Brandon C. Jones's Blog, page 6
September 3, 2015
Of Banquets and Bags: Renewing our church from the outside in
Earlier today a leader from my church joined me in the middle of nowhere, which is just a few minutes from my house. We were there to give away dozens of bags filled with bottled water, snacks, a copy of the Gospel of John, and information about our church. While ordinarily this place would have nothing but grass and cows inhabiting it, about a hundred and fifty workers come to this hill each morning to build a wind farm. Our community has the opportunity to host them graciously while they are here, or we could merely tolerate their presence until they leave. Either way, their project gradually ascends upward as tower after tower pierces the prairie sky.
I have few opinions about the project itself. It’s the workers that have my interest. I’ve met some men from the crew and they have all stressed their employer’s zero tolerance for employees causing trouble in surrounding towns like ours. If someone is a nuisance at a business, arrested for any reason, and/or unreliable on the job, then they are fired on the spot. In so many words the bosses have said, “we are in small town USA, and we are here to do our job and leave, so do not disturb the residents.” It’s like we put up signs at the city limits that you would find on the knobs of hotel rooms at six in the morning.
From a business standpoint I get the no-tolerance policy. Small towns have a keen sense of insiders and outsiders, as I know all too well as an outsider myself. However, as Christ’s church we are called to be hospitable to all, even those who are here for just a few months. We could join our neighbors by whispering about the project and its workers. We could ignore the workers anywhere and everywhere we see them in the community. We could complain about them around a table of half-empty coffee cups. Or we could love them as we would love Christ himself in our midst by hosting them as our honored guests while they are here.
An important person once invited Jesus as a guest for a big meal. Upon arrival Jesus surveyed the crowd by noticing how invited guests jockeyed for positions of honor around the table, so he told his host, “When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or sisters, your relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous” (Luke 14:12b-14).
When I heard the comment from the wind farm bosses about leaving us townies alone, I thought about how the world perceives the church. Do they think they would disturb us if they ever joined us for worship? Does anyone purposely go out of their way to avoid us, like the person who apologizes for their salty language whenever a pastor is nearby? Many people in our community have already left the church behind or were never part of us to begin with. Perhaps we have put up a "do not disturb" sign all around our necks without even realizing it, all the while wondering why everyone seems to stay away.
Our church’s history mirrors that of several rural congregations in America. We had many more members and attendees in the past than we do now. As a result, our focus often tends to be inward, lamenting our losses and chasing after the departed. One of my mentors in ministry said that such a strategy for renewing our church is self-defeating. Renewal doesn’t have to just come from within. It can come from without. When our church focuses on those outside our walls and off our membership rolls, we regain a sense of mission and purpose like we haven’t had in a long time.
The handing out of these bags today was a small step toward our church focusing more outwardly. In the past few weeks I’ve seen various people set aside time and funds to think of and purchase items for others. Several of us gathered last Sunday after worship and spent an hour filling each bag and praying over all of them as we all laid our hands on the goods. Someone told me that same day about the next opportunity for service. That is, if we are interested in reaching out even more. I hope we are.
The past few weeks our church gatherings have been enriched by the presence of visitors from all over the country. As I’ve gotten to know them and see them spur our church, I’ve thought of what Jesus said next, after telling the host whom to invite to future feasts: “A certain man was preparing a great banquet and invited many guests. At the time of the banquet he sent his servant to tell those who had been invited, ‘Come, for everything is now ready.’ But they all alike began to make excuses. The first said, ‘I have just bought a field, and I must go and see it. Please excuse me.’ Another said, ‘I have just bought five yoke of oxen, and I’m on my way to try them out. Please excuse me.’ Still another said, ‘I just got married, so I can’t come.’ The servant came back and reported this to his master. Then the owner of the house became angry and ordered his servant, ‘Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame.’ ‘Sir,’ the servant said, ‘what you ordered has been done, but there is still room.’ Then the master told his servant, ‘Go out to the roads and country lanes and compel them to come in, so that my house will be full. I tell you, not one of those who were invited will get a taste of my banquet’” (Luke 14:15b-24).
The excuses of today’s invited banquet guests are little different, just replace fields with workplaces, oxen with expensive toys, and being a newly wed with attending kids’ sporting events year round. Our habits stem from what we consider valuable enough to invest our time, money, and energy in. Jesus’ consistent message in the Gospels is that all people are always worth our investment. That’s our mandate as Christians.
I hope and pray that God works through these little bags. To be sure they are a small investment, but my prayer is that the workers who received them realize that our church counts them as honored guests among us. More importantly, may these workers find through the witness of John’s Gospel the hospitality of God, who has loved them so much and considered them of enough value that he invested his one and only Son to die for them so that they will not perish but have eternal life. May God seize their hearts with a love so powerful that they will find an eternal home in him. And may we as Christ’s church set aside our own excuses and seek out anyone and everyone to join us at our master’s house. There’s always room!
I have few opinions about the project itself. It’s the workers that have my interest. I’ve met some men from the crew and they have all stressed their employer’s zero tolerance for employees causing trouble in surrounding towns like ours. If someone is a nuisance at a business, arrested for any reason, and/or unreliable on the job, then they are fired on the spot. In so many words the bosses have said, “we are in small town USA, and we are here to do our job and leave, so do not disturb the residents.” It’s like we put up signs at the city limits that you would find on the knobs of hotel rooms at six in the morning.
From a business standpoint I get the no-tolerance policy. Small towns have a keen sense of insiders and outsiders, as I know all too well as an outsider myself. However, as Christ’s church we are called to be hospitable to all, even those who are here for just a few months. We could join our neighbors by whispering about the project and its workers. We could ignore the workers anywhere and everywhere we see them in the community. We could complain about them around a table of half-empty coffee cups. Or we could love them as we would love Christ himself in our midst by hosting them as our honored guests while they are here.
An important person once invited Jesus as a guest for a big meal. Upon arrival Jesus surveyed the crowd by noticing how invited guests jockeyed for positions of honor around the table, so he told his host, “When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or sisters, your relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous” (Luke 14:12b-14).
When I heard the comment from the wind farm bosses about leaving us townies alone, I thought about how the world perceives the church. Do they think they would disturb us if they ever joined us for worship? Does anyone purposely go out of their way to avoid us, like the person who apologizes for their salty language whenever a pastor is nearby? Many people in our community have already left the church behind or were never part of us to begin with. Perhaps we have put up a "do not disturb" sign all around our necks without even realizing it, all the while wondering why everyone seems to stay away.
Our church’s history mirrors that of several rural congregations in America. We had many more members and attendees in the past than we do now. As a result, our focus often tends to be inward, lamenting our losses and chasing after the departed. One of my mentors in ministry said that such a strategy for renewing our church is self-defeating. Renewal doesn’t have to just come from within. It can come from without. When our church focuses on those outside our walls and off our membership rolls, we regain a sense of mission and purpose like we haven’t had in a long time.
The handing out of these bags today was a small step toward our church focusing more outwardly. In the past few weeks I’ve seen various people set aside time and funds to think of and purchase items for others. Several of us gathered last Sunday after worship and spent an hour filling each bag and praying over all of them as we all laid our hands on the goods. Someone told me that same day about the next opportunity for service. That is, if we are interested in reaching out even more. I hope we are.
The past few weeks our church gatherings have been enriched by the presence of visitors from all over the country. As I’ve gotten to know them and see them spur our church, I’ve thought of what Jesus said next, after telling the host whom to invite to future feasts: “A certain man was preparing a great banquet and invited many guests. At the time of the banquet he sent his servant to tell those who had been invited, ‘Come, for everything is now ready.’ But they all alike began to make excuses. The first said, ‘I have just bought a field, and I must go and see it. Please excuse me.’ Another said, ‘I have just bought five yoke of oxen, and I’m on my way to try them out. Please excuse me.’ Still another said, ‘I just got married, so I can’t come.’ The servant came back and reported this to his master. Then the owner of the house became angry and ordered his servant, ‘Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame.’ ‘Sir,’ the servant said, ‘what you ordered has been done, but there is still room.’ Then the master told his servant, ‘Go out to the roads and country lanes and compel them to come in, so that my house will be full. I tell you, not one of those who were invited will get a taste of my banquet’” (Luke 14:15b-24).
The excuses of today’s invited banquet guests are little different, just replace fields with workplaces, oxen with expensive toys, and being a newly wed with attending kids’ sporting events year round. Our habits stem from what we consider valuable enough to invest our time, money, and energy in. Jesus’ consistent message in the Gospels is that all people are always worth our investment. That’s our mandate as Christians.
