It’s the Advent season, a time celebrated by many churches in anticipation of Christmas. Advent begins the fourth Sunday before Christmas, so today, November 28, 2010, is the first Sunday of Advent.
Traditionally, the first Sunday of Advent is devoted to preparation; making ready for the miracle of God coming to live in our midst.
This morning I listened as my pastor, Ryan, shared a message based on the Christmas carol, Joy to the World. His first point emphasized how important it is to rid ourselves of the clutter in our lives. I was reminded of a small devotional book that I read a number of years ago. Written by Robert Boyd Munger and published by Intervarsity Press, this book is a reminder of the preparation that followers of Christ need to make in order to make room for him.
Every follower of Christ has, at some point, made the choice of inviting Christ into his or her life. And he moves in as promised. Paul describes it as “Christ in you, the hope of glory.” (Colossians 1;27) But, as Munger notes, there’s more to what Christ wants to do once he moves in.
In the booklet the author likens his life to a home with various rooms. At first he invites Christ into the study, which symbolizes his mind. As we allow him to, Christ transforms us by the renewing of our minds (Romans 12).
Secondly, the Lord is invited into the dining room, the place of appetites and desires. As we allow him into this part of our lives, he gently reminds us that he will grant us the desires of our heart, meaning that he will show us what is truly important and give us a thirst for righteousness the he alone can satisfy.
As he goes from room to room the Lord transforms the life of this new believer, until the Christian comes to the realization that what he needs to do is to give Jesus the title deed and turn the entire dwelling over to him.
You can read the entire treatise online. I encourage you to search for it.
As you prepare for Christmas, let me encourage you to make room for the Lord this year.
"Oh come to my heart, Lord Jesus. There is room in my heart for Thee."
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Believing God
Abram was perplexed. God had promised him an heir and, late in his life, he was still childless. He expressed his concerns to God in Genesis 15:3. “You have given me no children.”
God answered him by taking him outside to look up at the night sky. Then God spoke to Abram. “Your descendants will be like the stars in the sky.”
Then, in what is one of the key verses of the Old Testament, it states that “Abram believed God and it was credited to him as righteousness.” Genesis 15:6
Imagine that. Before the law had been given, and before Abram had undergone ritual circumcision, God had already declared him righteous. In other words, Abram was righteous in God eyes, not on the basis of anything that he had done, but simply on the basis of his belief in God’s promise.
It’s a cliché, but it’s true nonetheless. In essence Abram declared, “God said it, I believe it, and that settles it.”
The same is true for us. God says that he loves us and that he has sent his Son, Jesus, to offer his life as a sacrifice for sin. If we believe him, and place our faith in Christ, God says he will declare us righteous.
God answered him by taking him outside to look up at the night sky. Then God spoke to Abram. “Your descendants will be like the stars in the sky.”
Then, in what is one of the key verses of the Old Testament, it states that “Abram believed God and it was credited to him as righteousness.” Genesis 15:6
Imagine that. Before the law had been given, and before Abram had undergone ritual circumcision, God had already declared him righteous. In other words, Abram was righteous in God eyes, not on the basis of anything that he had done, but simply on the basis of his belief in God’s promise.
It’s a cliché, but it’s true nonetheless. In essence Abram declared, “God said it, I believe it, and that settles it.”
The same is true for us. God says that he loves us and that he has sent his Son, Jesus, to offer his life as a sacrifice for sin. If we believe him, and place our faith in Christ, God says he will declare us righteous.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Veterans Day for Second Graders, The Sequel
Thanks for fighting for our country. And protecting our country, Mr. Lt. Fendley. And I think you’re very brave for fighting in the Army.
So reads the first of the two dozen letters I received today from Mrs. Fendley’s second grade class after my visit to talk about the meaning of Veteran’s Day. Mrs. Fendley, my son’s wife, is in her third year as a public school teacher, and she wanted her class to understand why we celebrate this day each year. I was all too happy to accept her invitation to come and talk to them.
I arrived at the school right as they were returning from lunch, carrying some of my trinkets – medals and memorabilia – and a few photos. I hoped I was prepared to explain to these second graders the significance of this day we set aside to honor all our veterans.
As I began, I held up the words to that great statement of our rights from the Declaration of Independence and asked for a student to volunteer to read it. A dozen hands shot up. I called on one of the students. I had to help him with a few words – self-evident, created, endowed, Creator, and unalienable - but otherwise he did great.
