Spiritual Lessons - Learning The Hard Way

Several months ago I was having a conversation with a man who has been in church and in church leadership most of his life. He’s been a prominent figure in his church. We were discussing one of the specific teachings of Jesus. It was one of those passages that I imagine he’s taught from at church at some time in the past. Toward the end of the conversation he said these words that took me by surprise: “Sometimes that just doesn’t work in real life.”

Now, it didn’t really surprise me that he said that. To be honest I think a lot of people in church think those very thoughts about some of the difficult teachings of Scripture on a regular basis. Love your enemy? Turn the other cheek? If your enemy is hungry give him something to eat, if he’s thirsty give him something to drink. They sound good in Sunday School, but not so much at home, at work, in Wal-Mart or anywhere else we might call “real life.” That’s really no surprise. What surprised me is that he admitted it publicly. Read more

God Still Speaks

There’s been this tension in the faith I’ve grown up with and I’m not sure how to resolve it, or even if it needs to be resolved. Sometimes I think we expect cut-and-dried answers from God only to find him responding like he did to Job asking, “Where were you…?” or to Paul saying, “My grace is sufficient.”

The tension is between what we call the “closed canon of the Scriptures,” and God’s guidance in the everyday activities of life.

This weekend I was flipping through the channels on TV and I stopped for a minute on a Perry Stone program that was on local cable. It appeared that he was at the old temple wall in Jerusalem being a tour guide and he made a statement, calling it a “prophetic word.” He was teaching from Jesus’ parable in Matthew 20 about the laborers in the vineyard. He went on to proof text some other passages from the New Testament giving what he believed was some sort of “deep” or “hidden” meaning of what the “third hour,” the “sixth hour,” the “ninth hour” and the “eleventh hour” meant. His conclusion is that the various “hours” mentioned represent various epochs or ages in history and that the eleventh hour is the hour we now live in. It is an hour in which all of the blessings of every other age will be brought together and poured out in the world. Strange view for a Dispensationalist who takes the Bible “literally.” Read more

Tribute

I played one year of organized football when I was in the 7th or 8th grade. I was small. In the first practice I got run over by the running back who was a good six or eight inches taller than me. I did tackle him, it’s just that I ended up at the bottom of the pile. I didn’t even have a mouthpiece yet and the coach came over to me, laughing, and said, “Son, let’s not do that again until we get you a mouthpiece. We don’t want you losing any of your teeth or biting your tongue off.”

Though I didn’t play much - if you hadn’t played before you got to spend the first year sitting on the bench; it was just an unwritten rule - we never lost a game. I think we only got scored on once. But I was proud to be a part of that team.

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Just So You Know

I really disliked Easter coming so early this year.

Some at church were put out because it fell at the end of Spring Break.  To me that was a minor detail.  Yes, it was inconvenient for the Spring Break plans of many, but hopefully our spiritual calendars take some precedence over our school calendars.  There are some things important enough that we’ll suffer through these little inconveniences.

No.  For me it didn’t have anything to do with Spring Break.  It had much more to do with a sense that we rushed right through Lent, right through some important stuff that we need to deal with in ourselves between Christmas and Easter.  I don’t necessarily mean anything morbid, like we need to flagellate ourselves spiritually as long as possible so we give our self-image a good beating.  But I do think that more often than not I am too prone to gloss over my own failures without dealing seriously not only with the nature of my shortcomings but also allowing God to apply an appropriate remedy.

Yes, we need to get out of the Lent season.  It is a season, not a lifetime.  But that shouldn’t mean that we hurry it along and miss the spiritual benefits it brings to us.

Beyond that, most of the grass around here is still brown.  Easter is about life, new life, resurrection from the dead.  God planned the season well so that spiritual realities might also be seen in some corresponding physical realities.  Yet the only thing budding around here right now are the Bradford Pears.  Granted, that is a sight all by itself, but it still falls short of the flower blossoms, the greening of the grass and the leafing of the trees that will be well under way in just a couple more weeks.

