Meandering

I think I’ll just meander today. Christmas day is coming and there’s not a lot on my mind except what I should get Nancy for Christmas. Hopefully my ramblings will make some sense to you.

Nancy and I took a nice day-trip to Kansas City yesterday. We began by having lunch at Lidia’s. If you’re ever in Kansas City I highly recommend it to you. It started with the most incredible vegetable soup I’ve ever had. That was followed by an absolutely wonderful pasta dish, especially the ravioli filled with cheese and just a hint of lemon. As soon as I took the first bite my eyes rolled back in my head. “Oh, man,” I thought. This food is almost too good.” I haven’t had Italian food that good since we lived in New Jersey.

After that very delicious and leisurely lunch we spent about an hour in Westport doing the type of shopping Nancy loves most – antiques. It’s her environment. So, we went from shop to shop, Nancy picking up a bauble or two and me along for the ride. I’d occasionally see something that appeared to me interesting, but each time I asked for the price it would be something like five, six, seven, or in once case nine hundred and fifty smackeroos, which I’ll talk more about it a minute.

I always find these trips amusing. It seems like my eye catches the most expensive pieces offered. What’s that called? Champagne taste with a beer wallet, if I’m not mistaken. But then I think about it. Do these shop owners just see me coming? As soon as I enter the shop I wonder if the sellers and merchants don’t inwardly clap their hands together with glee and say to themselves, “Oh this is an uniformed buyer if I ever saw one. It’ll be list plus about fifty percent for him.”

Not knowing a thing about antiques is a real disadvantage. When a fella’, who I assumed was the shop owner, saw my interest in a small wood etching of what appeared to me to be a couple of German farmers commiserating about the weather or disobedient wives or some other topic that interests farmers, he asked if I’d like to know more about it. I told him that I did and he opened the case. “Looks quite old to me…..Maybe 18th century…..Oh yes…..It may even be older…..Looks like it has worm holes…..That says it’s old for sure.”
“How much?” I asked
“Only $950.”
“Is that all?” I feigned shock that something “so old” would cost so little.
The shop-owner responded to my skepticism. “I’d like to discount it a bit for you, but as old as it is I can’t really do this piece justice.”
I slowly retreated. “I’ll think about it.”
I spent the next few minutes observing Nancy just wandering around. She decided to buy a candle for about twelve bucks. As she was paying I told her about the wood etching. “It’s probably very old…..Maybe 18th century…..And it may even be older…..I think it has worm holes…..That says it’s really old, doesn’t it?.....I’ll buy it for you if you like.”
Well it’s a good thing there aren’t two “marks” in the family. Nancy’s response to my generous offer was, “Nah, that’s okay Slick, I’ve got this candle and that’ll be enough for today.” I’ve learned over time how to translate this little “Nancyisms.” It was her way of saying that the candle was about as old as the etching and it was a whole lot cheaper.

From Westport we made our way to the Plaza, Kansas City’s trendiest neighborhood. It’s about as close as Kansas City gets to looking like the Big Apple, where, in one form or another, it’s a demitasse followed by a demi-portion, followed by a very big bill. Something that might cost ten dollars here in Emporia will cost about thirty on the Plaza. But, as they say, you get what you pay for. Here in Emporia things are down home. It’s a fellow senior citizen at the door of Wal-Mart greeting the customers with the usual, “Welcome to Wal-Mart. Can I get you a shopping cart?” On the Plaza you’re greeted by “yuppies” who consider you a client rather than a customer. And, most important of all, they give you ambience. It all reminded me of an anniversary meal we had at some country club on Cape Cod a few years ago. It was one of those places where a guy is addressed as “the gentleman.” So it was “Would the gentleman care for an aperitif? Would the gentleman care for the wine list?” As I heard the words “Would the gentleman” I kept looking around, wondering “Who she’s talking to?” I found out when our new age “server” handed me the bill. I opened it delicately and nearly went into cardiac arrest…..three hundred and twenty big ones! That was about twenty bucks for the food for two and three hundred for the kind words.

Well that’s what the Plaza is like. It’s amazing, isn’t it? Twenty bucks per purchase can buy you a lot more these days than you might think – a tickled ego and a French lesson. A real bargain, wouldn’t you say?

Our afternoon ended with a few purchases. I bought a couple of books, “Rise, Let Us Be On Our Way” by Pope John Paul II. The other was “Can a Smart Person Believe in God” by Michael Guillen. Nancy got a silicon doo-dad that she’s now using to make cookies. Silicon apparently is quite heat resistant, which makes it quite nice to place the silicon doo-dad on the cookie sheet, drop cookie dough on it, and then throw it all in the oven. This saves her from having to scrape the cookies from the cookie sheet. Ah, will wonders never cease.

The drive home was quite pleasant, filled with memories of a wonderful thirty five dollar meal at Lidia’s, about forty dollars worth of trinkets, and about fifty dollars worth of books. Not a bad day at all. It was nearing sunset as we got on the highway south. The red glow of the sunset, painted against the bare branches of the few trees along the route home, seemed to beckon us home. We didn’t say a lot; we just basked in the ride and our quiet companionship. I spent most of my time thinking of the silhouette God was painting just outside my window. I wondered if it might even be possible for me, in these quiet moments, to open the window and peel back the layers so that I could see the Artist face to face. I came to my senses and realized that while I couldn’t peel those layers back I could find great comfort in the idea that one day those layers would be pulled back for me and I would see the Artist face to face.

This morning I began reading Pope John Paul’s book. While I’m not a Roman Catholic there’s much that I admire about this man. We Americans love to delude ourselves by believing that communism fell because we armed ourselves to the teeth and bankrupted them. Actually it was men like John Paul and the “insignificant” Christian communities of Eastern Europe, armed with faith, who were the real movers. John Paul’s words, heard and heeded by those hungry for the freedom to express their faith in Jesus Christ, spoke to me as well:

“When I spoke about this (Courage) on June 12, 1987, at Westerplatte in Gdansk to Polish young people, I spoke of that place as an eloquent symbol of fidelity in the face of dramatic challenge. There it was, in 1939, that a group of young Polish soldiers, fighting against decidedly superior and better equipped forces of the German invaders, faced grave danger as they bore a victorious witness to courage, perseverance, and fidelity. I referred to that episode, inviting the young people to reflect, above all, on the relation “between being more and having more,” (my emphasis added) and I warned them: “Having more must never be allowed to win. If it did, we would lose the most precious gift of all: out humanity, our conscience, our dignity.” In this vein, I encouraged them: You must make demands on yourselves, even if others don’t make demands on you.” And I went on to explain: “Each of you, young people, will experience a Westerplatte of your own: responsibilities that you must assume and fulfill, a just cause, for which you must fight, an obligation, from which there can be no withdrawal, no running away. A system of truths and values that must be “upheld” and “defended”: a Westerplatte in and around you. Yes, defend these things for yourselves and others.”

I reflect even now on John Paul’s powerful words. I think of the materialism that seems to be choking the life the Church in America. I think of the fact that it is rarely condemned, or questioned for that matter, these days. I think of what I wrote a few days about what I see and others see in evangelical Christian young people here in America. I wonder, no I actually fear, seeing that so many have opted for “having more” instead of “being more.” It seems to me that it’s the illusions that are shaping those who have opted for the opulence of the world. Can you imagine that? They’re being shaped by an illusion. Something that, by its own essence has no shape at all is shaping them. Eminem and Tommy Hilfiger have got them by their throats and they’re choking the life out of them.

Well, I’ve meandered. Over fifteen hundred words now. I’m told now that people’s attention spans can’t handle that. That is, “Give me something that catches my eye and it will get my attention…..and you’d better be quick about it…..I have money and I need more stuff, so I only have a minute or two before I get out there with the other clients…..I’ve got cold hard cash and I need a bit of ambience, not a sermon.

I’ll let you, dear reader, piece this together if you care to. It fits together. It takes a bit of work, but it does.

