Kirk Lewis

Intentional Worship

Background Passages: John 4:23-24; Matthew 5:6

A routine visit with my cardiologist this week ended with his admonition and encouragement to gain some control over my diet. He said it so politely I walked out of his office determined to practice what he preached. His advice, “Don’t approach every meal as if it is your last meal. You always want to be a little hungry.”

I sincerely tried to remember that advice over the past few days even when I found myself wanting more. Then, I stumbled across this French proverb, “A good meal ought to begin with hunger.”

There is a measure of truth in that statement. When was the last time you truly enjoyed a meal when you were not hungry? When we’re hungry, we can savor every mouthful, even when the portions are limited. When you’re hungry, everything tastes good…except broccoli. Broccoli will always taste bad…and cauliflower…and Brussels sprouts.

But, we’re not talking about broccoli or Brussels sprouts today. Instead, let’s talk about worship. The Hebrew and Greek words for worship speak to “bowing down.” “Humbling oneself.” “Paying homage.” “Reverence.” “Adoration.” The words convey the idea that we recognize the eternal holiness of God and that he is, by his very nature, worthy of our worship and praise. Worship by definition is the attitude in which we approach God.

Jesus stood one day on the hill overlooking the Sea of Galilee as he spoke to the crowd gathered around him. Every word a nugget of truth penetrating the heart. The one bless by God will be the one whose heart longs for the right relationship with the Creator.

“Blessed is the man who hungers and thirsts after righteousness for they will be filled.”

The spirit that hungers to be in the right and proper relationship with God will find that hunger completely satisfied. What that tells me is we ought to approach worship with the appetite of a starving man. Meaningful worship begins with a genuine hunger to be in the presence of God. To celebrate in song praises to our Lord. To open our hearts in prayer to his words admonition and encouragement. To walk away changed by the experience of fellowship with the Father Creator. To commit ourselves to the life he calls us to live.

When was the last time you hungered for that kind of worship?

We can learn a great deal from an unexpected encounter at the well in Samaria. Tired from his journey, Jesus sat down on the stone edge of the well, leaning his back against the wooden support for the pulley and pail. He sent his disciples into town to buy bread and fruit for the day’s meal. Needing time to himself.

As he rested his eyes, a woman tentatively approached, carrying a large empty jar on her head. Alone and at mid-day…signs that all was not right in her life.

Jesus eased out of the way, allowing her access to the well and the water within. Jesus engaged her in a conversation. The distrust of a woman abused by men and by life and the natural antipathy between Jews and Samaritans led to an intense discussion and debate about life, faith and worship.

When Jesus hit a little too close to home with his insight into her circumstance, she adeptly changed the subject. Challenged by the woman regarding the differences in where the Jews and Samaritans worshiped, Jesus pointed her away from worship based on location and ritual and toward worship centered in the heart.

“Believe me, woman. A time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem… A time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is Spirit and his worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth.”

We must worship God in “spirit and truth.” What does that mean?

It think it means that genuine worship is a deep-seated desire for an intimate and worshipful relationship with God. It is not an act. It is an attitude. Worship isn’t just to be physically present in the place designated for praise and adoration. We won’t find true worship by an act of osmosis or absorption simply because we showed up. We find genuine worship when our spirit participates in the moment.

Theologian William Barclay declared that our God-given spirit is the highest, most noble part of us…the source of our greatest dreams and desires. True worship, according to Barclay, comes when our spirit seeks the highest…a personal and proper relationship with the eternal and holy God.

That kind of devotion cannot be a passive act. It is an ever present hunger to honor God in our hearts and with our lives. It is seeking with purpose and intent his wisdom in how we should live.

Intentional worship is the reason Paul and Silas could sing praises to God while locked in chains, battered and beaten, in a dungeon’s darkness (Acts. 16:23-25). Intentional worship is the reason, a woman whose life was shattered by sin, anointed the feet of Jesus with her most expensive perfume (Luke 7:41-50).

Intentional worship is the reason, a poor and destitute woman unselfishly dropped her last penny into the offering in celebration of everything God had given her (Mark 12:41-44). Intentional worship is the reason, Jesus prayed in the garden, “Not my will, but yours.” (Luke 22:41)

I find in those examples men and women who worshiped in spirit and truth. Despite their circumstances, they hungered to be in God’s presence. They hungered to know his will. When we hunger for righteousness, when we hunger for God in our lives, we can worship in any circumstance, in every way, seeking only to subordinate our will to the will of our Father.

The French said, “A good meal ought to begin with hunger.” For my physical health, that is a lesson I need to learn. Yet, it proclaims loudly a lesson for my spiritual health.

When I walk into that sanctuary each Sunday or open my Bible any day of the week, I need to start with a keen hunger for what I can experience in that moment. I need to approach the throne of God’s grace recognizing who he is and what he has done in my life. I need to declare in my heart that he is worthy of my praise. Worthy of my reverence. Worthy of my love.

It’s Saturday. Are you as hungry as I am to experience God tomorrow and in the week to come?

A Life of Kindness & Love

Background Passage: Titus 3:1-8

Amid the endless jawing that sometimes occurs on talk radio, I heard one pundit refer to a political foe as a “Cretan.” Now that’s not a word you hear bandied about these days, but when it comes to arguing, it is an intelligent insult.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not advocating the hurling of insults, intelligent or otherwise, as a means of proper debate and discourse. I’m simply saying, it’s not a word you hear often.

The word originates obviously as a reference to the inhabitants of the island of Crete in the Mediterranean. However, due to two literary references, the name became synonymous with people of ill-repute. Lacking in gravitas or moral character.

Epimenides, a 6th century Greek poet from Crete, insinuated that the people of Crete lacked ethical principles. Branded by their behaviors, he said they were known for stealing, harboring robbers and pirates. A few centuries later, Paul, writing to his friend and pastor, Titus, quoted from Epimenides, calling the people to whom Titus was ministering as “liars, evil beasts and lazy gluttons.”

Hang onto that thought. We’ll get back to it in a minute.

The focus of my personal Bible study in the past year centered on understanding what it means to live in the image of Christ. It was the motivation behind my last book, God’s Mirror Image. Since the book was published, my Bible studies have been more random in topic, but I’m amazed at how often the scripture I find relates to the idea of living in the image of Christ. As I studied the book of Titus this week, those instructive passages jumped out at me again.

Titus, a frequent companion to Paul during his ministry, proved to be a faithful worker and good friend to the apostle. At the beginning of his epistle to Titus, Paul called him “my true son in our common faith.” It’s a comment that suggests Paul might have been the one to lead Titus to Christ…that, as a result of the faith they shared, the bond between them was strong.

Paul commissioned Titus to serve as the pastor of the church in Crete. During the first century, there was a Jewish presence on the island, some of whom were probably present in Jerusalem during Pentecost. In Acts were told that many from Crete believed in Christ as a result of Peter’s teaching. Undoubtedly, they returned home, bringing a dynamic new faith with them.

The task of staying true to the teachings of Christ would not be easy for them in a culture that had a reputation for lacking in moral fiber. The pressure of culture on the church was the reason Paul sent Titus to strengthen the believers. To build their faith. To ground them more deeply in the scripture. To teach them how to live in the image of Christ.

I wonder what Paul might tell Titus today if he commissioned the pastor to minister to the church in the United States? What might he tell Titus today if he commissioned the pastor to minister to those of us in our country who claim to be Christians?

Our culture morphed over time from a people professing a faith and trust in God to one that too often ignores ethical principles. One that lacks in moral character. I’m not so certain that Epimenides’ rebuke of the Cretans might not be apt for Americans today.

That makes Paul’s words to Titus even more relevant for you and me for they describe the character God expects from his own. Look at Chapter 3. Find Paul’s encouragement. He tells Titus, “Remind the people…” Then, he provides Titus with a list of workable sermon titles…

“…Be obedient to authority…”

“…Be ready to do whatever is good…”

“…To slander no one…”

“…To be peaceable and considerate…”

“…To show humility to all men. “

Think about those instructions. Think about how those characteristics describe the nature of Jesus himself. What a great lesson for our personal contributions to the culture around us!