Fortunately the next time Easter falls this early will be decades from now.  When it happens, if you see a grumpy old man walking around complaining in mid-March that will be me.  Just so you know.

Who Sinned, This Man, Or His Parents?

In John 9 we find a story about a man who sat in the temple courts of Jerusalem day-by-day, likely begging for a living, because he was blind.  First Century Jewish culture didn’t have much of a place for people with infirmities.  Begging in a heavily trafficked place in hopes of finding some kind-hearted person of faith who might have mercy on you and spare some change was often the best they could hope for.

Society generally looked upon those people as sinners.  It was in their DNA one way or another.  They were what they were because of something either they had done or something their parents had done.  It was hard, if not impossible, for anyone to think of them otherwise.  That’s why those disciples only had two viable options in their question to Jesus - "Who sinned, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?"  They simply couldn’t imagine a third category.  We both know innately and through Old Testament Scriptures that our sin has a price, a consequence.

But the Old Testament Scriptures also taught that the sins of fathers are visited on their children to the third and fourth generation.  So which was it?

I was thinking about this passage this week as I was talking to a friend going through some difficulties.  Bad news from the doctor.  Not life-threatening, but pretty devastating nonetheless.  News that has ramifications for the rest of life and the disappointment that the kind of life hoped for will never be a possibility.

As a pastor I’ve dealt with these sort of situations before.  "Preacher, I’ve asked God over and over why this is happening to me?  What have I done?  Is there some unconfessed sin in my life?"

My answer this week was the same as it normally is: "It was nothing you’ve done.  Quit beating yourself up."

How can I be so sure?  Do I have some special window into the hearts of others?  Or am I more Catholic than Baptist and think that I have some sort of authority to pronounce a person sinless?

The Bible speaks of God as our heavenly Father.  As a parent I hope to take my own responsibilities as a father seriously.  On occasion I have to discipline my kids.  I try to measure the punishment according to the offense.  If anything I may occasionally be too easy rather than too hard.  Sometimes I want to be harder than I know is appropriate.  But there is one thing I always try to do.  This is true both for your children and for your pets.  Don’t wait until weeks, months or years after the offense to mete out the punishment.

I would never think to save up some punishment for years, even decades, so that I might come back and punish my kids for what was done decades earlier.  It just wouldn’t make sense.  To them or to me.  When I took our dog Nikki to obedience school and they talked to us about potty training they told us that if your pet has an accident never wait until the next day to correct the problem.  If you do they won’t be able to connect the dots.  They’ll wonder why they are being punished.  And they won’t learn what you are trying to teach them.

So I approach these questions, "Why is this happening to me," in a similar way.  I do believe that our actions have consequences and that sinful actions have damaging consequences.  But most of those consequences are very obvious.  I’ve never met a lifelong smoker who got cancer who also asked, "Why did I get lung cancer?"  They know why.  I’ve never known someone who’s child was killed while driving 100 mph wonder, "Why did God take my baby?"  They know that their child was driving 100.  The cause and effect, or in Biblical terms the sowing and reaping relationship, is obvious.

But when we are unable to connect the dots I don’t believe that the God the Bible describes to us is the sort of God who decides to put off our punishment just long enough for us to forget what it was that we did.  It’s a very poor view of God that sees him sitting in heaven thinking, "Ok….now that she’s forgotten all about this particular sin I can now punish her for it, and oh, the joy of watching her wonder what’s going on!"  No.  That is a sadist, not a Father.

So if a person cannot see their current suffering as a direct consequence of something they’ve done I am more than happy to help relieve them of their burden.  And in the case of John 9 Jesus’ answer was, "It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him."  So my next step is to work with the person to try to discover what "works of God" can be displayed in their circumstances.  The ways really are almost endless.  But I have found that this opens up new possibilities of hope in the midst of tragedy.  Instead of getting lost in hopelessness and despair they begin to get a renewed sense of purpose.

