We Celebrate Friday and Sunday, How about Saturday?

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Yesterday, due to Covid-19, I missed attending one of my favorite church events, but our excellent staff at Foundry Church shared a Good Friday service remotely via The Internet. Still nothing can replace the solemnity and silence that we normally experience on Good Friday.

Christians around the globe celebrate two of the most holy days this weekend. We all know what Jesus experienced on Friday and Sunday, but was Saturday just another ordinary day with little or no significance?

To be honest, I have never given it much thought. I have always left the solemn Good Friday service in silence anticipating the glorious Sunday celebration to follow. An article in the current Christianity Today magazine caused me to contemplate what happened between Jesus’ death on the cross and his resurrection. The article, “Before Christ Arose He Was Dead,” by Travis Ryan Pickell offered three possibilities of what Jesus may have experienced on Saturday.

Before we consider those three days, it is vital to first reflect on Jesus’ incarnation. God becoming a man was the greatest miracle, the deepest mystery and most profound event in history. Everything Jesus of Nazareth experienced was experienced as both God and man. His conception was unique, but his birth was natural. Nine months gestation preceded the baby’s struggle through the birth canal, exhaling his first breath with the piercing cry of a newborn. His childhood development was normal. As a young man he learned the trade of his adoptive father. After his baptism things changed when the Holy Spirit descended and indwelt him.

As an itinerant preacher he experienced the joy of close relationships but also deep loneliness and rejection, even betrayal by a close friend. He knew hunger and thirst but also enjoyed rich banquets at the table of the wealthy. He experienced pain so severe that we can never fully appreciate. He also experienced the dying process and death.

As we remember Jesus’ life and death on this holy weekend, let us reflect on what Jesus may have experienced on that Saturday two millennia ago.

Day one, Friday: Luke the physician reports that Jesus “expired” shortly after noon. The lungs of that infant, inhaling his first breath in Bethlehem, now exhales his last breath outside Jerusalem. His heart stops beating. No pulse. No brain waves. Jesus has died and is buried.

Day three, Sunday: Jesus body, now transformed but still very real, very human, is alive once more. Death has been defeated.

Day two, Saturday:  Here is the mystery? Where is Jesus on Saturday? We know his body is lying in the tomb, but where is he?

Did he descend into the underworld, perhaps purgatory, to preach to people who perished in Noah’s flood as some interpret 1 Peter 3:19?

Is this when Jesus “disarmed rulers, putting them to shame and triumphing over them” as Paul wrote in Colossians 2:15? Probably not since Jesus’ body remains in the grip of death; the victory is not yet won. He has not yet ascended to the Father. Consider Jesus’ words to Mary on Sunday morning, “Stop clinging to me for I have not yet ascended to my Father.”

One thing is certain: Jesus was dead on Saturday. The God-man was dead! Shocking thought? Amazing is the way Charles Wesley described it, “How can it be that Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?” A good question if Jesus is God.

What does that Saturday two millennia ago have to do with us today? We gather to remember Jesus’ death on Friday because his death bought our redemption. That’s what makes Friday good. We love to gather (and will gravely miss the opportunity this year) on Sunday to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection. We sing, “Up from the grave he arose with a mighty triumph o’er his foes…”

But, what should we sing on Saturday, the day between Friday and Sunday?

Why sing praise or give thanks for a dead body? Why not? Saturday reminds us that we have a high priest who understands and is compassionate with us because he has experienced life in real time

. During this pandemic we are frequently introduced to people who have lost a loved one to the virus while quarantined in the ICU with no family members present during the dying process. Jesus experienced dying alone, surrounded by strangers and the curious. Perhaps we hear that most clearly in his last words, “Father, why have you forsaken me?” Taking my sin upon himself, he became quarantined on the cross.

Now that I have considered Saturday, the day between Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday, I am encouraged to draw near to Jesus when I am fearful or exuberant. Whether healthy and without a fever or infected by a virus. Whether surrounded by family and friends or alone, perhaps stranded in a foreign airport after the last flight has departed. Whether I am struggling with temptation or experiencing victory on the mountain top, I can confidently draw near to my great high priest because he has walked through the valley before me and will walk with me.

In the Christianity Today article the author reflects on historical religious pictures that try to capture Jesus’’ passion, death and resurrection. One picture by a 16th Century German artist, Hans Holbein the Younger, painted the almost naked corpse of Jesus lying in the tomb. Rigor mortis and early signs of decay are evident. I know it was Saturday because Jesus is certainly dead. The artist paints the corpse with mouth wide open as if joyfully expecting a great awakening on Sunday.

Isn’t that the picture Paul painted in 1 Corinthians 15? Jesus died! But, he arose on the third day and was seen by hundreds of eyewitnesses. Therefore, we can be certain death (and dying) has been conquered once for all.

In this present global pandemic, when the foundations of our culture have been shaken and many live in fear, let us draw near with confidence to Jesus because he understands.

So, on this sad day, this Saturday, what shall we sing? How about, “Low in the grave he lay, Jesus my savior! Waiting the coming day, Jesus my Lord (and God)!”

I close with one quote from the article: “If God can be present in the death of Jesus Christ then God can be present even when he seems distant.”

An Extra Moment at the Crossing

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What makes Thanksgiving special? Or is it just another holiday? Another day off work?
Each of our national holidays shares a common purpose. Each, when properly observed, provides a time for reflection—a time to push the pause button on the daily routine of life.

That’s what makes each of these days a holiday—holy day—a day set apart from other days. Whether it be New Years Day, Memorial Day, Independence Day, Labor Day, Veteran’s Day, Thanksgiving Day, Christmas and even Presidents Day and Martin Luther King Junior’s Birthday, they provide a time to stop and remember.

