Living Hope

“…if Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless and powerless—mere delusion; you are still in your sins and under the control and penalty of sin…If we who are abiding in Christ have hoped only in this life and this is all there is, then we are of all people most miserable and to be pitied.”—1 Corinthians 15: 17, 19, Amplified

Clearly, my first influencer for love of music was my dad’s mom, the pianist who had me at the keyboard when I was 4. But not far behind are my mom’s mom and dad, who were not musicians at all. They just loved God, and through thick and thin, they sang to Him in their own not-musician voices. In fact, there was a song that my grandmother loved during her failing years that became instrumental in my own day of salvation. It wasn’t my style but I couldn’t get the message of incredible living hope out of my head:

Because He lives, I can face tomorrow

Because He lives, all fear is gone

Because I know He holds the future

And life is worth the living just because He lives

The thing that grabbed me then is what still grabs me now:

The Son of God is not dead.

And if I believe in Him, then where He has gone, there I go as well. It’s the Song that will never end. More than that, if God is able to raise the dead, there is nothing that He cannot do here and now.

Which may be why this week, people in Brazil who have been social distancing joined my grandmother and did something really amazing:

Then there’s my mom’s dad, the dairy farmer who was up before dawn every day and loved singing old hymns on Sunday morning. He has been just as influential. Even the early riser part. Stepping outside this morning, I heard the bird chorus that’s growing with each passing day (even if it is supposed to snow tomorrow)…

…and one of the hymns I remember Puppa singing the loudest came to mind out of nowhere. History says it was written in a nature-filled setting like my back yard. But it’s the lyrics, especially the second verse, that are in step with my grandmother’s favorite song for such a time as this:

When morning gilds the skies, my heart awakening cries:

May Jesus Christ be praised!

Alike at work and prayer, to Jesus I repair

May Jesus Christ be praised!

The night becomes as day when from the heart we say:

May Jesus Christ be praised!

The powers of darkness fear when this sweet chant they hear:

May Jesus Christ be praised!

This past week, my grandparents’ influence has never been more meaningful. And through their attitudes and songs of faith, they have helped establish an essential calming, daily “to-do and to-be” list:

• Keep an attitude of prayer
• Keep being thankful
• Keep informed but practice social distancing from 24/7 news and social media craziness, and let songs of worship and edification fill your house and mind instead
• Keep singing, keep drinking in the lyrics, and let faith drive out fear
• Keep singing “Because He Lives” as loud as you did on the day you were saved
• Keep singing it like those Brazilians
• Keep at it because fear is persistent
• Keep in the Word of Truth and comfort and promise, and especially hang out in the Psalms
• Keep being wise in protecting yourself and those around you
• Keep thinking of others and how you can be a good neighbor
• Keep getting outside in the sun and keep breathing this God-given New Hampshire air
• Keep starting the day right by stepping outside to listen to the birds’ songs
• Keep singing, like Puppa, at the top of your lungs,  "When Morning Gilds the Skies”
• (Most of all) Keep letting that thing that grabbed you back then grab you again, over and over, even right now:

“The Son of God is not dead …

And if God is able to raise the dead,

there is nothing that He cannot do here and now.” ...

Heading Down an Unknown Road

"Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God." - Corrie Ten Boom

I had done this pleasurable end-of-the-day routine thousands of times before: walking out the office door, usually satisfied and grateful for a productive day’s work, uncoupling the building access badge and tucking it away, and driving into the sunset for the hour drive home. Friday, though, was unlike any other departure, because my car had a strange passenger: a box of daily work essentials hastily assembled from my desk and drawers and standing files. The new normal had suddenly become “work from home” until further notice.

As San Diego Padres first baseman Eric Hosmer said this week, “It feels like we’re living in a movie.” And as I drove out of the city and headed west, the usually happy departure became a surreal yet strangely peaceful moment of wondering aloud when I would get to come this way again. 

We’ve never been down this road before.

And with that reality comes the naturally human reflex of fear of the unknown...until you realize there are travelers who have gone before us to point the way.

I have to remind myself in times like these that the first rule for an unknown road is this: Never believe your Bible is irrelevant. It is amazing how the timelessness of ancient words can shed light and bring comfort during even a 21st Century pandemic. For a good chunk of his service to God and ministry to others, the apostle Paul knew what it felt like to have his world on lockdown. In the book of Philippians, he writes from an actual prison, but instead of using words of doom and gloom, he pens what are some really relevant words of encouragement to the local church.