What do you think?  Does all of that sound too trite?

Providence and God’s Presence

Most days I’m oblivious to the fact that there is such a thing as 5:30 AM.  I’m not a morning person.  Never have been.  Never hope to be.  But a ringing phone will awaken even me at such an hour.

It was the police department.

One of our church members had died.

At 5:30 AM I have enough trouble finding my pants, much less finding God’s presence.  If I can’t find it, though, how will I hope to take it with me as I visit with the family?

I learned a long time ago in Clinical Pastoral Education that those of us in ministry tend to put too much pressure on ourselves to say and do the right thing in a time like this.  Reality is that there is no "right thing" to say or do.  What’s done cannot be undone and the grief and loss will not go away with a well-crafted sentence or two.  Often the simple fact of being there is more than enough.  We do not want to be alone in our grief.  That would heap pain on top of pain.

So I go.  At 5:30 AM I don’t think about taking my Bible with me.  I’m hoping I remembered to brush my teeth.  I’m hoping I can find the apartment in the dark.  My old eyes aren’t what they used to be and they are about half of what they presently are when it’s 5:30 AM and dark.

But now that it’s later in the day I’m reminded of a couple of things I’ve read recently that will help me today.  One came from reading Walter Brueggemann’s Finally Comes The Poet.  In it he mentions that as we look at the history of Israel in the Bible we often notice that, in the midst of their pain and despair, God comes to them nearly always after they have given words to their pain.  They have cried out for help.  In her slavery in Egypt Israel cries out and God says that he has heard the cry of his people, and before long Moses appears on the scene as God’s messenger to bring deliverance.  In smaller ways this scene is repeated time and again as God’s people cry out for help, give voice to their pain, and God hears.

And so this morning we sat around and gave voice to the pain.  There will be many more words and sentences and paragraphs spoken and unspoken that will give voice to the pain in the days and weeks ahead.  Barbara was loved by the children in our church.  She had worked with them in Sunday School and VBS for years upon years.  Many of the children she taught are not children any longer.  Some of them had grown up to work alongside her with succeeding generations.  We will tell our own children today after they get out of school and we expect that they will struggle with what it means and how to voice their own pain.

The second thing I read is the reading from the Psalms in the Book of Common Prayer that is given for this coming Sunday: Psalm 139.

As we struggle with Barbara’s absence and in the midst of it try to find God’s presence it seems Providential that Psalm 139 begs us to read it this week.  And to speak it as our own.  Even today.  Especially today.

Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,"
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you.

Even so, Lord, be present with us today.
Amen.

Ice Ice Baby - The Podcast

Here’s my first foray into the wubulous world of podcasting.  I’m not exactly sure why I sound like I’m doing this from the inside of a 55 gallon drum and I’ll try to figure that out before next time.  The screeching sound is my wife ripping tape as she was wrapping Christmas gifts.  Aside from that I thought it turned out pretty well for a first-timer.  Later I’ll post some pics of the now famous ice storm.  For your listening enjoyment:

Download BruisedButNotBroken.mp3

An Interesting Experiment

What happens when you remove the American flag from a church’s place of worship?

You make some people really uneasy.  So uneasy that they’ll find which closet you hid it in and put it back "where it belongs."

I’m not an unpatriotic guy.  I appreciate the freedoms afforded us in America.  I’m thankful for those who have served our country in various capacities.

But I also have a firm conviction that I am not a true citizen of America.  Now I can hear the voices already: "If you don’t like it here in America go live somewhere else."  Well, I would move to my preferred country of residence except that I’m waiting for God’s timing to transport me there.  You see, of all the countries in this world I like America the best.  I’m just aware of another city that’s even better.  It is one who’s architect and builder is God.  There is a place where the kingdoms of this world become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ.  Its flag is not red, white and blue.  Or red and white.  Or black white and green.  Or red and yellow.  Catch my drift?