But what makes Thanksgiving Day unique? Not turkey dinners and pumpkin pie or football games or Macy’s parade. Certainly not Black Friday that follows! (Or at least it used to follow Thanksgiving. In the race for profits it seems that Black Friday now precedes Thanksgiving.)

I like to compare Thanksgiving Day with a railroad crossing that forces us to stop in the middle of a road trip called life.

Some of us remember the old railroad crossing signs that read, “Stop. Look. Listen.” Those three words reveal the essence of celebrating Thanksgiving as it was meant to be.

The pilgrims are credited for celebrating the first Thanksgiving Day in October 1621 following the first harvest in the new world. It was a three-day affair with Native Americans and the new colonists enjoying the bounty of the harvest together.

In 1789 George Washington declared a national day to give thanks. I find it interesting that Thomas Jefferson chose not to observe Thanksgiving Day. But is it any wonder? Our third president was a deist, who didn’t believe in a personal God. So who would he thank for that golden brown wild turkey on the platter?

Thanksgiving became a federal holiday when Abraham Lincoln, in the midst of the Civil War, called the nation to offer “Thanks and praise to our beneficent Father who dwells in heaven…” Thanksgiving has been celebrated in November ever since.

Back to the railroad crossing sign. I recently discovered that there is apparently a market for these antique signs. I found one sign on ebay.com selling for $8,475. Nostalgia, it seems, still sells.

So what do these commands to stop, look and listen have to do with Thanksgiving Day? I believe these words reflect many biblical passages. Psalm 103:1-2 comes to mind.

Bless the LORD, O my soul,
and all that is within me,
bless his holy name.
Bless the LORD, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits….

We discover similar instructions in each of the following psalms through Psalm 107. It would be well to pay attention to the three commands on old railroad crossing signs.

Stop! Perhaps it’s only my default position, but I suspect most of us can agree that it’s easy to get caught up in the routine demands of life and forget to reflect on how greatly we have been blessed. I need occasional reminders to just “stop” long enough to reflect. I wrote about that in last week’s blog.

Look! Remembering God’s benefits is the look command on the railroad sign. This morning it was Psalm 111 that challenged me to stop dumping my request list on God and to look both directions, backward and forward. While reflecting on the past year I was reminded of all the good things God has done for me. The list is long.

Listen! When I finally stop talking long enough to listen, I can begin to reflect on the manifold blessings graciously heaped upon me. Yes, it is grace. No blessing has been deserved or earned. Listening reminds me of not only how great God is, but how good! How faithful!

Live! I found a few old railroad crossing signs that included a fourth word: live.
Having stopped and looked back and listened at one of life’s crossings (such as Thanksgiving Day), we can safely go on our way, knowing that God loves us and knows what is best for us. We can trust Him.

Let us also pause to bless the Lord by sharing about these blessing with others. That is what praise is all about. I can thank God silently in my heart on Thanksgiving Day or any day, but I can only praise God by sharing these blessing with others.

How about including that opportunity at this year’s Thanksgiving dinner? It may not add sweetness to the pumpkin pie, but it can change the atmosphere in a room…and the direction of a day.

How Do You Measure Success?

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Today I am writing even more than usual as an old man. That’s another way of confessing that I have been reminiscing. It’s David’s fault. While reading through the Psalms the other day I overheard him speaking to himself.

Praise the LORD, O my soul;
All my inmost being, praise his holy name.
Praise the LORD, O my soul,
And forget not all is benefits
(Psalm 103:1,2)

That last line set my mind in motion, reflecting upon God’s blessing these past three quarters of a century. The list of benefits—though I’m sure I only remember a fraction—was very long. Life has been good. Yes, I’ve had my share of pain, too—and much of it resulting from my own poor choices. But God has shown me His grace in the lows as well as the many highs.

I reflected upon our family of two sons, five grandkids and one great grandson. Fifty plus years of Christian ministry brims over with great memories made in four churches in Ohio and Oregon. I have enjoyed mission trips loaded with timely provisions from God—and far too many to justify as coincidence.

In the voyage through the winding backroads of memory, I recalled listening to an old 33 rpm record that my father had. (Those old forgotten vinyl discs seem to be popping up all over the place again. Perhaps we all have a reflective side.)

That particular record wasn’t the usual collection of songs; it contained excerpts from sermons preached by well known, godly preachers and evangelists from previous generations. I used to love listening to these men. Most of them I had never heard of, but something about them seemed to resonate in my pre-adolescent heart. Perhaps it was God planting a small seed that would germinate into His call on my life.

This record from the 50s included voices from men as far back as D. L. Moody. Moody was an evangelist in the last few decades of the 19th century, so his voice may have been recorded on one of Edison’s wax cylinders. The sound was distorted badly, but behind all the noise I could the voice of Dwight L. Moody reading the Beatitudes: “Blessed are the poor in spirit…”

I could hardly believe it! I knew about The Moody Bible Institute in those days, but didn’t know I would someday be an alumnus—and also a preacher. I knew the evangelist had died in 1899, but I heard him speaking from that scratchy old record back in 1957.

There was one other voice that I still remember over 60 years later. Perhaps it was his name that leaped off the record label, but I think it was his voice that camped in my mind that day. Rodney “Gypsy” Smith was born in 1860 near London, England. He was the son of a gypsy family wandering around the countryside—despised by the locals, and often accused of thievery. His father spent a fair share of time in local prisons.

Gypsy, as he became known, claims he never went to school. Not even for a single day. At 16 years of age, however, Gypsy happened to hear a Methodist evangelist preaching to a crowd. The teenager’s heart was gripped by God’s Spirit and he was, in his own words, “converted.” He returned to his family that night declaring his conversion to follow Jesus Christ. Soon he carried a Bible and a prayer book that he couldn’t read. He learned to read and preach and sing the good news. And God used him.