He reminds us that the second rule for an unknown road is this: God is still here. God knows the way. God has always been faithful and always true to His promises, and He won’t stop now. With all of that as his foundation, this particular traveler who has gone before us, though on lockdown and having no idea what tomorrow might bring, is resolved to keep living the Life, to remain faithful to the always-faithful God personally, yes, but also in serving and loving others around him. And he encourages the timeless local church to do the same—all with the knowledge and peace that passes understanding that even though we may not know this road at all, God knows it like the back of His hand if only we will trust His never-fail GPS. 

And so a third rule for an unknown road: Don’t be tempted to exit to camp out at some roadside rest area until it’s over. Rest yes, by all means take care of your own body, mind and soul, and be as wise as an owl, but nevertheless, keep on driving, keep walking, keep going. And most of all, keep on trusting and praying.

Honestly, it can be hard to wrap your brain around all of this. But could it actually be, as Paul says, that all of this craziness that is happening in his world and our world on this unknown road “has really served to advance the Gospel”; that this is actually a never-before season for new opportunities to Love and pray and serve? You may have read those words casually a hundred times before, but this week they are jolting words that jump off of the page as with a sword, fighting to dethrone fear and enthrone faith. Words that sing lines from old hymns:

“Take the Name of Jesus with you…”

“This is my Father’s world, and though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet…”

“We will not fear for God has willed His Truth to triumph through us…”

To live and not hide, to be a light for those in need and not cower in the darkness.

To remember with shock and awe, as if hearing it for the first time, that God is always faithful and God is always able even to still storms, and God is Lord of heaven and earth and all that is in it, including a pandemic.

To remember that while everything in your normal life seems to be on lockdown…

“…but the Word of God can never be chained!”

—2 Timothy 2:9, Passion

In ancient Philippi and our little corner of the world, in every season, for every problem or crisis that’s ever been—a Kingdom opportunity awaits.

Even down this road we’ve never been before.

How, then, shall we live?

Selah.

How Sweet It Really Is

"If you can trust God to save you for eternity, you can trust Him to lead you for a lifetime." (David Platt)

My dad sang on the worship team right up to his 80^th year. He could joyously belt out harmonies on the newest of the new songs, but he had a special affection for old gospel hymns. In fact, one of the last Christmas gifts he gave me was a year-round devotional based on old hymn stories. He’d often say something to the effect of:

“Son, the older I get, the more I appreciate them.”

I nodded, but didn’t fully get it at the time.

While camping out the past couple of weeks in Psalm 119, and reading over and over how the psalmist put his trust in God and His Word in the face of difficulties on every side, one of dad's favorite old hymns, "'Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus," came to mind. Especially the phrase "Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him, how I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er."

Been there, even though wavering at times, but still own the t-shirt and wear it often.

I still struggle with the “so sweet” part, though. Really? Not my trials, not my difficulties. As it turns out, that hymn devotional dad gave me a few years ago sheds light on why Louisa Stead chose that particular phrase for the title of her hymn:

One day while having a family picnic on Long Island, she and her daughter watched in horror as Mr. Stead drowned while trying to help a young boy. Louisa lost not only her husband but all financial means of support as a result. She could have soured on life and even on God ("where were You when I needed You?!"). Instead, she and her daughter packed up what they had and spent the next quarter-century serving God and the needy on the mission field in South Africa.

And through it all, by being steadfast and faithful to the God who is the very definition of those words, Louisa was able to pen, ‘tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, just to take Him at His word, just to rest upon His promise, just to know thus sayeth the Lord.

Because she probably knew perfectly well that "sweet" wasn’t a questionable choice at all but the perfect word with meanings far beyond what we associate it with in our day:

highly satisfying,

pure,

clear,

great,

pleasing to the senses,

a sound, rock-solid and wholesome state.

A sweetness that perfectly describes the promises of God in every season, whether we feel them or not, and not just on the warm, sunny days when anyone can trust God.

They just don't fail. Ever. Even as we look around at the tsunami of out-of-control craziness in our world. Sometimes, we need a good book, like Psalm 119, or an old hymnal to pick up, open and hold onto; to feel those everlasting promises in our hands, breathe them in, and make them our own all over again. To keep walking by faith this never-dull Great Adventure.

To be able to declare to our souls every morning and evening, in the spirit of Louisa Stead:

“Your promises have been thoroughly tested; that is why I love them so much…as pressure and stress bear down on me, I find joy in Your commands.”
—Psalm 119: 140, 143, NLT

(And dad, you’ll be glad to know: I really do get it now.)