Paul suggests that our Christian humility should stem from the fact that, before Christ came into our lives, we were not that different from the rest of the world….

“…Foolish…”

“…Disobedient…”

“…Deceived and Enslaved…”

“…Living in malice and envy…”

“…Being hated and hating one another…”

As I read this passage so much of what Paul described reminded me of the divisiveness that exists in our world today. Not just the political rhetoric, but the radical anger and resentment we express toward anyone who holds opinions different from our own.

This is not the way Christians are called to live. Paul reminded Titus with a passage that hit me between the eyes. A passage that paints the perfect picture of the life of Christ that we are to model.

“But, when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of the righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy.”

Remember, those words were written by the man to whom Jesus appeared when he was walking down the road to Damascus to persecute and destroy the church there. The man who held the robes of those who hurled insults and stones at a man who professed a faith in Christ.

Paul saw in that blinding light the appearance of one whose whole being radiated kindness and love. “Why are you persecuting me?” Jesus asked. Less an accusation as it was a challenge to live differently. Paul no longer saw a radical heretic when he looked at Jesus. He saw the love of God staring him right in the eyes…a love so bright it blinded him.

When Jesus, God our Savior, came into this world he was the epitome of kindness and love. He walked as those things personified. It is in kindness and love that we are to live and relate to the world around us. A life lived in the image of God.

Paul gives one further directive to his friend Titus that is so applicable today.

“I want you to stress these things so that those who have trusted in God may be careful to devote themselves to doing what is good. These things are excellent and profitable for everyone.”

The message reverberates through the ages, as relevant in the 21st century as it was in the 1st century. To live as God requires we must take on the very appearance of Christ. Live with kindness and love in our hearts. A kindness and love so bright that it blinds others to the false beauty sin uses to entrap and enslave. Let those characteristics dictate our words and deeds. Devote ourselves to doing good in all things. Healing the broken heart rather than breaking it.

In other words, Paul tells us to stop acting like Cretans and start living like Christians.

And, that, I think, would be excellent and profitable for everyone.

*****

God’s Mirror Image is now available in hard cover, paperback or ebook at Amazon.com and barnesandnoble.com. Copies can also be purchased at the Barnes & Noble Book Store on Fairmont Parkway in Pasadena, TX.

Lord, Teach Us To Pray

Background Passages: Matthew 6: 5-15; Luke 11:1-13

The young disciple laid on his back,
opening his eyes to a new morning.
Rubbing the stubble of his beard,
Jude propped himself up on one elbow.
Surveyed the scene unfolding around him
in the dawn of a new day.

Nathaniel.
Always an early riser,
stoked the fire.

Andrew.
Always helpful,
walked up the path from the Sea of Galilee.
A bucket of water in each hand.

Others engaged in various stages of waking.
Rolled up their sleeping mats.
Folded their blankets.
Tied their sandals.
Only John remained asleep.
Snored heavily while the world came
alive around him.

Jude stood.
Stretched and yawned.
Pressed both fists into the small of his back.
Worked the kinks out of a tired body
that slept all night on the rocky ground.
He nudged John with his toe,
eliciting a grunt and a grumpy,
“Go away,”
from the weary disciple.

“Breakfast, my friend.
You’ll be grumpier if you missed it,”
Jude chuckled.
“Rise and shine.”

Jude scanned the group looking for Jesus.
He spied him a short distance up the hillside,
sitting cross-legged.
Arms held loosely in his lap.
Leaning his head against a rock.
Engaged in his morning prayer.

“Every morning without fail,”
Jude mused,
marveling at how little sleep
their master seemed to need.

The disciples ate a quick breakfast of bread and honey
accompanied by the quiet conversation of close friends.
James wrapped some bread in a cloth,
saving it for Jesus.

The men cleaned the campsite.
Put out the fire.
Then, walked slowly and quietly up the hillside,
unwilling to disturb Jesus during his
morning prayers.
They stopped a few feet away.
Some knelt.
Some bowed their heads.
Some stood silently as their gaze settled on the
placid waters of the Sea of Galilee
far below.

Jude,
for his part,
never took his eyes off Jesus.
Watched his master with a
blend of curiosity and wonder.
No rabbi he had known spent this
kind of time in private prayer.
His whole demeanor so different from
the prayerful posturing of the Pharisees.
Eyes closed.
Arms resting in his lap.
Fingers interlaced,
dangling loosely in front of him.
Jesus was a man at peace.

After a few minutes,
Jesus breathed deeply.
Opened his eyes.
Raised his head.
Smiled at his disciples.
“Good morning.”

Stretching his legs in front of him,
Jesus caught the small loaf of bread,
James flipped his way.
Unwrapped it.
Began to eat.

The disciples probed about his plans for the day.
Tried to get a handle on what to expect.
Jude fidgeted throughout the conversation,
unsettled in heart and mind.
Unable to contain his thoughts any longer,
he blurted,
“Jesus,
I watch you like this every morning.
So deep in prayer.
Always by yourself.
It’s different from anything I’ve seen.
Different from anything we’ve seen.
The Pharisees shout from the rooftops.
You whisper in the wilderness.”

The young man’s observation took the
morning conversation in a new direction.
All eyes now on him.

Jesus nodded.
Encouraged Jude to continue.
“John taught his disciples how to pray.
Teach us to pray as John taught his disciples.”
A request from one seeking to
dip his bucket into the
deep well of faith.

Jesus looked at Jude
in the ensuing silence.
Glanced at the other disciples.
He grinned like an excited teacher
when his students asked the right question.
He leaned back against his rock.
Put his hands behind his head,
wiggled his hips as he settled for what he
hoped to be a fruitful conversation.
“You tell me.
How should we pray?”

A beautiful discussion followed
concerning one of the most
important aspects of Jesus’ life.
The disciples shared their thoughts,
each building upon the other’s understanding.
Finally, when they said all they knew to say,
they waited quietly for Jesus’ response.

Jesus explained that public prayer
should always be a part of worship.
A time to draw hearts to God in times of
reflection and praise.
But such prayer will never replace our private,
intimate conversations with the Father.

Jesus shook his head.
“When you pray,
do not be like the hypocrites.
They love to pray standing in the synagogues.
On the street corners just to be seen by others.
Truly, I tell you, they have received their reward in full.
Instead, when you pray,
go into your room.
Close the door.
Pray to your Father, who is unseen.

“Do not keep babbling like pagans.
They think they will be heard because of
their many words.
Do not be like them. Your Father knows what you need
before you ask.”

Then, he offered an example for their private prayers.
“When you pray, pray like this…

“Our Father in heaven,
hallowed by thy name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from the evil one. “

The disciples looked at Jesus.
Some still struggled.
Jesus elaborated.

“Suppose you have a friend…”
And the lesson continued into the morning.
Jesus challenged them to think about an
unwilling friend,
who repeatedly turned them away in
an hour of great need,
only to reluctantly open the door of his home to them
when they persisted in knocking.

Then another.
What father would give a son
a snake when he asked for a fish.
A scorpion when he asked for an egg.
“The point is this,”
Jesus said.
“If an unwilling friend will eventually help
and an earthly father responds properly to a child’s need,
how much more will your Father in heaven give
the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?”

*****

Within these two passages rest Jesus’ most comprehensive teachings on prayer. Jesus may have taught this lesson twice…once in his Sermon on the Mount and once on another distant hillside. Those scholars who believe the Sermon on the Mount to be a collection of Jesus’ teachings may see these lessons as one incident. Either way, the passages beg a great question.

How should we pray?

I recently visited with my uncle, a Lutheran pastor, about the liturgical use of The Lord’s Prayer in modern worship services. The idea troubled both of us to a degree. What is repeated often can become stale and rote. I began looking at The Lord’s Prayer in the context in which Jesus introduced it to see if it made a difference in my thinking and in my practice.