Next I translated this statement into language that second graders were more likely to understand.
It is easy to see that God gave us rights that can’t be taken away. They include the right to live, to be free, and to be happy.
"Veteran’s Day," I said, "is a time to say thank you to the men and women who have served in the military to protect us, our country, and these rights.”
Then I told them about my experience as a combat commander and showed them some of the memorabilia.
"This pin lets you know that I was an infantry officer. That’s what these crossed rifles represent. And this silver bar is my insignia of rank. It means that I was a first lieutenant. And this pin that says ‘Follow Me’ represents the infantry school at Fort Benning."
I showed them other pins and ribbons: the Vietnam Service Medal, Bronze Star Medal, and unit pins, plus one of my dogtags. Then I put my CIB under the projector lamp. As it showed up on the screen, the children let out a collective "ooh."
"This," I said, "is the most special pin I own. This is the Combat Infantryman’s Badge, which every infantry soldier receives for combat service."
And, of course, I had to show pictures. I didn’t have any that were taken out in the boonies, but I did have photos that I took after being reassigned to a fire support base in command of the battalion heavy mortar platoon. Among the pictures were a Chinook helicopter carrying supplies in a cargo net, a Huey loaded with supplies and a few soldiers, a photo of one of the 4.2” mortars being fired, and lots of shots of sandbagged bunkers. I also had a few that I had taken while seated in a Huey – again, after my redeployment to LZ Maude, our firebase.
This was followed by questions.
"How many weapons did you fire?" asked one of the boys.
"Well, let’s see. M14, M16, 45 caliber pistol, 50 caliber machine gun, M72 LAW, 40mm grenade launcher, M60 machine gun, 81mm mortar, 4.2” mortar. I think that’s everything." With every one I named his eyes grew wider.
"Did you go in helicopters?"
"Yes, in Hueys, Chinooks, Loaches, but mostly in Hueys. My platoon was carried by Hueys from the rear out into the mountains and dropped off there. Then a couple of weeks later they would come back and pick us up, returning us to the rear for a few days of cleanup. Then we’d pack up our rucksacks with food, ammo, and clean clothes, climb back onto the helicopters, and fly out to some other area in the mountains."
One of the girls asked, "Did anybody get hurt?"
"Yes. Some got hurt very badly, and some got killed. If you go to Washington DC you can see the names of over 58,000 young men and women who were killed in Vietnam. One of the names is a first cousin of mine who was in the Marines. Another is a dear friend from high school, and another is the name of my radio operator who was killed on my daughter’s third birthday."
Mrs. Fendley sensed that it was time to move on, so she asked the class to read the Veterans Day poem in their poetry book. Then we sang the first verse and chorus of America the Beautiful, followed by my quoting of the third stanza:
Oh beautiful, for heroes proved,
In liberating strife;
Who more than self their country loved,
And mercy more than life.
I ended my talk by suggesting three things they could do to honor veterans, not only on Veterans Day but any time they encountered one of us.
1. Be thankful. If you see someone in uniform, or wearing something that let’s you know he or she is a veteran, and your mom says it’s okay, tell them thank you for your service.
2. Be patriotic. Say the pledge of allegiance like you mean it. Stand tall and still when the flag passes by, with your hand over your heart. Stand tall and still until the last note of the Star Spangled Banner.
3. Be a good citizen. You honor those who fought for your rights and your liberty by following the rules, and obeying your teacher and your parents.
I hope I left them with a better understanding of Veterans Day. But I know that they left me feeling blessed by the book of letters they gave me. I’ve got to share a few more, edited and spell checked. These are second graders, after all.
Thank you for sacrificing for our country and keeping is safe. We are happy that you were fighting. You are brave and bold. We thank you for all you do. When you fight you are brave. You are a good person. And we hope you do not change. THANK YOU SO MUCH.
Thank you for sacrificing your life for our country. You are very brave to go in the Army. Thank you for fightiing for our rights.
It must be hard to do things to fight for the country. We thank you for doing that.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Veterans Day for a second grader
I’ve been asked by my daughter-in-law, who teaches second grade in public school, to come to her class tomorrow and do a presentation about the meaning of Veteran’s Day. It’s a daunting challenge.
