The Toolmaker

Traditionally people take stock of their lives at New Year's day.  This year I offer the following short story as a stimulus for evaluating what we are doing with our lives. 

THE TOOLMAKER

The old man sat quietly looking at the intricate piece of equipment in his hand.  A toolmaker.

"My life?" he said with  shake of his head.  "What can I tell you of my life?"  He paused, lost in the thoughts and memories.

"I guess you could say this life began when I got my job.  I wanted a job I could devote a lifetime to.  Something useful. Something I could find satisfaction in doing.  Money wasn't that important.

"One day I saw a sign at the factory."  His eyes glowed mistily at the memory.  "It said 'Trainees wanted.  Rewarding career and secure future.'  That was just what I was looking for.  A life of satisfying work.  So I went into the office and filled out the forms.  The competition for jobs must have been stiff because I saw a sign that said, 'Many are called but few are chosen.'

"I guess I'm one of the few 'cause a week later I was 'called' and 'chosen' both."  He snorted a laugh.  "I still didn't know exactly what my job would be but I knew anything in the factory would suit me.  I guess you could say I thought that working in the factory was a calling and that the particular job didn't matter much.  Everything was a part of the factory's operation."

The old man sat lost in thought as if trying to sort out how everything fit together in the functioning of the factory.

"I remember the first day I went to work.  My supervisor wore a badge stuck proudly on the lapel of his work jacket.  It was shaped like a strange piece of equipment.  A tool of some kind. Underneath it was the word 'INSTRUCTOR.'  He sure seemed proud of that pin.

"He led me into the factory to my work station.  There on the table was something that his badge must have been modeled after.  He said, 'That's your toolmaker.'

"At last I knew my job.  I was to be a maker of tools.  Tools. What would our world be without them?  Everything's made with tools.  Well, maybe not plants and babies.  But farmers use tools for planting and doctors use tools for delivering.  And I was to make tools for the factory.  Why, what could the factory do without the tools I would make?  My job was important.  It was basic.  It had meaning.  And, the pay wasn't bad."

A smile broke through the moisture in the old man's eyes as a rainbow breaks through the mists of the air.  And faded just as quickly.

"My supervisor was patient with me.  He taught me step by step how to use the piece of equipment I had been given to make the most extraordinary toolmakers.  He told me how he had started by responding to a sign, just as I had.  He, too, had started work in this very department making toolmakers.  We laughed together when I made mistakes and he told stories about how he had done the same thing, or something more outrageous.  He always showed me where to find help in the instruction manual so as to avoid repeating my mistakes or making other similar ones.

"After my initial training I became my own supervisor.  I was certified 'RESPONSIBLE AND COMPETENT.'  I got a badge with those words written under what looked like one of my tools.  I was so proud of that badge."

The old man absent-mindedly rubbed his sleeve against an imaginary badge on his lapel.

"That badge was the beginning of my advancement at the factory.  That badge created ambition in my life.  It made me dissatisfied with only making tools.  I wanted to understand the workings of the factory and wear one of the rarer badges.

"I worked extra hard making tools.  I was always above quota even though I was extra careful to assemble them perfectly.  I always told the folks in town what a good factory I worked at. I guess I bragged a bit about how good our tools were.  I was really proud of my work.  Other fellows came to work at the factory because of the things I had told them about it.

"After a while my former supervisor asked me to help him train a new worker.  It was easy for me to do.  I just helped him like my instructor had helped me.  I really enjoyed that.  I gave this new guy on of the tools I had made.  I felt like a grandpa watching him use a tool made by my tool to produce more tools. Sorta like the Bible with its 'begats' come to life.  'Some tool begat my tool.  My tool begat his tool.  His tool begat some other tool.'"  A grin sneaked across the old man's face.

"Somebody must have liked the way I trained this guy 'cause I got called into the office and given a promotion.  My new badge said 'INSTRUCTOR.'  I guess that idea of the 'begats' did something to me.  I'd think of that and find myself enjoying being an instructor even more than I enjoyed making tools.  I got to thinkin' that someday one of the guys I had trained might become an instructor.  I'd become not only an industrial grandpa but an instructional grandpa, too.