Look first at the passage in Matthew. When one of his disciples first asked Jesus to teach them to pray, he didn’t immediately launch into The Lord’s Prayer. He first shared thoughts about the attitude in which we should come before the Father. Prayer, whether public or private, is no time of grandstanding. The Pharisees…the hypocrites…who prayed on the steps of the synagogue and street corners loudly proclaimed their righteousness…spoke eloquently, careful in their choice of words…infused their speech with the appropriate number of “thees” and “thous. ”Jesus said they may impress the folks, but they are not impressing God. Their incessant babbling will not be heard by God because they pray for men and not to God. The praise they receive from their fellow Pharisees for their powerful prose is all the reward they receive.

Jesus shared a parable once about the Pharisee and the Tax Collector. The Pharisee stood on the steps of the Temple, shouting his prayer to God, extolling his virtues and thanking God that he was not like the sinners kneeling nearby. The Tax Collector, on the other hand, would not lift his eyes to heaven, but beat upon his chest in remorse for all the sin in his life. He begged God for mercy and forgiveness. One was a self-serving attempt to tell God how righteous he was. The other was a humble plea of one who recognized his failures.

Jesus led them away from such demonstrative prayers. Jesus told his disciple to make prayer a private matter. Go into your room. Close the door. Take an intimate moment with your Father in heaven. But, does that negate the need for public prayer? Does it minimize the role of liturgical prayer?

Absolutely not! Prayer will always be an essential form of worship. Nor is there anything wrong with the liturgy of spoken prayer as long as neither of those become rote or carelessly offered. Prayer is our love language to God. It can and should be expressed in many different ways.

Pate Hughes was a kindly deacon in our church who passed away a few years ago. Frequently called upon to pray, Pate would approach the pulpit with such reverence. He spoke in a whisper, barely audible to the rest of us. I can describe his prayers as “heartfelt.” The rest of us were merely eavesdropping on an incredibly intimate moment between this man and his God.

Guard your attitude in prayer. That was the first point Jesus tried to make with his disciples.

When Jesus gave them this model prayer, I’m not sure his intent was to make it liturgical. I think his intent was to provide a guide as to the content of our prayers. What a model it is!

The prayer begins with two opposing, but delightful concepts. “Our Father.” An intimate phrase that speaks to our unique, personal relationship with one who we approach with reverence, recognizing his unmatched holiness. “Hallowed.” “Holy” is his name.

The next two phrases also run in parallel. “Your kingdom come.” “Your will be done.” These are petitions for God to establish his kingdom within us, to bend us to his will and way, both in the present time and the time to come. It conveys the idea that we desire God to rule in our lives daily.

Jesus also taught his disciples and us that there is a time to ask God for the things that sustain us…”Our daily bread”…and that which will cleanse us…”Forgive our sins.” He follows with a sincere request for God’s protection from the temptations the world puts in front of us and for the strength to resist that which the world makes so appealing. Seeking God’s help in forgiving those who hurt us.

Luke records Jesus’ promise that those things we need will be provided by a willing and loving Father. His story about knocking on the door of a reluctant friend is intended to tell us we don’t need to keep nagging God until we get what we want. Rather, look at the remarkable contrast Jesus offers.

“Ask and it shall be given. Seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened.”

Those verses stand not as a blank check for all we desire. God doesn’t simply grant all that we ask of him. I too often stopped my reading at verse 12. Look at verse 13.

“If you then, though you are evil (sinful), know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”

The Holy Spirit is God’s greatest gift since salvation. It is the Holy Spirit that intercedes on our behalf for the deep desires of our hearts even when we have no idea what those desires might be. It is the Holy Spirit that steps between our prayers for things we don’t need and asks God to provide that which we do need. How remarkable that a gracious and loving God, through his Holy Spirit, will take our misguided prayers to give us what we need. Help us find what we seek. Open the doors that need to be opened to take us where he wants us to go.

What a promise he makes!

Prayer is an incredible opportunity to get in touch with a God who desires a close relationship with us. When we talk to God with an attitude of reverence and devotion, when we pray for God’s will to rule in our lives whatever that might mean, when we pray, confident in God’s provision, when we trust the Holy Spirit to carry our hearts to God, then prayer makes a difference.

The question of the disciple should echo in the deepest parts of our souls. “Lord, teach us to pray.”

Amen?

Amen.

A New Thing

Background Passage: Isaiah 43:18-21; Philippians 1:4-6

The passing of the annual torch from Father Time to Baby New Year has its roots in America in the fanciful illustrations of Joseph Christian Leyendecker, an early 20th century mentor of Norman Rockwell. Beginning with the December 29, 1906 edition of the Saturday Evening Post, Leyendecker started a 36-year publishing tradition by drawing an innocent, cherubic baby on the cover of the magazine’s last issue of each year in celebration of the arrival of the New Year. Each illustration suggested, “Out with the old. In with the new.”

Out with the old. In with the new. The New Year gives us the opportunity to forget the past and start with a new set of resolutions designed to make us better. I don’t suppose it’s ever a bad thing to reflect on the old year and then make the inevitable inner promises to reinvent ourselves. If you’re anything like me, however, a promise made in January’s daybreak rarely survives its sunset.

Coming so closing after the celebration of Christmas, I also find the New Year serves as a great reminder of the new work God has done in our lives through the birth of his son. A reminder to set aside the sins of the past and to recommit ourselves to the life God desires for us.

Isaiah, preaching to the people of Israel in exile, shared an encouraging word from God to his weary people. This is what he said,

“Forget the former things: do not dwell on the past. See! I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”

What is done is done. What is past is past. Despite a world of remorse or regret, we can do nothing to change a single moment of this past year. God reminds us through Isaiah, “Put your mistakes behind you. Don’t let them eat at your soul.” That’s always easier said than done. However, the continuous redemptive work of God tells a remorseful heart that the price of our sin has already been paid. Let it go. Look ahead.

When we finally turn our eyes from the failures of our past, when we finally let go of the baggage, we can look forward to the new work of God in our lives.

I love the words God shared with Isaiah. Hear the excitement in God’s voice as he tries to revive the broken hearts of his people. “See! I am doing a new thing!” It’s as if he is saying, “Look! Wake up! Don’t hang your heads! Look at the exciting things in store for you in the year ahead! I’m getting ready to rock your world! Can’t you see it?”

Was 2018 what you hoped it would be? I hope so, but maybe you found the past 12 months filled with pain, uncertainty, heartbreak and grief. Maybe you felt disconnected and alone. Maybe you realize you walked a path of your own choosing that took you too far from God. Maybe you just feel…off somehow. Just not quite right. Hear God’s word of encouragement. “See! I am doing a new thing!”

God’s word to the people of Israel promised restoration. He offers the same to us, especially when we are wandering in our personal wasteland and wilderness. He tells us with genuine excitement in his voice, “Have I got plans for you!”

Don’t make this New Year about resolutions. Make it about re-commitment. Focus on the new thing God is doing in your life. Open your heart to the possibility that this new thing he is doing will be the absolute best thing for your heart.

If you doubt this promise for a minute, consider Paul’s greeting to the Philippian church.

“In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident in this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”

The one who began this good work, this new thing, in your life will stay with you until it is finished. He will never stop working in our lives. Not in 2019. Not ever. So as we look to this New Year, it’s out with the old and in with this new thing God is doing.

I don’t know about you, but that makes me look forward to what this New Year will bring.

Six Little Words

Background Passages: Galatians 4:3-4 and John 3:16

We stitch together the wonderful tapestry of the Christmas story through the beautiful narratives in Luke and Matthew. We see the story played out by children in cute Nativity scenes in the foyers of our churches. The lyrics and melodies of O Holy Night or Mary, Did You Know place us amid the Christmas story, tugging at our hearts.

