out there. Those little foibles are amusing and not very important in the grand scheme of things. As annoyed as Jane always was with herself, no one loved her any less for it—in fact, her time-change antics probably endeared her even more to the rest of us.

Unfortunately, what happened to Jane seems to be a metaphor for how a lot of people live these days. So many individuals are walking around out there not realizing what time it is. Some of them are rushing to get somewhere they don’t need to be. Others are sleeping when they should be about their Father’s business. Many are walking around in a haze—somewhere between “it doesn’t matter” and “I’ll never make it!”

The apostle Paul once told us, “Wake up, sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” (Ephesians 5:14) It’s important for us to wake up and realize our time here is short. As my Mom used to say to me, “Time to get crackin’!”

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Get the Jesus Fix, Then Leave

How was your worship experience this week? Was it fulfilling? Was it exciting? Was it ho-hum? Did it have any meaning for you at all?

Worship services come in all styles from the very staid and formal to the flamboyant and lively. They are shaped by a myriad of variables, but most seem to settle into a fixed pattern that a particular congregation finds comfortable.

I recently read a rant by a Christian who, some time ago, had left the institutional church. He now worships at a house church and says he’s much happier.

Does worship make you weaker?

His primary complaint seemed to be launched against the general type of worship that has become a collective generality for most of what we call organized Christianity. He was speaking mostly about three hymns (or praise songs), some prayer, a collection, some responsive readings, and a sermon from a pastor (with no congregational interaction). After an hour or so, everyone leaves and feels like they’ve had a Biblical worship experience.

He saw several problems with this. I don’t have time to address most of them here, but one thing jumped out at me. He asserted that today’s church is designed to make folks weaker. If I understood him correctly, he felt that modern worship is constructed to treat people like children. Namely, congregants file in, take their places, listen to what they’re told, and never comment or ask questions.

He further asserted that this kind of worship is not only unbiblical but also counterproductive. Instead of being inspired to learn from the Lord and become more active in God’s Kingdom, people are dumbed down and duped into thinking they’re good disciples of Christ because they were “in church” for an hour.

I read his screed with great interest. Being a pastor of almost thirty-six years, I’ve often struggled with these kinds of perceptions. It’s easy to find fault with almost any type of worship style, but is there one that’s better than the others? Is there one that’s truly Biblical? Should we endeavor to get back to first century Christianity and closer to the worship style we can glean from Scripture? Is that possible, and more importantly, is it necessary? My wordy friend seemed to think so.

The Jesus Fix

I’m not so sure he’s correct. But I certainly understand his concern. Too often people enter a worship service to get their “Jesus fix,” and then leave. Once they walk out the back door, Jesus becomes no more than a byword until the next time they occupy the pews. I hope that is not true in most cases, but sometimes it’s hard not to think otherwise.

When worship does become merely a Jesus fix, I’m afraid our verbose friend is correct. It does make people weaker. If we think we’ve somehow done our part because we showed up on Sunday (or Saturday night), we are no longer on a solid path to discipleship. Making disciples, after all, is the name of the game. 

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Don’t Interrupt!

“The person who says it cannot be done should not interrupt the person who’s doing it.” I just heard this at the beginning of a TV commercial. I was so taken with the statement that I didn’t hang around to see what it was advertising.

I don’t know if anyone has said this before, or it this was a new line produced by a Madison Avenue ad firm. Either way, it speaks volumes.

It’s amazing how many naysayers there are in our world. People can be on their way to great heights and still be bombarded with negativity from others who don’t have a clue.

Folks who think they know best when they don’t know anything intrigue me. There’s only one way to achieve something in this world. That “one way” is to try. Just try. Give it your best shot. Persevere! Be an overcomer. Push it to the end or at least as far as your energy will allow.

“Have you ever seen the video?”

In most cases, the worst you can do is fail. Ahhh! There’s the dark cloud. Many of us are deathly afraid of failure. We’d rather not try than to be viewed a failure. We’d rather pack away our dreams than expend energy on something that might fall short in the end.

Have you ever seen the video of the mouse attempting to move a cracker to its nest? Take a moment to watch it– Mouse vs. Cracker. The mouse attempts to scale that ledge over thirty times. There’s something to be said for trying again and again. If it doesn’t work one way, try another.

“It always seems impossible until it’s done.”