[ADAPTED FROM 3-6-16]

Just Go...

“Let your light shine everywhere you go…”—Matthew 5:16

It has taken nearly 40 years of this Walk to begin to put feet to a deeply-embedded heart desire:

“What happens in church doesn’t stay in church.”

I’ve given up fighting the unwinnable war of “sacred vs. secular.”

Because the Word is really true:

“And whatever you do in word and deed, do it all in the Name of the Lord.”

Whatever.

I’ve given up fighting the imaginary battle between walking the sacred Sunday morning Walk versus walking out all the personal interests and the (unsinful) pleasures of living life that God has put in me before I was in my mother's womb so that I can live healthily in body, mind and spirit while also reflecting Him and enjoying Him in all that I do.

Not to mention the God-ordained responsibilities of daily life and of simply being an ambassador of Himself as a human being in the midst of it all, and among a sea of fellow humans.
The war is over.
Or at least, it's getting there.

I’ve been exchanging a years-long fear of what it means to be “in the world but not of it” (fearful hint: don’t get any on ya!) for a healthier realization that this Life was never meant to be either/or but both.
By all means, be as wise as an owl, but by all means, carry your light with you, and your salt shaker, too.

Sunday mornings are awesome. They are vital for getting perspective on what and Who is truly worthy of worship, for getting your eyes off of yourself for once, for encouragement for the Journey ahead, for comfort for the battles at hand, and for getting rooted and grounded in who Christ is what His Word promises.

But all of that so that He and it can uniquely shine through each one as we head out the door into the week.

To remember that the Church gathered is meant to be a bubble to be wonderfully burst, not to be safe and comfortable and uber-focused on what happens within its four walls 24/7.

Most of all, to remember that Jesus’ final words before ascending began with:

“Go…”

To remember that your mission field could be in a land far away but more likely it’s right in your own back yard, 

And in and through the things and interests and places and people that God has poured into your life for His purposes...

...To remember, as was the case this week, that He loves answering our crazy “go” prayers:

Like knowing someone who was going through an incredibly dark valley and who worked in a very public place and wanting, somehow, to be able to pray for them without their embarrassment—and then to walk into that very public place that somehow was empty of people, except for you and the friend in need.

And so that “go” prayer, and human touch, happened, bringing tears, smiles, and gratitude, and just maybe, hope for someone in need to keep going and looking Up.

There is nothing like a Sunday morning being-in-His-presence sort of day—even the psalmist didn’t want to leave.

But even better is carrying an in-His-presence sort of day with you and through you.

To just “Go into all your world…”

“Often, you can see the power lines running alongside the street. Unless current is flowing through them, there is no light. The power line is you and I! The current is God! We have the power to allow the current to flow through us and thus generate the Light of the world: Jesus—or, to refuse to be used and, thus, allow the darkness to spread.”—Mother Theresa

Head to the Heart

Photo: Warren Grieve (pixabay.com)

"I open up to You, this Love that makes me new; Oh may my heart receive this Love that carries me..."—United Pursuit

Mind shift: Sundays were never meant to be the sighing end to another too-short weekend. They were never meant to be just another day among seven. Sundays were meant to be glorious, no matter the weather, because Sundays are God's weekly reminder to our world-numbed souls of the Resurrection that changed, and still changes... everything.

"It's Friday...but Sunday's coming!"

A weekly reminder that on that first glorious Sunday morning many centuries ago, a bunch of men and women who walked closely with Jesus for about three years were running frantically to and from an empty tomb trying to wrap their brains and hearts around what was going on, and the angel's words of shock and awe, "He is risen, just as He said."

Resurrection power is like that. It is mind-blowing and beyond comprehension, no matter how often you spout the words "He is risen!" aloud, or nod your head to the many times Jesus said it was going to happen.

Until it happens to you—when God awakens you from the dead of your own thinking and way of life and calls you to step into the glorious known yet unknown, where life is full and alive and has no end, and is totally upside down to all that you've been led to believe.

Some people have pretty dramatic resurrection experiences, and these friends stir my faith like few others can. But the Gospels indicate that some of the most resistant ones to come alive were often those who grew up going to synagogue, were pretty decent people overall, and who "got it" pretty well up in their brain. But that's where it was entombed, never connecting to the heartbeat of life...