I hope and pray that God works through these little bags. To be sure they are a small investment, but my prayer is that the workers who received them realize that our church counts them as honored guests among us. More importantly, may these workers find through the witness of John’s Gospel the hospitality of God, who has loved them so much and considered them of enough value that he invested his one and only Son to die for them so that they will not perish but have eternal life. May God seize their hearts with a love so powerful that they will find an eternal home in him. And may we as Christ’s church set aside our own excuses and seek out anyone and everyone to join us at our master’s house. There’s always room!
August 27, 2015
Benedict Madison and the Gospel of Jesus Christ
Several years ago I had a job that allowed me to listen to the radio during my shift. I gravitated toward sports talk for most of that time, which had commercials that appealed to guys. Among them was a Web site named Ashley Madison, which promised married people all the supposed fun of an affair with few of the accompanying risks. I often chuckled at the stupidity of these ads. “Who are they kidding?” I thought to myself. Moreover, I wondered what women would actually sign up for such nonsense. Yes, women have affairs too, but their affairs often begin with emotional attachments to men in their real life, not sophomoric fantasies on the Internet.
Recently, an anonymous group hacked into Ashley Madison’s server and exposed its data for the world to see. It turns out some 32 million men were kidded by the Web site, which only had about 12 thousand real live female users. There were millions of fake female profiles on the site to make it look like more women used it, but most of them were created and maintained by Ashley Madison employees to dupe their male users.
The hackers listed their reasons for targeting the site, which included the fact that the site’s business model was to lure married people to cheat. The hackers also mentioned their disgust at the site’s $19 fee to remove a user’s data, even though such data seemed to stick around anyway. In a twist of irony, Ashley Madison betrayed the trust of the very infidels who paid for its services.
The aftermath of the site's hack has been far reaching. The site’s owners have now issued a bounty for anyone who identifies the hackers. Numerous users in both Canada and the US have filed lawsuits against the site, supposedly because they expect some contracts to be taken seriously just as long as it isn’t their own marriages. Several members of the media have been more than happy to take a break from Donald Trump and the Kardashians to scour the records of tens of millions of users to expose any and all famous names. Meanwhile, ordinary people have researched that same user list to find names familiar to them. Some users have committed suicide. Others have had to leave their homes. And, if you are a Christian you will not be surprised at my next words, churches have faced their share of the turmoil as pastors, leaders, and members have all been found on the Ashley Madison membership rolls.
Anyone who has read the first few chapters of Romans should expect the church to be caught up with the rest of humanity in scandals like this one. In Romans Paul builds an argument about God’s power revealed in the gospel, and the first step is to find all humans guilty before God. Lawless people reject God and follow their own lusts, despite knowing deep down that what they are doing is wrong. Paul says God has written his law on their hearts, which will be revealed “on the day when God judges people’s secrets through Jesus Christ, as my gospel declares” (Rom 2:16). Likewise, even lawful people do the same. Despite knowing what God has specifically revealed about right and wrong, they still do their own thing and go their own way. While there are some advantages to knowing God’s law, there is no favoritism when it comes to guilt. Paul concludes, “There is no difference between Jew and Gentile, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom 3:22b-23).
This sounds pretty grim until you remember that this point is only Paul’s first step to declaring the glory of the gospel of Jesus Christ. At the same time he concludes that we are all guilty, he confesses we “all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus” (Rom 3:24).
The Ashley Madison scandal puts the gospel in clear perspective. Say you were one of the millions of users exposed. You know what you posted and would be ashamed if word got out. Now, imagine you repented of your actions on the site, recognizing their sinfulness, and asked God to forgive. When the hack comes out instead of your name on the list, it is the name of someone else: Jesus Christ. He took the penalty due you. He was willing to endure the scandal and shame meant for you. When judgment falls, it is his name on the list, not yours, despite his innocence and your guilt. Ancient Christians were ridiculed for thinking that God would not only stoop to become human, but wind up crucified. In response, the Christian faith claims that God’s glory is found not only in the wonders of the stars, but also in Jesus' wounded scars. Paul calls that the scandal of the gospel.
Ashley Madison’s radio commercials ended with a jingle that said, “Life is short, have an affair!” It promised discreetness, but ended in exposure. It promised fun, but ended in heartbreak. It promised satisfaction, but ended in despair. What Christ offers is the exact opposite of Ashley Madison. His gospel says, “Life is eternal, believe in me!” Christ’s gospel is not some escape from real life, but rather its fulfillment in bringing glory to God in and through human flourishing. There is no betrayal or infidelity in that. And what’s more, living a life devoted to Christ will store up treasures in heaven that can never be hacked.
Recently, an anonymous group hacked into Ashley Madison’s server and exposed its data for the world to see. It turns out some 32 million men were kidded by the Web site, which only had about 12 thousand real live female users. There were millions of fake female profiles on the site to make it look like more women used it, but most of them were created and maintained by Ashley Madison employees to dupe their male users.
The hackers listed their reasons for targeting the site, which included the fact that the site’s business model was to lure married people to cheat. The hackers also mentioned their disgust at the site’s $19 fee to remove a user’s data, even though such data seemed to stick around anyway. In a twist of irony, Ashley Madison betrayed the trust of the very infidels who paid for its services.
The aftermath of the site's hack has been far reaching. The site’s owners have now issued a bounty for anyone who identifies the hackers. Numerous users in both Canada and the US have filed lawsuits against the site, supposedly because they expect some contracts to be taken seriously just as long as it isn’t their own marriages. Several members of the media have been more than happy to take a break from Donald Trump and the Kardashians to scour the records of tens of millions of users to expose any and all famous names. Meanwhile, ordinary people have researched that same user list to find names familiar to them. Some users have committed suicide. Others have had to leave their homes. And, if you are a Christian you will not be surprised at my next words, churches have faced their share of the turmoil as pastors, leaders, and members have all been found on the Ashley Madison membership rolls.
Anyone who has read the first few chapters of Romans should expect the church to be caught up with the rest of humanity in scandals like this one. In Romans Paul builds an argument about God’s power revealed in the gospel, and the first step is to find all humans guilty before God. Lawless people reject God and follow their own lusts, despite knowing deep down that what they are doing is wrong. Paul says God has written his law on their hearts, which will be revealed “on the day when God judges people’s secrets through Jesus Christ, as my gospel declares” (Rom 2:16). Likewise, even lawful people do the same. Despite knowing what God has specifically revealed about right and wrong, they still do their own thing and go their own way. While there are some advantages to knowing God’s law, there is no favoritism when it comes to guilt. Paul concludes, “There is no difference between Jew and Gentile, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom 3:22b-23).
This sounds pretty grim until you remember that this point is only Paul’s first step to declaring the glory of the gospel of Jesus Christ. At the same time he concludes that we are all guilty, he confesses we “all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus” (Rom 3:24).
The Ashley Madison scandal puts the gospel in clear perspective. Say you were one of the millions of users exposed. You know what you posted and would be ashamed if word got out. Now, imagine you repented of your actions on the site, recognizing their sinfulness, and asked God to forgive. When the hack comes out instead of your name on the list, it is the name of someone else: Jesus Christ. He took the penalty due you. He was willing to endure the scandal and shame meant for you. When judgment falls, it is his name on the list, not yours, despite his innocence and your guilt. Ancient Christians were ridiculed for thinking that God would not only stoop to become human, but wind up crucified. In response, the Christian faith claims that God’s glory is found not only in the wonders of the stars, but also in Jesus' wounded scars. Paul calls that the scandal of the gospel.
Ashley Madison’s radio commercials ended with a jingle that said, “Life is short, have an affair!” It promised discreetness, but ended in exposure. It promised fun, but ended in heartbreak. It promised satisfaction, but ended in despair. What Christ offers is the exact opposite of Ashley Madison. His gospel says, “Life is eternal, believe in me!” Christ’s gospel is not some escape from real life, but rather its fulfillment in bringing glory to God in and through human flourishing. There is no betrayal or infidelity in that. And what’s more, living a life devoted to Christ will store up treasures in heaven that can never be hacked.
August 20, 2015
Homeward Bound: Reflections on Psalm 84
Friends stayed with us last weekend, which is rare. We don’t live in a tourist destination spot, unless you like pheasant hunting. Neither would you find yourself easily driving through our little town on the way to somewhere popular, unless you have a thing for visiting every state capital. In that case, we live right between two of them.
I was disappointed when they drove away Monday morning. Their visit was wonderful and seemed much too brief, but even more than that, they were driving to my hometown of Kansas City. I passed through KC last summer, spending one rainy evening and morning in town. I still connect, though, through sports and news. After moving away I’m usually oblivious to the news around where I live, but throughout the years I’ve always followed up on what’s going on back home. I love watching my hometown teams play on television. I might even pause when they do the customary shot of downtown after a commercial break. Some days I tune in to KC sports talk radio online. I often am homesick.