Nelson Mandela once said, “It always seems impossible until it’s done.” We’ve all found that to be true when confronted with something we had to finish. Because it had to be done, we found a way (even though it first seemed impossible).

Even knowing that, many of us abandon our dreams because we think they may be impossible to accomplish. Jesus addressed this when he proclaimed, “with God all things are possible.”

Some might be quick to say, “Sure, but that’s only when the dream comes from God.” Believe me, there are many people out there bad-mouthing someone else’s dreams regardless of where the dreams originate. The fact is, sometimes you may not realize that dream is from the Lord until you follow it.

I remember when I first had the idea of writing a book. It lived in the back of my psyche for a while until I finally snuffed it out. I had all sorts of excuses why I couldn’t do it. I was nineteen years old. Funny thing though—it never really died.

Despite all the negativity from others (and from myself), the Lord revived that dream and I finally realized it was from him. I was sixty-five years old when it finally came to fruition (see The Last Wedding). Now I’m working on a second and have the seeds planted for a third.

Just do me a favor. Don’t interrupt!

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Let’s Bring Back the Nazarite Vow

I’ve always been enamored by the Nazarite vow. If you took this vow, the outward signs were twofold.  You did not partake of strong drink, and you did not allow your hair to be cut.

However, there was a stipulation that allowed you to cut your hair once a year if it started to bother you.  My guess is, some Nazarites counted the days until they could cut their hair.  I would further guess that they got their heads shaved like a cue ball so it would last for a while.

I’ve gone for long periods of time without drinking any alcoholic beverages, but I’ve never shaved my head.  I know people who have shaved their heads, but I don’t think they’ve ever abstained from alcohol.  There must be something about the combination. Apparently you can only be successful at it if you’re totally sold out to the Lord. How else could you look like Michael Jordan and live like a member of AA?

“We take lots of vows…”

We take lots of vows during our lifetimes. Some of them are deadly serious. Others, not so much… Occasionally we take a vow and not even realize it. Years ago, when I had to qualify to perform marriages in my state, I had to vow that I would uphold the constitution of the Commonwealth of Virginia. I guess I’ve done okay at keeping that one. But frankly, I’m not sure what the stipulations happen to be.

Today, we live in a society that isn’t much into vow taking. Lot’s of folks even forgo the one set of vows that were almost assumed to be inevitable at one time. I’m speaking of the vows of marriage.

I remember, as a young buck, just assuming I would get married. Everyone did (at least that’s what it seemed like). In my world, you graduated from high school, got a job (or went to college), and got married. It’s amazing how things have changed.

Today, more and more people assume they will go on after high school to get a higher degree of some sort, and marriage is something they might think about when they get around to it. That, of course, is facilitated in large part by the whole concept of living together.

In my day, that was almost unthinkable. It was a major social embarrassment to enter into such an arrangement. It’s not that we didn’t want to try it out. It was more a case of the social stigma that was attached to it. Now that the social stigma has all but disappeared, it’s become the thing to do.

The social barriers to such things have disappeared in large part to the disappearance of the church in peoples’ lives. Because the Bible and religious institutions play less and less of a role in society, all the old standards are quickly falling to the wayside.

Let’s start a new trend.

I say we start a new trend. Let’s reinstitute the Nazarite vow. Let’s all shave our heads and become teetotalers. Who’s with me?

 

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Announcing the Sex

When I was a young man (many moons ago), we never knew whether our expected child would be a boy or a girl. We found out when the baby was born. As you may have heard, that is no longer the case.

Mom and Dad now find out months prior to the blessed event. Sonograms are amazing things. It’s quite practical, of course. Early nursery plans can be finalized, proper colors picked out, and clothing worries can be eliminated. Then, there’s the inevitable naming of the child. With half the names in the world crossed off the list, that task is a tad less daunting.

Now there’s a new twist to the whole gender thing. Our youngest daughter and her hubby are expecting (do we still use that term?). These days, a couple doesn’t merely go to the doctor and discover the results. No. There’s an entirely different process now.

My bride and I (along with the other set of grandparents) were invited to the house for dinner. I arrived a little late to find everyone gathered around the family pooch. Our other kids were watching via Skype. The puppy was thoroughly involved in eating a bone-shaped cake.