A Generation in the Balance

Ecclesiastes 12

1 “Remember your Creator
in the days of your youth,
before the days of trouble come
and the years approach when you will say,
"I find no pleasure in them"-

2 before the sun and the light
and the moon and the stars grow dark,
and the clouds return after the rain;

3 when the keepers of the house tremble,
and the strong men stoop,
when the grinders cease because they are few,
and those looking through the windows grow dim;

4 when the doors to the street are closed
and the sound of grinding fades;
when men rise up at the sound of birds,
but all their songs grow faint”

This past Saturday I spent an hour bell-ringing for the Salvation Army. All in al it was a nice way to spend the morning. People, it seemed to me, were very generous, especially the ones you wouldn’t expect. Hispanics, who now comprise over thirty percent of Emporia’s population, were especially generous. But there was one group that seemed to want no part of the giving – young people, from their teens to their early thirties.

I thought it was just my odd way of looking at things, but today, after speaking with a few of the folks from the Lions Club, I found that I was pretty much on the mark.

Now I’m sure I’ll get comments from people telling me how noble our young people are today, and I’m sure there is some truth to that. But I’m going to engage in a few glittering generalities for a few minutes. I think that the generation we are raising now is in serious trouble. Why, you ask? Because, I say, that they seem to me to be utterly self-absorbed, which makes them very difficult to reach.

Now if you’re reading this post and you’re a Christian you’re probably thinking that it’s all those worldly parents who are raising worldly children that constitute the problem. If men like Chuck Colson are to be believed (and I believe they are) the problem is just acute within the institution of the Church and the institution of the Christian family. A few illustrative comments from Chuck Colson’s latest from Christianity Today will follow.

Using Christopher Reeve’s life and death as a starting point he asked a group of Christian young people what the moral problem was with Mr. Reeves’ position given to the United States senate on stem cell research. In case you’re not aware, Mr. Reeve advocated stem cell research because it would “serve the greatest good for the greatest number.” Christopher Reeve was a very nice man, a man who focused almost all of his energy in his latter years to being a visible representative of his cause, advocacy for stem-cell research to develop a cure for the spinal cord injury that was eventually to take his life. The problem with his position, as Colson wisely pointed out, was that it was self refuting. Reeves advocated research that would bring a cure to him, but the cost would be millions, possibly billions of dollars. And it would also mean crossing a moral threshold that until now we have not dared to cross. Why should, or would, a society spend money to keep him alive when there are millions of other individual causes and other diseases and conditions that touch many more lives than his. Couldn’t that money be used to help even more people by spending it on research to seek cures for other diseases? Yet, if Reeves had had his way and “what he (Reeves) advocated actually were our governing philosophy, he would not have been there to testify.” And what of the moral questions that his position raised? Reeves said we should ignore them and concentrate on his need.

But beyond Reeves, Mr. Colson had problems with the Christian young people he was addressing. He was appalled, noting that:

“I don’t know whether the students lacked analytical skills or were just confused, but when I explained the inherent contradiction, the lights went on. When I discussed the concept of absolute truth, and the fact that it is knowable, there was an occasional nod of understanding, but it was clear I was breaking new ground. These students, mind you, were products of Christian homes and schools.”

- Charles Colson – cited in Christianity Today (December 2004) –

At this point I need to move on. If you can’t see the self-refuting nature of Reeves’ argument, think it through. Then think it through again. And…..again. If you seriously consider it the truth will come to you.

But I have something else I believe is even more important that Reeves' argument. It’s the sad fact that many, many Christian young people are falling for it. Why? Colson points out in his piece that a recent George Barna poll showed “just nine percent (my research into Barna found that it was thirteen percent) of evangelical students believe in anything called absolute truth.” Whatever the difference is between the two numbers, the fact is that this is absolutely astounding news! Nine percent or thirteen percent, you choose your poison.

I’ve seen it happening, and I suspect you have too. This raises the question of how this all happened.

I’ll put it simply, bluntly. They learned it from us, their parents, their teachers, their mentors, their adult friends. “You can’t be serious,” you say. “I am,” I say.

The young people of this generation have observed, been taught, and mentored by a generation of adults who drifted from the truth and used “faith” as a tool to achieve whatever ends we felt were important. In a nutshell, faith was more about us and less about truth.

There may have been more paths into this state of affairs. I can think of two. The first came from the “left.” It all started innocently enough. There were causes like women’s roles in ministry. That evolved into developing a language of inclusiveness. That became, in turn, a signal to include abhorrent behaviors into the mix. That’s pretty much where things stand on the left right now.

We on the right had our own path. We got caught up in our cleverness. The “Book” warns us not be become “wise in our own conceits” but we didn’t listen. Too much of what happened in the eighties and nineties was about achieving our goals in life and using Jesus as a tool to get them.

We did it all with jazzed up music, seeker-friendly churches, anything we could use to attract the masses. Most often the words sounded right, but it was where the rubber met the road that we had our problems. Success was going to be our goal in life and Jesus was going to be the vehicle. Prosperity was just around the corner, a prayer or a confession away. We sang about it. We danced for joy about it. We declared it. I remember a jazzy little number I heard in the eighties; it said it all. It was titled, “He Works for me, His Work is Guaranteed.” It was, so we thought, all about Jesus. We might just as well have been saying, “Hey Jesus, when you finish the vacuuming I need you to go down to the bank and straighten out my account. I’m overdrawn. And then when you’re done with that I need you to fix my car. The injector’s stuck. When you’re done with that come on back and I’ll find something else for you to do.”

That was the Jesus young people saw us talking about in the last twenty years. You may gnash your teeth and wail, but in your heart of hearts you know I’m right.

And what happened to Kerygma and the truth that has been passed on to us for centuries? Oh we still talked about it…..occasionally. And what of Jesus’ lordship? Oh we still talked about it…..occasionally. And what of the categorical imperatives Jesus issued? Oh we still talked about them…..occasionally. But more often than not we proclaimed a Jesus who would fulfill the American dream for us. We treated the Lord of the universe as if he were a politician whose only job was to fulfill our desires.

So, the young people of today learned it from us. We’ve tried to deny it by saying that the young who are abandoning truth are un-teachable. I submit to you that they have been incurable learners all along. They’re just carrying out what they’ve learned to its logical extension. For eighty percent or more (Barna’s data) of the young people on the left faith has been stripped of any meaning. Everything is fine. Everything is right. Everything is good. For the eighty percent of the young people on the right faith has come to be nothing more than a vehicle to satisfy lusts and desires. It’s every bit as subjective as the truth lived by their counterparts on the left. The only difference is in the language employed. One talks about the “Ground of all being” and the other is almost constantly heard saying, “Praise the Lord.”

After his encounters with evangelical Christian young people Colson concludes by saying:

“We’ve no time to lose. All the evidence shows that we’re already losing our kids. With only 9 percent of born-again teens believing in absolute truth, can we rescue this generation? Can we afford not to try?"

He’s right on all scores. There is no time to lose. And we must find a way to reclaim this generation before it’s too late!

A Truly Good Man, a Truly Good Life

pain (p n)n.

An unpleasant sensation occurring in varying degrees of severity as a consequence of injury, disease, or emotional disorder.

Suffering or distress

There are times when the definition of a word doesn’t do justice to the true sense of what the word is attempting to describe. Pain is one of those words. An unpleasant sensation? Varying degrees of severity? There’s more to it than that, isn’t there. How can a single word even capture what one feels when pain sets in? We’ve all felt it. It jolts our bodies, minds, souls, and spirits. We can be on the highest of mountaintops when it attacks and it will, in a moment, plunge us into the deepest of valleys, struggling to escape it, praying for the pain to end and for an escape from the valley.

Why, at this time of the year, is pain on my mind. After all, isn’t it Christmas, the season of joy?
It is! And yet, even in the account of the birth of the Prince of Peace there are hints and foreshadowing of pain. There are the words of Simeon, the prophet who had sought the Messiah for his entire life. Once he saw Him he declared that he had seen God’s glory in the flesh and could now depart from his mortal coil. It was joy tinged with sadness, sadness that the One he had waited so long to see would have would one day have to endure the deepest of pain and descend in the deepest of pits. In that moment of great joy he spoke these words to His earthly parents:

Luke 2:33-35 (King James Version)

“33And Joseph and his mother marveled at those things which were spoken of him.
34And Simeon blessed them, and said unto Mary his mother, Behold, this child is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel; and for a sign which shall be spoken against;
35(Yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also,) that the thoughts of many hearts may be”

Jesus’ birth, which should have been welcomed by all, was seen by some of those in power as a threat. The voices of angels proclaiming His birth were to be followed by the sound of “Rachel weeping for her children because they were no more.” The world’s Savior had to flee evil men, living his early years in Egypt beyond their grasp.