Homesickness has been a theme in our house the past few months. Our foster son longs to be back at his home. He loves to watch YouTube videos, mostly of silly stuff like cats doing cat things or skateboarders doing skateboard things, but every now and then he looks up a video from his hometown. Not long ago we had a missions trip presentation where a team went to a community similar to his home. The team shared about the unique challenges and circumstances they saw on their trip, shocked at what life is like there. Our foster son came back to our house afterwards and cried, because all the pictures and videos reminded him of home.
My friends’ visit and destination got me homesick. As they drove away I thought of the sights and sounds of the city. I thought about driving down Linwood Boulevard, slowly walking through the Nelson museum, and salivating at some Arthur Bryant’s burnt ends. I thought of my parents’ old house on Glenwood and my Dad’s grave—his whole life summed up in two words and two dates.
Home is where you always belong. I can’t tell you how many people I’ve met in Herreid who are here to revisit their hometown. There’s a mysterious connection with home that time and distance never fully break.
Homesick Psalms
Many of our psalms were produced by homesick souls. Some of them were written in captivity away from Israel. Others were written during times of distress and turmoil right at home. This week the lectionary calendar includes Psalm 84, which is a homesick psalm with a twist. The author doesn’t long for the sights and sounds of his homeland. There is no talk of Zion, Carmel, or Hermon. Rather, the psalmist is sick for God’s kingdom, his final destination and true home.
The psalmist opens with a glimpse of that home: “How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord Almighty! My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God” (vv. 1-2). If you’ve been far from home and long to go back, then you know what it is like to yearn and even faint to be where you belong. For God’s people, home is where God is: His throne, his temple, and his courts.
As the psalm continues the psalmist says how blessed people are who dwell in God’s house, because their strength and joy are in the Lord. He considers one day in God’s courts to be better than a thousand elsewhere. In the New Testament God did something unexpected by replacing the foretaste of his kingdom in the temple in Jerusalem with the gathering of God’s people anywhere as Christ’s church. His dwelling is no longer in a geographic location. His courts are no longer represented by brick and mortar anywhere. Rather, as Paul reminds us, we the church—the people—are God’s temple. By his Spirit each one of us is God’s dwelling place. And when we gather for worship we give ourselves and the world a taste of home.
God’s people are supposed to be homesick. That’s one reason we worship. That’s one reason we evangelize. That’s one reason we shake our heads at the news about our fallen world. It’s also one reason we cry and we pray. Homesickness isn’t bad. What matters is what you do with it. One of the many peculiarities of the Christian life is that we live backwards. God’s kingdom, although spiritually realized now, is where our true citizenship and allegiances lie. Our resurrected bodies, which we don’t have yet, are what we are currently conforming our lives to resemble today. And our future home, although we’ve never been there and only experienced faint glimpses of it so far, is the place we yearn for. When we’re homesick it’s not to go back to some place we once were, but to finally abide in the one place we were always meant to be.
The psalmist closes his thought with this: “Lord Almighty, blessed is the one who trusts in you.” We are not yet home, but we trust that God is guiding us along for his good and our best in the meantime. It’s a life that requires lifelong faith, and it’s a life lived by countless people before us. One author in the New Testament calls such people our cloud of witnesses. He writes: “All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them” (Heb 11:13-16).
The Christian life is homeward bound.
I was disappointed when they drove away Monday morning. Their visit was wonderful and seemed much too brief, but even more than that, they were driving to my hometown of Kansas City. I passed through KC last summer, spending one rainy evening and morning in town. I still connect, though, through sports and news. After moving away I’m usually oblivious to the news around where I live, but throughout the years I’ve always followed up on what’s going on back home. I love watching my hometown teams play on television. I might even pause when they do the customary shot of downtown after a commercial break. Some days I tune in to KC sports talk radio online. I often am homesick.
Homesickness has been a theme in our house the past few months. Our foster son longs to be back at his home. He loves to watch YouTube videos, mostly of silly stuff like cats doing cat things or skateboarders doing skateboard things, but every now and then he looks up a video from his hometown. Not long ago we had a missions trip presentation where a team went to a community similar to his home. The team shared about the unique challenges and circumstances they saw on their trip, shocked at what life is like there. Our foster son came back to our house afterwards and cried, because all the pictures and videos reminded him of home.
My friends’ visit and destination got me homesick. As they drove away I thought of the sights and sounds of the city. I thought about driving down Linwood Boulevard, slowly walking through the Nelson museum, and salivating at some Arthur Bryant’s burnt ends. I thought of my parents’ old house on Glenwood and my Dad’s grave—his whole life summed up in two words and two dates.
Home is where you always belong. I can’t tell you how many people I’ve met in Herreid who are here to revisit their hometown. There’s a mysterious connection with home that time and distance never fully break.
Homesick Psalms
Many of our psalms were produced by homesick souls. Some of them were written in captivity away from Israel. Others were written during times of distress and turmoil right at home. This week the lectionary calendar includes Psalm 84, which is a homesick psalm with a twist. The author doesn’t long for the sights and sounds of his homeland. There is no talk of Zion, Carmel, or Hermon. Rather, the psalmist is sick for God’s kingdom, his final destination and true home.
The psalmist opens with a glimpse of that home: “How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord Almighty! My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God” (vv. 1-2). If you’ve been far from home and long to go back, then you know what it is like to yearn and even faint to be where you belong. For God’s people, home is where God is: His throne, his temple, and his courts.
As the psalm continues the psalmist says how blessed people are who dwell in God’s house, because their strength and joy are in the Lord. He considers one day in God’s courts to be better than a thousand elsewhere. In the New Testament God did something unexpected by replacing the foretaste of his kingdom in the temple in Jerusalem with the gathering of God’s people anywhere as Christ’s church. His dwelling is no longer in a geographic location. His courts are no longer represented by brick and mortar anywhere. Rather, as Paul reminds us, we the church—the people—are God’s temple. By his Spirit each one of us is God’s dwelling place. And when we gather for worship we give ourselves and the world a taste of home.
God’s people are supposed to be homesick. That’s one reason we worship. That’s one reason we evangelize. That’s one reason we shake our heads at the news about our fallen world. It’s also one reason we cry and we pray. Homesickness isn’t bad. What matters is what you do with it. One of the many peculiarities of the Christian life is that we live backwards. God’s kingdom, although spiritually realized now, is where our true citizenship and allegiances lie. Our resurrected bodies, which we don’t have yet, are what we are currently conforming our lives to resemble today. And our future home, although we’ve never been there and only experienced faint glimpses of it so far, is the place we yearn for. When we’re homesick it’s not to go back to some place we once were, but to finally abide in the one place we were always meant to be.
The psalmist closes his thought with this: “Lord Almighty, blessed is the one who trusts in you.” We are not yet home, but we trust that God is guiding us along for his good and our best in the meantime. It’s a life that requires lifelong faith, and it’s a life lived by countless people before us. One author in the New Testament calls such people our cloud of witnesses. He writes: “All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them” (Heb 11:13-16).
The Christian life is homeward bound.
August 13, 2015
Prayer Detective: Surprised By God’s Answer
Last week our church received an unusual letter. The envelope had no return address, and it was postmarked “Daniels, New Jersey.” Inside was a single page of notebook paper folded up. Scribbled in difficult handwriting was the following message: "Pray for Ethel Thomas. Gordon L Gladdon." Other than the first word, pray, all other words in the letter are ambiguous. The message could just as easily be, "Pray F. Orval Roman. 60 don C 6/allin."
As someone with poor handwriting, I consider myself pretty good at deciphering what others compose, but this letter bested me. Our church has a long history, dating back to 1897. We have both resident and non-resident members, so I scoured our records to see if we had any members who ended up on the east coast. We didn’t. I looked to see if we have some families that went by any of those possible last names. Nope.
I took the letter with me to our worship service on Sunday and asked for help, but there weren’t many leads. One person suggested that it was possible someone was just asking for prayer from all sorts of churches, not just ones connected to the person in need of prayer. I said, that was reasonable, perhaps even likely.
Were I a different person, I would embark on a quest to find out who sent this letter to our church. I’ve heard and read stories about people who devote months, even years, to things like this because they have to close up all loose ends. They can’t survive with mystery or unknowns.
I’m not that way. I’ve always known I was adopted, but I’ve never been too interested in tracking down my birth family. After a few minutes of searching for Ethel, or whomever, I let it go. Had the person who requested prayer wanted to be tracked down, they would’ve left more information for me. Chances are they didn't care about the appetite of my curiosity. What they wanted was our church's prayers, so pray we did.