...."The religion scholar said, 'A wonderful answer, Teacher! So lucid and accurate—that God is one and there is no other. And love Him with all passion and intelligence and energy, and loving others as well as you love yourself. Why, that's better than all offerings and sacrifices put together!' When Jesus realized how insightful he was, He said, 'You're almost there, right on the border of God's kingdom."

(Mark 12:32-34, The Voice)

For 27 years, I was that guy. "Right on the border." But not for much longer. Because even though I didn't know it at the time, someone was praying. Several someones, in fact. (Rabbit trail: never give up!)

And then there was that strange moment when some "voice" or loud impression or whatever within spoke to me while out on the town one night: "You are at a crossroads. Which road will you take?" And all of that at about the time I was singing in the church choir because I liked to sing but far from God and yet being strangely drawn like a magnet to a simple gospel song: "Because He lives, I can face tomorrow..." Because it was my grandmother's favorite song at the time, and I really loved her, and she wasn't well, and she was the first person I knew who loved Jesus like He was more than a historical figure.

And then one day, just a few weeks before another Resurrection Sunday, all those seemingly random elements came together: Love broke through the roadblock between the head and heart. It came unannounced, almost quietly and yet with a burning, unexplainable something-something inside. I wanted, like those first men and women, to run like the wind. It was resurrection power that was shocking and beyond comprehension at first, and then altogether amazing and wonderful. ....

"From the head to the heart, You take me on a journey of letting go and getting lost in You..."

But Sundays are a reminder that resurrection isn't a one and done thing. Some 16 years later, resurrection power reached even deeper. It is one thing to be on the outside looking in, to try to be a good person yet being "almost there, right on the border of God's kingdom." It is another thing entirely to have Love break through culture's tomb of performance, even in a church: A deeply engrained lie that to please people and even God, you just need to do good stuff and more of it.

Ministry burn out.

I had never been "one of those hand raisers," but in a single moment of desperate surrender, up they went. It felt like being in one of those wooden barrels where the bands began to snap off one by one. A new resurrection: Relationship, not performance, won the day and won my heart. And for the first time, I began to understand what real worship, even beyond a song, was all about.

I was reminded of all of that while reading these words from the late Brennan Manning in "The Furious Longing of God"...

"How is that we've come to imagine that Christianity consists primarily in what we do for God? How has this come to be the good news of Jesus? Is the kingdom that He proclaimed to be nothing more than a community of men and women who go to church on Sunday, take an annual spiritual retreat, read their Bibles every now and then, oppose abortion, don't watch x-rated movies, never use vulgar language, smile a lot, hold doors open for people, root for the favorite team, and get along with everybody? Is that why Jesus went through the bleak and bloody horror of Calvary? Is that why He emerged in shattering glory from the tomb? Is that why He poured out His Holy Spirit on the Church? To make men and women with better morals?

The Gospel is absurd and the life of Jesus is meaningless unless we believe that He lived, died, and rose again with but one purpose in mind: to make brand new creations. Not to make people with better morals but to create a community of prophets and professional lovers, men and women who would surrender to the mystery of the fire of the Spirit that burns within, who would live in ever greater fidelity to the omnipresent Word of God, who would enter into the center of it all, the very heart and mystery of Christ, into the center of the flame that consumes, purifies, and sets everything aglow with peace, joy, boldness, and extravagant, furious love. This, my friends, is what it really means to be a Christian. [It] never begins with what we do for God. It always starts with what God has done for us."

For all who come this way on not just another Sunday, and in between all the other resurrection Sundays to come, more of that...and more of You, from the head to the heart.

[Adapted from 4-16-17]

"There’s no shame in looking like a fool, when I give you what I can’t keep to take a hold of You."

What Difference Does it Make?

Photo: Suliman Sallehi, pexels.com

Let the Word of Christ..."richly inhabit your lives." (Colossians 3:16, The Voice)

While going about what was an otherwise normal day at work not long ago, writing business-related articles about people and processes and achievements, there was an earthquake.

Over a word choice.

What I thought was a harmless and actually very appropriate word to describe someone’s positive contribution to a situation wound up offending that person and a colleague.

Their email made me go “whaaaat?” A change in word choice was expected.

And because it’s what humans tend to do when they go on the defensive,

I was ready for an all-too-familiar reflex:

To dig in, to defend myself, to be offended by their offense.

Which never goes anywhere good.

To my surprise, I didn’t go there

This time.

“What is this strange feeling I’m feeling?”

And I realized that the word that came to mind to describe this person’s admirable quality was a word prominently found in the Gospels.