Now I’ve never been one to shy away from public speaking. However, notwithstanding my thirty years of ministry as well as preaching and singing in front of large audiences, I find myself at something of a loss when it comes to addressing an audience of seven-year-olds. How do you explain an abstract concept such as liberty to little concrete minds? How do you relate to them the meaning of the values we hold dear?
I asked on Twitter for suggestions. One that I value came from a fellow Army vet, Laura, who is known on Twitter as @ConchoQueen. Being a former 2d grade teacher herself, she prepared me for what to expect. Her recommendation: follow who, what, when, where, why. They'll ask if u shot/killed anybody if they get a chance if things haven't changed. (I don’t think I’ll give them the chance – if I can help it.)
Another of my “tweeps,” @JoetheMailman, sent me a youtube link to Kennedy’s “ask not what your country can do for you” speech. It inspired me to talk about the sacrifices made by our men and women in uniform. But, there again, sacrifice is an abstract, so I’ll have to come up with a more concrete definition.
So, here’s my game plan. First, present the Declaration of Independence statement on basic human rights. I’ve printed it in large, arial font that a second grader can read. I’ll have them all read it aloud.
Then, I’ll break it down into language they can better grasp.
It is obvious that God gave us the right to live, be free and be happy. And they're our rights to keep. These rights are worth fighting for, which is why I, and thousands of others, have worn the uniform and have served our country. And thousands still are serving today to protect our rights to be alive and free.
Finally, I will challenge them to never pass up an opportunity to say thank you to our veterans and those who protect us today.
Now I’ve never been one to shy away from public speaking. However, notwithstanding my thirty years of ministry as well as preaching and singing in front of large audiences, I find myself at something of a loss when it comes to addressing an audience of seven-year-olds. How do you explain an abstract concept such as liberty to little concrete minds? How do you relate to them the meaning of the values we hold dear?
I asked on Twitter for suggestions. One that I value came from a fellow Army vet, Laura, who is known on Twitter as @ConchoQueen. Being a former 2d grade teacher herself, she prepared me for what to expect. Her recommendation: follow who, what, when, where, why. They'll ask if u shot/killed anybody if they get a chance if things haven't changed. (I don’t think I’ll give them the chance – if I can help it.)
Another of my “tweeps,” @JoetheMailman, sent me a youtube link to Kennedy’s “ask not what your country can do for you” speech. It inspired me to talk about the sacrifices made by our men and women in uniform. But, there again, sacrifice is an abstract, so I’ll have to come up with a more concrete definition.
So, here’s my game plan. First, present the Declaration of Independence statement on basic human rights. I’ve printed it in large, arial font that a second grader can read. I’ll have them all read it aloud.
Then, I’ll break it down into language they can better grasp.
It is obvious that God gave us the right to live, be free and be happy. And they're our rights to keep. These rights are worth fighting for, which is why I, and thousands of others, have worn the uniform and have served our country. And thousands still are serving today to protect our rights to be alive and free.
Finally, I will challenge them to never pass up an opportunity to say thank you to our veterans and those who protect us today.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Of Care Packages and Such
I’ve been participating in a project conducted on Twitter by Operation Gratitude designed to send care packages to our troops. And doing so has brought back a flood of memories about my own experience with care packages.
I spent the second half of 1971 in the mountainous jungles of Vietnam commanding an airmobile rifle platoon. Our routine was to patrol for a couple of weeks at a time, then return to the rear for three days of R&R, which included washing clothes, cleaning weapons, and packing rucks for the next mission.
Our rucksacks contained just about everything a grunt needed for living in the boonies: socks, ammo, grenades, stationery, and, perhaps most importantly, C-Rations. These meals, packaged in tin cans, were the staple of the GI diet during Vietnam. We would pack three or four days worth of rations into our rucks before we climbed into the Hueys to fly out to the jungle. And, pending weather or other circumstances, we counted on being resupplied by helicopter every three days. On resupply day, the drill was to clear a landing zone and secure it with a defensive perimeter so that the Huey could set down and we could offload the food, ammo, and the all-important mail. As dangerous as it was, this was Kumbaya time – passing out the mail, wondering what meals we were going to get, and trading certain foods for cigarettes, which came in a pack of four in every box of rations.