As I’ve thought more about my mysterious pen pal, I’ve concluded that they intuitively know more about prayer than I do. God knows what we want before we ask it. Jesus likens prayer to a needling friend who isn’t embarrassed to drive her neighbor bonkers if it means she’ll get what she wants. We are told that no good father gives their child a snake when they ask for bread, so how much more will our Father give us the Spirit. The sender of that letter knew all of this and more, so he acted on it.
I still do not know who requested prayer or who they requested it for. I never even looked up where exactly Daniels, New Jersey is on a map. But I did pray. God heard. And God knew. He’s already answered.
Last month I returned from a conference with a constant prayer on my lips: “Lord, help our church to be more outwardly focused.” God has been busy answering that prayer, and silly me, because I was surprised to get a response. There is a large construction project that began recently just outside our little town. It’s brought in a lot of people to our area so far, with many more to come. And God is also at work. He’s even letting our church be a part of what he’s already doing close to home.
Oddly enough, he’s even letting us be a part of what he’s doing in New Jersey. God is full of surprises.
As someone with poor handwriting, I consider myself pretty good at deciphering what others compose, but this letter bested me. Our church has a long history, dating back to 1897. We have both resident and non-resident members, so I scoured our records to see if we had any members who ended up on the east coast. We didn’t. I looked to see if we have some families that went by any of those possible last names. Nope.
I took the letter with me to our worship service on Sunday and asked for help, but there weren’t many leads. One person suggested that it was possible someone was just asking for prayer from all sorts of churches, not just ones connected to the person in need of prayer. I said, that was reasonable, perhaps even likely.
Were I a different person, I would embark on a quest to find out who sent this letter to our church. I’ve heard and read stories about people who devote months, even years, to things like this because they have to close up all loose ends. They can’t survive with mystery or unknowns.
I’m not that way. I’ve always known I was adopted, but I’ve never been too interested in tracking down my birth family. After a few minutes of searching for Ethel, or whomever, I let it go. Had the person who requested prayer wanted to be tracked down, they would’ve left more information for me. Chances are they didn't care about the appetite of my curiosity. What they wanted was our church's prayers, so pray we did.
As I’ve thought more about my mysterious pen pal, I’ve concluded that they intuitively know more about prayer than I do. God knows what we want before we ask it. Jesus likens prayer to a needling friend who isn’t embarrassed to drive her neighbor bonkers if it means she’ll get what she wants. We are told that no good father gives their child a snake when they ask for bread, so how much more will our Father give us the Spirit. The sender of that letter knew all of this and more, so he acted on it.
I still do not know who requested prayer or who they requested it for. I never even looked up where exactly Daniels, New Jersey is on a map. But I did pray. God heard. And God knew. He’s already answered.
Last month I returned from a conference with a constant prayer on my lips: “Lord, help our church to be more outwardly focused.” God has been busy answering that prayer, and silly me, because I was surprised to get a response. There is a large construction project that began recently just outside our little town. It’s brought in a lot of people to our area so far, with many more to come. And God is also at work. He’s even letting our church be a part of what he’s already doing close to home.
Oddly enough, he’s even letting us be a part of what he’s doing in New Jersey. God is full of surprises.
August 6, 2015
One week spend handless, kind of: Thoughts on marriage both human and divine
My wife drove away last Tuesday. I didn’t shed a tear. I was excited she would get to be with her family, even if it meant we would be apart for about a week.
The first night was rough. Our bed didn’t feel quite right. I was so lonely. I tossed and turned and finally fell asleep some time before daybreak.
The next day our family’s new routine settled in. Sure, we talked about eating spaghetti and even going to Arby’s on Friday. I told the kids to watch the Goonies move now, before Mom returns. But the thrill of doing things she didn’t like—even snacking constantly on chips dipped in salsa right out of the jar—waned quickly.
By the weekend I was calculating. I had taken some trips by myself over the years that ponly lastest four to five days. “I’d be home already,” I’d tell myself, and then I’d look at the calendar and see that her trip was only halfway complete.
Early in the next week denial had set in. I slept better. I read a whole lot more in the evening than usual. We ate even more spaghetti. It’s almost like she was never here. Almost.
The night before she returned I was restless on my newly washed sheets. It’s like I’d forgotten even what she looked like. Pictures weren’t enough. I’d forgotten her voice. Phone calls were underwhelming. You can’t hug a picture.
I once sat with one of our church’s widows. Her husband died a while back and now her brother had just lost his wife. In our fallen world God has somehow wired us to reflect on our previous losses whenever a new one comes around. It’s a kind of comparison that helps us tell ourselves that we can get through this loss too. I asked her how her time with her brother had been. She replied, “I told him before she died to hold that nice warm hand for as long as he could.”
I went home that afternoon and took my wife’s hand and held it tight. I find myself holding that nice warm hand more and more these day, and of all the things I’ve missed this week I’ve missed that the most. That connection. That bond. That reminder that I’m not alone.
One week feels so long, I couldn’t imagine a year, a decade, or more.
Why is it that so many of us as God’s people go weeks, months, or even years without seeking out God’s companionship? Our hands gradually grow cold, but our hearts got cold first. To his wayward people, Israel, God says, “For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you” (Isa 41:13). Take hold of that powerful, merciful, gracious, and loving hand. And never let it go, for when it took on our flesh and blood it defeated death. It will defeat loneliness too if you’ll let it.
Pick up a Bible. Say a prayer. Come to the Lord’s table with the church. And reconnect with the church's bridegroom. His hand is forever warm.
July 30, 2015
The Cost of Discipleship: Bearing Fruit in the Storm
Last week some severe weather rolled through our tiny town and tinier garden. Our whole family watched out the window as 70mph winds picked off branches from our elm tree, one of which measured over 15 feet long and came to rest mere inches from a bedroom window. I couldn’t see our garden that night, so I wondered if anything would survive.
My wife went out the next morning to survey the damage. The tree had plenty of dead branches before the storm, and every single one of those branches remained the next morning. They were so bare and stiff that the wind couldn’t defeat them. It was only the living branches that were vulnerable enough to be swayed and broken by the wind.
Next, she went to our garden. Most of the plants were so close to the ground that they remained unharmed. Some plants got knocked to the ground, and they all shared one thing in common: they were bearing fruit. The fruit weighed down the little branches so much that once they fell to the ground they couldn’t spring back up again without any help. And that’s where the gardener comes in. Ignoring the rest of the garden, she first came to the aid of the fallen plants who bore fruit. She raised them up, supported their bases, and ensured that they would survive. And they did.
When storms come they hit suddenly and often pass just as quick. But when we are caught in the middle of the storm it seems like there is no end in sight. It is easy to feel lost, crushed, and alone. But God is watching, and he knows that those who are alive in his Spirit and those who are bearing fruit in his name are the very ones who will also be weighed down and swayed the most when the storms of life hit. As a good gardener, he will attend to his fruitful disciples first, so they will thrive and bear even more fruit.
Not long ago I preached on John chapter 15 where Jesus says this: “If you [the disciples] remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples” (John 15:7-8). In the middle of life’s storms it is tempting to pray that God remove us out of them, but Jesus never prays that way. Instead, moments later he prays like this: “My prayer is not that you take them [his disciples] out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one” (John 17:15).
We don’t need protection from trouble, for it will come as Jesus promised it would. What we need protection from is the evil one and his lies. The evil one whispers in our ears that the storm will last forever, that the gardener is powerless, and that the fruit isn’t worth all its weight. If we start to believe him we will shed all our fruit and let our branches dry up, becoming impervious to the gusts that come our way. Such a dry and dead life may weather storms easier, but it won’t bear any fruit. And Jesus says fruitfulness is where his joy and our joy will both be found.
It’s a bit of a paradox that what causes joy in life can also cause intense heartache, but that’s the cost of being a redeemed people in a fallen world. And it’s a price God himself was willing to pay, “for the joy set before him he [Jesus] endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart” (Hebrews 12:2-3). Yes, consider him, the most fruitful one of all, struck down by the world’s darkest of storms. The gardener never forgot him, raising him up to new life on the third day. He won’t forget you either.
July 23, 2015
My Mouth Will Speak: Reflections on Psalm 145
Psalm 145 is the final psalm of David and is simply entitled a psalm of praise. The original Hebrew reveals that this psalm is an acrostic poem, so each verse begins with a successive letter from the Hebrew alphabet. Such a poetic tool is limiting, and as the saying goes limits are the true mothers of invention. What the psalmist invented here is worth reading and remembering so many years later, because even God’s people tend to treat praise like insurance. They don’t think they need it until they need it. Psalm 145 says we always need it.