During this season we hear a series of sermons drawing us into the marvelous works of God unfolded his redemptive plan in the obscure village of Bethlehem.

What verses from the gospel capture your heart as you hear again the Christmas story revealed?

Do you listen in amazement at the faith of a young girl who sees through the frightening appearance of an angel to embrace the role she will play in bringing God’s child into the world? Do you sing with Mary her song of rejoicing as she catches a glimpse of the deeds her son will do? Do you marvel at the strength of Joseph as he defies cultural convention to take as his wife a woman carrying a child that is not his based on little more than an ethereal dream and a trusting heart?

Do you find a tender moment to sit in the depths of a dank and dirty stable as a young mother sings a lullaby to the baby snuggled in her arms? Do you sing with the angels on high as they declare glory to God on high for offering a peace that surpasses our understanding? Do you search the streets of Bethlehem with the shepherds hoping to just catch a glimpse of the promised one? Do you long to offer gifts as precious as gold, frankincense and myrrh to the king lying in a humble manger?

Do you, like Simeon, rest in the assurances of God because you know you’ve seen the savior you’ve waited on all your life? Do you stand with confused parents as another devout servant of the Lord tells you of the hardship that will befall the child? Do you fear for the life of God’s son as the family flees from a bitter despot, intent upon killing him?

What verse captures your heart at Christmas?

I love the story of Christmas as it speaks to the all-encompassing love of a Father in heaven who planned from the beginning to redeem a world that he knew would push him aside. Paul reminds us of God’s intent.

“So, also, when we were children, we were in slavery under the basic principles of the world. But when the time had fully come, God sent his son…” (Gal 4:3-4)

God kept his promises to an unfaithful creation. Continued to love his people. Found ways to temporarily recapture their attention. Welcomed their return time and time again only to see them lose interest and drift away. Despite the constant heartbreak, God never gave up on his cherished creation.

Then, when the time was right…when they were ready…when we were ready…to hear his words of redemption, God offered a new covenant through the life, death and resurrection of his son.

So, as much as I love hearing the familiar Christmas stories in Matthew and Luke, I find the greatest words of Christmas in the gospel of John.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16)

The verse starts by noting the actor in this great work of salvation.

“For God…” God, the Almighty One, the Creator of all things, stirred with his finger each moment of history to ensure that which he created did not stray too far from the fold. He played the role of Good Shepherd keeping the wolves at bay until the time was right for him to act in an everlasting way. Man could do nothing to force God to act. Man could do nothing to make it happen on his own. Man invented the holiday, but God originated Christmas as an intentional act.

“…so loved…” It is hard to fathom the depth of that phrase. “For God so loved…” Discover in it a love beyond comprehension. God is the essence of unconditional love. His love will never be dependent on our actions. His love is sacrificial, freely given no matter how much it hurts him. No matter how many times his love is rejected. His love is offered as a grace gift.

“…the world…” Who, then, is the object of such all-encompassing love? The world. Not just a select few. Not just those who are obedient and good. He pours out his love for the just and unjust. The good, the bad and the ugly. We often restrict our love to those who look like us. Believe like us. Act like us. God’s love does not allow him to withhold his love from anyone. The world belongs to him and he loves all of it. That love compelled him to act on behalf of the world he created, the world he loved.

“…that he gave…” Love compelled him to give of himself without condition. A free gift available to all. He required nothing from us. Did not expect us to earn what he offered. No hoops to jump through. Nothing for us to prove. It was simply his present to you, to me and to the world around us.

“…his one and only son…” God’s gift was a part of himself. Wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. His son grew up in a disconnected world, finding himself tempted in every way like you and I are tempted to abandon the will of his father. Yet, Jesus found the strength to reject every temptation at every turn. God gave us his beloved son. In his spirit-led humanity, Jesus lived a life of complete devotion to the Father, the perfect role model for when we struggle to live up to God’s standard. Jesus taught us what it means to live in the image of God.

“…that whoever believes in him…” Jesus lived as an example for us to follow. He died as a sacrifice. He died for a purpose. God’s greatest gift was to give a part of himself as a substitute for the sin of the world, an unmerited gift of life that required us to simply open it. To accept it. To trust and believe in the one who gave his life for us.

“…shall not perish but have everlasting life…” Jesus’ resurrection from the dead symbolized the new life available in him. Our belief in Jesus Christ as savior frees us from a spiritual death and an endless separation from the God who loves us so. Our trust in Jesus Christ as savior is an offer of new life eternal. To be wrapped in the arms of God’s love in the now and the forever.

Without a doubt, there is sweetness and wonder in the gospel stories of Jesus’ birth found in Matthew and Luke. The Christmas stories in these gospels lift my spirit, filling my heart with joy and hope. But John shows me how God directed his hand through time to orchestrate one of life’s greatest Christmas carols.

When it comes to explaining the joy and peace of Christmas, the entire Nativity narrative boils down to six little words…

“For God so loved the world…”

Merry Christmas and may God bless us…everyone!

With Gratitude to the Giver

Background Passage: 2 Corinthians 4:15; Psalm 9:1

I sat in the audience of my grandson Eli’s second grade Thanksgiving program at Turner Elementary School with my cellphone camera on record. The children, dressed in traditional Pilgrim suits made of construction paper and colored with crayons, shared the history of that first Thanksgiving feast among the Pilgrims and Native Americans. They recited their parts and sang a couple of cute songs. Eli, my oldest grandson, nailed the closing speech without stumbling over a single word, making his parents, his little brother and his grandpa quite proud.

The Thanksgiving story they shared with their parents had changed little from the somewhat sanitized version of that first Pilgrim settlement my classmates and I told our parents 58 years ago. No matter. The songs sounded delightful. The kids looked cute. Their excitement more than a little infectious.

One of the songs they sang struck a chord with me. A catchy tune to be sure, filled with expressions of thanks for things young children enjoy…recess, summer, friends, family, etc. It wasn’t so much the things for which they shouted their thanks that made me think. It was the question posed repeatedly within the song. “What are you grateful for?” We won’t quibble with the prepositional grammar. That’s not the point. The use of the word “grateful” rather than “thankful” caught my attention, making me think about the difference in these words we often view as synonymous.

Why is that distinction important to me? Gratitude seems to hold deeper meaning than mere thanks. I can say thank you to someone who opens a door for me when carrying a heavy box. I can express thanks to a friend who gives me a birthday card. I can express my thanks to the cashier at the checkout stand when they give back my change. Though they may be sincere in expression, they are far more often mannerly responses to ordinary acts.

Gratitude, on the other hand suggests a deeper feeling of inner delight that rises unforced from the heart. Not a verbal response, but an emotional outpouring. Gratitude is the feeling of joy that rises in one’s heart when thinking about the giver, not the gift. The doer, not the deed. The actor, not the act.

The apostle Paul, under the inspiration of the Spirit, chose his words carefully…always. I sometimes think those who translated the original scripture into the various translations of the Bible available to us today were less careful, choosing words that fit more readily into the common vernacular of their intended reader.

Paul wrote his second letter to the Corinthian church and spoke of the difficulties faced in presenting the gospel in a hostile world, giving God the glory for every inch of progress made in spreading the gospel of Christ. Paul spoke of his willingness to suffer and the future hope he had in Christ.

“All of this (suffering and effort) is for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God.” (2 Cor. 4:15)

I’m not a Bible scholar learned in Greek. Any insight I have into the scripture, especially as it makes distinctions in the choice of Greek words, is a gift from commentaries and commentators more gifted than I will ever be.

It seems in this passage, the translator’s use of the word thanksgiving missed the mark, the unique play on words, that Paul originally expressed. The Greek word for grace is charis. The Greek word for thanksgiving used in this passage is eucharistian, derived from charis or grace. Eucharistian is often translated gratitude. So Paul essentially says, “so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause gratitude to overflow to the glory of God.”

In other words, gratitude grows best in the garden of God’s grace…a direct response to the unmerited gifts from the Father…the feeling of inner joy you hold for one who has graciously given to you.