"I guess you can't expect only good times and success.  One of my trainees walked off the job one day.  He just threw down his tool and left.  He said there weren't no point in makin' these darn fool tools!  And he left.

"I never hurt so bad before.  I hadn't ever imagined that anyone could just up and quit.  I couldn't see why anyone would want to quit.  I mean we were making good tools.  The best tools. Our working conditions were good.  Our tools created jobs.  How could anyone say, "There weren't no point?'"  The old man sat pondering that statement as if hearing it for the first time.  He took a deep breath and continued talking.

"Somehow I got on with things.  I tried not to think of my failure.  That's what I called him.  MY failure.  He was a failure if he couldn't become a toolmaker under my instruction.  I just worked a little harder and did a little better with my other trainees.  I learned how to point them in the right direction.  I helped them find satisfaction in a job well done.  I showed them the joy of seeing their tools 'beget' more tools.  "Even unto the third and fourth generation.'"  The old man smiled at the phrase. "Most important I taught them to be content.  Not to question their job.

"The inevitable happened.  I was called into the office again.  I was made a plant manager.  I was in charge of recruiting, training and production.  The factory was expanding.  I was contributing to that expansion.  Success.  That was the word I heard.  I liked it.  I worked hard and gave my best.

"And so that's the story of my life.  It's been a good life.  I worked hard.  I did a satisfying, useful job.  I contributed something.  I made toolmakers.  And taught others to use those toolmakers to make more toolmakers.  And trained others to teach others to use those toolmakers to make more toolmakers. And recruited others to be trained by those I had trained to train others to train still others to use toolmakers to make more toolmakers to make more toolmakers to make more toolmakers . . .

"OH, my God!"

The old man sat silently in the witness chair staring at the toolmaker in his hand as the Judge passed sentence.

A Poem for Christmas

For God So Loved The World

For God so loved the world

That He gave His only Son . . . 

How, then, can I sow hatred?

For God so loved the world

That He gave His only Son . . .

Whom, then, can I not love?

For God so loved the world

That He gave His only Son . . .

What, then, can I withhold?

For God so loved the world

That He gave His only Son . . .

Where, then, is His love not found?

For God so loved the world

That He gave His only Son . . .

When, then, will we understand?

For God so loved the world

That He gave His only Son . . .

Why, then, do we not care?

The Problem of Systematic Theology

More and more I am driven to the conclusion that systematic theology is one of the major impediments to authentic Christian faith today.

Systematic theology seeks to organize knowledge about God in such a way that we have encompassed God within our own understanding.  God becomes reasonable.  God is defined.  God is comprehended.  God is under control.

However, God in His wisdom did not provide us with a theological text book. He gave us the Bible, a compilation of stories and poetry.  That is because authentic theology is acquired by osmosis rather than by reason and logic. We come to know God by repeatedly encountering Him in the stories of the Bible and the stories of our own lives.  We come to know God separately from, maybe even before, our coming to know about God.

An example of the problem:  In my youth Southern Baptists were aware of the difference between a personal relationship with God and an objective understanding about God.  That awareness affected Baptist practices. Baptists insisted that a personal experience with Jesus was the prerequisite for baptism and church membership, not rote recitation of an approved creed.  For that reason, Baptists were uncomfortable with and even suspicious of those who practiced confirmation, insisting upon a personal confession of faith rather than knowledge of a catechism.

In recent decades things have changed among Southern Baptists.  A person's personal faith and relationship with God is now decried as emotional subjectivism, lacking the substance and validity of intellectual acceptance  of systematic theological statements concerning the nature of God. Commitment to correct propositional statements about God is now seen as what defines a Christian.  The result is that the emphasis has come to be centered upon an intellectual affirmation of theological pronouncements formulated by a few and voted upon and approved by a majority of the representatives from local congregations, a majority of whom have limited understanding of the implications of the actions they have taken. Propositional statements have superseded personal relationships.

