When I still lived in my home state of Alabama, it used to bother me when outsiders referred to the "slow pace of life." I don't think most people who made the observation were trying to insult us. We simply knew that the American way of doing things was the fast way; that the schedules of important people are lived frantically, and in the fast lane. By contrast, it seemed to us that calling our lifestyles "slow" seemed to indicate we didn't have enough to do with our time.
When my family moved to Northern Virginia, virtually in the shadow of our nation's capital, we quickly adapted to different pace of life. Now friends from Richmond and other points south comment on how "fast" life seems. Sometimes it feels like I scarcely have time to think- which is unfortunate, since thinking is an important part of my career. There is something or someone demanding time or money at every turn.
So it was a wonderful change of pace when my family gathered after Christmas at the home of my daughter and son-in-law (and grand daughter) in Minnesota. There was already 18" of snow on the ground, and more arrived on the wind yesterday. The temperature varied from 0 to 15 degrees Fahrenheit, making it extremely uncomfortable going outside.
True Minnesotans are never put off by snow, but they do slow down when the mercury falls to zero. They have found satisfying alternatives to racing around and looking busy. And so we discovered board games- indeed, board game companies- we'd never heard of before. We played Ticket to Ride (which has about 10 different popular editions) and Farkel. There's a another game called Mystery of the Abbey which I'm eager to play. And of course, there was Scrabble and Sorry.
Minnesotans read more than most Americans. While trapped in the snow, I finished off an amazing book of theology and started a piece of historical fiction about Edgar Allen Poe. I noticed others in the house frequently finding a quiet corner to enjoy a book or magazine.
And I spent a lot of time reflecting on Paul's prison epistles- Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, and Philemon. Ironically, Paul often found that a slower pace of life was forced on him by angry goverments, rather than road conditions. He wasn't frantically busy 24/7, but you'd have to agree he was successful!
The day we left home, parts of Indiana and the area around Chicago were suffering frigid conditions, and traffic reports described cars in ditches as far as the eye could see. But even as we began to drive, the temperatures in those areas began to rise suddenly, and rain came in to melt the ice. We drove through without a hitch. For this we thank our Heavenly Father.
Once we arrived, there was plenty of time to share a sofa, sit across the table from each other, and laugh and talk together. Our entire family is stronger for our snowbound experience. We'll be returning home just in time for me to preach the first of four sermons, Letters from Jail, on Sunday morning. It seems like an important series of messages. And if God clears a safe path for our timely arrival in Virginia, I'll take it as confirmation. Happy New Year!
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Random Thoughts at Year's End
Most of us work tirelessly year after year to get every detail right in order to achieve the perfect Christmas. But reflect for a moment. If you ever achieved one of those Christmases, is that the one you remember so fondly? I've discovered that the Christmases my family and I remember most fondly are the imperfect ones; the ones where plans went awry, surprises occurred, and difficulties arose. Our plans did not work out, but through God's grace, we saw our deepest desires fulfilled. I've decided to be less obsessive at Christmas, and trust God to give me an imperfect Christmas that is completely unforgettable!
Next year I'm going to encourage my family and friends to spend more money at Kohl's Department stores. Virtually every other chain caved in to the PC Police this year. Christmas flyers were adorned with all the usual trees, candles, and garland, but the events being advertised were "Holiday Sales," "After Thanksgiving Sales," and "Season's Best" Sales! Only Kohl's intentionally and consistently dared to use Christmas in every flyer, every commercial, every sale. I plan to reward their integrity in 2009 and encourage others to do so.
Despite all the hysterics in television and news coverage, the Great Depression has still not arrived. Most homes are not in bankruptcy. Most people are not unemployed. As difficult as things are, the malls and stores in this area were jamming every time I passed one last week. And on the two occasions when I went inside, most people were carrying purchases. I know many people are facing difficulties, but let's not lose all perspective as 2009 opens.
Early Friday morning, my family and I will depart for a week in the Great North. We're off on an adventure to see my grand daughter (and her parents, of course) in Rochester, Minnesota. We'll be driving 18 hours straight through wintry weather to get there. If we don't get trapped in a snowbank, I'll share the latest from the Frozen North in a few days.
In the mean time, I hope your new year is full of Jesus!