All from that reading, both because “you need to” and because you want to,

But sometimes, wondering “what difference does it make, practically?”

Until I also realized that the word that rolled out of my brain and into type that day was a natural reflex,

A "richly inhabit"

An overflow of that which was now living within me from “all that reading” and through the mysterious power of the Spirit...

“For the Word of God is alive and powerful…”

—Hebrews 4:12, NLT

...And on this day, that same Word didn’t get hung up on words.

Instead, it took the temptation to be defensive and turned it on its head:

Humility. Grace.

(What the world needs now.)

“No offense intended, I’ll make the change.”

Which was met by grace—and, as a result, peace—in return.

It is always a good thing to pray, as you head out the door, things like:

“Lord, help me to carry Your light into work today”

But while we may be thinking some really big things

Often, it is the little things God uses to answer that prayer that carry the biggest light—for others, and especially for your own encouragement on this Journey.

It’s not always pleasant or full of acceptance,

But this Word, these Words, make a difference.

And these Words of life that will come out of your pores from all that reading

Matter.

And will change you, bit by bit.

This Life is not stuck in a Book.

This Life is practical and for real, and fully meant to be lived…

Way beyond Sunday.

Selah

“Sometimes, we are called to experience rejection for the Son of God living in us. When we carry the cross of Christ, the world and even our families sometimes look at us as though we have a few marbles out of place. A miracle [salvation] often has a cost. But it is the seed for something imperishable. It is the seed of Eternity in our hearts.”—Os Hillman

When the Details Don't Really Matter

Photo: Markus Winkler (pexels.com)

“Now gather the scraps,” Jesus told His disciples, “so that nothing is wasted.” And 12 baskets were filled with leftovers.”—John 6:14, Living Bible

While reading this story, for the gazillionth time, of the multitudes being fed with a few fishes and loaves of bread, I remembered watching the ‘90s movie “Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves,” and instead of focusing on the plot got tripped up wondering where all those fancy ropes came from that suddenly appeared in the forest outpost of Robin and his merry men....

Wait, so where did those 12 baskets come from?

Did 12 kind ladies (or gentlemen) provide them, or did the disciples go up to the crowd and ask “Hey, who has some baskets we can use to pick up these crumbs?”

And when they were filled, then what?

Were they left there? 

Did people in the crowd of 5,000 each take some of it for the journey home?

Did the disciples “get it” in real-time?

Did they look at each other, shrug their shoulders, and wonder what was going on?

Did they take the leftovers and chow down, because they were hungry, too?

Did they take them with them when on their ensuing journey across the lake?

(Maybe that helps explain why their boat was so difficult to maneuver on the wind-driven waters?)

For centuries, Bible scholars have offered helpful theories and tons of possible explanations for it all.

The fact is,

No one really knows.

And ultimately, just as with the awesome ropes that appeared out of nowhere in that movie, the props of 12 baskets are simply a means of telling a larger, more important story.

It doesn’t mean that wanting to know doesn’t matter because we are told time and again to search the scriptures for ourselves, and to seek diligently and inquire of the Lord on every step of the journey.

Seeking wisdom is good. Asking questions is really good.

But demanding answers for every single detail and basket and move of God is eliminating the most important thing of all:

Trust.

God is God and I am not.

His ways are higher than mine and His thoughts are way higher.

No one has ever known the mind of the Lord, and no one has ever been His advisor.

No one has entirely figured Him out or known His every move.

And if I could and if I did, then He wouldn’t be any different than any other.

But He is altogether lovely and altogether worthy.

He is Lord of heaven and earth.

In the beginning, God. Period.

And so maybe 12 baskets of leftovers are simply supposed to represent an everlasting monument and reminder to our weary souls and weak-kneed faith that God’s provision in our time of need or when the task seems overwhelming—His promises, His answers to feeble, desperate prayers—can always be trusted and are always more than enough.

Just like all those ropes in the movie.

And not just a general provision, either, one that we can nod our head at as being true for maybe everyone else;

But personal—“one basket each, guys, just for you, with your name on it.”

With my name on it?

“Trust Me. I have never lied and I never will."

“Blessed with spiritual security is the man who believes and trusts in and relies on the Lord

And whose hope and confident expectation is the Lord.

“For he will be nourished like a tree planted by the waters,

That spreads out its roots by the river;

And will not fear the heat when it comes;

But its leaves will be green and moist.

And it will not be anxious and concerned in a year of drought

Nor stop bearing fruit.”

—Jeremiah 17:7-8 Amplified