The sad result is that now Southern Baptists are more confident in their knowledge about God while knowing God, Himself, less and less.

Where we once looked to God to define who we are to be, we now look to systematic theology, and it's derivative Baptist Faith and Message, to define who God must be.

The servant seeks to rule the Master.

Sadly, this rebellion is not limited to Southern Baptists.

If Not Higher

I recently ran across a reference to a story by Isaac Loeb Peretz called If Not Higher.  I hope to someday find this story and read it in its entirety.

The story can be summarized something like this:

On every Day of Atonement a certain rabbi always disappears from the synagogue for a few hours.  People wonder where he is going.  One of his followers suspects that he has an appointment with God.  To satisfy his curiosity, he follows the rabbi one Day of Atonement.  He discovers the rabbi taking off his fine clothes and putting on the clothes of a poor person.  The rabbi then goes to the shack of a crippled woman and cleans her room, prepares her meals and generally serves her for a period of time.  

When the follower is satisfied that he knows the rabbi's secret, he returns to the synagogue.  The people ask him if the rabbi ascended to heaven and he replies, "If not higher."

Maybe we should strive for heaven, if not higher.

Boston and the World

The pouring rain and the wind blowing so hard this morning inspired Kathy and me to decide not to go out to our Tai Chi class.  Instead we watched the memorial service in Boston.  I'm glad I did.  It was very inspirational over all.  I especially appreciated the youth choir and some of the scripture passages used.  The tributes to the brave heroes who rushed to the aid of others were uplifting.

The most significant insight for me came when I heard the Muslim leader speak.  He told of having just received his US citizenship and the pledge to service all new citizens make when they swear the oath of allegiance to their new nation.  He challenged all citizens to join in service to their communities.  But more importantly, he told how as a 7 year old student, long before he came to America, he encountered a car bomb on his walk home from school one day. Monday brought those memories back to him.  It struck me that we  as Americans are feeling so unique in our tragedy and feeling especially targeted by this rare attack.  Yet, for many in our world, bombings and terrorist attacks are a regular part of their lives.  Car bombs.  Suicide bombers.  Attacks of other kinds upon innocent non-combatants who are directly targeted or happen to be near targeted individuals.  It's the life they have to live.  Day in.  Day out.  It's their normal.

The attack in Boston could have been much worse.  Not every bomb attack in our world happens near some of the best medical facilities in existence. Most happen away from trained medical people or where there are no brave volunteers rushing to give immediate assistance.  It is a truly blessing that the bombings in Boston did not kill more people.  Give thanks for the resources that were readily available on Monday.  Remember, others are seldom so blessed in resources.

My prayer is that as we work our ways through the anger and pain, sorrow and grief of our national experience of terror, as we raise ourselves to the determination to overcome our fears and defeat the bomber's effort to demoralize us, my prayer is that we will remember those around our world who also live in danger of terror strikes and join in solidarity with them in striving to overcome evil with good.

Let us look beyond ourselves and pay tribute to those other victims of terror in our world.  Let us work with more diligence to eliminate the specter of terror that is so common in our world today.

And, rather than being instruments of revenge, let us join our souls in St. Francis of Assisi's prayer, "LORD, make me an instrument of Thy peace. . . ."

The Cock Crows

To the extent that we are comfortable in contemporary American culture, we deny Christ.  This is a warning to those of us audacious enough to appropriate the name "Christian" and a rebuff to those of us who make claim to any degree of spiritual maturity.

The Path to Spiritual Maturity

Contrast the attitude expressed in this video with the attitude prevalent among our "Christian" Right and many churches in the USA today. Does real persecution produce love of enemies and forgiveness while self-love and hatred produce false feelings of persecution?

Zimbabwean farmer forgives men who had beaten him up

Will WE Christians in the USA ever learn to love our enemies and forgive them? (Yes, that includes Al Qaeda, Republicans, Democrats, rich man, poor man, beggar man thief.)