Pain…..Pain…..Pain…..It seems that even at the highest of our highs in life it is always near. In an otherwise forgettable film, Rocky III, Sylvester Stallone, got the issue of pain right. Rocky is about to face a rival who is remorseless, cruel, vicious. As they meet in the center of the ring prior to the fight Rocky looks quizzically at his adversary, Clubber Lang. “What’s this all about?” he asks. Clubber grits his teeth and snarls…..”PAIN!” The words come out slowly, purposefully…..”PAIN!”

It’s one of the major components of our lives. We try to avoid it. We take medications to make it go away. The drug companies tell us that we just to take a pill or two because “We don’t have time for the pain.” Some even deny that it exists at all as if it were nothing but a figment of our imaginations. There are even preachers who say that we can confess it away. We do all this and more and yet it persists.

I think back now to a time in my life when I’d passed though a very painful time and hope was alive. Nancy and I were getting married. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life. We were meeting with a counselor one a week as part of our preparation. The sessions had gone quite well. I learned that Nancy loved me, loved God, and also loved her independence. And I also learned something I would have to work through if Nancy and I were to ever be successful. In a session about a month before we got married the counselor, a wonderful man named Phil Klever, started asking me questions. “So, Phil, you’ve served in Vietnam. Tell us something about it.” The question seemed out of place to me. I responded curtly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t.”
“Was it a painful experience?”
“How many times do I have to say I don’t want to talk about it?”
“Okay Phil. Now you’ve been divorced. Let’s talk about that.”
I felt two sensations well up within me – anger and fear. “I don’t want to talk about that either.”
“Why not?”
I felt my hands gripping the chair tightly, looking for something tangible upon which to secure my whole being. “Damn you. Leave me alone. I don’t want to talk about this. Why don’t you understand? I just want to talk about getting married.”
Nancy, who was sitting across from me, broke in. “Phil, you’ve got to know that I love you, but you’ve also got to know there are going to be times when I’m going to need you to fight through pain for me. Do you understand that? You’re going to need to fight for me. I need that in you. You can’t avoid it. If you avoid it now you’ll avoid it sometime when I need you most.”
I broke. “I don’t want to hurt anybody anymore….And I don’t want to be hurt. It all just hurts too much…..I just want it to go away.”

That, for me, was the crux of the issue. I had to come to an understanding that, even in the best of times, I couldn’t avoid dealing with pain. Nancy and I worked through those sessions and, by God’s grace, we’ve learned from our own experiences, and the experience of others, that pain, while it is inevitable, can be a very powerful redemptive force in our lives.

But, again, why, during this season, is it so close to my mind?

This past Sunday, our pastor emeritus, Jim Kegin, and his wife Judy, made a joint announcement to the church. Jim has just been diagnosed with Pick’s disease. It’s an especially cruel affliction. While it’s like Alzheimer’s, there are some elements of the disease that are distinctive:

“These basic differences between Alzheimer's disease and Pick's disease mean that the two tend to produce somewhat different symptoms. In contrast to Alzheimer's disease, in which early memory loss predominates, the first symptoms of Pick's disease are often personality change, and a decline in function at work and home. Personality change may take the form of apathy and indifference toward customary interests, or of disregard for social decorum and for the feelings of others. Poor social judgment, inappropriate sexual advances, or a coarse and jocular demeanor may be seen. Function declines because the patient simply does very little, or displays confusion and poor judgment. Patients may not be highly forgetful. Often times the patient performs well when directed to do something, but cannot undertake the very same thing independently. What is lost is the ability to initiate, organize, and follow through on even very simple plans and familiar activities.

As the illness advances, difficulties with language become common. Patients become unusually quiet, and when they do speak it may be slowly, in brief sentences. They may labor to make the sounds of words and their speech may sound distorted. Some become extremely apathetic -- they may sit for hours doing nothing at all unless prompted to do so by another, while others become extraordinarily restless, and may pace unceasingly. Some patients are hypersexual, and some, like a small child, may place anything they pick up in their mouths. Gluttonous eating occurs in some cases. Attention span is poor; patients seem to be distracted instantly by anything that they hear or see. Later in the disease, patients usually become mute. Restlessness gives way to profound apathy and the patient may not respond at all to the surrounding world. Eventually, they enter a terminal vegetative state.”

PAIN…..PAIN…..PAIN! As I listened it all seemed so cruel to me. Jim, who is one of the kindest men I have ever met, is now in a battle not only for his life, but for those things in life that he has so valued. “Why?” I sit here and wonder through tears asking as Nancy sits downstairs playing, “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.” I think of the Prince of Peace and good will toward men, I can almost hear the angels singing. I see and hear all the wonder of this marvelous season and yet cannot help but wonder…..”Why? Why the pain? Why such pain to such a good man and woman?”

I think back to Jim’s words yesterday. He spoke so eloquently to and through the pain. He spoke of his mentors – Polycarp, Augustine, Luther, Wesley, some of the men who have graced Christian history. He spoke about his conversations with them through what’s they’ve passed down through the ages. He spoke of his love of reading. He spoke of his love for his family. He spoke of his love for the Church. And he spoke of his love for Jesus. And, as it is just a part of his nature, he did it will great dignity. As he did a clasped Nancy’s hand and thought of my mentors. I too love the Church fathers and all they have passed on to us. I love Nancy and I love my family. I love the Church and I too love Jesus. I listened, wondering and hoping that when the time comes for me to face such pain in my life that I’ll handle it with the same type of grace Jim modeled.

He also spoke of the fight ahead. His words were soft, but powerful. He wasn’t going to just give up. He was going to proceed on all possible fronts. He and Judy (and all of us) will pray for complete restoration and healing. But if the miracle doesn’t come in one form, they are believing it will come in another. Judy also shared about the “God of the Valley.” She said that all of life’s experience to this point has led her to see that the “window of heaven has gotten bigger and brighter” as time has passed. That is, they are now closer to what they’ve have both lived for. It’s closer now than they thought, but even in this pain it is brighter, more easily seen.

And so the fight begins. Jim will be spending a good deal of time writing down his life’s experience. While they pray that healing will come, they will labor to ensure that all that has been so important to Jim in life will not be lost. He and Judy are also going to be working with the medical teams to further research into this disease. They will fight the good fight of faith. They will not give in!

It all seems so unfathomable to me. I wonder why it had to be Jim and Judy. Why not one of those cruel preachers who delights in dangling parishioners over the fires of hell for their own amusement? You’ve been around them, haven’t you? They swing their fists wildly and declare that “God loves you.” Their words are true, but their body language says that He is angry with you. They love to talk about judgment, but you’ll never hear them talk about mercy. “Why not one of them?” I ask. “It seems to me that it would be a just reward for their cutting words.”

But that’s not the reality. Jim Kegin, a kind, decent, Godly man has been stricken. I pray for a miracle, but the reality stares sullenly at me. He’s stricken. Judy, who shares her husband’s kindness, is now walking through the depths of this valley with him.

I think, arrogantly, that if I had my way this pain for them would all go away. I would, if I could, do it by the power of my confession. My faith would make it better. How much, I realize, I sound like one of those peddlers of positive confession. I wonder how I would have responded at the foot of the cross that Simeon saw even at the birth of Jesus. Would I, like they, be railing, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Christ of God, the Chosen One.” Think of it. The One whose death was to bring life to those who would embrace Him at this point in his life was mocked by those inflicting the mortal wounds. I wonder where I would have been in His hour of need. Would I have embraced Him or would I have cursed Him?

So, it seems to me, that it’s all come full circle, a redemptive life, filled with mountains and valleys, and a redemptive death. This was they way of the cross for Jesus. And so it is now for Jim and Judy Kegin.