It was finally explained to me that the sex of the baby would be revealed when the center of the cake was exposed. If the cake was pink inside, it would indicate a girl. If it was blue…well, you get the picture. Their canine wasn’t all that thrilled about getting to the creamy center, so my son-in-law finally grabbed the cake and broke it in half. The inside revealed the baby’s sexual category, and our daughter immediately announced she was, “going shopping tomorrow.” (As if she needed an excuse…) Incredibly, this was the moment the expectant couple learned the sex of the baby as well.

As some of you may recall, all of this was once done with a couple of phone calls. Everyone would say, “congrats,” and it was taken care of. Today, however, I had to drive into the next county and watch a dog eat cake to discover our big surprise. At least, I got a good meal out of it. (No, I didn’t help the dog with the cake. They provided a nice supper.)

I’m not sure what to make of this hubbub over the new little ones. I kind of liked the old days, but I guess I’m a throwback. On the other hand, Jesus was quite clear as to his feelings about the kids in his neighborhood. He would often say things like, ““Let the children come to me! Don’t try to stop them. People who are like these children belong to God’s kingdom.” So who am I to put a damper on the celebration?

Although truth be told, they could have saved a lot of trouble by listening to me. I correctly predicted the baby’s gender months ago. Of course, the odds were fifty-fifty. But, hey–I’m a Grandpa in the know.

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Church: The Ultimate Spectator Sport

Spring is getting close. I can feel it. My bones are getting stirred with the vibrations of new life, sunshine, and spring training baseball.

If you’ve read this blog for a while, you’ve probably picked up the fact that I’m somewhat of a baseball nut. I love the sport. If I wasn’t old and decrepit, I might still be playing some version of it. I can no longer play, so I watch. I even bought the MLB package so I could see my beloved Pittsburgh Pirates every evening during the summer. I know, I know…I’m a hopeless case.

It’s worse than that, though. I’m not relegated to the major leagues alone. I enjoy baseball at any level. I’ve been know to stop and enjoy a couple innings of Little League games as well. I’m hooked on watching people hit a little round ball with a long stick. What can I tell you?

There’s no shame in being a spectator.

I’m not alone, of course. And baseball isn’t the only spectator sport rivaling for peoples’ time. By way of explanation, you may want to listen to the song, ESPN. Even the most athletic among us seem to spend a lot of time as spectators.

Being a spectator of sporting events is no shame in and of itself (at least, I don’t think so). Those games, matches, and meets were, seemingly, created to be viewed. The real problem, however, arises when spectator-ism bleeds over into other areas of life. This is particularly true when it happens in the church.

The church now has a raft of television networks. People watch their favorite TV preachers ad nauseam. It doesn’t matter if half of them spew heresies and shallow theologies; they’re entertaining (at least many folks find them to be so). What’s worse, Sunday morning worship has often been reduced to the same entertaining production we see on TV.

People gather in “houses of worship” to be entertained, thrilled, and to have “feel good” experiences. This would not be at all bad if what happened next was kosher. Unfortunately, what happens next is that many people leave the confines of the sanctuary, never to process what just happened, what was just said, or what the inspiration should lead them to do. We end up with the false confidence that what we did for an hour on Sunday suffices for a life of following Jesus.

Does Jesus live outside our santuary walls?

Please allow me to remind you that Jesus lives outside your sanctuary as well as in it. If we’re going to follow him, it has to be out the church door and into the world. It’s not a once a week deal. It’s 24/7/365 (this year it’s 366).

If we’re living our Christian lives vicariously through our pastors, priests, Sunday School teachers, or even our televangelists, the church is in deep do-do. We’re called to BE disciples and to MAKE disciples. Is that what you’re doing every day? I can tell you this: none of us is getting it done in an hour on Sunday.

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The Sinful Aroma of Big Box Pizza

I went shopping today in one of those big box stores. I was basically in and out (or, at least, that was the plan). As I was winding up my foray into the final aisle, it hit me. I was hungry.

To quote an overused (and misused) phrase, “I was starving.” In fact, I wasn’t starving. I’m sure I could go for three days without food and not be starving. But that’s a story for another day.

I suppose the real trigger for my hunger was the aroma of hot pizza wafting in the air of that warehouse. The closer I got to the source of the scent (which, naturally, was near the checkout counter), the more my pangs of malnutrition began to haunt me.

“All I wanted was one small slice…”

In my defense, I hadn’t eaten any lunch. It was well past noon and getting harder by the minute to withstand the draw of the inevitable.