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Is The USA A Christian Nation?

Many today argue that the United States of America is a Christian nation. Is this true?

Early in his ministry Jesus laid out what his job description:

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me,

because he has anointed me

to preach good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners

and recovery of sight for the blind,

to release the oppressed,

^19 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

^20 Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him, ^21 and he began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” (Luke 4:18ff New International Version)

The Gospels show that spiritual, physical and psychological healing was a major part of his work.

Justice was also of great importance. He condemned the religious leaders for being preoccupied with ritual practices but neglecting justice. (Luke 11:42)

Jesus instructed his followers to give to all who ask. (Luke 6:30ff) They are not to resist those who act violently against them, and if sued, they are to give even more than the suit demands. When impressed into service, they are to give service above that demanded. The old rule of "a tooth for a tooth" is superceded. (Matthew 5:38ff)

Jesus' followers are not to judge others. (Matthew 7:1-2) Rather they are to be merciful. (Luke 6:36)

They are to bear lasting fruit. (John 15:16) The Apostle Paul delineates what characterizes this fruit:

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. (Galatians 5:22-23 New International Version)

These qualities must be clearly evident in the lives of his followers.

Jesus commanded his followers to love one another. (John 15:12) Not only are they to love one another, they are to love their enemies! (Matthew 5:43-44) This is the criteria by which they will be known to be his true followers. (John 13:35)

Jesus makes it quite clear that he clearly expects his followers to live out the life he has described, and lived himself. “Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say?

(Luke 6:46 New International Version)

It is not the shibboleths we shout but the deeds we do that determine whether or not we are a Christian nation.

On the basis of our deeds, we definitely are NOT a Christian nation.

Would that we were.

A 21st Century Demoniac of the Gerasenes?

They went across the lake to the region of the Gerasenes. When Jesus got out of the boat, a man with an evil spirit came from the tombs to meet him. This man lived in the tombs, and no one could bind him any more, not even with a chain. For he had often been chained hand and foot, but he tore the chains apart and broke the irons on his feet. No one was strong enough to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and in the hills he would cry out and cut himself with stones.

When he saw Jesus from a distance, he ran and fell on his knees in front of him. He shouted at the top of his voice, “What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? Swear to God that you won’t torture me!” For Jesus had said to him, “Come out of this man, you evil spirit!”

Then Jesus asked him, “What is your name?”

“My name is Legion,” he replied, “for we are many.” And he begged Jesus again and again not to send them out of the area.

A large herd of pigs was feeding on the nearby hillside. The demons begged Jesus, “Send us among the pigs; allow us to go into them.” He gave them permission, and the evil spirits came out and went into the pigs. The herd, about two thousand in number, rushed down the steep bank into the lake and were drowned.

Those tending the pigs ran off and reported this in the town and countryside, and the people went out to see what had happened. When they came to Jesus, they saw the man who had been possessed by the legion of demons, sitting there, dressed and in his right mind; and they were afraid. Those who had seen it told the people what had happened to the demon-possessed man—and told about the pigs as well. Then the people began to plead with Jesus to leave their region.

Mark 5:1-17 New International Version

As we reflect upon the tragedy of 8 January 2011 and offer prayers for those killed and injured and their families, let us not forget another set of victims of this horrific incident. Let us offer our prayers and compassion for the family of the young man who did the shooting, and for him also.

Imagine for a moment the pain of the shooter's family as they take upon themselves a part of the guilt for his actions. Feel the pain of a mother whose son has committed such an evil act. Try to experience the feelings of a father who sensed something wrong, sought to find his son and control him, yet failed. Ask the questions they are asking, "What more could I have done?" "What did we do wrong?" "Why did this happen in our family?"

Try for a moment to understand the torment of the soul that has driven a young man to be filled to overflowing with frustration, hatred and violence. What would it take for you to lose control your yourself in such a way?

When the local people in the region of the Gerasenes could no longer live with the uncontrollable violence of the young demoniac in their community, they drove him out to live among the dead. That was their solution. Isolate the problem.