Praise Is a VerbThe psalm begins with a pledge: “I will exalt you, my God the King; I will praise your name for ever and ever. Every day I will praise you and extol your name for ever and ever “ (vv. 1 and 2). As anyone who has been to worship more than twice can tell you, praising God is not based in feelings or circumstances, but—like all our love—praise is a choice we make. David chose to praise God every day for ever and ever. If you’ve read other psalms by him, then you know that David found this pledge easier to follow some days more than others.
I can relate to that. I find it hard to praise God when circumstances get rough. But nonetheless, praising God is something we choose to do from our hearts. We either value it or we don’t. We either choose to praise God or we won’t. For all the gray areas in our lives, this one is black or white. We choose to praise not because of which songs are sung, what color the carpeting is in the worship space, or what time of day it is when God’s people meet. We choose to praise because God is worth it and he likes it. That’s all the reason. That’s the only reason.
Praise Is MentoredDavid continues his thought by noting that his decision to praise God affects more than just himself: it affects his family and community. He writes, “One generation commends your works to another; they tell of your mighty acts. Theyspeak of the glorious splendor of your majesty—and I will meditate on your wonderful works. They tell of the power of your awesome works—and I will proclaim your great deeds” (vv. 4-6, emphasis added). There is no such thing as a family or a church without leaders. Each group has people who are influential, whether by their presence or absence. Throughout the Old Testament God instructed his people to worship him together as multiple generations. The older were to be mentors to the younger. The younger were to be with the older, so they could ask questions about what was going on. When an older generation chooses to stop commending God and his works to those younger, the other generation will follow. When churches get terribly sick and die, it is not because it was without any mentors. Rather, its mentors considered too many other things more important than praising God in community. Staying home and doing nothing at all is its own example and mentoring.
Praise Makes SenseIn the heart of the psalm, David explains why God is worthy of praise: “The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love. The Lord is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made. [. . .]. The Lord is trustworthy in all he promises and faithful in all he does. The Lord upholds all who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down. [. . .]. The Lord is righteous in all his ways and faithful in all he does” (vv. 8-9, 13b-14, and 17). Whatever reasons we give to justify our lack of praise (and we love to deceive ourselves with pious sounding reasons for our lack of obedience) our inaction reveals that we have forgotten David’s list. God is not only transcendent, but intimate. God is not only powerful and creative, but also compassionate and empathetic. Praising God makes good sense and is far from a waste of our time.
Praise Is VerbalDavid concludes his psalm like this: “My mouth will speak in praise of the Lord. Let every creature praise his holy name for ever and ever” (v. 21). One of my prayer books, written by John Baillie, asks God to “forbid that when all your creatures are greeting the morning with songs and shouts of joy, I alone should wear a dull and sullen face.” Other creatures have little problem praising their creator as they flourish within their limits. But we humans—made in God’s own image with mouths that can worship him, tongues that can build up our neighbor, and lips that may offer forgiveness to our siblings—we all too often choose to use our mouths in different ways. We curse. We gossip. We nitpick. We backbite. We talk about everything but the Lord with our neighbors and even with each other.
As I meditate on David’s psalm this week, it was this verse that struck me most. This was the verse I memorized. The phrase, “my mouth will speak in praise of the Lord,” was my prayer every hour of the day. And when I used my mouth to speak, I looked for ways to praise the Lord. Try it some time. You might be surprised what comes out.
Praise Is a VerbThe psalm begins with a pledge: “I will exalt you, my God the King; I will praise your name for ever and ever. Every day I will praise you and extol your name for ever and ever “ (vv. 1 and 2). As anyone who has been to worship more than twice can tell you, praising God is not based in feelings or circumstances, but—like all our love—praise is a choice we make. David chose to praise God every day for ever and ever. If you’ve read other psalms by him, then you know that David found this pledge easier to follow some days more than others.
I can relate to that. I find it hard to praise God when circumstances get rough. But nonetheless, praising God is something we choose to do from our hearts. We either value it or we don’t. We either choose to praise God or we won’t. For all the gray areas in our lives, this one is black or white. We choose to praise not because of which songs are sung, what color the carpeting is in the worship space, or what time of day it is when God’s people meet. We choose to praise because God is worth it and he likes it. That’s all the reason. That’s the only reason.
Praise Is MentoredDavid continues his thought by noting that his decision to praise God affects more than just himself: it affects his family and community. He writes, “One generation commends your works to another; they tell of your mighty acts. Theyspeak of the glorious splendor of your majesty—and I will meditate on your wonderful works. They tell of the power of your awesome works—and I will proclaim your great deeds” (vv. 4-6, emphasis added). There is no such thing as a family or a church without leaders. Each group has people who are influential, whether by their presence or absence. Throughout the Old Testament God instructed his people to worship him together as multiple generations. The older were to be mentors to the younger. The younger were to be with the older, so they could ask questions about what was going on. When an older generation chooses to stop commending God and his works to those younger, the other generation will follow. When churches get terribly sick and die, it is not because it was without any mentors. Rather, its mentors considered too many other things more important than praising God in community. Staying home and doing nothing at all is its own example and mentoring.
Praise Makes SenseIn the heart of the psalm, David explains why God is worthy of praise: “The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love. The Lord is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made. [. . .]. The Lord is trustworthy in all he promises and faithful in all he does. The Lord upholds all who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down. [. . .]. The Lord is righteous in all his ways and faithful in all he does” (vv. 8-9, 13b-14, and 17). Whatever reasons we give to justify our lack of praise (and we love to deceive ourselves with pious sounding reasons for our lack of obedience) our inaction reveals that we have forgotten David’s list. God is not only transcendent, but intimate. God is not only powerful and creative, but also compassionate and empathetic. Praising God makes good sense and is far from a waste of our time.
Praise Is VerbalDavid concludes his psalm like this: “My mouth will speak in praise of the Lord. Let every creature praise his holy name for ever and ever” (v. 21). One of my prayer books, written by John Baillie, asks God to “forbid that when all your creatures are greeting the morning with songs and shouts of joy, I alone should wear a dull and sullen face.” Other creatures have little problem praising their creator as they flourish within their limits. But we humans—made in God’s own image with mouths that can worship him, tongues that can build up our neighbor, and lips that may offer forgiveness to our siblings—we all too often choose to use our mouths in different ways. We curse. We gossip. We nitpick. We backbite. We talk about everything but the Lord with our neighbors and even with each other.
As I meditate on David’s psalm this week, it was this verse that struck me most. This was the verse I memorized. The phrase, “my mouth will speak in praise of the Lord,” was my prayer every hour of the day. And when I used my mouth to speak, I looked for ways to praise the Lord. Try it some time. You might be surprised what comes out.
July 16, 2015
On Broken Families and Prodigals: What I’ve Learned as a Foster Parent
Our country has tens of thousands of children in the foster care system. They are as diverse a group of little people as they could be, except one thing—each of their families broke. The break might have been temporary or permanent. The break might have come during infancy, toddlerhood, or adolescence. The break might have allowed siblings to stay together somewhere else. The break might have meant that by nightfall the children were all scattered, each one living with strangers in a strange land. The details of the break may differ, but the break itself remains the same. The break is the very foundation upon which foster care is based, which is why there is no such thing as foster families. There are only foster children and foster parents.
Foster parenting has been an adventure. It’s a pile of paperwork. It includes juggling appointments in disparate lands. At its best, it reminds me of the hospitality Christ calls his church to provide to the least. At its worst, it resembles an uneasy landlord/tenant relationship where both parties want out of their lease. Having a foster child in the household is an intensifier. Their presence can add joy, spontaneity, and fun, but also heartache, discord, and anger.
None of this is the child’s fault. These children didn’t break their families. Their parents did. But that doesn’t stop the children from trying to fix their families one way or another. We foster parents would love to fix them too. And so would the state, for that matter. But only the parents themselves can fix what they broke, and for tragic reasons they often don’t. Sometimes they don’t even try.
In the meantime we try to provide a version of family for our foster children, but we all know it’s not the same. What I pray for is reconciliation, even if such hopes are against the odds, which brings me to Jesus’ story of the Prodigal Son in Luke 15:11-31.
In chapter 15 Luke gives us three straight stories about people looking for what is lost. First is a shepherd in search of a sheep. Second is a woman in search of a coin. Third is a father in search of a son.
Jesus’ lost son story begins with the son breaking his family. In foster care parents break their families, but the same principle applies in Jesus’ story: you break it, you repair it. For this family to be reconciled, the son will have to make a move. But first he decides to try to replace his family with a version of it, getting caught up with fast money, fast friends, and then left behind when it all dries up. Too proud to go back to his family, he stubbornly tries to make it on his own without them, but he hits bottom when salivating at the thought of eating pig slop. He decides to return home from the far country, back to family.