Crowds mobbed into churches where the young gypsy boy was preaching. He became a phenomenon in his own country and began to cross the Atlantic to preach in the States. Before his death, in 1947, Gypsy would cross 45 times and preach to huge crowds in Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and Paris, France.

Once when defending his lack of formal education Gypsy explained, “I never went to any of your colleges or seminaries. They wouldn’t have me, but I went to the feet of Jesus where the only true scholarship is learned.”

That uneducated, social outcast, gypsy boy became one of the most listened to preachers of his day. He often burst into song in the midst of a sermon, and it was a song that I heard on that old 33 rpm record long ago. It was the same song that I just heard once again this morning through the Internet. It moved my old heart today as much as it did my teenage decades ago. I believe the lyrics hold the secret to the success of Gypsy Smith’s long global-wide ministry.

I can hear my Savior calling,
I can hear my Savior calling,
I can hear my Savior calling,
Take My cross and follow,
Follow all the way.

Where He leads me I will follow,
Where He leads me I will follow,
Where He leads me I will follow,
I’ll go with Him,
with Him all the way.

Just now I listened once more, trying to sing along with this hero of the Faith, but lost my voice in the emotion of the moment. You will discover a link at the bottom of this blog if you care to hear Gypsy Smith singing in 1902.

So you ask, “What does this have to do with measuring success?”

One of the preachers on that old record album defined success this way: “Success is knowing God’s will and doing it.” 

Now I can’t swear that it was Gypsy Smith who made that statement about success, but I have always remembered it that way. If those weren’t Gypsy’s words they certainly reflect his life and the lyrics from the song above. One day a young gypsy boy, rejected and hated by peers, heard Jesus calling him to follow all the way, and he did. For over six decades he proclaimed the good news around the world.

There we have it. Success isn’t accumulating money or trophies or being famous for some other reason that our culture values. Rich men have died paupers, if not in gold, in reputation. Strong men succumb to disease and death like the rest of us. Musicians with great voices are silenced by death. But the man or woman who knows God and understands God’s will and does it will abide forever.

How do you measure success? Success is knowing God’s will and doing it.

The Essential Ingredient for Leadership

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I came across a quote by a politician I could get excited about. He wrote: “I am not bound to win, but I am bound to be true. I am not bound to succeed, but I am bound to live up to what light I have.”

That’s an amazing statement. He meant it, too. The trouble is, he won’t be on the ballot. That’s because the man who spoke those words was our sixteenth president, Abraham Lincoln.

That sort of integrity seems like the rarest of elements among many in leadership today. It’s true of contemporary politics, and sadly, the same thing might be said of leadership in the Church.

We can teach leadership skills, but each of us must choose integrity.

Consider Israel’s first two kings, Saul and David. Both were chosen by God Himself. Each shared similar temperaments and strengths. But one king ended his reign in ignominy, and the other continues to be esteemed today. What made the difference?

Both Saul and David physically attractive men; Saul stood a head taller than his peers, and David was ruddy and handsome. Both displayed authentic humility when Samuel anointed them to become the leader of the nation. Both were actively involved in humble work. Saul was hunting for his father’s stray donkeys; David was herding his father’s sheep.

Saul tried to deflect the attention from himself by responding to Samuel’s pronouncement that he was to be the king of Israel, protesting, “But am I not a Benjamite, from the smallest of tribe of Israel, and is not my clan the least of all the clans of Benjamin? Who do you say such things to me?” (1 Samuel 9:21). Saul even withheld from his uncle the news about his new status. In fact, on the day of his coronation Saul was hiding among the baggage.

David was retrieved from the sheepfold when Samuel came to anoint him to replace King Saul. There is no record in Scripture of David flaunting that he was the heir apparent to the throne. In fact, he entered the palace to play his harp to calm King Saul’s troubled emotions. He fought as a soldier under Saul’s command.

We discover another similarity at their coronation when both were filled with the Holy Spirit. We read that ”God changed Saul’s heart… and the Spirit of God came upon him in power…” (1 Samuel 10:9, 10). As for David, “Samuel took the horn of oil and anointed him in the presence of his brothers, and from that day on the Spirit of the Lord came upon David in power” (1 Samuel 16:13).

There we have it! Both men had the blessing of God’s Spirit before they even began to reign. Tragically, the very next verse (1 Samuel 16:14) almost screams for a response:  “Now the Spirit of the Lord had departed from Saul and an evil spirit from the Lord tormented him.” Whether I like it or not, the text says that God ordained this evil spirit, perhaps some type of mental disorder, to plague Saul. Surely there had to be a reason for this severe discipline. And there was.

Soon we discover a fatal flaw in Saul’s character.

Both men were fallible, and fell into sin. But what happened when the sin of each was exposed? Their responses were like night and day.

Saul displayed impatience and a lack of faith when he foolishly assumed the role of priest before a battle. He had waited the prescribed seven days for Samuel’s arrival, but the prophet was apparently running late. Israel’s citizen-soldiers, already fearful of the impending battle, began to slip away. Rejecting Samuel’s instructions, Saul took the bull by the horns and offered the burnt sacrifices on his own.

On the surface, his offense may seem trivial. After all, Samuel should have been punctual! Responding to Samuel’s interrogation, Saul explained that he was compelled to offer the burnt offering (1 Samuel 13:12). (I hear a not-too-subtle attempt to blame Samuel’s tardiness.)

Samuel’s rebuke must have shaken the young king to the core. God’s spokesman declared that God had rejected Saul’s kingship, and that another man—with a heart for God—would replace him.