When Jesus encountered the young demoniac, his solution was to cure the problem. Remove the forces that drove the man to violence. Restore his sanity and restore him to society as a positive contributor rather than a disruptive, destructive agent.

Jesus considered the life of one demoniac to be more important than the economic gains of the community. He was willing to sacrifice a whole herd of pigs in order to restore one rejected man.

The community had a different set of values. The loss of their unclean wealth was more than they could bear. Pigs were more important than a mad man. So they begged Jesus to leave before he could possibly encounter any more societal rejects and sacrifice more of their profits in restoring them.

Unfortunately, we are more like the Gerasene community than Jesus. We are glad to reduce responsibility for the violence to the acts of a mad man rather than examine the role of violence in our own actions. What words do we use about those with whom we differ? How do we use power to restrain others? How do we deny the humanity of those who differ from us in culture, ethnicity, religion or politics?

Why are we unwilling to provide mental health care which could prevent the suffering of many and reduce the chances that their agony could lead to violence? Are our profits so important? What pigs are we protecting?

What is the value of a human life?

Those of us who profess to follow Jesus have no option but to behave as he behaves. We cannot dismiss this shooter as simply a "nut case." We must pray for him. We must begin to strive to love those suffering with mental illnesses. And we must join in the effort to reform our society so that those with mental illnesses have the treatments they need and that their families have the assistance they need in compelling their suffering loved one to enter into treatment.

Then Jesus asked him, “What is your name?”

“My name is Legion,” he replied, “for we are many.”

Where is God in the Storm?

Jim Evans makes the following observation in the column ,Where is God in the Storm? at Ethics Daily.

God is where God is always found--standing beside the weak and the broken, comforting those who have lost everything.

Somewhere a preacher is calling down the wrath of God. But God is not there. God is in devastated cities and crushed villages, binding up the wounds of hurting children.

Why is this insight so often missing in our churches and in the hearts, souls and minds of those professing to be Christians?

Thank you for posting this, Jim.

The Cost of Christmas -- a Sermon

The Cost of Christmas

Christmas is over. The tree is down and the nativity scene is put away. Now we’re getting on with life as usual. The shepherds visited Jesus and then left him in the manger and went back to work, disappearing from the story. The wise men delivered their gifts and then went home to continue their studies. We’re just like them, aren’t we. We celebrate Jesus’ birth and then go back to life as usual. But the story continues with or without our participation.

The world hasn’t changed much either. At Jesus’ birth a world superpower was trying to impose peace in the middle east. Local radicals -- terrorists or patriots, depending upon your point of view -- killed the foreign soldiers and local government officials in an effort to destabilize things so that they could eventually take over the country.

When I think about what life must be like today for the average non-political Iraqi, I begin to understand better what life must have been like in Judah when Jesus was born. Visualize the scenes we’ve seen from the streets in Iraq, only something even worse than beheadings and bombings.

Let’s read Matthew 2:16-18.

It began with the sound of marching feet at the far end of the lane. The sound got louder and louder, nearer and nearer. Then you could hear the banging as doors were broken down followed by screams as soldiers entered houses. Suddenly, there was the loud crying of a baby accompanied by the screams of a mother and shouts of a father. Then the crying ended, and the wailing began. Wails of mourning. Mourning for the death of a child.

As the sounds come down the lane, closer and closer, you move deep within your one room house, trying to shield your children in the shadows. Suddenly, your door is broken down and soldiers swarm inside the house. One grabs your baby, rips off it’s clothes, then tosses your daughter back to you alive. Your prayers have been answered. God is merciful.