The kingdom of God subverts every other kingdom.  Including America.  And that’s not a popular thing to say.  After saying such a thing in a sermon I was approached afterwards by one who seemed almost ready to argue over the virtues of living in America.  I would have likely agreed with most everything that person would have said.  In fact, I did agree with everything that person did say that day.  But I was left with the distinct impression that if we had to choose between America and the church some would choose America.  The fact that we can choose both, but subordinate the church to our country says something profound about our country and where some in the church in our country are in terms of the meaning of faith.

The message of the gospel is a radical message.  The most basic confession of that faith is "Jesus is Lord."  What we need to realize is that such a statement necessarily means that Uncle Sam is not.  But do we understand that?  Are we ready and willing to make such a radical claim?

When I removed the American flag I left the Christian flag displayed.  I suspect that were I to have put the Christian flag in a closet somewhere it might still be there.

The Gospel For A Community

I remember sitting in my seminary preaching lab when Dr. Grant Lovejoy told us that most Baptist preaching breaks down into one of the following: pray more, read your Bible more, give more, witness more.  Pretty true.  And one thing each of those has in common is that the emphasis is on the individual exercise of those things.

That’s because we tend to overwhelmingly view the Christian life as an individual endeavor.  But I think that individualism comes more from American culture than from the nature of the good news, the Biblical message and apostolic teaching.  I’ve been teaching a Bible study through Hebrews.  When the author of Hebrews wanted to address the threat of people in the church abandoning their faith he didn’t preach a good "pray more, read your Bible more, give more, witness more" message.  He challenged them to band together for mutual encouragement and accountability.  "But exhort one another every day, as long as it is called ‘today,’ that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin" (Heb. 3:13, ESV).

The gospel and the Christian life is not something we were meant to have a go at on our own.  But modern churches are often structured such that we continue to live largely isolated lives.  This is especially true the larger the church is.  I’ve known quite a few people who wanted to join a big church so that they could "get lost in the crowd."  But even in smaller churches our structures often keep us isolated from meaningful contact with one another.  We come.  We sit.  We sing.  We listen.  We leave.  And many won’t have any contact with anyone else from their church until the next official meeting time.  How is it possible, in that context, to "exhort one another every day?"  Could it be that in missing that we find one of the reasons for our own "hardening by the deceitfulness of sin?"  What would a gospel living community look like?  What would have to change in how we currently think of and practice the life of the church?  Are these things possible in the context of our present cultural situation?

The Myth of Objectivity

Posting has been a little sparse because I’ve been preoccupied - several funerals in the past two weeks, kids in soccer, cross country and basketball and, of course, the priority of taking in a few OU football games.

Thinking out loud: I believe there is such a thing as "objective" reality - or that there are things as they really are, not just as they are perceived.  I’ve even had friends tell me that they believe I’m one of the most objective people they know (don’t laugh!).  But the moment I say "I know…" doesn’t my knowing become subjective?  After all, I am a subject, not an object.  Thus, my knowing is the knowing of a subject - and thus subjective (by definition, it would seem).  I always have a context and my context will forever be shaped by certain contextual realities - my place of birth, my ethnic origin, my social/economic status, the particular family into which I was born, my educational background and a whole lot more.  My understanding of the world, how it works, who I am, what life is meant to be, are all heavily influenced by that context.

It should seem obvious that a white, middle-class, college educated, 21st Century American, son of a Baptist deacon and loving parents would think differently about the world and how it works than a poor, black, uneducated African, son of an abusive shaman father.  I think it is safe to say that even if the parents were Christian - say a middle-class Chinese laborer who’s mother works in a sweat shop making toys for Mattel.  Would we view the teachings of Scripture differently because of our context?  What makes the American context superior to all others when it comes to understanding something like Scripture?  Or am I wrong that we view it that way?  Because it sure seems to me, especially for Baptists in the south (and I’m broadly including Oklahoma here because of the strong Southern Baptist presence) that we view it that way.

These thoughts generated by a post from David Phillips.

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