In Paul’s passage to the Corinthians, Paul knows that as God’s grace draws more and more people to him, those who now recognize themselves as recipients of God’s grace have joy swelled up in their hearts toward the one who extended grace to them. A cycle of grace and gratitude born from God’s extended grace to us that circles back to cause our own heart to jump for joy and gratitude toward the one who was so gracious to us.

So here’s the point I’m probably not making very well. It’s Thanksgiving. During this holiday we take ample opportunity to offer thanks to God for those things in which we delight. Family. Friends. Health. Work. Community. Freedom. Smiles. Laughter. Memories. Hands to hold. Perhaps we find ourselves thankful even for recess and summer. These are among the many blessings for which we give thanks.

Care must be taken that our thanks do not end with the gift. Care must be taken to express our heart-felt gratitude to the giver of all of these blessings. The one who graced us with these life gifts. The God whose grace and gifts are sufficient in every way.

Paul said as the gospel of Christ spreads throughout the world that it causes “gratitude to overflow to the glory of God.” God’s greatest gift of grace through his son, Jesus Christ, causes our gratitude to overflow and glorify God. I like that idea and think it offers great insight into the true nature of Thanksgiving. Our gratitude for the blessing of Christ in our lives, the blessings he gifts us with in life, still must overflow to the glory of God.

So, I’ll ask the question that Eli and his classmates asked, “What are you grateful for?”

When you answer, join me and let your gratitude extend beyond the gifts. Let your gratitude glorify God as the giver of every blessing.

“I will give thanks to you, Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds.” (Psalm 9:1)

Chase the Lion

Background Passages: II Samuel 23:20; Jeremiah 29:11

The list of places to see and things to do on our imaginary bucket list grows shorter each year. One particular trip remains unchecked. We want to go on a photo safari to Africa. After far too many trips to the zoo, I’d really like to see these magnificent animals in the wild…the way God intended them to be.

Certain movies create that kind of visceral response. The Ghost and the Darkness, a 1996 movie starring Michael Douglas and Val Kilmer, is one of those movies that triggers primal fear within me. The Ghost and the Darkness is based on a true story about the Tsave Man-Eaters…two African lions that terrorized the workers on the Uganda-Mombasa Railroad in western Kenya in 1898. Atypical of most lion attacks, Ghost and Darkness would stalk the campsite and drag their victims from the tents into the tall grass.

Work on the project ceased when the workers refused to enter the area. The railroad company hired famed British hunter, John Henry Patterson to track and kill the lions. In the story of man versus beast, the hunter became the hunted as the animals began intentionally stalking Patterson. Every time I watch it I find it absolutely terrifying. That we have yet to go on our photo safari may best be explained by that movie and my irrational fear of being mauled by a lion.

Maybe that’s why an obscure verse in II Samuel caught my eye.

“Benaiah, son of Jehoiada, was a valiant fighter from Kabzeel who performed great exploits. He struck down two of Moab’s best men. He also went down into a pit on a snowy day and killed a lion.” (II Sam. 23:20)

I don’t know why Benaiah felt compelled to jump into the pit with a lion when most of us would run the other way. It was cold. Snowing. Perhaps the lion’s ordinary prey grew scarce in the frigid temperatures. Maybe the lion was terrorizing the village. Regardless, Benaiah took it upon himself to chase the animal down. When it fell into a pit or tried to hide in a cave (depending on your translation), Benaiah jumped in after him.

If you stayed outside the pit like I would, you would probably hear the frightening roar of the angry lion and the shouts of a determined man. The sounds of a life and death struggle would echo from the depths. Then, silence. You might hear the scratching of someone or something scrambling up the walls of the pit. As you start backing away, you see a hand grab the overhanging tree branch. Benaiah drags himself out of the pit. He lies in the grass catching his breath, scratched and bloodied, but victorious.

In his book, Chase the Lion, author Mark Batterson uses this little known scripture to challenge the reader to face fear and chase the will of God even when the path looks far too difficult. He writes, “In every dream journey there comes a moment when you have to quit living as if the purpose of life is to arrive safely at death. You have to go after the dream that is destined to fail without divine intervention.”

As Christians we are taught from the beginning that God has a plan and purpose for our lives. What most of us find is that the dream he gives us scares us. His will looks far too difficult. Our natural tendency is to reject what looks too hard. We look for an easier path. But, Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9:23) In other words, I should set aside my own will and desire to follow the more difficult path God has chosen for me…the one that requires me to take up his cross every day.

He doesn’t call us to play it safe. If that was his intention, we would have little need for him. No. The life he chose for us will not be easy, but the victory is already won. Later Jesus said, “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

God’s plan for each of us requires us to chase the lion. That’s not always the most comfortable thing to do. We see the path God has laid out in front of us. Solitary lion tracks in the snow. A distant blood-curdling roar. Suddenly, we see clearly that God’s path takes us outside our comfort zone, especially when the path we want to take looks well-traveled. Smooth. Secure. Safe.

The Bible gives us examples beyond Benaiah of those who chose to chase…

Noah chased his lion onto the ark.
David chased his lion to Goliath.
Jesus chased his lion to the cross.
Peter chased his lion onto the water.
Paul chased his lion to Rome.

Lest we think such courage is best left to Bible characters…

Martin Luther tacked his lion’s carcass to the door of the cathedral.
The Pilgrims chased their lion to a new world.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer chased his lion to a Nazi concentration camp.
Martin Luther King chased his lion to Selma.
Billy Graham chased his lion across the earth.

Knowing the difficulty of the task to which God called them, each of these biblical and modern day heroes of faith probably wished to run the other way at some point. Instead, they chose to chase the lion. Maybe at some point, they heard the same voice Joshua heard when he fearfully scanned the Promised Land from the safety of his bank of the Jordan River. Maybe they, too, heard the voice of God saying,

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage. Don’t be afraid. Do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)

I don’t know what lions you’re facing. I know they all look frightening. I have faced a few of my own. All I know is that God wants us to chase his will. To follow where he leads. When we turn and run the other way, we’re missing out on the best God has to offer simply because it is his plan and not one we dreamed up on our own.

“I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

So when you hear the lion roar, know that his blessing comes in the chase. Our victory comes in the pit. Gather your courage and jump on in.

The God of ‘Even If…’

Background Passage: Daniel 3:1-18; Romans 8:28; Matthew 28:20

Their attitude and hard work earned them more than a few unexpected rewards. From the depths of despair and slavery, they rose through the ranks of service, ultimately gaining significant appointments as administrators in the court of the king. They made it through the worst times to achieve a level of success beyond what they imagined when they were first swept into Babylonian captivity.

Assuming the new names given to them by the king, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah, became Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. Their story is a familiar one if you grew up in church as a child. The king passed a decree for all the people of the land to bow down and worship a monstrous monument constructed in the likeness of the monarch. Anyone who refused to kneel faced an unpleasant death.

In an act of spiritual and civil disobedience, the three men who placed their faith and trust in the God of Israel refused to bow down. The king’s jealous advisors, whose hatred for the Hebrew men grew more bitter by the day, knew they would not bow. In fact, they counted on it.

When Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego stood head and shoulders above the kneeling masses, these advisers were quick to arrest and parade them before the king.

Though the king was not pleased that they ignored the decree, he liked these men. Respected their decency. Approved of their approach to business. He wanted desperately to pardon them, but his hands were somewhat tied. He offered them an out. A way that would save their lives and allow the king to save face. “Just bow down now in the privacy of my throne room with no one else looking and all will be forgiven.”

You know they story. They refused. Ended up tossed into a furnace that was hotter than hot. Yet, God protected them from the flame. The king, realizing the power of the Hebrew God, reversed his ruling and freed the men from their punishment, offering homage to their God.