As the soldiers leave your house, you can see others coming out of the house of your neighbor across the lane. One is carrying an infant. He tears off its clothes, looks, then swings it by the feet exploding its head against the wall. The baby’s mother screams and rushes at the soldier. Your neighbor grabs his wife and holds her back. He couldn’t bear to loose his first born son and his wife on the same day. Other soldiers toss baby boys back and forth, laughing as they catch them upon their spears. The soldiers continue from house to house, killing all boy babies they can find under about two years of age. The whole town is filled with wails of pain and screams of anger. Then the wailing spreads to the countryside as the soldiers move out into the villages. It seems as if the whole God forsaken world were one loud cry of sorrow, pain, anger.

After the soldiers leave, people begin to gather, talking to one another, trying to figure out what was going on. Why had the soldiers suddenly appeared, killing only boys below a certain age? It was senseless. Were the deaths completely meaningless? Or could they serve some purpose? Where was God while this was going on? Why hadn’t God intervened?

Someone suggested that it might have something to do with that strange couple and their son who had disappeared just a few days before. Remember the ones who came for the census? That’s right, the ones that had a party with those drunken shepherds who kept telling some story of angels singing in the countryside.

Now that was a strange family. There was lots of gossip about whether they were even married or not. Most people thought that they were married, but that the baby was VERY early. Then there were those foreigners who were visiting them just before they disappeared. They claimed to be scholars. They kept talking about a king and a star. They had visited King Herod. Maybe they caused all this. Maybe the soldiers were really after that baby boy who had disappeared. Our innocent children have died because of one strange baby who escaped with his life before the soldiers came. Where is the God of justice? Cries of pain became tortured shouts of anger.

We usually skip over these verses when we tell the Christmas story. If we read them, we do it quickly and without comment. We don’t like to mar the joy of Christmas with the obscenity of the deaths of innocent children. It feels indecent and improper. It doesn’t make for a “merry” Christmas. But Matthew included this part of the story. He didn’t hide the difficult parts. Like Paul Harvey, he gives “the rest of the story.”

We know that the joy of Christmas leads to the grief of the cross and ultimately to the elation of the resurrection. I’ve often tried to make a Christmas card showing that idea. But I don’t have any artistic ability, so I’ve given up. However, maybe your imagination can produce what my hands cannot.

Close your eyes and imagine a Christmas card. In the foreground, at the left bottom corner, is the manger with Joseph, Mary and Jesus. Then toward the center in the middle distance is a hill with three crosses on it. In the far background near the right top corner is a hillside tomb with the stone door rolled aside. Over it all is the star. A Christmas card that tells the whole story. Almost. It tells the parts of the story we can live with because we can see the reason for the cross. We know of the empty tomb.

Can you imagine the pain of the mothers of these boys in Bethlehem? They had no idea what was going on. They had no warning of trouble. Suddenly, soldiers appeared in town and went door to door killing all the boy children under two years of age. Why? What had they done? What could they do to protect them? What was the meaning of all this? Where was God? They had no vision of an empty tomb.

The families in Bethlehem and surroundings had no clue as to what was going on. And they never did learn the answers to their questions. What about us?

It was day two of the four day trip back to Pemba, Mozambique from the airport in Lilongwe, Malawi where we’d just sent our son back to school in Kenya. We had made the trip in the other direction just a few days before. We still ached all over from that trip. Now we’d left the paved roads of Malawi and were a few hours along the dirt torture track that masqueraded as the highway in Mozambique. Two more days and several more hours to look forward to. The Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland might be fun for the few minutes it lasts. But that kind of experience gets old after a few hours. Four days is no fun at all. You can’t even enjoy the scenery. We were listening to a tape of a sermon that a friend had sent us. The preacher was talking about what he called the “Law of the Harvest.” He said, “For there to be a blessing anywhere, there must be suffering somewhere.” Just then we hit another big bump and Kathy looked at me and said, “Someone somewhere must be getting a blessing.” I’m not sure if she was joking or not.

Does the blessing of Christmas require the suffering we’ve just described?


Do you have some idea of the pain felt by the parents? How is your stomach right now as you think of this story? Does anyone have dry eyes? It hurts doesn’t it? It makes me angry. How about you?

What do you think God felt?