This is how the quartermaster of the Army described C Rations:
"The Meal, Combat, Individual, is designed for issue as the tactical situation dictates, either in individual units as a meal or in multiples of three as a complete ration. Its characteristics emphasize utility, flexibility of use, and more variety of food components than were included in the Ration, Combat, Individual (C Ration) which it replaces. Twelve different menus are included in the specification.
Each menu contains: one canned meat item; one canned fruit, bread or dessert item;
one B unit; an accessory packet containing cigarettes, matches, chewing gum, toilet paper, coffee, cream, sugar, and salt; and a spoon. Four can openers are provided in each case of 12 meals. Although the meat item can be eaten cold, it is more palatable when heated.
Each complete meal contains approximately 1200 calories. The daily ration of 3 meals provides approximately 3600 calories." (from http://gruntfixer.homestead.com/files/crats.html ) The description still makes me salivate. Yeah, right.
Some of the Charlie-Rats were better than others. Or, I should say, there were some meals that no one cared for. Ham and limas anyone? And I think no one would argue that the beans and weiners (beenie weenies) were the universal favorite.
On one of our forays into the jungle I was delighted to receive a box that arrived on the resupply chopper. I recognized my wife’s handwriting, so I couldn’t wait to tear into it. What a delight to find candy, other edible treats, stationery, a love letter, and a bottle of Tabasco sauce accompanied by what was labeled “The Charlie Ration Cookbook.”
The cookbook, replete with cartoons, contained a number of recipes designed to make the C Rations more palatable. Some of the titles were: Foxhole Dinner for Two, Breast of Chicken Under Bullets, and Battlefield Fufu. My theory is that the recipes were designed so that the grunt would shake so much Tabasco sauce into the food that he essentially cauterized his taste buds. As I tried the various recipes it wasn’t long until I had gained a reputation as a C Ration master chef. Soon the men wanted to sample my dishes.
My method was to take an empty tin and place a small amount of C4 explosive in it, light the C4, then put the C Ration entrée into my canteen cup, season to taste with Tabasco sauce, and heat. Many of the ingredients in the cookbook weren’t available in the jungle, so I used the field expedient method of blending in whatever I could find that seemed to suit the dish. Elephant grass was not one of the ingredients of choice. Nor were leeches.
If you’re interested, here is a link to the actual cookbook.
http://www.1stcavmedic.com/tabasco_cookbook.htm
Let me encourage you to be a part of sending care packages to our troops. Let our brave men and women experience the same delight that I had some forty hears ago. The hashtag is #cinnabonsaysthx, and the sponsoring organization, Operation Gratitude, goes by @OpGratitude.
I spent the second half of 1971 in the mountainous jungles of Vietnam commanding an airmobile rifle platoon. Our routine was to patrol for a couple of weeks at a time, then return to the rear for three days of R&R, which included washing clothes, cleaning weapons, and packing rucks for the next mission.
Our rucksacks contained just about everything a grunt needed for living in the boonies: socks, ammo, grenades, stationery, and, perhaps most importantly, C-Rations. These meals, packaged in tin cans, were the staple of the GI diet during Vietnam. We would pack three or four days worth of rations into our rucks before we climbed into the Hueys to fly out to the jungle. And, pending weather or other circumstances, we counted on being resupplied by helicopter every three days. On resupply day, the drill was to clear a landing zone and secure it with a defensive perimeter so that the Huey could set down and we could offload the food, ammo, and the all-important mail. As dangerous as it was, this was Kumbaya time – passing out the mail, wondering what meals we were going to get, and trading certain foods for cigarettes, which came in a pack of four in every box of rations.
This is how the quartermaster of the Army described C Rations:
"The Meal, Combat, Individual, is designed for issue as the tactical situation dictates, either in individual units as a meal or in multiples of three as a complete ration. Its characteristics emphasize utility, flexibility of use, and more variety of food components than were included in the Ration, Combat, Individual (C Ration) which it replaces. Twelve different menus are included in the specification.
Each menu contains: one canned meat item; one canned fruit, bread or dessert item;
one B unit; an accessory packet containing cigarettes, matches, chewing gum, toilet paper, coffee, cream, sugar, and salt; and a spoon. Four can openers are provided in each case of 12 meals. Although the meat item can be eaten cold, it is more palatable when heated.
Each complete meal contains approximately 1200 calories. The daily ration of 3 meals provides approximately 3600 calories." (from http://gruntfixer.homestead.com/files/crats.html ) The description still makes me salivate. Yeah, right.