Years rolled by, and Saul once again disobeyed God’s direct command. You can read about it in 1 Samuel 15. After a dramatic military victory Saul spared the king of the Amalekites and the best of their livestock. Whatever logic Saul might have been using, it was sheer disobedience. Not to mention the fact that Saul built a monument for himself at Mt. Carmel to honor his tainted victory.

Exposed by the bleating of the cattle, Samuel confronted Saul about sparing the livestock. Backed in a corner, Saul sputtered and hedged, trying to pass off the blame on his soldiers. Finally, the angry prophet shouted, “Stop!” Only then did Saul finally admit his sin. But as you will see in the account, he seemed a lot more concerned about his public opinion polls than what the God of heaven thought about his disobedience.

David wasn’t perfect by a long shot. The sins we remember about him are recorded in 2 Samuel 11 and 12. Strolling on the palace roof in the cool night air he saw a beautiful woman bathing. An innocent glance became a lustful look. Abusing his power as king he ordered servants to retrieve Bathsheba for a one-night-stand in the royal bedroom—before sending her home before dawn to conceal any evidence. But God knew.

Weeks passed, making it appear that David’s sin would remain secret. But then the message arrived: Bathsheba was pregnant. Her husband, one of David’s most valiant soldiers, was away from home fighting a war. David’s first response to hide his sin and save face resembled Saul. But before we stone David, isn’t that our normal response when we are confronted by sin?

You know the story. David sought to preserve his reputation by bringing Bathsheba’s husband Uriah home for a little R & R. Uriah, however, proved to have more integrity than the king, refusing point blank to go home to sleep with his wife while his comrades faced peril and death on the battlefield. Even getting Uriah drunk failed. David considered his options and ended up plotting Uriah’s destruction—sending him back to the front lines with his own death warrant in hand.

Free at last, David married Bathsheba and his dirty little secret remained safely hidden. But not from the Lord—who sent Nathan the prophet to confront David, exposing his sin of adultery and murder.

This is where we discover the real difference between Saul and David.

David’s response? “I have sinned against the Lord.”

That’s it. No blaming. No excuses. No minimizing. Just honest confession. “You’re right. I did it. I am guilty.”

To really understand David’s brokenness read his prayer of confession in Psalm 51. Overwhelmed by guilt he cries for mercy. With a truly broken heart, he prays, “Blot out my transgressions…. Wash away all my iniquity… Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight.”

Realizing the depth and gravity of his sins, David went on: “Cleanse me… wash me… blot out … create in me a new heart …” David’s passion for God is revealed in these words, “Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.”

David had walked with God through severe times. While hiding from Saul in the desert wilderness he could say, “Though I pass through the valley of the shadow of death, you are with me.” But now he sensed the distance he had placed between himself and his Shepherd and Guide—and he couldn’t bear it. David could endure the rejection of people and their crude gossip, but he could not tolerate the thought of another moment separated from God’s presence.

Martin Luther wrote in a letter to his friend Melanchthon, “God does not save those who are only imaginary sinners. Be a sinner, and let your sins be strong [or sin boldly], but let your trust in Christ be stronger, and rejoice in Christ who is the victor over sin, death, and the world.”

Luther wasn’t advocating sinning deliberately so God’s grace could abound (Romans 6:1). Rather, he was calling for brutal honesty in confessing our sin to God. That’s exactly what John wrote: “If we confess (admit) our sin, He (God) is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sin and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9).

That’s integrity. That’s what God expects from us. Remove the mask and all those attempts to appear righteous. Just ‘fess up.

Saul sought the approval of the people and lost his heart for God. David sought God’s approval because he had a heart for God.

That is why David, even with adultery and murder on his rap sheet, is called “a man after God’s own heart.” He was far from perfect, but so passionately in love with our holy God that he couldn’t tolerate the thought of losing that fellowship, that intimate friendship he had loved since boyhood.

We rightly concern ourselves about the integrity of our politicians. But what about that person looking back at us in the mirror?

Sunbeam or Searchlight?

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It was 4:30 p.m. and the winter sun, low on the horizon, sent its rays streaming through our living room. Noticing that Mary was sitting in “my” recliner, I waddled over to the sofa. What a different perspective! I was almost shocked to discover the once absolutely pure, clean air was actually alive with activity. Tiny, almost microscopic particles were soaring like a flock of miniature birds, driven by the ceiling fan lazily churning the air above me, circling in preparation to land.

These invaders, whatever they were, remained invisible until they passed through the brilliant sunshine piercing the room. Suddenly appearing as they passed through the sunbeam, they shone like miniature snowflakes or transparent jellyfish floating in the current. Some passed so close that I could hold out my hand to catch them on my palm. Even though I watched them float directly into my hand, their only moment of visibility came as they floated through the sunbeam.

It was a bit disheartening to realize that the perfectly pure air I thought I was breathing was, in reality, not so pure at all. The sunlight had shattered that myth. Without its illumination, I could have remained content and at peace in my ignorance—assuming the air that entered my nose and lungs was absolutely pure and free from contaminants.

I would have never seen the airborne dust.

A little research revealed that these invading particles have a name. They are called “aerosols”—naturally existing phenomena consisting of very small particles of dust or moisture, sometimes resulting from human activity. They have always been there in our house, but I wasn’t aware of them—until they floated in and out of the brilliant sunbeam.

So what’s the point, you ask? Good question. And yes, I do have a spiritual application.

The point is that I can live day in and day out deceiving myself, and justifying myself as a “good man.” I can convince myself that I have a handle on sin. I can even begin to believe that lust, envy, wrong anger and other sins are all “in the past,” and that nothing presently exists requiring confession and cleansing. I have become the man described in 1 John 1:8 who claims to “be without sin.”