Next year I'm going to encourage my family and friends to spend more money at Kohl's Department stores. Virtually every other chain caved in to the PC Police this year. Christmas flyers were adorned with all the usual trees, candles, and garland, but the events being advertised were "Holiday Sales," "After Thanksgiving Sales," and "Season's Best" Sales! Only Kohl's intentionally and consistently dared to use Christmas in every flyer, every commercial, every sale. I plan to reward their integrity in 2009 and encourage others to do so.
Despite all the hysterics in television and news coverage, the Great Depression has still not arrived. Most homes are not in bankruptcy. Most people are not unemployed. As difficult as things are, the malls and stores in this area were jamming every time I passed one last week. And on the two occasions when I went inside, most people were carrying purchases. I know many people are facing difficulties, but let's not lose all perspective as 2009 opens.
Early Friday morning, my family and I will depart for a week in the Great North. We're off on an adventure to see my grand daughter (and her parents, of course) in Rochester, Minnesota. We'll be driving 18 hours straight through wintry weather to get there. If we don't get trapped in a snowbank, I'll share the latest from the Frozen North in a few days.
In the mean time, I hope your new year is full of Jesus!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
The First Battle for Christmas
American culture has become so current, so edgy, that a whole generation of teen-agers seems to believe the most important things in all of history happened about fifteen minutes ago! It's not their fault. Schools seldom teach history anymore. And whenever history is the subject of popular TV and movies, it comes off so tarted up and politically correct that our forefathers seem more superficial and irrelevant than we are.
And yet, the poster for a current motion picture offers this insight: "Life is understood only by looking backwards. It must be lived looking forward." Isn't that the truth? Faith and courage are vital in living life by looking ahead. But history is essential if we are ever to look back and understand.
The December issue of National Geographic features a cover story titled "The Real King Herod." For centuries we have marveled at the ruins of architectural wonders he accomplished. Last year, archaeologists finally unearthed his tomb which had been lost from sight for centuries. For the overwhelming majority of men of women, Herod would be completely unknown were he not mentioned in the Bible.
Herod's architecture sheds light on the delusions of grandeur with which he entertained himself. No wonder he felt threatened by reports that a new king had been born in Bethlehem! He attempted to deceive traveling magi in hopes of gaining intelligence on the child's location and having him killed. When the wise men were tipped off to his evil intentions and went home another way, Herod ordered that baby boys in Bethlehem who were less than two years old should be murdered. His soldiers carried out his orders. The parents of the Christ child took him into hiding in Egypt after being warned by a divine messenger.
Ironically, Christ's family didn't have to remain in Egypt long. King Herod died a long, drawn out, miserable death with a disease so complex that the symptoms baffle medical researchers even today. Even as he ordered the death of the infants, he was already infected and on his way down. The king who considered himself "the greatest," departed the Earth like that proverbial fist being pulled out of a bucket of water. His lavish grave was quickly forgotten, then neglected, finally vandalized and hidden.
Meanwhile, the stable where that feared Christ child was born has been memorialized with a cathedral! Millions of people flock to Bethlehem every Christmas to be near the spot where Jesus walked. The king who built monuments to himself is now remembered only as a footnote in the story of the King he tried unsuccessfully to destroy!
While you're boldy living life looking forward, take some time periodically to look back and gauge where you've been.
And yet, the poster for a current motion picture offers this insight: "Life is understood only by looking backwards. It must be lived looking forward." Isn't that the truth? Faith and courage are vital in living life by looking ahead. But history is essential if we are ever to look back and understand.
The December issue of National Geographic features a cover story titled "The Real King Herod." For centuries we have marveled at the ruins of architectural wonders he accomplished. Last year, archaeologists finally unearthed his tomb which had been lost from sight for centuries. For the overwhelming majority of men of women, Herod would be completely unknown were he not mentioned in the Bible.
Herod's architecture sheds light on the delusions of grandeur with which he entertained himself. No wonder he felt threatened by reports that a new king had been born in Bethlehem! He attempted to deceive traveling magi in hopes of gaining intelligence on the child's location and having him killed. When the wise men were tipped off to his evil intentions and went home another way, Herod ordered that baby boys in Bethlehem who were less than two years old should be murdered. His soldiers carried out his orders. The parents of the Christ child took him into hiding in Egypt after being warned by a divine messenger.
Ironically, Christ's family didn't have to remain in Egypt long. King Herod died a long, drawn out, miserable death with a disease so complex that the symptoms baffle medical researchers even today. Even as he ordered the death of the infants, he was already infected and on his way down. The king who considered himself "the greatest," departed the Earth like that proverbial fist being pulled out of a bucket of water. His lavish grave was quickly forgotten, then neglected, finally vandalized and hidden.