Some of the Charlie-Rats were better than others. Or, I should say, there were some meals that no one cared for. Ham and limas anyone? And I think no one would argue that the beans and weiners (beenie weenies) were the universal favorite.
On one of our forays into the jungle I was delighted to receive a box that arrived on the resupply chopper. I recognized my wife’s handwriting, so I couldn’t wait to tear into it. What a delight to find candy, other edible treats, stationery, a love letter, and a bottle of Tabasco sauce accompanied by what was labeled “The Charlie Ration Cookbook.”
The cookbook, replete with cartoons, contained a number of recipes designed to make the C Rations more palatable. Some of the titles were: Foxhole Dinner for Two, Breast of Chicken Under Bullets, and Battlefield Fufu. My theory is that the recipes were designed so that the grunt would shake so much Tabasco sauce into the food that he essentially cauterized his taste buds. As I tried the various recipes it wasn’t long until I had gained a reputation as a C Ration master chef. Soon the men wanted to sample my dishes.
My method was to take an empty tin and place a small amount of C4 explosive in it, light the C4, then put the C Ration entrée into my canteen cup, season to taste with Tabasco sauce, and heat. Many of the ingredients in the cookbook weren’t available in the jungle, so I used the field expedient method of blending in whatever I could find that seemed to suit the dish. Elephant grass was not one of the ingredients of choice. Nor were leeches.
If you’re interested, here is a link to the actual cookbook.
http://www.1stcavmedic.com/tabasco_cookbook.htm
Let me encourage you to be a part of sending care packages to our troops. Let our brave men and women experience the same delight that I had some forty hears ago. The hashtag is #cinnabonsaysthx, and the sponsoring organization, Operation Gratitude, goes by @OpGratitude.
Monday, October 25, 2010
The Jerusalem Pot Luck
In the early church the believers would regularly gather for a meal called the Agape, or Love Feast. They pooled their resources, much like today’s believers. Who has not enjoyed a pot luck dinner either at church or a friend’s home? That was the scene in the young church as it seems everyone brought his or her favorite dish to share with the gathered fellowship. Growing up a Southern Baptist, I’ve enjoyed my share of such gatherings and I’ve sampled the favorite dishes of scores of saintly cooks.
The idea of the Love Feast was to portray the togetherness of the young church. The membership at this time was made up largely of Jewish converts, but there were an increasing number of Gentiles that were coming into the fellowship through their faith in Christ.
Into the midst of this effort at togetherness crept some legalistic, narrow Jews who insisted that God’s plan was for the Jews and that Gentile believers were in some way second class citizens of the kingdom.
Even Peter and many, if not most, of the church leadership were influenced by this prejudice. Paul states that Peter was more than ready to associate and sit down at table with Gentile believers on most occasions, but that when these narrow Jews were around, Peter would separate himself from them.
Paul confronted Peter and all the others who were being hypocritical and took them to task for showing such partiality. The account is in Galatians 2:11-13.
Sadly, today many who profess to follow Christ show the same sort of partiality, although it often follows racial or socio-economic lines. Our youth and I got a lesson in our oneness in Christ on a trip several years ago. I posted this a couple of months ago, but again, here’s the story.
Some years ago we took our youth choir on a singing tour up around the Great Lakes. One of the last stops was at the New Rose of Sharon Baptist Church on the south side of Chicago. When we arrived we didn’t know what to expect. All we knew was that this was an African-American congregation located in what Jim Croce referred to as “the baddest part of town.”
As we stepped down from the bus we were greeted by the pastor, James Butler, a slight, 60-something gentleman, and a young man who introduced himself as Mark. I asked Mark, a rather round type with a ready smile, if he also was on staff. He explained that he was a “deacon-in-training.” Judging from his Christlike demeanor and his eagerness to help, I would say that he had already mastered the art of “deac-ing.”
After enjoying the meal the ladies of the church had prepared for us, we made our way to the sanctuary for the evening’s celebration...and what a celebration it was! Our kids sang their hearts out. And the dear saints of the New Rose of Sharon Baptist Church responded with rejoicing. And the more they rejoiced, the better our choir sang. In fact, from my vantage point at the sound board in the back of the sanctuary, I noticed that Wally, our choir leader, was getting into it also. I’m not sure that he had both feet on the floor. Dancing, for us tighty-whitey Baptists, was strictly taboo. But throwing caution to the wind, we all entered into the celebration. We were having church!