I spoke with Judy this morning, asking permission to share my thoughts about what has transpired in their lives. She was, as she always is, very gracious. In the course of our conversation she spoke about Jim’s desire to know that he had been a “good man,” that he had lived a good and honorable life. Of that I am confident. Jim is, in the truest sense of the words, a “good man.” And I think that will be one of the miracles that will come to him and to Judy in the days ahead. The words he loves to hear will be very near to them. “You’re a good man.”

Pain…..I sit here now wondering about its mystery. It’s the very thing we want least and yet it is the very thing that so often brings redemption in one form or another to us. It is something that is part of the human experience. And yet, as Judy so wonderfully said yesterday, as we pass through those times, the window of heaven gets bigger and brighter. There is a day coming, a day when God:

Revelation 21:4 (King James Version)

“Shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.”

That’s the hope that lies ahead.

Personality

John 17:20-23 (New International Version)

Jesus Prays for All Believers

20“My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, 21that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. 22I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one: 23I in them and you in me. May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.”

Have you ever notice how focused the “world” is on celebrity, which I believe has somehow become linked to what is termed or defined as personality:

per·son·al·i·ty (pûr s -n l -t )n. pl. per·son·al·i·ties

The quality or condition of being a person.

The totality of qualities and traits, as of character or behavior, that are peculiar to a specific person.

The pattern of collective character, behavioral, temperamental, emotional, and mental traits of a person: Though their personalities differed, they got along as friends.

Distinctive qualities of a person, especially those distinguishing personal characteristics that make one socially appealing: won the election more on personality than on capability.

See Synonyms at disposition.

A person as the embodiment of distinctive traits of mind and behavior.

A person of prominence or notoriety: television personalities.

After all, we believe, they’re famous, so they must have it “all together.” We assume that they exude personality, and hence we elevate them to places they have no business being:

It’s interesting. The “role models” being used today are actually the antithesis of what we should be emulating.

Oswald Chambers saw this exactly right, using one part of the extended passage in John 17. His December 12th snapshot and insights from “Devotions for Morning and Evening.” follow:

Personality

“that they may be one, even as we are one (John 17:22)

Personality is that peculiar, incalculable thing that is meant when we speak of ourselves as distinct from everyone else. Our personality is always too big for us to grasp. An island in the sea may be but the top of a great mountain. Personality is like an island, we know nothing about the great depths underneath, consequently we cannot estimate ourselves. We begin by thinking that we can, but we come to realize there is only one Being Who can understand us, and that is our Creator.

Personality is that characteristic of the spiritual man as individuality is the characteristic of the natural man. Our Lord can never be defined in terms of individuality and independence, but only in terms of personality. “I and My Father are one.” Personality merges, and you only reach your real identity when you are merged with another person. When love, or the Spirit of God strikes a man he is transformed, he no longer insists upon his separate individuality. Our Lord never spoke in terms of individuality, of a man’s “elbows” or his isolated position, but in terms of personality – “that they may be one, even as We are one.” If you give up your right to yourself to God, the real nature of your personality answers to God straight away. Jesus Christ emancipates the personality, and the individuality is transfigured; the transfiguring element is love, personal devotion to Jesus. Love is the outpouring of one’s personality in fellowship with another personality.”

More Puzzlements

I’ve been in a state of puzzlement since yesterday. This morning on the way to Wichita a couple of Bible stories came to mind. The first is the story of Elisha, some boys who were taunting him, and some bears that, on command, mauled the boys:

2 Kings 2:23-25 (New International Version)

Elisha Is Jeered

“23 From there Elisha went up to Bethel. As he was walking along the road, some youths came out of the town and jeered at him. "Go on up, you baldhead!" they said. "Go on up, you baldhead!" 24 He turned around, looked at them and called down a curse on them in the name of the LORD . Then two bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of the youths. 25 And he went on to Mount Carmel and from there returned to Samaria.”

It’s quite a story, one that’s hard to interpret. It all seems so gory to me and it seems that the great prophet was a bit thin skinned, to put it mildly. I can’t think of myself responding that way if neighborhood kids made fun of me because of my receding hairline. The best I can do is to see a lesson coming out of the story. Power has both positive and negative poles.

I think that’s a good lesson for the Christian community today, when power seems to be in vogue.

Does anybody else have another way of looking at this?

The second puzzlement is the account of the return of the Ark of the Covenant from the Phillistines to the children of Israel. The Phillistines had captured the ark from the children of Israel and taken it to Ashdod, one of their principal cities. What follows from that point is a puzzlement to me:

1 Samuel 5:6-12 (King James Version)

“6But the hand of the LORD was heavy upon them of Ashdod, and he destroyed them, and smote them with emerods, even Ashdod and the coasts thereof.
7And when the men of Ashdod saw that it was so, they said, The ark of the God of Israel shall not abide with us: for his hand is sore upon us, and upon Dagon our god.
8They sent therefore and gathered all the lords of the Philistines unto them, and said, What shall we do with the ark of the God of Israel? And they answered, Let the ark of the God of Israel be carried about unto Gath. And they carried the ark of the God of Israel about thither.
9And it was so, that, after they had carried it about, the hand of the LORD was against the city with a very great destruction: and he smote the men of the city, both small and great, and they had emerods in their secret parts.
10Therefore they sent the ark of God to Ekron. And it came to pass, as the ark of God came to Ekron, that the Ekronites cried out, saying, They have brought about the ark of the God of Israel to us, to slay us and our people.
11So they sent and gathered together all the lords of the Philistines, and said, Send away the ark of the God of Israel, and let it go again to his own place, that it slay us not, and our people: for there was a deadly destruction throughout all the city; the hand of God was very heavy there.
12And the men that died not were smitten with the emerods: and the cry of the city went up to heaven.”

I’ve heard scholars interpret the affliction various ways. The most common interpretation is that the entire city was stricken with tumors of some sort. Well, the King James English calls them emerods. That seems a bit too delicate to me, especially when the words used over and over (tchor – pronounced tekh-ore’ or ‘ophel – pronounced o-fel) meaning a “boil or ulcer (from the inflammation), especially a tumor in the anus or pudenda (the piles) or simply a “tumour or hemorrhoid).”

The way I read it is that the Phillistine community was stricken with hemorrhoids because they absconded with the ark of the covenant. Very indelicate, wouldn't you say? It’s a puzzlement to me. About the only sense I can make of it is that it’s a way of saying that if you try to handle the presence of God in your own power your effort will wind up being one big pain in the butt. There was only one thing that was going to fix the situation, and it wasn’t Preparation H. The Phillistines got smart and took the ark back to the children of Israel. They hitched it to a wagon and sent it on its way.

Does anybody have another take on this?

Well, it’s Friday, dear reader. This is Nancy’s last day of work and I think I’ll take her out to celebrate her new found freedom.

There are many more puzzlements, but they’ll have to wait.

Enjoy your weekend!

Puzzlements

puz·zle·ment (p z l-m nt)n.

"The state of being confused or baffled; perplexity"

I’ve been giving thought to things that puzzle me today. The ones that seem to have gripped my imagination are those things Darwinists, with their wooden formulas and dogma, have not explained to my satisfaction.

For example, why do up to 300,000,000 monarch butterflies migrate from the United States to Mexico each year? How do they manage the journey? How does the journey fit into the Darwinist’s scheme of things?

How about the duckbilled platypus? It’s a puzzlement to me. I wonder why it isn’t to the Darwinist.

And how about ideas? Did they just evolve? Am I supposed to believe, like the Darwinist, that if we’re given an infinite number of monkeys and an infinite number of typewriters, that one of them is bound to write King Lear sooner or later?

And what about those strange ideas they try to foist on us. I mean, what’s with punctuated equilibrium? I’m supposed to believe that’s science?

All this, and more, has been given to us by people who have the same problems we do, like balancing their checkbooks or staying married. I guess it says something about us when we put too much trust in folks just because they wear white coats, smoke pipes, and have created a language few of us really understand or care about.

I’m sitting here writing, amused by our two kittens, Tinker and Woody, chasing each other around, flopping all over each other. I find it all amusing, a dance of sorts, giving me great pleasure. As I watch them I’m reminded of these words from Holy Writ:

Revelation 4:11 (King James Version)

“11Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created.”
All this and more, they’re puzzlements to me."