While somewhat gruesome in concept for a seven-year-old, this was one of my favorite Bible stories as a child. I pictured the three not as men, but as boys just older than me. I pictured an unimaginably hot furnace that melted the skin off anyone who got too close. That kind of gore appeals to a young boy. Yet, the story tells of a mystery man of God walking in the flame protecting the three boys who scarcely broke a sweat. An incredible story of courage and faith equal to Gideon and his fleece. Daniel and his lions. David and his giant.

When I read that story today, I’m captured not by the special effects, but by words these men uttered when the king offered them a second chance to fall on their knees and worship him. They faced their king and their judge, expressing their belief that God could deliver them from the blazing furnace if he chose to do so. Complete and utter understanding that God’s power is capable of anything. Such amazing faith!

However, the next words set them apart from most of us who proclaim faith in God. They said, “Even if he does not…we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.”

“Even if…” Faced with the furnace, they boiled their faith down to these two words, “Even if…” That carries it to the next level, doesn’t it? It is one thing to say, “I’m certain God will deliver” and really believe it. That belief is tested to the extreme when deliverance fails to come. It’s another thing to stare into the flames and say, “Even if he doesn’t, it will not change who I am, what I believe or what I will do.”

How do you respond to these “even if” moments?

God, I know you can heal her of this cancer, but even if…

God, I know you can help me land this job, but even if…

God, I know you can protect me from this hurricane, but even if…

God, I know you can walk me through these horrible circumstances unscathed, but even if…

These “even if” moments can make or break us. Make or break our faith. A loved one passes away and we shake our fists certain God doesn’t care. The job we need to provide for our family goes to someone else and God somehow failed us. Wind and water inundate our homes and we question his love and power. Life takes an expected twist and we wonder why we can’t see his presence.

Confident faith comes relatively easily while we’re standing in the palace talking to the king. Demonstrating a furnace kind of faith when you start feeling the heat, well, that’s another matter entirely. But, God is the God of the “even if…”

The Bible tells us this. “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose”…even if the outcome is not what we desired. Even if we cannot at that moment feel his presence. Even if it means walking straight into an all-consuming fire. Even if life does not turn out as we thought it would, our faith must remain firmly in the hands of a loving Father for the hope of what life will be once we emerge on the other side.

Take comfort in the promise of Christ. “I will be with you always to the very end of the age.”

I never heard the song before this week. Knowing the unusual and difficult circumstances many of my friends face today, knowing the struggles of those whose homes have been blown apart or wash away, I find the song comforting. I believe God could have calmed the storm, but… Bart Millard, lead singer with MercyMe, wrote this song while dealing with the uncertainty and turmoil of life with a young, diabetic child. “Even If,” reminds us that difficult situations in life sometimes linger without the resolution for which we pray. When it seems we can’t catch a break and no one is listening, God will always be our best and only hope.

The song expresses a powerful message that reminds us of our utter dependence on the Father’s grace. I am particularly drawn to this verse.

“It only takes a little faith to move a mountain.
Well good thing, a little faith is all I have right now.
So, God when you choose to make mountains unmovable.
Give me the strength to be able to sing,
It is well with my soul.

I know you’re able
And I know you can,
Save through the fire
With your mighty hand,
But even if you don’t,
My hope is you alone.”

I don’t know if you’re facing the furnace today. If you’re not there now, you probably have been in the past or you probably will be some time down the road. Know this with all your heart, God is able to do anything we ask of him. But, even if he doesn’t, even if that which we want to avoid falls upon us anyway, God, and God alone, remains our best hope.

Listen to the song and be encouraged. I was.

Help My Unbelief

Matthew 17:14-21; Mark 9:14-29; Romans 8:26-27

Life can change in a heartbeat. One moment we are dancing on the mountaintop. The next moment we are trudging through the muck in the valley. One moment buoyed in faith. The next set upon by a world cloaked in doubt.

Jesus moved so easily between his mountaintop experiences and those moments that surely sucked the breath from his lungs. We find one such episode following the Transfiguration. Jesus found himself wrapped in the arms of his Father God, strengthened by his Father’s presence. Within moments, he was immersed in a pitched battle of wills that stripped away the deep sense of peace he enjoyed at the top of the mountain.

Halfway down the mountainside
Jesus heard
the first echo of angry shouts.
Glanced at his three trusted friends,
heart beating faster.
Quickening their pace,
they scurried down the slope toward
the sound of madness.
In a heartbeat,
Jesus traded the
tranquility of the transfiguration
for the
frenzy of a fight.

Reaching the bottom of the path,
Jesus pushed through a bewildered crowd
to find his disciples squared off against
an equal number of scribes.
Hurling insults at one another.
Jesus stepped to the center of the melee.
The crowd grew quiet.
Silenced by Jesus’ sudden appearance.
The bitter argument of rivals
Ceased when Jesus stepped into the clearing.

His eyes shifted back and forth between
the scribes and
his disciples.
Jesus turned to Simon the Zealot
standing at the front of the disciples
Fists clenched.
Jaw set in anger.

Tilting his head toward the scribes,
Jesus asked in a wary voice,

“What are you arguing with them about?”

The quarrel erupted anew.
Each side shouting.
Pointing fingers.
Jesus cringed at the hostility.

Before Jesus could silence them,
a man grabbed his arm.
Caught his attention.
Something in his eyes convinced Jesus
to walk with him a short distance
from the heated confrontation.

“I brought you my son today…”

And the words flowed unrestrained.
First a halting trickle of detail.
Then a torrent of despair.
Unburdening his heart to a healer
concerning the nature of the severe illness
that plagued his son for years.
Growing worse with each passing day.
Sapping the boy’s strength.
Threatening his life.

“I asked your disciples to heal him
but they could not.”

The scribes who had followed from a distance,
erupted in laughter.
Seized the opportunity to belittle the disciples
and their master.
The failure of the disciples
opened the door for them to
discredit Jesus for their incompetence.

The disciples.
Seeing the pained look in Jesus’ eyes,
studied the ground at their feet.
Defiance before the scribes turned to
embarrassment and shame.

Jesus ran his left hand through his hair,.
Rubbed his eyes.
Smoothed his beard.
Deep in thought.
The shake of his head almost imperceptible.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips.
The master spoke quietly to his disciples.

“Oh, faithless generation.
How long shall I stay with you?
How long shall I put up with you?”

He turned to the father.
“Bring the boy to me.”

We learn something about Jesus in this passage that instructs us about living in the moment. Jesus just experienced the most moving moment in his earthly life. In the ultimate of mountaintop experiences, Jesus’ work gained affirmation from the father in the presence of Moses and Elijah. For a brief time, Jesus walked in the bright light of God’s presence and praise.

Every one of us can relate for all of us have longed to hear our father’s praise…to hear our father’s words of love. Jesus stood in the middle of a heavenly scene and heard his Father proclaim, “This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him.”

Can you imagine the overwhelming joy of that personal and poignant moment? More certain than ever of his role in God’s plan to redeem humanity, Jesus committed himself again to the cross. It was the assurance he needed.

Jesus shared that experience with his three closest friends. In the afterglow of the Transfiguration, I can see them standing in a circle with their arms around each other’s shoulders, foreheads almost touching in that prayerful and mind-boggling moment. Expressions of wonder plastered on amazed faces. “Did we see what we just saw? Did we hear what we just heard?”

What a tremendous moment of absolute joy!

Within the hour, though, Jesus found himself in the valley, facing yet another human crisis. He just reaffirmed his commitment to the cross only to find his closest followers baffled and beaten in the task for which he had called them from their tax tables and fishing nets.

In that moment when the disciples could no longer look him in the eye, Jesus must have felt the weight of the world again upon his shoulders. Gone was the aura of glory. In its place, the painful reality of the work that still needed to be done. To go to the cross would be difficult enough. The change human nature might be the more hopeless task. If he could not capture the trust of those closest to him while he was present among them, how could their faith survive the cross?

How often have our mountaintop experiences been followed by that which seemed hopeless? The joy of the mountain rarely survives the walk in the valley. In that moment of crisis, how do we cling to a shaken faith?