I took a quick glance at my phone and realized I had enough time for a bite before my upcoming appointment. What can I say? I succumbed.

All I wanted was one small slice of pizza. That would more than have satisfied my growing yen to get something bad into my digestive system. And that’s all I ordered. The problem, of course, was not in my numerical choice. Like everything else in these big box stores, there’s no such thing as small. They gave me what amounted to a quarter of a pie.

My mother taught me to clean my plate. I’m not blaming her, but it’s a habit I need to learn to break. Today was no exception.

The pizza, which looked and smelled like an epicurean delight, was neither epicurean nor delightful. Oh, don’t get me wrong. It tasted great—for a while. Then my body, which has been getting used to eating in a somewhat healthier style, turned on me.

How can the same body, which had been crying out for this stuff only minutes earlier, betray me like this? I knew better, but I couldn’t help myself.

The whole sordid episode reminds me of other temptations. We often get led into sin the same way I got led into that gosh-awful pizza. It looks good, it has the promise of scratching some existing itch, it has a temporary satisfaction attached to it, and then it lowers the boom.

“Pizza is not sinful.”

For the most part, we know better. I knew better than to buy that slice of pizza, but I talked myself into it anyway.

We know the temporary satisfaction is going to give way to a pack of bad consequences. Yet we allow ourselves a rash of temporary amnesia. We conveniently forget what will inevitably catch up to us on the other side of our wrongful actions.

Pizza is not sinful (although my stomach is currently arguing otherwise). But avoiding the ravages of such temptation is not unlike that of avoiding the siren call of sinfulness. As my mother also used to tell me, “Use your head.”

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Facebook and the Realities of Our World

Many of my Facebook Friends are what some would call “flaming liberals.” I’m not sure if they see this as a complimentary label, but I expect so.

I belong to a Christian denomination that sprung from John Wesley. He adopted the name, Methodist. It was a derisive term at the time. They were quite systematic, and their detractors began to call them Methodists as an insult. Wesley, being the contrarian he was, adopted the term, and here we are.

That’s why I suspect those friends don’t mind being called flaming liberals. Many of them have probably adopted the title for themselves.

I have just as many friends who have taken to calling themselves “right wing nut jobs.” (The term, Methodist, is sounding better all the time.) They do so, of course, because they are unabashedly conservative.

Facebook (as well as other social media outlets) has been swamped with snarky comments and political mudslinging. It’s a relatively safe place to do so, but not without its consequences.

“That’s not to say I never succumb to the temptation.”

As a Christian author and preacher, I try to avoid political statements on social media. It seems to detract from my ministerial focus. Worse than that, however, it keeps various people from hearing the more important, eternal message I attempt to convey.

That’s not to say I never succumb to the temptation. I’m a political animal just like most other folks. Actually, I find it entertaining more than anything else. Yet, in my weaker moments, I will post something that aligns with one side or the other and find myself in trouble with at least half my “friends.”

I understand the dynamics of this social situation, but there are some things I just can’t seem to get over. For example, I seem to have been unfriended (is that a word?—spell check doesn’t seem to think so) by at least three people who didn’t seem to appreciate my leanings. In each case, it seems to have come about because I “liked” a person or a position that I thought was quite positive.

So here’s the moral challenge.

At this point, I’m sure at least a few of you are expecting me to launch into some sort of moral challenge. I don’t want to disappoint you, so I will. Here goes…

To quote two of my favorite philosophers of all time, “Jeepers Wally!” “Can’t we all just get along?” (By the way, if you know who those two happen to be, I love you.)

Has anyone ever heard of dialogue? Is normal, intelligent conversation even possible anymore? Not when it comes to politics, apparently.

To make matters worse, some of our faith stances have been turned into political footballs, and we can’t discuss them anymore either. I guess that’s where I get into the most trouble. I believe what I believe, and sometimes I say so.

For better or worse, that seems to be the reality in which we now live. Please don’t unfriend me. Politics aside, I’m actually very warm and cuddly. (I know what you’re thinking…shut up…)

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Based on a True Story

A lot of movies today begin with this opening statement: “Based on a true story.” I guess I know what that means, but the question is always this: How loosely based on that true story is it? Based on a true story could mean almost anything.

My bride and I just finished watching a flick that opened with, “Inspired by true events.” Okay. So what does that mean?