I think I’ll see what C.S. Lewis has to say about all of this. Ah, yes, here it is on page forty-four:

Evolution

Evolutionary Hymn

Lead us, Evolution, lead us
Up the future’s endless stair:
Chop us, change us, prod us, weed us.
For stagnation is despair:
Groping, guessing, yet progressing,
Lead us nobody knows where.

Wrong or justice in the present,
Joy or sorrow, what re they
While there’s always jam to-morrow,
While we tread the inward way?
Never knowing where we’re going,
We can never go astray.

To whatever variation
Our posterity may turn
Hairy, squashy, or crustacean,
Bulbous-eyed or square of stern,
Tusked or toothless, mild or ruthless,
Towards the unknown god we yearn.

Ask not if its god or devil,
Brethren, lest your words imply
Static norms of good and evil
(As in Plato) throned on high;
Such scholastic, inelastic,
Abstract yardsticks we deny.

Far too long have sages vainly
Glossed great Nature’s simple text;
He who runs can read it plainly,
“Goodness = what comes next.”
By evolving, Life is solving
All the questions we perplexed.

On then! Value means survival-
Value. If our progeny
Spreads and spawns and licks each rival,
That will prove its deity
(Far from pleasant, by our present
Standards, though it well may be)

Puzzlements! There are lot’s more. How about you, dear reader, what are your puzzlements?

The Outhouse Lawyers

Proverbs 28

11 “A rich man may be wise in his own eyes, but a poor man who has discernment sees through him.”

Every era, every generation has them. They’re society’s resident experts on everything. They know all there is to know about the weather, politics, religion, economics, law, sociology, psychology, marriage, baseball, or any other subject that folks might discuss in polite company. When I was in the Air Force we used to call these good folks “outhouse lawyers.” It was an affectionate appellation of sorts we gave these noble souls because they claimed superior knowledge on any given subject and they did so without the sweat and strain of having to learn about these particular subjects. That is, while they paraded around as experts, they actually knew nothing about what they were talking about.

What does it take to be a member in good standing of the Noble Order of Outhouse Lawyers? Not much, really. Do you have a law degree? No, but you’ve watched Judge Judy enough to know how the law works. That’s enough to qualify you. Have you ever tried to hit a ninety-five mile per hour fastball? No, but that doesn’t really stop many sportswriters who’ve never even been in a batting cage from critiquing the guys who do it day in and day out for a living.

Most often they’re harmless enough. I’ve been an outhouse lawyer a time or two in my life so I’m able to give you an example. I know absolutely nothing about repairing cars or how they actually run. I mean, nothing. Not only that, I’ve never had any real interest in knowing anything about them. But that hasn’t prevented me from acting like I sometimes do. More than once in my life I’ve stood around with the guys while the hood is up. I’ve listened to the conversations. The car won’t start or it coughs and sputters. One of they boys says, “Could be the timing.” Another pulls on a wire or two, investigating. “Plug wires,” I think. Not wanting to be left out I stick my head in and add my two cents. “Sounds to me like a carburetor problem.” Well, the moment I make my declaration everyone who’s gathered answers in unison, “Dillon, this baby’s fuel injected.”

I think you get my point.

As I said, outhouse lawyers are usually harmless enough. It’s when we start electing them or putting them in positions of power that society suffers.

Nikita Khrushchev is a prime example. In his prize winning biography, Bill Taubman notes that Khrushchev was a pipe-fitter by trade, and by all accounts a very good one. Then he joined the communist party. Now the communist party had little need for pipe-fitters, but it did have an enormous need for beaurocrats. Nikita learned this early on in his career and rose through the ranks. In the twenties Stalin appointed him minister of agriculture. What did Nikita know about agriculture? Nothing, actually. He was an outhouse lawyer. And his problem was that he was working for a man, Josef Stalin, who was also an outhouse lawyer. Uncle Joe had devised five and ten year plans to revive the Soviet economy. The plans had nothing to do with reality, but that didn’t seem to matter. If a particular goal wasn’t met there were penalties, usually dispatch to a cemetery or hard labor in the gulags. Now while he was an outhouse lawyer, Nikita wasn’t a fool. He saw that he needed as many layers of insulation between him and Stalin as he could possibly devise. With self-preservation as the goal, he succeeded. Ministries were developed. There was the ministry of winter wheat, the ministry of the beet, the ministry of summer wheat, potatoes, cabbage, and so forth. Each ministry’s appointed chief was…..an outhouse lawyer. When the five or ten year plans inevitably failed, Nikita had someone to blame. “It was the fault of the head of the ministry of the beet.” The offending minister was then either shot or given a pick to take to Siberia for his failure.

That’s pretty much how communism worked. Nancy met a limo driver once who grew up in one of the eastern European soviet satellites. He once told her that people had adjusted to communism. There was an accommodation of sorts, the people would pretend that they were working and would let the beaurocrats pretend that they were in control. That’s outhouse lawyerism at its very best.

Now we’re not to be outdone in the west. We’ve got them in positions of power too. They’re usually academics and usually lean to the left politically. They’re visionaries, or so they believe. And at the heart of their particular vision is the notion that they are infallible, without regard for contrary opinions, acting “ex-cathedra” from their ivory towers:

“What a vision may offer, and what the prevailing vision of our time emphatically does offer, is a special state of grace for those who believe in it. Those who accept this vision are deemed to be not merely factually correct but morally on a higher plane. Put differently, those who disagree with the prevailing vision are seen as being not merely in error, but in sin.”
- Thomas Sowell – “The Vision of the Anointed” –

A great example is a “scholar” named Paul Erlich. Like most academic outhouse lawyers in the sixties and seventies he was concerned with the growth in human population. In his “masterwork,” The Population Bomb, he outlined the problem and the solution. He was convinced that by the turn of the century (2000) population would be totally out of control if something weren’t done to curb it. Like Chicken Little he declared that if something weren’t done hundreds of millions of people would starve to death by the the time the new millenium came. His solution was something only an outhouse lawyer could dream up – forced sterilization and euthanasia.

The turn of the century has come and is now almost four full years behind us. Erlich’s prophecy? It turned out to be false. Is Erlich still in vogue? Unfortunately, yes. I took a course in international relations last year at Emporia State and the professor somehow found a way to worm Erlich into the course material, touting him as a great hero of the people, a visionary. It’s amazing, isn’t it? Outhouse lawyers seem to have a way of cloning each other in academia.

But it seems now that the worm has turned. We conservatives have gotten the upper hand. We may not control the universities, but it seems we have considerable political power. It’s enough to make one feel drunk with that power. And therein lies the problem as we chart our national course forward. We are no more immune from becoming outhouse lawyers than Erlich, Khrushchev, George McGovern, JFK’s “brain trust,” or guys like me who don’t know the difference between carburetion and fuel injection.

Yet I hear the anthems of triumphalism sounding all across the American landscape these days. “Christians in power will make the difference.” “We’ll make things right.” “We’re the head and not the tail.”

Haven’t we learned? We’ve had Christian presidents before. Does anybody remember Jimmy Carter? He’s a really nice man. Now he does lean a bit too far to the left for me. But he is a nice man and I’m sure I’ll see him in heaven some day. Does anybody remember what America was like with him as president? Well it was a gawd-awful mess. He was one of our very worst presidents. Don’t you remember? There was the hostage crisis in Iran, the oil crisis, and the Russian invasion of Afghanistan. And how did Jimmy respond. His answer to the Iranians was vacillation. His answer to the Soviets was to punish American athletes by boycotting the Olympic Games. And his answer to American people during the oil crisis was that annoying lecture from the White House, the one where he donned a sweater, told us it was all our collective faults, and to turn our thermostats down to 51 degrees.

Maybe it was all because Jimmy Carter was a flaming liberal. That’s it! It was conservative Christians that we needed all along. If we get them into power, everything will be just fine. Right?

My problem with that thesis is that I’ve met a lot of dumb Christians in my day. They’re nice people, they’re part of my family, but they’re dumb. They know as much about running a country as those outhouse lawyers who mimic Judge Judy know about the law.