Jesus’ stories always have a surprise, and the surprise here is not that the stupid son finally came to his senses. The surprise is that the boy’s father was actively watching and waiting for his son to return. Once he saw his boy appear in the horizon, he ran to him. The father didn’t need an apology, which the son rehearsed all the way home. He only needed a hug. A huge celebration ensued because what was lost was now found. What was once broken has been reconciled.
In our fallen world, we often grow up with fallen families. We can use clinical labels like dysfunction, and we can navelgaze at how nature and nurture made us who we are today. We can distance ourselves from our families of origin by going out and making a new life somewhere else with different people. But I imagine what I have learned in foster parenting holds true for all the people who break up their families one way or another: you can only reconcile a broken family, never replace it.
One of the beauties of the gospel of Jesus Christ is that God has extended his family to all peoples. Revelation depicts a gathering of all kinds of humanity from every tribe, tongue, and nation in worship of God their Father. They are all one family in Christ. Paul describes that one of the blessings of the good news in Christ is that people who were once unfamily are now part of God’s family. People who were once not a people are now God’s people. People who were once dead are now live. People who were once lost are now found.
Like prodigal children we wandered from God into the far country, imagining that we could live life fully without him. Some of us come to our senses more quickly than others, but whenever we do we realize, in the words of Augustine, that each of our hearts are restless until they find rest in God.
Foster care is a restless enterprise. When our foster child gets angry on a whim and hides in his room under the covers, there is a pit in my chest as I try to figure out how to respond. As much as I love him and care for him, I’m not family. His family broke, and I can’t put it back together again. The boy’s parents are still in the far country, and I pray they come to their senses soon.
You might know some people in the far country too. Pray for them. Love them. Watch and wait for them, hoping for reconciliation. Of all the takes on Jesus’ story, my favorite is Karl Barth’s. He said that when God the Son took on our human nature, entered our fallen world as a servant, and became obedient even to death on a cross, his way was the way of the Son into the far country. Unlike the stupid son from the story, Jesus made his journey out of love. Jesus went to the far country to break sin’s penalty, power, and presence. In doing so he reconciled the world to God himself. Jesus repaired what we broke. As theologians for centuries have noted, we humans broke God’s family, so it was fitting for God to become human to repair it.
If God was willing to go through such great lengths for broken family, consider what lengths you are willing to go to for the broken families in your life. Pick up the phone. Get out the stationary. Get in the car. Take it from this foster parent: few things are more heartbreaking than a family broken.
Foster parenting has been an adventure. It’s a pile of paperwork. It includes juggling appointments in disparate lands. At its best, it reminds me of the hospitality Christ calls his church to provide to the least. At its worst, it resembles an uneasy landlord/tenant relationship where both parties want out of their lease. Having a foster child in the household is an intensifier. Their presence can add joy, spontaneity, and fun, but also heartache, discord, and anger.
None of this is the child’s fault. These children didn’t break their families. Their parents did. But that doesn’t stop the children from trying to fix their families one way or another. We foster parents would love to fix them too. And so would the state, for that matter. But only the parents themselves can fix what they broke, and for tragic reasons they often don’t. Sometimes they don’t even try.
In the meantime we try to provide a version of family for our foster children, but we all know it’s not the same. What I pray for is reconciliation, even if such hopes are against the odds, which brings me to Jesus’ story of the Prodigal Son in Luke 15:11-31.
In chapter 15 Luke gives us three straight stories about people looking for what is lost. First is a shepherd in search of a sheep. Second is a woman in search of a coin. Third is a father in search of a son.
Jesus’ lost son story begins with the son breaking his family. In foster care parents break their families, but the same principle applies in Jesus’ story: you break it, you repair it. For this family to be reconciled, the son will have to make a move. But first he decides to try to replace his family with a version of it, getting caught up with fast money, fast friends, and then left behind when it all dries up. Too proud to go back to his family, he stubbornly tries to make it on his own without them, but he hits bottom when salivating at the thought of eating pig slop. He decides to return home from the far country, back to family.
Jesus’ stories always have a surprise, and the surprise here is not that the stupid son finally came to his senses. The surprise is that the boy’s father was actively watching and waiting for his son to return. Once he saw his boy appear in the horizon, he ran to him. The father didn’t need an apology, which the son rehearsed all the way home. He only needed a hug. A huge celebration ensued because what was lost was now found. What was once broken has been reconciled.
In our fallen world, we often grow up with fallen families. We can use clinical labels like dysfunction, and we can navelgaze at how nature and nurture made us who we are today. We can distance ourselves from our families of origin by going out and making a new life somewhere else with different people. But I imagine what I have learned in foster parenting holds true for all the people who break up their families one way or another: you can only reconcile a broken family, never replace it.
One of the beauties of the gospel of Jesus Christ is that God has extended his family to all peoples. Revelation depicts a gathering of all kinds of humanity from every tribe, tongue, and nation in worship of God their Father. They are all one family in Christ. Paul describes that one of the blessings of the good news in Christ is that people who were once unfamily are now part of God’s family. People who were once not a people are now God’s people. People who were once dead are now live. People who were once lost are now found.
Like prodigal children we wandered from God into the far country, imagining that we could live life fully without him. Some of us come to our senses more quickly than others, but whenever we do we realize, in the words of Augustine, that each of our hearts are restless until they find rest in God.
Foster care is a restless enterprise. When our foster child gets angry on a whim and hides in his room under the covers, there is a pit in my chest as I try to figure out how to respond. As much as I love him and care for him, I’m not family. His family broke, and I can’t put it back together again. The boy’s parents are still in the far country, and I pray they come to their senses soon.
You might know some people in the far country too. Pray for them. Love them. Watch and wait for them, hoping for reconciliation. Of all the takes on Jesus’ story, my favorite is Karl Barth’s. He said that when God the Son took on our human nature, entered our fallen world as a servant, and became obedient even to death on a cross, his way was the way of the Son into the far country. Unlike the stupid son from the story, Jesus made his journey out of love. Jesus went to the far country to break sin’s penalty, power, and presence. In doing so he reconciled the world to God himself. Jesus repaired what we broke. As theologians for centuries have noted, we humans broke God’s family, so it was fitting for God to become human to repair it.
If God was willing to go through such great lengths for broken family, consider what lengths you are willing to go to for the broken families in your life. Pick up the phone. Get out the stationary. Get in the car. Take it from this foster parent: few things are more heartbreaking than a family broken.
July 9, 2015
Leaving Las Vegas: The Glory of Extremes
I knew Las Vegas was in a hot desert. I didn’t know mountains surrounded it. I knew it was trying to be more family-friendly. I didn’t know that its success would be so disappointing. I saw kids everywhere: after midnight, in smoky casinos, on sidewalks. There they were walking right alongside the teeming mass of frowning adult humanity, many of whom were half-clothed with drinks in one hand and graphic call-girl cards in the other.
Despite having watched a great show with good company and a sumptuous meal, I couldn’t enjoy myself anymore. Around 1AM I looked over at a fake version of Venice and sighed. A woman old enough to be my mother had just tried to hand me a card with a picture of a naked girl and her number for a good time. She was about the 87th person I’d seen in the last two hours trying to hand out these cards, but she was the first to make eye contact and try to place one in my hands. At that moment a heavy dose of reality was injected into my veins. Billions were spent here to create a fake reality in the middle of the blank slate that is the desert. Vegas promises you can travel the world on just one street, but sooner or later the façade fades and the emptiness within has no where to hide. No wonder there are so few genuine smiles in this place. It’s a city built by losers for losers.
On the third day we picked up our rental car to leave the meadow for the mountains. In a manner of minutes the cityscape turned to desert and then hills. After driving through the hills there was much more desert, followed by the lowest valley, which was full of heat, salt, sand, and borax (whatever that is). We then ascended again onward to the mountains. Several hours after leaving Las Vegas I stopped the car on our desolate two-lane highway. The sun was setting ahead of us, descending just over the mountains. There were no foothills, just peaks, and the sky clashed with an array of colors at the pinnacle.
I’d not seen much beauty all weekend. The glitzy buildings of Vegas are interesting, but not sublime. For that I had to see the sun set, something I’ve seen most days of my life. But each one is different. Some come quickly, while others linger. Some are obscured by clouds, while others shine right in your face through the windshield. And some make you pull over and stop everything you’re doing.
The glory of Babel is entrapping. Stay long enough and you might think luxury, grandeur, and pleasure surround you. We were only there for a weekend, so a single sunset was all it took to forget about Vegas. God showed up tonight, as he probably does every night. The difference was that I showed up too. I didn’t miss it.