I think there’s an attraction to stories that are true to life. The attraction is even greater when the story is factual. That attraction breaks through the ceiling if the entire story really depicts events as they actually happened.

After I watch a movie that is somehow based on a true story, or at least inspired by one, I always have one question (especially if I thoroughly enjoyed it). That question is, “How close to the real thing was this storyline?” Sometimes, it irks me enough that I have to do some research to satisfy my curiosity. Other times, it just bugs me for a while.

I suppose there are people who have the same reactions to the Bible. Some people wonder if it’s true. Others wonder if it’s even based on a true story. Others simply believe that it’s inspired by true events.

I don’t think about that too much while I’m preaching, but there are times I stop and wonder how people take to the Biblical events as portrayed in Scripture. Personally, I’ve always looked at things from a relatively simple perspective. I believe it’s true, so I preach it that way. I suppose people who don’t view it that way don’t come back to hear me a second time.

A lot has been made over the years about Biblical perspectives. Is the Word to be taken literally? Is it the inerrant Word of God? Does it simply contain a Word from God if you look for it? Or is it just a collection of weird fairy tales and myths that are entertaining at best?

Biblical archeology is our best friend when it comes to this debate (at least from my perspective). I’ve heard it said that the more we dig up, the more the Bible is proven to be reliable. A great (and obvious) example of this is the Dead Sea Scrolls. They proved how accurate the scribes were over the years at replicating and preserving the Word.

Of course, most of us aren’t Biblical scholars or archeologists. We have to rely on the work other people do. It doesn’t (or, at least,   shouldn’t) stop there, however. We have to do our own work to build upon their foundation.

The great thing about Scripture is that it’s there for everyone. It’s not hidden away in some secret monastery somewhere. It’s not written in some secret code that only some ancient guru can interpret.

No matter how you view it, I urge you to take advantage of it. It’s life changing (and definitely inspired by true events).

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Angels Don’t Eat

A friend of mine recently sent me a list entitled “Angels as Explained by Children.” These explanations were quite humorous. One kid, age six, said, “Angels don’t eat, but they drink milk from Holy Cows!!!” As they say, “From the mouth of babes…”

While the things these kids had to say about angels were amusing, there is a sad reality that a lot of adults continue through life with the same types of misconceptions. They’re usually far less humorous, but also just about as meaningful.

Sometimes I wonder where people pick up their theology and Biblical facts. You know; things like “Cleanliness is next to Godliness.” It’s a very nice saying, but totally unbiblical. Because of our knowledge of the advantages of being clean, we certainly wish it were in Scripture. Alas, it’s not.

“Everybody’s got it all wrong.”

Now, this is not an argument for living like a pig. I tend to be as clean as the next guy. In fact, I’ve been called a neat freak. Never the less, we need to be honest about what’s Biblical and what’s not.

One of the aforementioned children said, “Everybody’s got it all wrong. Angels don’t wear halos anymore. I forget shy, but scientists are working on it.” Indeed. Everybody’s got it all wrong. Unfortunately, the scientists are no help either.

Years ago, Billy Graham wrote a book about angels. He squeezed every last drop of angelology from Scripture to write that book. We just aren’t told that much about them. At least, he used Scripture to glean what knowledge we do have.

“God helps those who help themselves.”

Some folks, unfortunately, pick things out of thin air and buy into them. Henry, age eight, tells us this: “My guardian angel helps me with math, but he’s not much good for science.” I guess Henry needs to petition the Lord for an extra angel (one who’s good at science).

Have you ever heard this one? “God helps those who help themselves.” My guess is you have. If you ever run across it in the Bible, please let me know. I can’t seem to find it. It’s got to be in there, though, because everyone says it is.

“It’s not easy to become an angel! First, you die. Then you go to Heaven, and then there’s still the flight training to go through. And then you got to agree to wear those angel clothes.” This was written by Matthew (no, not the gospel writer—the nine-year-old kid). Matthew obviously picked up various things here and there, added them together, synthesized them, and came up with a perfectly plausible explanation. He’ll probably be doing the same thing when he’s thirty-five.

I have an idea. Let’s read our Bibles. Let’s see what it actually says. After all, it’s God’s Word to us. It would behoove us to get it right (at least close to right).

I’ll leave you with this parting word (not from Scripture, but from the hymnal). “I only know the names of two angels—Hark and Harold.” ~Gregory, age five~

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