Falling into that trap is to call God a liar. A very serious charge, wouldn’t you agree?

Often the Holy Spirit, like that brilliant sunbeam, has exposed my hidden sins through the light of God’s Word. The Bible is more than just a light directing me to stay on the path of righteousness (Psalm 119:105). The Book of Books is also the sunbeam exposing the hidden particles floating around my mind, the living room and the closet of my life.

The Bible can be much more aggressive than a sunbeam. Consider Hebrews 4:12-13: “For the word of God is living an active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing the soul and spirit, joints and morrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.”

Like that winter sunbeam exposing hidden, almost invisible particles floating in the air I breathe, the Holy Spirit uses Scripture to shock me into the reality of my heart’s condition.  When that happens, I have two choices: I can ignore the evidence, deny the guilt and remain filthy. Or, I can freely admit and confess the sin and claim God’s promise to “forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”

Don’t you love that word purify? Like an air filter catching and removing all foreign particles from the air God graciously removes my sin and guilt. Even greater, He replaces my guilt with the righteousness of Christ. Can it be any better than that? 

Remember the old children’s song? Open up your heart and let the sunshine in. David said it like this:

Search me, O God, and know my heart!

Try me and know my thoughts!

And see if there be any grievous way in me,

and lead me in the way everlasting!

—Psalm 139:23-24

The Bounty of the Earth

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What’s not to love about autumn?

It’s my favorite season. One morning you step outside and sense the air has changed. Summer’s gone; it feels like football season. Deciduous trees surrender their summer green in exchange for brilliant yellow, red, burgundy and gold before bowing to winter’s advance.

When I was living in Portland several decades ago, I tried to describe this in a poem. I’ll share it with you at the end of this blog.

David, the poet king, celebrated this change of season in Psalm 65:

You visit the earth and water it;
you greatly enrich it;
the river of God is full of water;
you provide their grain,
for so you have prepared it.
You water its furrows abundantly,
settling its ridges,
softening it with showers,
and blessing its growth.
You crown the year with your bounty;
your wagon tracks overflow with abundance.
The pastures of the wilderness overflow,
the hills gird themselves with joy,
the meadows clothe themselves with flocks,
the valleys deck themselves with grain,
they shout and sing together for joy.
(Psalm 65:9–13, ESV)

Rain showers soften the hard soil so seeds can erupt to greet the sun and grow deep roots, supporting tall plants laden with grain. Wagons heavily laden with grain create tracks in the dirt, leading to granaries filling up with harvest gold. The sweet smell of new-mown drifts in the wind. I really like David’s portrait of the meadows clothing themselves with flocks of sheep and goats and cattle. There will be meat in the locker this winter.

In those few lines David captures an entire agricultural season, from springtime plowing to harvest. We see the Creator’s hand throughout the entire poem, and I can picture it all in my mind’s eye.

After the harvest has been safely gathered, everybody shouts and sings with joy. Growing up on the farm, I remember that harvest was always the most joyful season of the year.

Soon we will celebrate our national Day of Thanksgiving, savoring the bounty of God’s abundantly fertile earth.

The leaves have pretty much vacated the trees around our home as I write these words, but wow, what a display! Every season has its unique beauties, but in my book autumn crowns them all.

Here is the poem that I wrote years ago, inspired by a huge maple tree in my neighbor’s yard.

Autumn’s on retreat
Outside my kitchen door.
Uniforms of red and gold
Are marching in defeat
Falling, falling on the ground
Outside my kitchen door.

First a scout, then a sentinel
Pass by in single file.
Then two, then three, then four
Then hordes and hordes and more
Ever marching in retreat
Falling, falling on the ground
Outside my kitchen door.

Soon they slow, now two
Then one, then none
Till the last battered old general
Surrenders to winter’s deadly charge
As he joins his troops
Falling, falling on the ground
Outside my kitchen door.

A Church of One

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Recently I met a new friend while climbing Bessie Butte with my friend Troll.

We had occasionally seen David (not his real name) on our descent, and one day introduced ourselves. After a few more encounters, we had an extended conversation on the summit. We learned that David, a healthy 82-year-old, was not only an avid climber, but also a follower of Jesus. Our conversations became more personal and a friendship began to blossom.

One day I asked what church he attended. His response was immediate. He no longer attended a local church, he told us, adding that God had told him to “come out from among them.” Them being organized churches. David preferred to just read his Bible and commentaries at home. Alone.

He was a church of one.

I have met these “micro churches of one” throughout my almost 50 years of ministry. Usually, these solo believers explain that their church consists of watching a television ministry or listening to a radio preacher. They enjoy a large choir and professional musicians. They tithe faithfully to their church through the mail or online. They listen to a powerful message by a gifted preacher, and may even verbalize an “amen.”

But who heard it?

Can a televised church service replace the real thing? For a shut-in who can’t get out of bed, it seems better than nothing.

A church of one, however, doesn’t really exist. It’s a contradiction in terms. The English word “church” is translated from a Greek word ecclesia, derived from a verb “to call” and a preposition “out.” The church consists of people who have been called out from the world. Believers have not only been called out from the world, but called into God’s family. We have been chosen to become part of a great family. God never intended for us to live in isolation but always in community.

Each biblical metaphor for the church emphasizes that the church consists of many parts or individuals. A body consists of many organs, and each is vital to the welfare of the rest of the body. A building consists of many parts but remains one building. A family consists of individuals, and so does God’s family.

Can a man or woman, then, divorce themselves from a local church and still be a Christian? Can a heart go on beating outside the body? Can lungs function apart from a body? Not for long! Using another metaphor, can a flaming ember continue to burn after being separated from the campfire? Again, not for long. It will flicker, smolder, and cool to ash. Professing to be a follower of Jesus Christ and choosing to live in isolation from the rest of His family is ludicrous. Let me illustrate.