Meanwhile, the stable where that feared Christ child was born has been memorialized with a cathedral! Millions of people flock to Bethlehem every Christmas to be near the spot where Jesus walked. The king who built monuments to himself is now remembered only as a footnote in the story of the King he tried unsuccessfully to destroy!
While you're boldy living life looking forward, take some time periodically to look back and gauge where you've been.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Jesus Did Not Die for Stress Relief
I was reading a fascinating book this week in which the author, a noted psychologist, complains that the field of psychology is no longer a science or a discipline, but has evolved into a religion. He observes that most of what passes for "therapy" today is actually self-worship hiding behind terms like self-actualization, self-discovery, and self-esteem.
I could sympathize deeply with him because I have a similar frustration. I think something very similar has occurred in the realm of Christianity. Much of what passes for "worship" today has very little to do with God at all, and is much more about self-motivation, self-help, and self-discovery. It's all about marketing church involvement to people who see themselves as consumers rather than disciples. It's useful to forget about sin and even the cross because the god that American worshippers have imagined is a distant deity who can't demand much at all. His assigned job is making us feel better.
It's true that Isaiah 53:5 explains "By his stripes we are healed." But you only have to read the next verse to realize he's not talking about treating cancer or depression. "All we like sheep have gone astray," Isaiah continues, "We have turned every one to our own way. And upon Him God has laid the iniquity of us all." In other words, Jesus didn't die to heal something any first year medical student could fix with a prescription. He didn't die so that you and I could be healed of loneliness. The sickness that he died to heal is more profound than all that: it's sin sickness. Christ died so that you and I could be justified and reconciled to our heavenly father.
It's true that other places in Scripture do address earthly health problems. David confesses in Psalm 103:3 that God has forgiven his sins and healed his diseases. Of course we all know that the Creator of the Universe can heal any disease and repair any problem. We commonly pray about those very things. But those benefits are simply by-products of living in tune with the the Creator of the Universe.
Because I believe every word in the Bible, I have no doubt that Jesus healed leprosy, blindness, and a host of other tragic physical afflictions. And in my own life, I have seen God answer prayers and heal cancer, heart disease, and all manner of addictions. But when I start promising instant pain relief to everyone who comes to church, I am dishonoring God, deceiving consumers, and watering down the Gospel.
Never forget that Stephen died young, a victim of stoning. Paul was beheaded. And Simon Peter was crucified, apparently upside down. The historic Christian faith has always set the followers of Christ at odds with their culture. Jesus calls us to a cross, not a spa. And on those occasions when he comforts us, it's clearly for one purpose: that we can rush back onto the field of battle and bring some other fallen soul to safety.
I could sympathize deeply with him because I have a similar frustration. I think something very similar has occurred in the realm of Christianity. Much of what passes for "worship" today has very little to do with God at all, and is much more about self-motivation, self-help, and self-discovery. It's all about marketing church involvement to people who see themselves as consumers rather than disciples. It's useful to forget about sin and even the cross because the god that American worshippers have imagined is a distant deity who can't demand much at all. His assigned job is making us feel better.
It's true that Isaiah 53:5 explains "By his stripes we are healed." But you only have to read the next verse to realize he's not talking about treating cancer or depression. "All we like sheep have gone astray," Isaiah continues, "We have turned every one to our own way. And upon Him God has laid the iniquity of us all." In other words, Jesus didn't die to heal something any first year medical student could fix with a prescription. He didn't die so that you and I could be healed of loneliness. The sickness that he died to heal is more profound than all that: it's sin sickness. Christ died so that you and I could be justified and reconciled to our heavenly father.
It's true that other places in Scripture do address earthly health problems. David confesses in Psalm 103:3 that God has forgiven his sins and healed his diseases. Of course we all know that the Creator of the Universe can heal any disease and repair any problem. We commonly pray about those very things. But those benefits are simply by-products of living in tune with the the Creator of the Universe.
Because I believe every word in the Bible, I have no doubt that Jesus healed leprosy, blindness, and a host of other tragic physical afflictions. And in my own life, I have seen God answer prayers and heal cancer, heart disease, and all manner of addictions. But when I start promising instant pain relief to everyone who comes to church, I am dishonoring God, deceiving consumers, and watering down the Gospel.