Jesus provided an answer. The savior didn’t let his moments of despair overwhelm him. At a time when he surely wondered if mankind would ever find the faith they needed, he did the one thing he knew he could do. He changed the circumstances of a little boy. He changed what he could.

Living as a Christian in an angry, despairing world challenges our faith. Begs us to make a difference. We wonder how we can impact a world that refuses to listen? What can one person do? We lose heart. Lose faith.

Jesus teaches us in this episode that we draw upon the reserves of faith energized on the mountaintop to enable us to deal with the inevitable valley moment. To not let the faithlessness of the world drain our energy or resolve. Jesus shows us that we fight through the episodes that discourage us, finding that thing we can do and doing it, rather than giving in to our despair.

That, my friends, is a lesson I need to learn in this day as I grow so frustrated with the rancid animosity and argument so prevalent in society. When I wonder what I can do to change the world I need only follow Jesus’ example. His example tells me to change what I can. We were not saved by God to stay on the mountain, but to get down in the valley and change what we can.

This passage teaches another great lesson about coming to terms with our struggling faith. God uses even our shrouded faith to accomplish his will. A little is often enough.

Join me back in the story. Jesus asked the father to bring the boy to him. The father obediently carried his boy to Jesus, standing him in front of the great healer. Immediately, the young boy suffered another seizure…violent and terrifying. As the boy fell to the ground trembling, I can imagine Jesus dropping to his knees, placing his hand on the boy’s chest, trying to quiet the tremors.

With his eyes never leaving the boy, Jesus asked the father, “How long has he been like this?” The question was not a medical inquiry. Rather, hear the heartfelt compassion Jesus felt for the misery suffered by an innocent child. The father shared more of the boy’s story and finally asked the favor he wanted to ask of Jesus when he approached the disciples earlier that day. “If you can do anything, take pity on him and help us.”

Jesus looked up at the father, “If you can?…” Hoping to see a glint of faith reflected in the man’s eyes. “Everything is possible for him who believes.”

With tears in his eyes, the father responded, “I do believe, but help me with my unbelief.”

What a true confession of this father’s heart. What a true confession of my own soul. He came seeking Jesus. When Jesus was absent, he thought he found the next best thing…Jesus’ disciples. Whatever faith he brought to the mountain was thrown to the wind by the disciples’ inability to help. The result left him so discouraged that all he could muster when Jesus asked his question was a whispered plea, “If you can…”

Face to face with Jesus, his fragile faith bubbled to the surface. Oh, how his words echo how I feel at times. “I do believe, Jesus. I believe, but I am so discouraged. Doubt is my constant companion. Please, Lord, take away the uncertainty and replace it with unquestioned belief.”

God moves when imperfect faith cries out to a perfect savior. Belief, though flooded with doubt, calls out to the only one who can fix that which is broken. “If you can….” The Father’s prayer is often my prayer. The father’s doubt is my doubt. The father’s reservation is my reservation. I live all too often in this shallow faith, hoping it is enough.

That’s always what I thought this verse taught as if God were saying “If only your faith were stronger, I could act upon your request.” I suspect there is a measure of truth in that interpretation. However, I look at the verse and wonder if Jesus did not hear the father’s profession of doubt-filled faith as sufficient. Might Jesus be telling him, “Listen, everything is possible for him who believes. Give me whatever faith you have, no matter how limited, because my belief in the father is big enough for both of us.”

Follow me again to the story.

Evening comes.
Jesus and his disciples
lay upon the roof of a house,
staring at the stars glittering the night sky.
Tired after a long day.
But sleep will not come.

In the silence surrounding them,
The disciples think about what happened.
Weeks prior they walked two by two
preaching, teaching and healing
in the power of God.
This morning,
when the father lay is son at their feet…
Dismal failure.
Humiliation.
Embarrassment.
From the mountaintop to the valley.

A raspy voice breaks the silence.
Maybe Simon the Zealot.
Mustering all his nerve,
asks the question all wanted to ask.

“Jesus,
Why could we not heal the boy?”

In this teachable moment, Jesus spoke quietly.
“This kind of thing requires prayer.
This kind of thing requires faith.”
Thinking back on the father with feeble,
but sincere faith,
Jesus added,
“Faith as small as a mustard seed
can move a mountain.”

Hyperbole? Maybe. But maybe this story hits upon the central truth of the matter. Jesus doesn’t ask us for perfect faith because we are imperfect. He asks for whatever faith we have to be placed in his hands…If for no other reason that he has enough faith in the grace, goodness and the power of God for all of us as he lifts our needs to the Father in heaven.

Paul shared this with the church in Rome.

“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. He who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God’s will.”

Place at his feet whatever faith we have and he will take it to the throne of God with the perfect faith of the Spirit.

So, I like this story because we can identify at times with Jesus who came off this amazing mountaintop experience only to find disorder and disarray. Next time we come off a spiritual high, we can look amid the inevitable chaos, as Jesus did, for what we can do and we can do it.

Then, if we find our faith blanketed by the mist of doubt, like the father in the story, let’s give Jesus all the faith we hold no matter how small. Declaring before God, “Help us in our unbelief.” And knowing more that his trust in the Father is enough for all of us.

Plant your mustard seed. Move a mountain.

In Damascus, There Was A Disciple…

Background Passage: Acts 9:1-25; Acts 22:13-16

The light flashed and the world would never be the same.

In one of the most familiar passages in the New Testament, an ambitious and zealous young Pharisee, emboldened by the stoning of Stephen, begged for a chance to carry the persecution of Christians beyond the walls of Jerusalem. With letters of authorization in his pocket, Saul set out for Damascus breathing the fire of fanaticism, intent upon finding the followers of the crucified Christ and dragging them back to Jerusalem for punishment. A man on a malicious mission.

With the walled city of Damascus on the horizon, a blinding light seared his retinas and knocked him to his knees. He cried out in shock and pain only to be silenced by a voice calling his name.

“Saul, Oh, Saul. Why do you persecute me?”

In the course of a powerful conversation on a dusty road, Saul came face to face with the brutality of his deeds and the reality of the living Lord.

“I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. Go into the city. You will be told what you must do.”

We know this story as the conversion of Saul. The redeemed missionary of God told of his encounter with Christ over and over again. A testimony and tribute to the unmerited grace of God.

The light on the road to Damascus changed the heart of a man who would become the world’s greatest missionary and the agent of redemption to the Gentile world. Saul’s was a life so transformed that he needed a different name. We now know him as Paul. It’s a wonderful story of God’s transforming work in his world.

From that moment on, Paul played a starring role in the spread of the gospel, but his supporting cast contributed to his success. Barnabas. Silas. Timothy. John Mark. We can list name after name of those who traveled with Paul. Assisting in his work. Staying behind in isolated locations to grow the seeds of faith he planted.

One name we tend to overlook took Saul’s hand in his blindness and called him “Brother.” Let me introduce you again to Ananias.

He climbed the narrow stairs
to the roof of his home.

A cool breeze blew in from the sea,
refreshing his body and soul.
From this vantage point,
Ananias could watch the sunrise
cast its reddish glow over the eastern hills,
reflecting onto the wispy clouds streaked across the sky.
On the rooftop.
The perfect way to start each day.

Ananias stretched his arms over his head.
Stood on his tiptoes
to loosen aching muscles,
stiff and sore after a fitful night’s sleep.

Sitting on the parapet of his home,
legs dangling over the side,
Ananias sipped a cup of goat’s milk.
Listened to the familiar sound of his wife
preparing breakfast for the family in the room below.

Despite the peaceful surrounding,
he could not shake the sense of unease
as he thought about last night’s dream.
He could picture it as clearly as if
it actually happened.
Hear the conversation as surely as if
God sat beside him on the wall.
He walked it through again in his mind.