 Consider the purpose of spiritual gifts. God’s Spirit gives each true believer unique strengths or abilities to share with the rest of the church family. What is the purpose of the gift of helping in a church of one? Whom do you serve with your gift? Whom would you teach if your gift is teaching? Who would encourage you or spur you on when you are struggling if you were the only member of your micro-church? If you have been gifted with leadership, who will be following your leadership? What could be more pathetic than a one-person parade?

Every spiritual gift, to be of any value at all, demands more than one person: the gifted and the one who is blessed through the gift.

Let me demonstrate the fallacy of trying to be a church of one. When you are lying on a gurney in the ER, try calling your gifted TV pastor who edifies you each Sunday morning on your wide-screen TV. Will he hold your hand and pray with you in your dying moments? Of course not, nor should he! You are not his responsibility. He may be your preacher, but he will never be your pastor or shepherd.

Or try asking him or her to officiate at your memorial service. Remember, he doesn’t even know you exist. Imagine, in your church of one, what the “other members” will share at your celebration of life since all the members are deceased.

I am amazed when people say they love Jesus, but want nothing to do with His bride.

Seems to me, there are no churches of one.

Yes, I realize there may be a persecuted believer who is being forced to live in isolation away from the visible body of Christ. For this brother or sister, I pray that they may discover another believer, perhaps even sharing a prison cell. I pray that God, in His grace and kindness, will provide another one of His children, scattered across the world in so many unlikely places, who will encourage that lonely one when they are at the brink of hopelessness. Someone who will share a verse of Scripture or perhaps a phrase from a hymn.

But pity the professing Christian in America who proudly declares his or her separation from the rest of the church.

It’s interesting to me that our new climbing friend David seems to want to stay in touch. He has telephoned and texted me. He has purchased and read my book. He also calls me “Preach” just like my friend, Troll. I suspect that David has been lonely for a long time, and hungers for a few Christian friends.

I can appreciate that. Fellowship in a church of one remains in short supply

Come Apart before You Fall Apart

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Seems like I just put the garbage can out yesterday and here it is Friday, already!

I don’t know if it is a sign of my age or if it is the age in which we are living, but it seems like time is accelerating. I also hear that comment from friends both young and old.

Isn’t it strange that we have so many “time saving” devises that our ancestors never enjoyed? Yet, we struggle to find enough time to get everything done. My grandmother, living on the farm, never enjoyed an automatic washer or dryer. Winter or summer the clothes were hung on the line, often coming in frozen on bitter cold days. She cooked and baked bread and pies on a coal stove. The garden occupied spare moments in the summer followed by canning the produce in the fall. Winter evenings found grandma quilting or embroidering or crocheting. Grandma couldn’t even imagine warming up leftovers in just a few seconds or minutes in a microwave.

So with all our time saving equipment, why is life so hectic? Why are we so exhausted at end of day? I believe there are several possible reasons such as trying to cram more things into our schedule. My grandparents and parents, and for that fact, even my wife and I never heard the words, “soccer mom.” Contemporary parents often strive to provide their children with opportunities to expand their athletic or artistic skills. That is good, unless after dropping off and picking up two or three children, the parent feels harried and exhausted.

Today two-wage-earner-families is the norm. Mother needs to punch the clock at work, but the household duties are still there when she returns home. I am not saying that a mother working is a bad thing, but it does add responsibilities that grandma never had. If either parent also volunteers at the school or church or in the community life becomes more demanding, but there are still only 24 hours in a day.

Another reason for the faster pace may be more subtle but just as demanding. We choose to do all the above but are motivated, not out of true necessity, but from our own egos. How important I feel when I can share how busy I am! Richard Foster, known for his writing and teaching about spiritual disciplines, describes it as playing like I am the CEO of the universe, at least my universe. I confess that as a pastor I appreciated affirmation for working long hours and keeping a busy schedule. But, I must also confess too often it was the image I sought.

Other reasons for our increasingly busy lives include the social media. Facebook and our smart phones scream for our attention and steal discretionary time that we used to enjoy. Consider also our near addiction to entertainment such as television. None of these are evil in themselves. But when they begin to steal time from important things they are harmful.

If your life has become hectic, I will let you decide whether any of the above is relevant in your life. What’s more important is to identify potential dangers of trying to cram too much into the time we have. First, there is the risk of adverse physical symptoms. Stress takes a toll on the human body. We weren’t designed to run on adrenalin 24/7. We are created for both work and rest- to create and recreate.

Our world has been designed for both working and resting. There’s day and night. The Sabbath rest was first modeled by the Creator. After six days of creation, God rested. I am confident it wasn’t from fatigue but to set a pattern for those of us living in bodies of flesh. The Sabbath, a day of rest, was created for our benefit not as a duty to keep. Jesus made that crystal clear when he said, “The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath.” (Mark 2:27) While reviewing the Ten Commandments with the Israelites, Moses reminded them that the Sabbath Day was given to provide rest for laborers and livestock. Even the Land was to be granted rest every seventh year.

Jesus personally sought times for solitude away from the daily grind of ministry. “Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.” (Mark 1:35) When his disciples returned from a mission trip, Jesus “took them with him and they withdrew by themselves…” (Luke 9:10)

Solomon created one of greatest poems about the seasons of life.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:

A time be born and a time to die,

A time to plant and a time to uproot,

A time to kill and a time to heal,

A time tear down and a time to build,

A time to weep and a time to laugh,

A time to mourn and a time to dance …

Solomon continued with his list of potential activities. Check them out for yourself in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8.