Yet I find it interesting that we somehow believe that we Christians can corner the market on intelligence and knowledge. It seem to me that the very thing we’ve accused those left leaning outhouse lawyers is the thing we’re about to engage in. We’re going to barge in and fix everything.

Really? I think we need to take a serious reality check before we barge any further than we have. Aren’t there enough examples from the Bible to warn us? King David was a great king in many ways, but his personal peccadilloes nearly did Israel in. And Solomon, as wise as he was, laid the foundation for his nation’s eventual demise. The prophets even warned Israel to walk humbly and circumspectly, but they didn’t listen. God then used the Assyrians and Babylonians, outhouse lawyers in their own right, to bring the nation to its senses. It took time, but it happened.

Given that, why would we think we, as Christians, have any greater capacity to rule justly or rightly? There’s something about power that’s seductive and we Christians aren’t immune. It seems to me that power and outhouse lawyers can make a toxic social potion. And, I think we need to beware before we barge.

There’s a better course. It’s to live our lives out, quietly, humbly, justly, living, as much as we can, in accord with our neighbors. It may not get us to the halls of temporal power, but it will make us people who have great influence on our communities.

So, I’ll close with these two things, dear reader. First, we’re not to be society’s outhouse lawyers; we’re to be its servants. And second, whatever knowledge we do have comes from a secure base, a base that will keep us on the path of being society’s servants:

2 Peter 1

Making One's Calling and Election Sure

3"His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. 4Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature and escape the corruption in the world caused by evil desires. 5For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; 6and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; 7and to godliness, brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness, love. 8For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. 9But if anyone does not have them, he is nearsighted and blind, and has forgotten that he has been cleansed from his past sins.”

It’s as simple as that…..really!

Dignity

dig·ni·ty (d g n -t )n. pl. dig·ni·ties

1. The quality or state of being worthy of esteem or respect.
2. Inherent nobility and worth: the dignity of honest labor.
3.
a. Poise and self-respect.
b. Stateliness and formality in manner and appearance.
4. The respect and honor associated with an important position.

I’ve been thinking about dignity since yesterday morning. It was raining then, so I missed my usual walk around town. To replace the cardio-vascular exercise I had to use my backup, a recumbent bike that sits in the basement for such dreary days. It’s an awful piece of machinery, so bad, in fact, that I now call it the torture rack. About the only thing that makes these occasional ordeals tolerable is being able to listen to music while my body takes the beating. Yesterday I decided it would be Bob Dylan.

About 35 minutes into the workout Dylan’s raspy voice began belting out a snappy little number titled “Dignity.” As I pedaled one stanza really stuck with me. It follows:

“Searchin’ high, searchin low
Searchin’ everywhere I know
Askin’ the cops wherever I go
Have you seen dignity?”

It’s an interesting question. Where is dignity?

Well it was just one of those things that stuck with me all day. I talked about it with Nancy as we drove up to Kansas City. There were big doins’. Her uncle Arthur was celebrating his 101st birthday.

It was a real pleasure to honor a man like Arthur. He’s a quiet man, but he’s also quite a man. As the “world” gauges things he hasn’t set the world on fire. He never was a chief executive officer in a fortune 500 corporation. I don’t believe he ever held political office. Nor did he invent some great gadget that drove an adoring world to his door. He’s just lived his life out with a quiet dignity that people around him really admire.

And that has been the beauty of Arthur’s life. I believe that he, and countless other like him, epitomizes the dignity defined at the beginning of my post. Honest labor has been the hallmark of his life, and theirs. He’s also carried himself with stateliness and great poise. So have they. Now there weren’t brass bands or an adoring flock following them around. Theirs has been a dignity that sadly has been missed by the rich and powerful and famous. And it’s really too bad. If many of those who market their dignity to the masses had spent some time with men like Arthur they would have learned what real dignity is all about.

You see, dear reader, dignity isn’t something you can market or buy. Dignity is that state of being that a person carries naturally, without all the worldly trappings. People like Arthur have never needed the brass bands or the adoring fans. In their quiet way they have honored God and those around them and in so doing they received more than enough reward for their efforts. It’s rooted in humility and the “Book” tells us how important that really is:

Proverbs 15

33 “The fear of the LORD is the instruction of wisdom; and before honour is humility.”

I’ve spent a good part of this day thinking about that state of being. I thought back to a piece of poetry I wrote in 1995 about dignity:

Some say their roots are in the land

In the strength and dignity of furrowed country rows

Mine are in the blaze of neon

Giving light and breath to the tenements lining ghetto streets.

Some say their faith was honed on cathedral glass

And sharpened by regal priestly robes

Mine was cut on jagged ghetto glass

And purified by the clatter of subway steel.

Some say they have an eye for distant landscapes

Or the refined beauty of a mountain stream.

Mine is tuned to a ragged ghetto face

Or the cloistered ghetto masses forgotten by the rush of time.

Where's the dignity of life to be found?

In the land? In a stream?

For some it is for sure.....

Where is it then for me?

It's the romance of the Ghetto that will always fill my soul.

© 1995 Phil Dillon

I thought about what I wrote, and while I like what I said, I now see that there is even more to the whole idea of what gives life dignity.

I can see why a poet like Dylan would ask that question. In a world where far too many believe dignity can be bought or sold the idea seems almost foreign or illusory. You have to dig deeper than the surface to see it. It’s akin to those pearls of great price that Jesus spoke about in describing the kingdom of God.

I think back to yesterday. Seeing someone like Arthur, living in the final course of his journey, is a great reminder to me of the beauty and dignity of the life well-lived. I sense that there will be days ahead when the lesson will come to me once again. It will come at a those times when I’m tempted to compromise or to treat something as important as humility and integrity as though they were merchandise. And the lesson will be this. Dignity isn’t lost. It must be found deep within.

Sunday Morning Thoughts - God's Ways and Recapturing Wonder

Isaiah 55

7 “Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the LORD, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.8 For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the LORD.9 For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

It’s Sunday morning. I’m reading from Isaiah 55. As I read I’m struck by the notion that God’s ways aren’t ours. I think about that statement and wonder whether it’s actually a complaint of sorts from God rather than a statement of fact. Could I just as easily read this passage, “Why aren’t my ways your ways?” without doing violence to the text?

Christians will be going to their respective houses of worship this morning. One of the first things they will be doing is invoking God’s presence. For some it may be very formal. For others it may be very informal. Each, in his or her own way, is asking God to come and be part of their day.

Wouldn’t it be better, I wonder, if we acknowledge His presence rather than invoke it? I wonder how much difference something so seemingly small might make. Would we be less inclined to use God as a means to achieve our ends? It seems to me we would. It would be a small way of saying that in spite of the difficulties of life, its tribulation and pain, that we acknowledge that He is with us and will not abandon us.

Just a small thing, I admit. But I believe it’s the small things that so often make a big difference in our lives.

Ravi Zacharias has looked at these small things and determined that we need to recapture our sense of wonder and awe. Early on in his latest book, Recapture the Wonder, he describes wonder as:

“That possession of the mind that enchants the emotions while never surrendering reason. It is a grasp on reality that does not need constant high points in order to be maintained, nor is it made vulnerable by the low points of life’s struggle. It sees in the ordinary the extraordinary, and it finds in the extraordinary the reaffirmations for what it already knows. Wonder clasps the soul (the spiritual) and is felt in the body (the material). Wonder interprets life though the eyes of eternity while enjoying the moment, but never lets the momentary vision exhaust the eternal. Wonder make’s life’s enchantment real and knows when and where enchantment must lie. Wonder knows how to read the shadows because it knows the nature of light. Wonder knows that while you cannot look at the light you cannot look at anything else without it. It is not exhausted by childhood but finds its key there. It is a journey like a walk through the woods, over the usual obstacles and around the common distractions, while the voice if direction leads, saying, This is the way, walk ye in it (Isaiah 30:21).”

I agree, and I believe that recapturing process begins by simply acknowledging His presence in our lives. It is that avenue, the one that causes us to walk “in his way,” that will engage us in life.

These are my thoughts this Sunday morning. Yours?

Is God a Liberal?