When it came time for me to conclude the service with a brief message and altar call, I felt impressed to share the account of heaven in John 14. In this passage Jesus tells his disciples that he would soon be preparing for each of his followers a room in the Father’s house. I shared my interpretation of the passage, which is that we will all be one huge heavenly family living under one roof and dining at the same banquet table.
After I had concluded the service (so I thought), Pastor Butler came forward and expressed appreciation for our choir’s presentation and announced that their choir would like to respond in an appropriate fashion. It was at this point that we began to have church. It was amazing the sound that came from this 20-voice choir, accompanied on a Hammond B3, Leslie speaker and all. They started with a mellow song about how Jesus takes our burdens. Then, after an up-tempo song about joy, they launched into “O, Happy Day,” with deacon-in-training Mark singing solo. Wow! I’d never heard it like that before. By the time they finished their last song, we thought the roof might fly off.
What a taste of heaven it was. And that’s what heaven will be: all the saints of all the ages, red and yellow, black and white, gathered round the throne singing the praises of the Lamb. And sitting down as one around the marriage feast.
The idea of the Love Feast was to portray the togetherness of the young church. The membership at this time was made up largely of Jewish converts, but there were an increasing number of Gentiles that were coming into the fellowship through their faith in Christ.
Into the midst of this effort at togetherness crept some legalistic, narrow Jews who insisted that God’s plan was for the Jews and that Gentile believers were in some way second class citizens of the kingdom.
Even Peter and many, if not most, of the church leadership were influenced by this prejudice. Paul states that Peter was more than ready to associate and sit down at table with Gentile believers on most occasions, but that when these narrow Jews were around, Peter would separate himself from them.
Paul confronted Peter and all the others who were being hypocritical and took them to task for showing such partiality. The account is in Galatians 2:11-13.
Sadly, today many who profess to follow Christ show the same sort of partiality, although it often follows racial or socio-economic lines. Our youth and I got a lesson in our oneness in Christ on a trip several years ago. I posted this a couple of months ago, but again, here’s the story.
Some years ago we took our youth choir on a singing tour up around the Great Lakes. One of the last stops was at the New Rose of Sharon Baptist Church on the south side of Chicago. When we arrived we didn’t know what to expect. All we knew was that this was an African-American congregation located in what Jim Croce referred to as “the baddest part of town.”
As we stepped down from the bus we were greeted by the pastor, James Butler, a slight, 60-something gentleman, and a young man who introduced himself as Mark. I asked Mark, a rather round type with a ready smile, if he also was on staff. He explained that he was a “deacon-in-training.” Judging from his Christlike demeanor and his eagerness to help, I would say that he had already mastered the art of “deac-ing.”
After enjoying the meal the ladies of the church had prepared for us, we made our way to the sanctuary for the evening’s celebration...and what a celebration it was! Our kids sang their hearts out. And the dear saints of the New Rose of Sharon Baptist Church responded with rejoicing. And the more they rejoiced, the better our choir sang. In fact, from my vantage point at the sound board in the back of the sanctuary, I noticed that Wally, our choir leader, was getting into it also. I’m not sure that he had both feet on the floor. Dancing, for us tighty-whitey Baptists, was strictly taboo. But throwing caution to the wind, we all entered into the celebration. We were having church!
When it came time for me to conclude the service with a brief message and altar call, I felt impressed to share the account of heaven in John 14. In this passage Jesus tells his disciples that he would soon be preparing for each of his followers a room in the Father’s house. I shared my interpretation of the passage, which is that we will all be one huge heavenly family living under one roof and dining at the same banquet table.
After I had concluded the service (so I thought), Pastor Butler came forward and expressed appreciation for our choir’s presentation and announced that their choir would like to respond in an appropriate fashion. It was at this point that we began to have church. It was amazing the sound that came from this 20-voice choir, accompanied on a Hammond B3, Leslie speaker and all. They started with a mellow song about how Jesus takes our burdens. Then, after an up-tempo song about joy, they launched into “O, Happy Day,” with deacon-in-training Mark singing solo. Wow! I’d never heard it like that before. By the time they finished their last song, we thought the roof might fly off.