God was acting to save His creation. He was acting to rescue His people. And the immediate result of His actions was great suffering. Innocent children were dying. The very ones God was seeking to rescue were paying the price for His actions. Was the cost of the blessing too great?

God loved His people so much that He was willing to sacrifice His own son in order to rescue them. He was willing to suffer to save His creation. But the result of sending His son into the world to save it was that innocent children were dying. Parents who had done nothing to deserve such pain were in agony over the murder of their children.

Can God feel guilty? Don’t you think God suffered even more than the families because of the price they were having to pay because God loves you and me so much?

Did God have second thoughts about the plan He had put into effect to save His creation? The Adversary was fighting back. He knew he couldn’t prevent God giving His son to save us. But maybe God would give up when He saw innocent children dying. The Adversary invoked the “Law of the Harvest.”

But God was undeterred.

We often trivialize the cost of salvation. We assume that because God loves us, it’s His job to sacrifice His son for us. Sure, Jesus suffered on the cross, but we assume he knew he would be raised from the dead, so it wasn’t REALLY such a big thing. Yes, God lost His son. But He knew He would raise him from the dead and all would be fine. Isn’t that the way we think?

“For there to be a blessing anywhere, there must be suffering somewhere.” It’s real suffering without a clear knowledge of the outcome. It’s the death of innocents. Those parents in Bethlehem thought that one innocent boy baby had escaped. But eventually he, too, was killed. Still innocent. There is no cheap grace.

I don’t know about you, but I find it hard to believe that God could love me so much that He would allow such suffering to take place just to save me. It’s hard to know how to respond. To reject such love would be to make all those deaths meaningless. But I know I don’t deserve such love. I don’t have the right to accept it. But can I really refuse it? Can you?

Maybe part of our problem is that we are afraid of the “Law of the Harvest.” We’re afraid that we will be called on to suffer.

In May 1844 Dr. Ludwig von Krapf with his wife from Germany landed in Mombasa, Kenya as C.M.S missionaries. Two years later, Krapf's wife and child died. He was joined by Rev. Johann Rebmann, a fellow countryman. In September 1853 Krapf returned to Europe. His health had been destroyed. He had come to Africa to spread the gospel. He had sacrificed the lives of his wife and child as well as his own health. He suffered greatly, but saw no sign of blessing. He saw no results of his evangelistic efforts. In fact, the only claim to fame he and Rebmann had was that they were the first europeans to see Mount Kilimanjaro. And that just caused people to think they were crazy. No one believed there could be an ice capped mountain so near the equator.

For over a hundred years more missionaries watered the seeds Krapf and Rebmann had planted. They, too, suffered so that others might be blessed, even though they, themselves, would not participate in the blessing. Finally, in the late 1980’s the spiritual harvest was ripe in coastal Kenya. Not only were many Kenyans blessed with God’s salvation, but hundreds of Baptists from the USA who participated in evangelistic outreaches there returned home blessed. The “Law of the Harvest” holds.

William Carey is famous as the father of modern missions. But few know of his wife. She didn’t want to go to India. She never adjusted to life in India. She developed severe mental and emotional problems and spent her final days locked in a padded room for her own protection. She suffered so that others might receive a blessing. Like those families in Bethlehem, she did not choose her suffering. She probably never understood what was going on.

Whenever God and evil contest each other, innocents suffer. We know about Job’s suffering because of his faithfulness, but we usually forget that his servants lost their lives because of Job’s righteousness and that their families endured great suffering as well as did Job.

There’s a well known African proverb that says, “When elephants fight, the grass suffers.” The list could go on. The gift of salvation is not cheap. Who has suffered so that you could be offered this gift? Have you ever given anyone a gift that you knew was very valuable and they either refused it or didn’t seem to value it when they took it? How did you feel?

I remember when I was in my first year at seminary in Kentucky. I was a single fellow then. Kathy was working in Hilo and sending me goodies from Hawaii on occasion as part of our long distance courtship. A church invited me to speak to their GA group about Hawaii for their Annie Armstrong emphasis. Kathy had just sent me some rock salt plum as a special treat. I thought I’d be generous and share with this group of girls. I passed the bag around the group and each girl took a piece and put it into her mouth. Suddenly, there was a mad rush of girls to the bathroom. They all ran and spit out the rock salt plum!