Isaiah 32

5 "The vile person shall be no more called liberal, nor the churl said to be bountiful.6 For the vile person will speak villany, and his heart will work iniquity, to practise hypocrisy, and to utter error against the LORD, to make empty the soul of the hungry, and he will cause the drink of the thirsty to fail.7 The instruments also of the churl are evil: he deviseth wicked devices to destroy the poor with lying words, even when the needy speaketh right.8 But the liberal deviseth liberal things; and by liberal things shall he stand."


I spent a good part of the morning having breakfast with Curtis McCauley at the Commercial Street Diner. I just call him “Doc.” He’s a retired veterinarian, entrepreneur, raconteur, and man about town. He retired quite a few years before I did, so he has a great deal of experience at this sort of life. I use most of my time with him soaking things up, figuring out just what I’m going to be like a few years now.

We spent a few minutes of our time this morning working out some logistical details on his blog, Doc’s Reminisence. Once we got that taken care of Hal Smith, the Emporia Gazette’s ace photo-journalist stopped by and asked us the Gazette’s “question of the week,” which appears in each Saturday’s edition. The question this week is, “Do you think that wind-turbines to generate electricity should be allowed on the Flint Hills?” My answer was an emphatic “No!” I also added, “Can you imagine what the Flint Hills would look like with wind turbines and windmills dug into them?” Look at the link to the Flint Hills about two or three lines ago and I’m sure you’ll side with me. First of all, the Flint Hills are beautiful, stark but beautiful. Secondly, they serve a very important purpose. They constitute one of the cleanest ecosystems in the world; they take the excess carbon dioxide in the atmosphere caused by cars and other emissions and use it to nourish the tall grass. It’s a wonderful exchange all around. These hills remove pollutants and nourish the grass that feeds the cattle that eventually wind up on dinner plates all across this country. It’s a great, symbiotic relationship.

But that’s all an aside. The real issue was the liberal/conservative thing. I don’t know how we got on that track, but we did. Maybe that sort of thing always happens in a conversation with a journalist. The after breakfast talk meandered for about forty five minutes or so, covering communism, the Emporia city commissioners, slum-lords, PETA, Patrick Kelley, Nikita Khrushchev, beaurocracy, liberalism, conservatism, and family secrets. It was an engaging conversation which I think ended with all agreeing to disagree.

Well I got home and decided to conduct a little experiment. I couldn’t do it from memory so I used a resource, Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible. I first looked up the word “conservative,” etc. Check this link to see what I found. Interesting, isn’t it? The word “conservative” doesn’t appear in the Bible. Then I checked out the word “liberal” or its derivatives. Now check out this link. Once again, interesting and…..surprising. The word “liberal” does.

My next step was to proof text. The most obvious comes from the New Testament:

James 1

5 “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.”

What a shocking revelation! God gives “liberally.” And it even seems that He gives with few if any of the strings we attach to the recipients of our generosity.

I notice this liberal nature in the Almighty quite often in our garden. We plant what we believe to be enough tomatoes for two and the crop winds up being more than enough to support twenty or thirty. The same holds true for the broccoli, the asparagus, the strawberries, the beans, the peppers, and the lettuce.

I think of this and wonder how inclined we’d be in polite conversation to accuse God of being “one of them,” a liberal. I wonder how often we’re inclined to really think through the principle that God uses to sustain the universe. I call it “flow.” He gives liberally and we receive. Now if we’re given too much what do you suppose we should do with the excess? The answer, in principle, is easy. We should give in the same manner we have received. That is, most of what we are given is more than likely intended for someone else.

Yet, much of the Christian community today is focused either on the issues to the political left and right or a transactional theology that puts “self” on the throne of need. We complain about the politics of the age while we transact business in the sanctuary, getting what we “need.” We do this while ignoring the real issues at hand for the Church. And what are they? First, and foremost, there are “multitudes” watching what’s going on within the Christian community. They’re watching, considering, and waiting to decide. The prophet Joel put it this way:

Joel 3

13 “Swing the sickle, for the harvest is ripe. Come, trample the grapes, for the winepress is full and the vats overflow- so great is their wickedness!" 14 Multitudes, multitudes in the valley of decision! For the day of the LORD is near in the valley of decision.”

Joel’s proclamation is usually interpreted as something that concerns the eternal question. But there’s also a second element to the proclamation, the here and now.

Knowing that, what should we focus on? Knowing that, what do we actually focus on? Is it the need? Or is it our need above all others? Look at the landscape today and tell me what you see.

A while ago Nancy gave me one of David Wilkerson’s latest pieces from his Times Square Pulpit Series. It’s titled “Guarding the Sheep – Beware of Wolves in the Church.” Like almost everything he does, Wilkerson bores in, giving the subject his all, with no holds barred. A sample follows:

“Oh, how blind the church has become. And how blind so many shepherds are. Churches that once believed in sacrifice, self-denial, and cross-bearing have become corrupted by flesh. Their focus is now totally on self, on material things, on the good life, not the holy life.”

Or how about this:

“It’s all a stench in God’s nostrils. And let me tell you where it ends: We serve a patient God who won’t destroy or judge anyone who’s drawn into snares ignorantly. He will warn and correct his sheep. But the day is coming when he’ll say to these wolves, “Enough! You’ll no longer rob widows. You won’t turn the blood of my Son into a credit card to satisfy your lusts. You’ll no longer be allowed to go into all the world and preach a materialistic Christ.”

Now we can turn someone like Wilkerson off as a cranky, off-center, wild and wooly prophet if we like. But there’s a problem with that. Wilkerson is right because God is right. And here’s just one thing God has to say about it all. You can relegate it to a time long since past, but you do so at your peril. What the prophet Amos said thousands of years ago is relevant today:

Amos 8

4 "Hear this, O ye that swallow up the needy, even to make the poor of the land to fail,5 Saying, When will the new moon be gone, that we may sell corn? and the sabbath, that we may set forth wheat, making the ephah small, and the shekel great, and falsifying the balances by deceit?6 That we may buy the poor for silver, and the needy for a pair of shoes; yea, and sell the refuse of the wheat?7 The LORD hath sworn by the excellency of Jacob, Surely I will never forget any of their works."

This all started at breakfast this morning, with talk about liberals and conservatives, about right and wrong thinking. After reading Wilkerson, talking to Nancy, and reading Holy Writ, I find myself far less inclined to bandy about terms and pick on the obvious targets while I all too often use my Christian faith as a mechanism to get what I want out of this life.

The message of the “liberal” God seems clear to me. Our focus should be on giving, giving from the well from which we have so graciously, and “liberally,” received. We can complain about the political realities of the day if we like. There’s plenty to complain about for sure. But if those realities are ever going to change, they will change because we have changed. We have a Role Model who seems to be liberal indeed. We need to be more like Him and less like the role models of greed and corruption all around us.

I wish, dear reader, that I could have said something more pleasant today. But this is where my heart is right now. Throw stones, grind your teeth, shake your fist at me if you like. But after you’ve done that I ask that you prayerfully consider what I’ve said.

Madonna Without Child

Isaiah 9

1 “Nevertheless the dimness shall not be such as was in her vexation, when at the first he lightly afflicted the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, and afterward did more grievously afflict her by the way of the sea, beyond Jordan, in Galilee of the nations.2 The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.3 Thou hast multiplied the nation, and not increased the joy: they joy before thee according to the joy in harvest, and as men rejoice when they divide the spoil.4 For thou hast broken the yoke of his burden, and the staff of his shoulder, the rod of his oppressor, as in the day of Midian.5 For every battle of the warrior is with confused noise, and garments rolled in blood; but this shall be with burning and fuel of fire.6 For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.7 Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end, upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order it, and to establish it with judgment and with justice from henceforth even for ever. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will perform this.”