One thing is certain, life isn’t meant to be lived with the pedal to the metal 24/7.

We must come apart from the stressful demands or we will come apart at the seams.

I offer a few prescriptions to help put balance in the routine of life:

  • Plan times for respite. Take a break from the hectic schedule to recharge batteries and refuel the spirit.
  • Seek solitude. Find a place to be alone in the midst of Nature.
  • Practice silence. Unplug the smart phone, pull out the ear buds and turn down the relentless media bites. Listen for a word from your Creator.

Surrender control. Step aside and let Jesus be the CEO of your busy little world

Let’s Stop “Going to Church”

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No, that is not a typo.

It’s what I intended to say—even though is seems to fly in the face of everything I have been taught and have taught as a pastor.

Yesterday as I was straightening up my computer desk I ran across an article that I had clipped out of the Jan/Feb 2019 Christianity Today magazine. The article by Dr. Krish Kandiah, entitled Church as Family, sowed the seed for today’s blog. Kandiah shared an illustration that reminded me of an experience at the small Bible College in Uganda where I have taught. In fact, I have said that if I return to teach there again, I want to address this problem.

The subtitle of the CT article said it well: “It is time to reclaim the church as something we belong to, rather than just an event venue.”

Kandiah shared about a man from northern Kenya who had fled to the south after converting from Islam, being disowned by his family and facing an imminent death threat. This believer from the north was granted sanctuary in a church building in the south. He was given a room with a mattress on the floor. Food and necessities were brought by church members every day. Now I quote:

The man was extremely grateful for their hospitality. But, he confided, the hardest part of his week was on Sunday morning after the church service when everyone went home to their families and their Sunday lunches, leaving him alone…. This church was so near and yet so far from Christ-like hospitality. The church building provided shelter, the church members provided sustenance, and the church event provided sacraments and spiritual teaching—but none of these were a substitute for the lifelong intimate commitment of a family.

The church members and the guest sleeping in the church were all Kenyans. All shared the same color of skin, but they failed to share the joy of being part of the same family, God’s family. I have witnessed a similar situation in Uganda where I discovered tribal prejudice within the Ugandan Baptist churches. When Great Britain carved out a colony in eastern Africa, they created a nation called Uganda. It may look like one nation on the map, but after centuries of tribal conflict, Ugandans remain a divided people. Sadly, that is still true to some degree within the Christian Church.

We have experienced a similar symptom when the American Church gathers on Sunday mornings—except we tend to divide over racial and theological lines. If there was any place in the world where color of skin, language and cultural differences shouldn’t matter, it is the Church.

Each of the familiar New Testament metaphors that describe the church share one common truth: there is but one Body of Christ and one spiritual building and one family of God and one Bride of Christ. Interdependence is the glue that binds us together in Christ. A building consists of many parts; each essential. A body consists of many organs; each essential to the health of the body. Families consist of different members that together make up one family. A husband and wife may be two distinct persons, each playing an essential role in the relationship, but in God’s sight, “the two have become one flesh.”

Every true believer or Christ followers belongs to one Church. Saints who lived nearly two centuries ago are part of the same Church, the one true Church, as I am today.

Please hear this: We don’t go to church, buttogether in Christ, we are the Church. My point? Let us stop just “going to church” and live like who we really are: the very body of Christ in a deeply wounded, confused, and unhappy world.

Krish Kandiah referred to a book, The Churching of America, 1776 –1990, stating that the American church is fundamentally shaped by free-market capitalism. I believe the recent emphasis upon Church Growth strategies reflects the above statement. Churches, whether we want to admit it or not, often become competitors seeking to get their share of the market. Success, based upon numerical growth, is rewarded.

After nearly 50 years of pastoral ministry I have occasionally pushed back against efforts to treat the local church like it was a business. The church is not an institution but a living organism. Yes, there are most certainly things we can learn from the business world—sound principles that can protect our integrity in communication and financial responsibility. As members of a true family, however, we must always give higher priority to relationships over statistics, graphs, and pie charts.

I share another personal example that reflects how corporate business practices have been adopted by the church. After retiring from my position at Foundry Church I deliberately stayed away a few years to encourage the congregation to accept and to love their new teaching pastor. After receiving much encouragement from the pastor and the elders to return to Foundry Church, we began to attend once more. I have tried to keep a very low profile.

A few months ago a newer attendee, upon discovering I was the former pastor, exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

I understood the question It springs from the almost universally accepted mindset that former pastors, like CEOs of a major corporation, always clean out their desk and never return.

My response to the question was that Foundry Church is a family. I’m not a retired CEO, I’m more like a grandfather. And healthy families don’t put grandpa out to pasture.

I love our church family. I believe Foundry Church is almost unique in the way we practice being family. Several years ago we began interviewing members and attendees as part of the Sunday morning gatherings (now there’s a family word). If we are family, we should know each other.

Recently, one of our young women was interviewed. Kathy (not her real name) was leaving for college in another state. Kathy had grown up in the church, and after her grandmother passed away, continued attending even though she no longer had biological family members at Foundry Church.  In the interview she shared that she now saw Foundry Church as her family—and she was having a difficult time with the prospect of leaving us.

That’s the way church is supposed to be. The epistles are filled with “one another” commands such as love one another or bear with one another or encourage one another or spur one another on to love and good deeds. That is also the reason the author of Hebrews included the command not to forsake gathering together.

Sunday morning isn’t just an event that we “go to” or attend. It isn’t just the music or sermon or sacraments and ordinances. It’s a family gathering, a time to love on each other and, when necessary, encourage someone to act like a family member is supposed to act.