What a taste of heaven it was. And that’s what heaven will be: all the saints of all the ages, red and yellow, black and white, gathered round the throne singing the praises of the Lamb. And sitting down as one around the marriage feast.
Friday, October 15, 2010
God Won!
Who has not been riveted to the screen watching the rescue of the Chilean miners? And now that they’re safe the debate has begun about who was responsible for freeing them from their deep grave.
"I was with God and I was with the devil. But God won," said one of the miners.
And the Chilean president affirmed the families of the miners, acknowledging that they “maintained faith – this faith that ended up moving mountains.” (Christian Today)
Others have argued that it was the effort of the rescuers that freed the men.
So, who gets the credit for the rescue? God? Or people? The answer is a resounding “yes.”
There is no doubt in my mind that God was there with the miners, as he is with anyone who invites him near. I’ve experienced the presence of God in good times and bad, in mountaintop experiences and in deepest valleys. He was in the jungles of Vietnam, in my intensive care room, in the delivery room for the births of our four children, and in the waiting room with a nervous father. He’s in the laughter of grandchildren and in the beauty of fall. God is all around. It just takes spiritual sensitivity to recognize his presence.
David realized this. In Psalm 23 he expressed his sense of God’s presence, even in the valley of the shadow of death. And in Psalm 139 he declared that there is nowhere that one can go where God isn’t.
Everywhere I go I see your face through the cloud.
Everywhere I go I hear your voice clear and loud.
Everywhere I go you are the light that I seek.
Everywhere I go you have found me. (Amy Grant)
And, as for the rescue, I’m certain that God had a hand in that as well. After all, he is the author of all truth and source of all knowledge, and I have no doubt that he was at work in helping the engineers come up with a plan of rescue and at work giving strength and encouragement both to the rescuers and the trapped miners.
If you look back through biblical history, often God accomplishes his will through his followers. Notables come to mind such as Abraham, Isaac, Noah, Moses, Joshua, Gideon, Deborah, David, and hundreds of others. And remember, if he can speak his message through Balaam's ass, I'm sure he can use scientists as well.
Of course, some will argue that God has allowed other miners to perish as a way of explaining away his presence and power. I confess that I don’t understand God’s ways or his sovereign will, but I trust him and I trust his word that he is always at work for good. (Romans 8:28)
So I will join with others of faith and declare: The miners are safe. Praise the Lord!
"I was with God and I was with the devil. But God won," said one of the miners.
And the Chilean president affirmed the families of the miners, acknowledging that they “maintained faith – this faith that ended up moving mountains.” (Christian Today)
Others have argued that it was the effort of the rescuers that freed the men.
So, who gets the credit for the rescue? God? Or people? The answer is a resounding “yes.”
There is no doubt in my mind that God was there with the miners, as he is with anyone who invites him near. I’ve experienced the presence of God in good times and bad, in mountaintop experiences and in deepest valleys. He was in the jungles of Vietnam, in my intensive care room, in the delivery room for the births of our four children, and in the waiting room with a nervous father. He’s in the laughter of grandchildren and in the beauty of fall. God is all around. It just takes spiritual sensitivity to recognize his presence.
David realized this. In Psalm 23 he expressed his sense of God’s presence, even in the valley of the shadow of death. And in Psalm 139 he declared that there is nowhere that one can go where God isn’t.
Everywhere I go I see your face through the cloud.
Everywhere I go I hear your voice clear and loud.
Everywhere I go you are the light that I seek.
Everywhere I go you have found me. (Amy Grant)
And, as for the rescue, I’m certain that God had a hand in that as well. After all, he is the author of all truth and source of all knowledge, and I have no doubt that he was at work in helping the engineers come up with a plan of rescue and at work giving strength and encouragement both to the rescuers and the trapped miners.
If you look back through biblical history, often God accomplishes his will through his followers. Notables come to mind such as Abraham, Isaac, Noah, Moses, Joshua, Gideon, Deborah, David, and hundreds of others. And remember, if he can speak his message through Balaam's ass, I'm sure he can use scientists as well.
Of course, some will argue that God has allowed other miners to perish as a way of explaining away his presence and power. I confess that I don’t understand God’s ways or his sovereign will, but I trust him and I trust his word that he is always at work for good. (Romans 8:28)
So I will join with others of faith and declare: The miners are safe. Praise the Lord!
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