Now that I’m home, I’m reminded of all the things I miss regularly. Sunrises. Sunsets. That spark of the divine in the face of my neighbors. Opportunities to listen, to watch, to sing, to dance, and to pray. Babel’s glory, the idea that we humans are not really creatures at all but mini-gods who can together dictate our own realities, glooms far beyond Las Vegas. It looms over my neighborhood too, where our tallest structure is a water tower. Some things are only noticed when put against the extreme.
The next time you witness the sublime, park your car, turn off your phone, and simply wonder. You can even leave your mouth open for a few seconds. I urged my wife to take a picture of that sunset. It was the most beautiful thing I’d seen in a while. But even fancy lenses couldn’t capture it. I guess you had to be there. Actually, that’s not true. I had to be there. I smile even now thinking about it, because God showed up unannounced. I hope he does that for you too. It doesn't always have to take extremes for us to notice.
Despite having watched a great show with good company and a sumptuous meal, I couldn’t enjoy myself anymore. Around 1AM I looked over at a fake version of Venice and sighed. A woman old enough to be my mother had just tried to hand me a card with a picture of a naked girl and her number for a good time. She was about the 87th person I’d seen in the last two hours trying to hand out these cards, but she was the first to make eye contact and try to place one in my hands. At that moment a heavy dose of reality was injected into my veins. Billions were spent here to create a fake reality in the middle of the blank slate that is the desert. Vegas promises you can travel the world on just one street, but sooner or later the façade fades and the emptiness within has no where to hide. No wonder there are so few genuine smiles in this place. It’s a city built by losers for losers.
On the third day we picked up our rental car to leave the meadow for the mountains. In a manner of minutes the cityscape turned to desert and then hills. After driving through the hills there was much more desert, followed by the lowest valley, which was full of heat, salt, sand, and borax (whatever that is). We then ascended again onward to the mountains. Several hours after leaving Las Vegas I stopped the car on our desolate two-lane highway. The sun was setting ahead of us, descending just over the mountains. There were no foothills, just peaks, and the sky clashed with an array of colors at the pinnacle.
I’d not seen much beauty all weekend. The glitzy buildings of Vegas are interesting, but not sublime. For that I had to see the sun set, something I’ve seen most days of my life. But each one is different. Some come quickly, while others linger. Some are obscured by clouds, while others shine right in your face through the windshield. And some make you pull over and stop everything you’re doing.
The glory of Babel is entrapping. Stay long enough and you might think luxury, grandeur, and pleasure surround you. We were only there for a weekend, so a single sunset was all it took to forget about Vegas. God showed up tonight, as he probably does every night. The difference was that I showed up too. I didn’t miss it.
Now that I’m home, I’m reminded of all the things I miss regularly. Sunrises. Sunsets. That spark of the divine in the face of my neighbors. Opportunities to listen, to watch, to sing, to dance, and to pray. Babel’s glory, the idea that we humans are not really creatures at all but mini-gods who can together dictate our own realities, glooms far beyond Las Vegas. It looms over my neighborhood too, where our tallest structure is a water tower. Some things are only noticed when put against the extreme.
The next time you witness the sublime, park your car, turn off your phone, and simply wonder. You can even leave your mouth open for a few seconds. I urged my wife to take a picture of that sunset. It was the most beautiful thing I’d seen in a while. But even fancy lenses couldn’t capture it. I guess you had to be there. Actually, that’s not true. I had to be there. I smile even now thinking about it, because God showed up unannounced. I hope he does that for you too. It doesn't always have to take extremes for us to notice.
June 25, 2015
Why Worship
Recently, I spent an afternoon at my favorite place close to home: the lake. It’s actually a dammed river, but it’s wide and calm enough to behave like a lake. Our favorite spot is a little beach named Jones Bay. I joke it was named just for us.
The sun was hot, the water was cool, and I spent a good hour up to my neck in lake water enjoying all the sights and sounds. When our family arrived there was already a family from our church enjoying the lake on their boat. Not long after that another family from our church arrived in their boat, dropped anchor, and setup camp on the beach. Not long after that another family from our church pulled up in their boat and offered to give our kids, and even my wife, a ride on the tubes. It was great relaxing fun. It was also Sunday afternoon. I hadn’t seen any of these families that morning. I usually don’t.
This week I came across a quote from Randy Alcorn’s book The Treasure Principle, where he says that if someone wants more of a heart for missions Jesus’ advice is to put more of your money in missions and your heart will follow. Our hobbies tend to work the other way around: our hearts are already in them, so the money naturally follows. Once we’ve invested enough time and money in them, it makes little sense to value them less than something else, even worship.
There are all sorts of reasons God’s people give for choosing to refrain from worship. None are all that interesting. Eugene Peterson says the one sufficient reason for attending church is God. He goes on to say that finding out all the reasons why people worship is far more fascinating than hearing about the reasons people don’t.
While I may not have seen some families that Sunday, plenty of people did worship with us that morning, even one family that we saw later at the lake. As a pastor I often hear about the things people don't like about church. But Peterson's right. The reasons people have for valuing the church are quite good, even if they go mostly unstated, so here are mine:
God
God often gets forgotten when people talk about their relationship to the church in general and her worship services in particular. In America we tend to think of God as cartoonish. He even has a joke twitter account. Or he is quite tame, as he speaks quietly with the voice of Morgan Freeman. The created universe seems to engender much more awe among people than God. When God does come up from time to time, the focus tends to be on his supposed shortcomings, like mosquitoes and genetic diseases.
I don’t expect the world to treat God any differently, but we as his people have gotten bored with him too. We sing his praises halfheartedly. We read about his character and his works while yawning. Theologians describe God in so many big ways: the ground of all being, that than which nothing greater can be conceived, the true, the good, and the beautiful. This doesn’t mean God can be anything to anyone. Rather he is free. And this is the best part: he freely loves us in Jesus Christ. As one theologian puts it, God has said YES to us in Jesus Christ.
The world likes to think that God has all the shortcomings, but I know better. I’m the one who has them. As much as I like to praise a well-struck baseball, a tear-jerking film, or a solid piece of writing, is God not worthy of much more? He says he likes to hear singing. He says our obedience smells good. He says he will listen to us when we pray. And to him few things are more beautiful than when his children get along in unity. No wonder Christ loves the church and gave himself for it. He likens the church as his bride and us members as fellow siblings in God’s family. I don’t know how he could get the point across any clearer that he values few things more than the church.
God is worthy of praise all on his own, but when I consider his works that gush down to me, then I have to worship him. When I find out that he has people spread across the globe who identify with me as God’s family, I have to join them. Worship is like enjoying a fine gourmet meal, it’s always better together.
Paul concludes one of his prayers for a church by saying, “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen” (Eph 3:20-21).
I worship because I know God deserves all glory, so I choose to join in the glory his little flock in Herreid offers him. He’s worth it.
Practice
I’ve never been a part of a serious organized sport. I don’t think my time playing soccer in kindergarten and slow-pitch softball as an overweight adult count. I never experienced spending part of my summer going to the football field to sweat in pads until I puked. It sounds awful. Coaches make practice hard for good reason. It separates the best players from those who would rather sit on the bench all season. Good practices will over prepare the team for their games.
I worship because it is practice. As John Piper says, missions exists because worship doesn’t. God made us for worship. Worship was part of our creation and will be part of our new creation. Just like football practices and football games are quite different, so will be our worship now and in God’s kingdom. In God’s kingdom the Spirit will animate our bodies like our souls do now. In God’s kingdom, work will no longer be irksome and full of toil. Instead, it will be worshipful. The same will be true for pleasure, hobbies, and community. God’s kingdom will finally bring to life the old saying that God’s glory is a human living fully.
I can’t wait for the kingdom to come, but until then I choose to worship with God’s church because it’s practice. I don’t always want to go to practice. I don’t always give it 110% either. But I know that it disciplines me toward a goal: being formed to resemble Christ more and more.
John’s vision in Revelation is one full of communal worship. My favorite scenes are where people from every tribe, tongue, and nation gather to praise Christ, the lamb who was slain. I long to be a part of that crowd, and I want to be ready for it, so I worship.
Family
Americans are by default too individualized for the Christian faith. We think we personally own Bibles and even religion. We let technology replace community as we tune in to some program or download some podcast and tell ourselves we’re part of some church. God’s best design for bringing humans into this world is through a family, and his best design for being born again is no different. Our families help form us into who we are.
I worship to be formed by God through his Word, through his sacrament, and through his family. No Bible is just my Bible; it is the Spirit’s and the church’s. Generations of God’s people handed it down to us to be heard in community. Even as a preacher, I must stand under the Word and let it pierce my heart first, often by reading it and meditating on it throughout the week in conjunction with others both dead and alive.
Think of the sacraments, which cannot be done individually. By design they are gifts to the entire community, and they form us together. Were God interested in setting up a faith in which people are isolated, self-employed, independent representatives of him, he would have gone about things much differently than he did.