Life is tough enough as followers of Christ in a broken world without trying to go it alone. We need each other. We need family to support us. We need mentors to point the way. That is why we gather on Sundays.  Or, it should be. The way we love and accept one another is a great apologetic for the power of the gospel to transform lives.

So let’s stop going to church on Sunday. Let’s stop attending an event venue or a building. Instead let’s be the church and do church by making Sunday mornings a family reunion.

Staying Awake

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This week you have the privilege of enjoying another blog from my favorite editor, Larry Libby. Larry is a free lance editor and has edited books for several well known Christian authors. He is a personal friend and an avid follower of Jesus. Enjoy.

I first got my hands on the J. B. Phillips translation of the New Testament when I was 17, at a Baptist men’s conference with my dad. I’d found it at the book table and parted with my meager high school cash-on-hand to make the purchase.

            It made no sense to Dad. After all, I already had a black, imitation-leather, red-letter, Scofield King James Bible just like his. Why on earth did I need another?

            But it was a wonderful purchase, that still touches my life half a century later. It wasn’t long before I had discovered Romans 12, and soon had it memorized. The opening words of the chapter are as familiar to me as my address and phone number.

            “With eyes wide open to the mercies of God, I beg you, my brothers, as an act of intelligent worship to give him your bodies, as a living sacrifice, consecrated to him and acceptable by him….”

            That may not be a literal word-for-word translation, but it’s a concept that runs right through the New Testament. Be alert. Be awake. Be aware. Stay on your toes. Keep your eyes open. Don’t get sleepy. Armor-up.

            Shortly before He went to the cross, Jesus reminded His men that no one knows the day or hour when He will come again. He told them, “Be on your guard! Be alert!” (Mark 13:33). Then, at one of the most critical moments of the Lord’s earthly life, when He needed His friends and prayer partners the most, He found them sleeping. He said to them, “Why are you sleeping? Get up and pray so that you will not fall into temptation” (Luke 22:46).

            In 1 Thessalonians 5:6 Paul wrote: “So then, let us not be like others, who are asleep, but let us be alert and self-controlled.” In my well-thumbed Phillips translation, it reads: “Let us then never fall into the sleep that stupefies the rest of the world: let us keep awake, with our wits about us.”

            Peter seized on the same theme, telling his scattered readers, “Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour” (1 Peter 5:8).

            This whole emphasis of being alert, however, really started for me in the Old Testament, rather than the New. In my daily Bible reading, I found myself in the first chapter of Ezra. But on that day, I never made it past verse 5.

            The prophet tells us that “God moved the heart of Cyrus King of Persia to make a proclamation” concerning the rebuilding of the charred and ruined temple in Jerusalem. This, of course, was a direct fulfillment of what the Lord had spoken to the prophet Jeremiah, decades before.

            What a curious thing. God moved a pagan king’s heart. After all those years of captivity, a supernatural wind was stirring the leaves, and beginning to bend the trees.

            God MOVED. And then He MOVED again. In verse 5 it says, “Then…everyone whose heart God had moved—prepared to go up and build the temple of the Lord in Jerusalem.”

            Suddenly, God moved, and in a way few people expected. He moved in the heart of a Persian emperor, ruling over a huge swath of the known world. And then after that, God moved in the hearts of His people. And everyone who had been moved, started packing. I can imagine some of them saying to one another, “This is crazy, isn’t it? I have no idea what this will be like or how we’ll pull this off. It’s kind of scary to pull up roots and head out to a place most of us have never seen, but God is moving. So let’s have an estate sale, pack a bag or two and get going.”

            Ezra says that God moved in the hearts of His people.

But not all of them. Why not?

            Here was the prospect of a great adventure and a mighty move of God’s Spirit that no one had experienced in living memory. This was something so profound that people in a far-distant land over 2,500 years later would be reading about and discussing that very event. (That’s you and me.)

            Even so, the great move of God, that unprecedented opportunity, sailed right over the heads of most of the Jewish exiles; they simply weren’t going to be a part of it. Things had become comfortable in Babylon. Life was easy, and maybe everyone was just a little bit sleepy.

            After encountering the word “moved” in Ezra 1:1 and 1:5, I was curious about its Hebrew roots. What I discovered gave me a real surprise. The word literally means “to open the eyes, to awaken.” God opened the eyes of Cyrus, sitting on his throne. And then He began opening the eyes of His people.

            A silent, insistent alarm was ringing, but not everyone woke up. Not everyone pulled back the covers and opened the curtains to a most extraordinary new day. Most people hit the snooze button. Most people shrugged their shoulders, played it safe and stayed in Babylon.

            So I can’t help but ask myself a few questions. What if God moves in my day? What if—right now—He is doing something unpredictable, unexpected, even way out of left field? What if He is moving right now—in my family, in my neighborhood, in my church, in my city, in my country? Will He move me, too? Or will I miss it? Will I be hoeing my potatoes in Babylon while He is re-writing history?

            But how could that happen to me? What would keep me from sensing a supernatural groundswell?

            The answer isn’t all that complicated. If I do miss it, it will be because I am preoccupied with other things. Everyday life things. Maybe my work. Maybe my worries. Maybe my hobbies. Maybe Fox News. Maybe a health concern. Maybe all the fiction books I love to read. Maybe laziness. Maybe certain sins that I really don’t want to let go of.

            Will I be aware of a move of God under my own roof? (I could tell you about a time when it went right around me.) Will I sense a stirring in my church? Will I finally open my eyes? Or will I be on the sidelines, a sleepy, self-satisfied nonparticipant, while He shakes foundations and pierces walls all around me?

These are questions that, for me, are worth asking right now. The words I encountered back in 1968 in my Phillips New Testament keep saying the same thing.

“With eyes wide open….”