Never forget that Stephen died young, a victim of stoning. Paul was beheaded. And Simon Peter was crucified, apparently upside down. The historic Christian faith has always set the followers of Christ at odds with their culture. Jesus calls us to a cross, not a spa. And on those occasions when he comforts us, it's clearly for one purpose: that we can rush back onto the field of battle and bring some other fallen soul to safety.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Brother Charles of Jesus
Warning: This story ends with a very biblical prayer that you may be afraid to say aloud. Faint hearts and faltering faith should proceed no farther. You have been warned.
Charles de Foucauld began his life in France, but his lifestyle would have seemed very familiar to many present day Americans. Born into wealth and aristocracy, he lived out his youth among the privileged elite. He was only six years old when his parents died, leaving him a fortune which he learned as a young man to lavish freely on wine, foie gras, and willing women. Needless to say, he completely abandoned his Catholic upbringing and embraced the life of a playboy and soldier of fortune.
In 1886 at the age of 28, he personally encountered Jesus Christ for the first time in his young life. That supernatural moment would dramatically change his life forever.
He followed the call of Christ to become a monk, but soon discovered that even the most severe order of monasterial life was not challenging enough. He eventually renounced his family fortune, gave it all away, and ultimately retreated to North Africa to live among the Touareg tribesmen there. Temperatures in the Sahara Desert could rise to 120 degrees Fahrenheit by day, and dip below freezing at night. For fifteen years, this amazing man made this place his home and these people his mission field. He shared their poverty, worked alongside them in manual labor, evangelized them, led them in worship, and translated the New Testament into the Touareg language. These simple people he served began to call him Brother Charles of Jesus.
His earthly life was cut short at the age of 58 when he was murdered by bandits from a fanatical Muslim sect. Today he is celebrated for his life of surrender. And he is remembered for his prayer of "self abandonment." Will you dare to pray it for yourself?
"Father, I abandon myself into your hands/ Do with me what you will/ Whatever you do, I will thank you/ I am ready for all, I accept all/ Let only your will be done in me as in all your creatures/ And I'll ask nothing else, my Lord.
"Into your hands I commend my spirit/ I give it to you with all the love of my heart/ For I love you, Lord and so need to give myself/ To surrender myself into your hands with a trust beyond all measure, because you are my Father."
Someday we'll meet this guy in Heaven. Imagine standing beside him when the awards for sacrifice are being passed out. How many of us will be able to look him in the eye and say with honesty, "I finally got the courage to pray your prayer?"
Charles de Foucauld began his life in France, but his lifestyle would have seemed very familiar to many present day Americans. Born into wealth and aristocracy, he lived out his youth among the privileged elite. He was only six years old when his parents died, leaving him a fortune which he learned as a young man to lavish freely on wine, foie gras, and willing women. Needless to say, he completely abandoned his Catholic upbringing and embraced the life of a playboy and soldier of fortune.
In 1886 at the age of 28, he personally encountered Jesus Christ for the first time in his young life. That supernatural moment would dramatically change his life forever.
He followed the call of Christ to become a monk, but soon discovered that even the most severe order of monasterial life was not challenging enough. He eventually renounced his family fortune, gave it all away, and ultimately retreated to North Africa to live among the Touareg tribesmen there. Temperatures in the Sahara Desert could rise to 120 degrees Fahrenheit by day, and dip below freezing at night. For fifteen years, this amazing man made this place his home and these people his mission field. He shared their poverty, worked alongside them in manual labor, evangelized them, led them in worship, and translated the New Testament into the Touareg language. These simple people he served began to call him Brother Charles of Jesus.
His earthly life was cut short at the age of 58 when he was murdered by bandits from a fanatical Muslim sect. Today he is celebrated for his life of surrender. And he is remembered for his prayer of "self abandonment." Will you dare to pray it for yourself?
"Father, I abandon myself into your hands/ Do with me what you will/ Whatever you do, I will thank you/ I am ready for all, I accept all/ Let only your will be done in me as in all your creatures/ And I'll ask nothing else, my Lord.
"Into your hands I commend my spirit/ I give it to you with all the love of my heart/ For I love you, Lord and so need to give myself/ To surrender myself into your hands with a trust beyond all measure, because you are my Father."
Someday we'll meet this guy in Heaven. Imagine standing beside him when the awards for sacrifice are being passed out. How many of us will be able to look him in the eye and say with honesty, "I finally got the courage to pray your prayer?"
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