I worship with the church, because God speaks through his Word, his means of grace, and his people. We are able, by the Spirit, to hear Christ and speak Christ to one another. We can come alongside those who are hurting and offer them an embrace and a listening ear. We can rejoice with those who rejoice. We can help those who are in need. We can forgive those who confess and even confess ourselves. And through every experience, every week, God is forming us as his people.
We have terms for people who have not yet been formed by their families: infants, toddlers, and adolescents. We all start life that way, but it would be disastrous if we chose to stay there. I worship with the church to acknowledge that I have growing up to do, and God has gifted me his church as a community in which to do it.
I worship not because it is one part of my weekly routine among others. I worship because it begins my week rhythmically where it should begin: with God and his people. On the first day of the week God raised Christ from the dead. On the first day of the week his people gather to praise him for who he is and what he does. Worship is the kingdom. The kingdom is worship. And that’s what I’m newly created toward. That’s also what I proclaim others to join. I doubt anyone would take me seriously when I talk about my gratitude for God’s salvation and his gift of eternal life, but then I don’t value its breaking in to the here and now each Sunday morning when the community of the redeemed are meeting at worship. I join them because those are my people. They’re my family and my true identity is with them.
If Christ is unashamed to call me his brother, then I certainly will not be ashamed of my fellow siblings. I’ll find ways to embrace their songs. I’ll strive to forgive them as I have been forgiven by God. And I’ll love them through thick and through thin. Families can be messy, embarrassing, and frustrating. They should never be fickle.
After our church baptizes someone into the body we rejoice and sing this chorus: “I’m so glad I’m a part of the family of God, I’ve been washed in the fountain, cleansed by his blood! Joint heirs with Jesus as we travel this sod, for I’m part of the family, the family of God.”
Amen!
The sun was hot, the water was cool, and I spent a good hour up to my neck in lake water enjoying all the sights and sounds. When our family arrived there was already a family from our church enjoying the lake on their boat. Not long after that another family from our church arrived in their boat, dropped anchor, and setup camp on the beach. Not long after that another family from our church pulled up in their boat and offered to give our kids, and even my wife, a ride on the tubes. It was great relaxing fun. It was also Sunday afternoon. I hadn’t seen any of these families that morning. I usually don’t.
This week I came across a quote from Randy Alcorn’s book The Treasure Principle, where he says that if someone wants more of a heart for missions Jesus’ advice is to put more of your money in missions and your heart will follow. Our hobbies tend to work the other way around: our hearts are already in them, so the money naturally follows. Once we’ve invested enough time and money in them, it makes little sense to value them less than something else, even worship.
There are all sorts of reasons God’s people give for choosing to refrain from worship. None are all that interesting. Eugene Peterson says the one sufficient reason for attending church is God. He goes on to say that finding out all the reasons why people worship is far more fascinating than hearing about the reasons people don’t.
While I may not have seen some families that Sunday, plenty of people did worship with us that morning, even one family that we saw later at the lake. As a pastor I often hear about the things people don't like about church. But Peterson's right. The reasons people have for valuing the church are quite good, even if they go mostly unstated, so here are mine:
God
God often gets forgotten when people talk about their relationship to the church in general and her worship services in particular. In America we tend to think of God as cartoonish. He even has a joke twitter account. Or he is quite tame, as he speaks quietly with the voice of Morgan Freeman. The created universe seems to engender much more awe among people than God. When God does come up from time to time, the focus tends to be on his supposed shortcomings, like mosquitoes and genetic diseases.
I don’t expect the world to treat God any differently, but we as his people have gotten bored with him too. We sing his praises halfheartedly. We read about his character and his works while yawning. Theologians describe God in so many big ways: the ground of all being, that than which nothing greater can be conceived, the true, the good, and the beautiful. This doesn’t mean God can be anything to anyone. Rather he is free. And this is the best part: he freely loves us in Jesus Christ. As one theologian puts it, God has said YES to us in Jesus Christ.
The world likes to think that God has all the shortcomings, but I know better. I’m the one who has them. As much as I like to praise a well-struck baseball, a tear-jerking film, or a solid piece of writing, is God not worthy of much more? He says he likes to hear singing. He says our obedience smells good. He says he will listen to us when we pray. And to him few things are more beautiful than when his children get along in unity. No wonder Christ loves the church and gave himself for it. He likens the church as his bride and us members as fellow siblings in God’s family. I don’t know how he could get the point across any clearer that he values few things more than the church.
God is worthy of praise all on his own, but when I consider his works that gush down to me, then I have to worship him. When I find out that he has people spread across the globe who identify with me as God’s family, I have to join them. Worship is like enjoying a fine gourmet meal, it’s always better together.
Paul concludes one of his prayers for a church by saying, “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen” (Eph 3:20-21).
I worship because I know God deserves all glory, so I choose to join in the glory his little flock in Herreid offers him. He’s worth it.
Practice
I’ve never been a part of a serious organized sport. I don’t think my time playing soccer in kindergarten and slow-pitch softball as an overweight adult count. I never experienced spending part of my summer going to the football field to sweat in pads until I puked. It sounds awful. Coaches make practice hard for good reason. It separates the best players from those who would rather sit on the bench all season. Good practices will over prepare the team for their games.
I worship because it is practice. As John Piper says, missions exists because worship doesn’t. God made us for worship. Worship was part of our creation and will be part of our new creation. Just like football practices and football games are quite different, so will be our worship now and in God’s kingdom. In God’s kingdom the Spirit will animate our bodies like our souls do now. In God’s kingdom, work will no longer be irksome and full of toil. Instead, it will be worshipful. The same will be true for pleasure, hobbies, and community. God’s kingdom will finally bring to life the old saying that God’s glory is a human living fully.
I can’t wait for the kingdom to come, but until then I choose to worship with God’s church because it’s practice. I don’t always want to go to practice. I don’t always give it 110% either. But I know that it disciplines me toward a goal: being formed to resemble Christ more and more.
John’s vision in Revelation is one full of communal worship. My favorite scenes are where people from every tribe, tongue, and nation gather to praise Christ, the lamb who was slain. I long to be a part of that crowd, and I want to be ready for it, so I worship.
Family
Americans are by default too individualized for the Christian faith. We think we personally own Bibles and even religion. We let technology replace community as we tune in to some program or download some podcast and tell ourselves we’re part of some church. God’s best design for bringing humans into this world is through a family, and his best design for being born again is no different. Our families help form us into who we are.
I worship to be formed by God through his Word, through his sacrament, and through his family. No Bible is just my Bible; it is the Spirit’s and the church’s. Generations of God’s people handed it down to us to be heard in community. Even as a preacher, I must stand under the Word and let it pierce my heart first, often by reading it and meditating on it throughout the week in conjunction with others both dead and alive.
Think of the sacraments, which cannot be done individually. By design they are gifts to the entire community, and they form us together. Were God interested in setting up a faith in which people are isolated, self-employed, independent representatives of him, he would have gone about things much differently than he did.
I worship with the church, because God speaks through his Word, his means of grace, and his people. We are able, by the Spirit, to hear Christ and speak Christ to one another. We can come alongside those who are hurting and offer them an embrace and a listening ear. We can rejoice with those who rejoice. We can help those who are in need. We can forgive those who confess and even confess ourselves. And through every experience, every week, God is forming us as his people.
We have terms for people who have not yet been formed by their families: infants, toddlers, and adolescents. We all start life that way, but it would be disastrous if we chose to stay there. I worship with the church to acknowledge that I have growing up to do, and God has gifted me his church as a community in which to do it.
I worship not because it is one part of my weekly routine among others. I worship because it begins my week rhythmically where it should begin: with God and his people. On the first day of the week God raised Christ from the dead. On the first day of the week his people gather to praise him for who he is and what he does. Worship is the kingdom. The kingdom is worship. And that’s what I’m newly created toward. That’s also what I proclaim others to join. I doubt anyone would take me seriously when I talk about my gratitude for God’s salvation and his gift of eternal life, but then I don’t value its breaking in to the here and now each Sunday morning when the community of the redeemed are meeting at worship. I join them because those are my people. They’re my family and my true identity is with them.
If Christ is unashamed to call me his brother, then I certainly will not be ashamed of my fellow siblings. I’ll find ways to embrace their songs. I’ll strive to forgive them as I have been forgiven by God. And I’ll love them through thick and through thin. Families can be messy, embarrassing, and frustrating. They should never be fickle.
After our church baptizes someone into the body we rejoice and sing this chorus: “I’m so glad I’m a part of the family of God, I’ve been washed in the fountain, cleansed by his blood! Joint heirs with Jesus as we travel this sod, for I’m part of the family, the family of God.”
Amen!