My favorite Christmas season movie is Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life.” It’s the story of a small town hero, George Bailey of Bedford Falls. You probably all know the story. George, at a major crisis point in his life, considers committing suicide, somehow believing that the world would be better off if he’d never been born at all. It is at this point that God intervenes. Clarence Goodbody, George’s guardian angel, who has yet to earn his wings, is assigned the task of rescuing George. Clarence devises an ingenious mechanism to do just that, giving George the ability to see what the world would have looked like and been like without him. George watches helplessly as tragedy after tragedy unfolds before his eyes. He is now powerless to stop what’s going on. He objects. At one point he sees his brother Harry’s grave marker and attempts to remind Clarence that his brother was a Medal of Honor winner, a man who had saved the entire crew of a ship from certain death. Clarence tells him that, because he was never born, he was never there to rescue Harry from death in a winter accident and that the entire ship’s crew had also died because Harry, in turn, was not there to save them. George also sees his wife, never married. And his own mother doesn’t know him. And Bedford Falls has become Potterville, a town under the thumb of a better, greedy banker. It’s anything but the idyllic place that George helped build into a place where families could stake down roots and build a good, solid community.

In the end George comes to his senses, realizing that his life was full of meaning, that he had friends who loved him, and that, as his brother Harry says, “He is the richest man in Bedford Falls.” It’s a wonderful story, one that says a great deal about the power of one life. It’s a wonderful story because it hits us right in the heart. Haven’t most, if not all, of us thought at one time or another that the world would be a better place without us? George concludes that it is a wonderful life and we, vicariously, conclude the same.

This morning I was browsing through some of my favorite blogs and came across a piece on Michael Gallaugher’s Conservative Christian. The piece that got my attention was titled “Christmas and the ACLU.” In his unique way, Michael outlined six cases in which the ACLU is, and has been, attempting to overturn Christmas traditions in the name of “equity and fairness.” What can I say? Sure…..Right…..Fairness and equity…..So that’s what this is all about. Michael was right. The ACLU = the Grinch!

Here in Emporia we have an annual Christmas parade. It’s not much by big city standards. There are bands and floats, Christmas carols, and prayers. There are no big celebrities, just the folks of Emporia kicking off the Christmas season. No one objects, and why would they. If an organization like the ACLU came to Emporia like a group of neighborhood bullies it wouldn’t be well received, but that has never stopped them before. In the name of fairness they take away much of what is good in our communities. It’s really nothing more than an exercise in raw, obscene power.

I put the two thought together and wondered what we’d have today if Jesus had never been born. What if heaven had made an Executive decision and said, “They’re not worth it. They’re going to reject my gift. Let them try to make it on their own.”

How would history have changed?

We take so much for granted. We send Christmas cards with one depiction or another of the “Madonna and Child.” Without Jesus it would have to be something like the “Madonna Without Child.” We listen each Christmas season to Handel’s Messiah, possibly the greatest single piece of music ever written. If it hadn’t been for Jesus, Handel would have had no theme to extol in music. And what would this time of the year be without Silent Night or Joy to the World? There would be no sermon on the mount, no beatitudes. There would be no cross, no salvation. It would be a very empty season.

But, some might say that the void in art or music would have been filled by someone else. To that I would say, “What would motivate someone?” The motivation behind the great art and the great classic was Jesus himself. Who, or what, would have replaced Him?

The answer is, of course, that no one could have (or would have) replaced Jesus. But think of it. If God had decided not to send Jesus there would be no redemption possible for man. We’d be on our own. If we think there is trouble in the world now, imagine what things would be like if Jesus had never been born. There would be little or no mercy. There would be little or no forgiveness. There would be little or no grace. Our world would like much like Potterville, Bedford Falls without George Bailey, a town where it was every man for himself. It would be all but unlivable.

Thankfully, though, Jesus did come to us. He was born in that stable in Bethlehem. He lived and walked and talked and ate with us. He came to fulfill the hopes of the prophets:

Isaiah 53

1 “Who has believed our message and to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed? 2 He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground. He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. 3 He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. 4 Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. 5 But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. 6 We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all. 7 He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth. 8 By oppression [1] and judgment he was taken away. And who can speak of his descendants? For he was cut off from the land of the living; for the transgression of my people he was stricken. [2] 9 He was assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death, though he had done no violence, nor was any deceit in his mouth. 10 Yet it was the LORD's will to crush him and cause him to suffer, and though the LORD makes [3] his life a guilt offering, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the LORD will prosper in his hand. 11 After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life [4] and be satisfied [5] ; by his knowledge [6] my righteous servant will justify many, and he will bear their iniquities. 12 Therefore I will give him a portion among the great, [7] and he will divide the spoils with the strong, [8] because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.”

And, most important of all, Jesus died for us, and then rose from the grave to lift us from the sting of death and sin.

Yes, if the ACLU could have its way we’d live in a world without God, without Jesus. We’d be at their mercy. But the truth is that Jesus came. He didn’t decide to abandon us in our hour of need. He knew the cost of His coming and He came anyway. Aren’t you glad? Aren’t you glad that the ACLU cannot take Him away? They may try, but you and I are witnesses to that truth! Rejoice then! Be glad! “The people who walked in darkness have (truly) seen a great light.”

"The Word Became Flesh"

John 1

1 “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.2 The same was in the beginning with God.3 All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made.4 In him was life; and the life was the light of men.5 And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.6 There was a man sent from God, whose name was John.7 The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through him might believe.8 He was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light.9 That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world.10 He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not.11 He came unto his own, and his own received him not.12 But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name:13 Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.14 And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth.”

It’s the mystery of the Christian Church that many stumble over. God became a man; that’s the mystery, the great wonder of our faith. Some stumble over the science of it – how could that possibly be? How could a virgin conceive a child? Some stumble out of vanity – “I won’t bow to a God who would reveal Himself in such a humble manner.”

I recall our class discussions in seminary about the incarnation. Much of it centered on the concept of the “logos.” For the scholar it’s a very rich term. Now I’ll try not to bore you too much with, but I want to compare the language and understanding of the theologians with the language and understanding of a child.

If you were to ask a theologian to describe the “logos” his or her description might sound something like this:

“denotes the expression of thought – not the mere name of an object – as embodying a conception or idea.”

How might a theologian describe the baby Jesus in relation to that term?

“A title of the Son of God; this identification id substantiated by statements of doctrine in John 1:1:18, declaring His distinct and superfinite Personality…..”

Now it’s not that the theology is inaccurate. The theologian is correct. But there is something about the description that makes me feel as though God Himself were some sort of silly putty for scholars to throw out to the rest of us, piece by piece.

It’s a problem the expert has. Lawyers have developed legal language that all too often seems out of touch to the rest of us. So have doctors, and politicians, philosophers, and biologists. In order to describe the reality we live in they all develop abstract language to “accurately portray” that reality. The end result is usually something so abstract that few can understand it or relate to it.

But, a child, oh a child is so different. For example if one were to ask a biologist to describe a tree outside a window in a sitting room, he or she might talk about photosynthesis or some other biological process. A child, on the other hand, would more than likely take you to the window and point, saying, “That’s a tree right there.”

For the past few weeks if been getting reacquainted with the wonder, the mystery of the Christian faith I embraced so long ago now. There have been times I thought I fully understood it. How foolish of me! There were times when it puzzled me to the point of exasperation. There have been days of doubt. But this year I’m reveling in the mystery of it all. God became a man! In doing so He made the abstract concrete. It was as though He were taking us to the window of that stable and declaring, “This child is everything I can possibly ever say about Myself. Behold Him and wonder! Behold Him and receive the gift I have given you!”

Sometimes the learned and wise do “get it,” though. I read the following excerpt from James Carroll in Christianity Today about an hour or so today:

“HIC INCARNATUS Est.”…Hic. Here the Word became flesh…..Here. The infinite accepted limits. Why? So that a limited creature – me for one – might accept limits too…..God’s love for me, manifest in this man, is a gift, not a reward. Grace, not a salary…..It was not my commitment to God that mattered, but God’s to me. And that commitment cannot be broken.”

- James Carroll – An American Requiem: God, My Father, and the War that Came Between Us –

Jesus, God’s fullest expression of His love, came to us. He walked with us. He talked with us. He ate with us. He cried with us. He challenged us. He died for us!

His expression to us wasn’t clinical or abstract. It was active, alive, and, yes, mysterious. God said everything that ever needed to be said about Himself in this one man. In doing so His intent was that we should embrace that mystery, revel in it, and walk in it.

So, dear reader, come to that stable this season. Lay down your doubts. Lay down the intellectual wandering. Embrace the mystery!