A voice called…

“Ananias.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Go to the home of Judas on Straight Street.
Ask for the man from Tarsus named Saul,
for he is praying.
In a vision he has seen a man named Ananias come
and place his hands on him to
restore his sight.”

Over and over in his mind, he heard,
“…a man from Tarsus named Saul…”
“…a man from Tarsus named Saul…”

…”Go…”
“Go…to Saul…”

Ananias felt his stomach roll again.
“This makes no sense…”

Saul’s reputation preceded him.
So much anger in this Pharisee.
So much harm to the saints in Jerusalem.
Ananias knew the rumors.
Saul was coming to Damascus to spread his terror.
To arrest every follower of Jesus that he could find.

The voice in his dream
urged Ananias to go as instructed.

“He is my chosen instrument…”

God had a plan.
Ananias had a part to play
in that plan.

Shaking himself from his reflection,
Ananias took a deep breath.
Climbed down from the roof.
With a faith deeper than his fear,
he walked through town to Judas’ home.

Ananias stopped short at the sight of the temple guards
gathered around the campfire.
Their presence
triggered his desire to run.

He steeled his resolve.
Stepped forward.
Stared straight ahead.
Walked slowly through the soldiers
as they began to rise.
Hands on the hilt of their swords.

The door to the home opened before he knocked.
They had expected him.
Ananias stepped over the threshold.
Closed the door.
Let his eyes adjust to the dim light.

Saul sat facing the fire.
Blind eyes stared vacantly into the flame.
Lost in private pain.
A face etched with guilt.
The once proud Pharisee rocked
absent-mindedly on the small stool.
Lips moved in silent prayer of
remorse and repentance.

Ananias stood without moving.
Fought the desire to turn and go.
But, when he saw the tears well in Saul’s eyes,
the disciple’s heart broke.
For the first time he saw Saul.
Not his fine robes.
Not his rage.
Not his reputation.

He saw Saul.
He saw the broken heart of a
despondent and despairing soul.

Ananias found himself standing beside Saul
without remembering the steps it took to get there.
He followed Saul’s gaze into the fire,
With tears in his own eyes,
he laid his hand gently on Saul’s shoulder.
After a moment of shared silence,
Ananias spoke in a voice soft and sincere,
“Brother Saul…”

With those words
the scales of physical and spiritual blindness
fell from Saul’s eyes.
New sight.
New insight
Into his purpose in life.

Scripture reveals so much about how God used Saul, or Paul, as he was later known, to take his good news to the Gentile world. This former zealous Pharisee became the world’s most ardent servant of Christ and arguably, next to Jesus, the most important man in the Christian faith.

By contrast, we capture what we know of Ananias only in this story and in one small reference in Acts 22. Here he is called simply “a disciple.” In Chapter 22, a “devout observer of the law” and a “man highly respected by the Jews” in Damascus.

We don’t know when Ananias became a follower of Christ. Maybe he heard Jesus preach and put his trust in him on a Galilean mountainside. Perhaps, he was a Jew who had traveled from his home in Damascus to Jerusalem for Pentecost and heard Peter proclaim the gospel. Maybe, a friend told him about the resurrected Christ he saw in the upper room. Regardless of how it happened, Ananias was a disciple.

Yet, his actions tell us so much more about this follower of Christ. It’s notable to me that he is called a disciple and not a pastor or evangelist. Not a deacon or an elder. A disciple. A follower. A learner. As a man who professed his faith in Jesus Christ, Ananias spent his time trying to figure out what that meant and how he should live as a result. He was a man much like you or me.

Ananias enjoyed a wonderful reputation as a student of Old Testament scripture and one who lived obediently to its teachings, a likely hold over to his Jewish upbringing. When introduced to Jesus either in person or through the witness of others, the encounter changed his life. He accepted Jesus as the Messiah promised in scripture. The passion he held for his faith as a Jewish man found its fulfillment in Jesus.

Despite his break from the prevailing Jewish doctrine, Luke tells us in his account that his reputation among the Jews in Damascus remained unsullied. They could find no fault in him. As followers of Christ we ought to have that glowing reputation in our own communities. The world should know us as a Christ followers. As learners. As people who take the principles of Christian living so seriously that it directs the way we live. We see in this passage, Ananias’ commitment to Christ.

We also see in the lines of this story, the courage of his conviction. The religious leaders in Jerusalem sent Saul to Damascus to rain down havoc. He had papers to prove it. In all likelihood, Ananias was on Saul’s hit list. Christians in Damascus knew Saul was coming. His reputation for ruthlessness frightened them. He brought with him a promise of prison, punishment and death.

I suspect many of the Christians fled the city in advance of Saul’s arrival…but Ananias stayed. We don’t know why. Maybe he thought, “What good is my conviction if I choose to disown it at a difficult time or run from it in the face of adversity?” When others ran, Ananias stayed.

With the call of the Holy Spirit, Ananias not only stayed, but he made himself available to do the brave and the unthinkable. The Lord called and Ananias answered as Samuel did. “Yes, Lord. I’m here.” He did not know the mission…not yet…but he opened himself to the possibility of being used by God.

Ananias may have shown his inner Samuel, but he also channeled his inner Gideon when God told him what he needed him to do. Jesus planted the seed of salvation in Saul’s heart. The Holy Spirit needed Ananias to close the deal. To lay hands upon this broken man and welcome Saul into the fellowship of believers.

“I’m here, Lord, but did I hear you right?” When presented with God’s plan, Ananias sought clarity and understanding. The whole idea of going to Saul was counter intuitive.

“I have heard many reports about this man and all the harm he has done to YOUR saints in Jerusalem. And he has come here with authority from the chief priests to arrest all who call on your name.”

Ananias and I share a common trait with Gideon. Our short-sightedness gets in our way. You see, most of the time our vision is unable to see beyond our fear. God’s perspective…his vision…takes in history and future in a moment’s glance. Our failure to act upon his direction cancels the blessings that come from playing the role God needs us to play.

Sometimes our myopic sight needs clarity that only God can give. I think God delights in our desire for understanding if it comes from the heart. When Ananias questioned the sanity of confronting Saul, God answered, not with recrimination, but with a promise. “Go! This man is my chosen instrument to carry my name before the Gentiles and their kings and before the people of Israel.”

Sprinkling the fleece with dew, God told Ananias, “I need you today. I’m counting on you because this man is a game changer, but he needs to see that my people are willing to embrace the change in his heart. You’re step one in this process, Ananias. I need you to do this for me.” With the fleece sufficiently damp, Ananias went where he was told. We must be ready to do the same.

I’m not sure when Ananias’ heart truly turned. I suspect he was talking himself into doing what the Holy Spirit led him to do before he made the turn down Straight Street. I suspect he didn’t know for sure how he would react when he came face to face with Saul. His heart changed, however, when he saw the man, humbled, hurting and blind, sitting before the fire.

Can’t you hear it in his voice, choking back the emotion of the moment as he placed his hand upon his shoulder, “Brother Saul…” In this moment, in those two words, we underscore the compassion of Ananias. His words, his touch, stitched the open wound of Saul’s remorse that had to be closed and healed before he could be used by God for great and mighty things.

“Brother Saul.” The whole gospel story hinged on those two words and the world would never be the same.

I don’t know about you, but I find it pretty easy to be a disciple of Christ in the broad sense of the word. I enjoy learning about Jesus and how my relationship with him needs to be evidenced in my life. It’s much harder to move beyond the learning and into the listening. To the obeying. To playing the role I hear God calling me to play. Drawing upon the courage of my conviction to risk even as much as a mere insult…I find that much harder to do.

Ananias reminds me that God asks me to be available. To set aside fear and uncertainty to follow where he leads, even if that means walking through a platoon of temple guards to stand face to face before my persecutor. He reminds me to see clarity of God’s intentions and to accept that the view from heaven is infinitely broader and wiser than mine.

I learn from Ananias that the smallest act of obedience can have great significance. The simplest act…calling a troubled soul “my brother…” may be all it takes to change the world.