I wasn’t overjoyed by that response. I had given them something very special to me. They treated my gift with contempt. I promised myself never again to share my rock salt plum except with other Hawaii folks.

God has offered you a very special gift. Have you accepted it? Or have you refused to receive this gift? Have you chosen to remain outside God’s love?

How do you think God feels about your response?

Maybe you have accepted the gift, tasted it and then run to the bathroom to spit it out? You want the blessing, but you don’t want to pay the price of being obedient to God. It tastes bad to you.

Maybe you have only partially received God’s love. You’ve taken the seed into your mouth without spitting it out, but you haven’t swallowed anything. Your mind knows that God loves you but you continue to live as though you were unloved.

If God has paid such a high price for the blessing of salvation, how can we refuse it? How can our way of thinking and living not be changed?

Which one of us will tell the families of Bethlehem that their sons died for nothing?

Who will tell God that His son died in vain?

“For there to be a blessing anywhere, there must be suffering somewhere.” What will you do if God calls you to suffer?

Do you know that old hymn, “Make Me a Blessing”? Listen to these words of the hymn:

Give as ‘twas given to you in your need, Love as the Master loved you; Be to the helpless a helper indeed, Unto you mission be true.
Make me a blessing, Make me a blessing, Out of my life May Jesus shine; Make me a blessing, O Savior I pray, Make me a blessing to someone today.

Will you “give as ‘twas given to you in your need?”

Can you “love as the Master loved you?”
“For there to be a blessing anywhere, there must be suffering somewhere.”
Are you contributing to anyone’s blessing?

We’re going to sing our final song. It’s a time for you to reflect on your response to the story you’ve heard. You can’t avoid a response.

Either you accept God’s gift and give meaning to the deaths in Bethlehem and the death of God’s own son on the cross, or you proclaim them all meaningless and worthless by rejecting the blessing.

Can you refuse such a gift?

Christian by Carol Wimmer

I have found another poem. It is reported that this is the original upon which the poem in my last post was based. According to this tradition, Maya Angelou has been falsely credited on the internet with a modified version of this poem. I do not know if they are independent expressions or if one is derivitive of the other. Both proclaim a great message, though personally, I resonate more with the one attributed to Maya Angelou. Read them both and celebrate the one that speaks most powerfully to you.

When I say, "I am a Christian," I'm not shouting, "I've been saved!"
I'm whispering, "I get lost! That's why I chose this way"

When I say, "I am a Christian," I don't speak with human pride
I'm confessing that I stumble-needing God to be my guide

When I say, "I am a Christian," I'm not trying to be strong
I'm professing that I'm weak and pray for strength to carry on

When I say, "I am a Christian," I'm not bragging of success
I'm admitting that I've failed and cannot ever pay the debt

When I say, "I am a Christian," I don't think I know it all
I submit to my confusion asking humbly to be taught

When I say, "I am a Christian," I'm not claiming to be perfect
My flaws are far too visible but God believes I'm worth it

When I say, "I am a Christian," I still feel the sting of pain
I have my share of heartache which is why I seek His name

When I say, "I am a Christian," I do not wish to judge
I have no authority--I only know I'm loved

Copyright 1988 Carol Wimmer

Christian by Maya Angelou

Christian
by Maya Angelou

When I say . . . "I am a Christian"
I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin."
I'm whispering "I was lost,"
now I'm found and forgiven.

When I say . . . "I am a Christian"
I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble
and need CHRIST to be my guide.

When I say . . . "I am a Christian"
I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak
and need HIS strength to carry on.

When I say . . . "I am a Christian"
I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed
and need God to clean my mess.

When I say . . . "I am a Christian"
I'm not claiming to be perfect.
My flaws are far too visible,
but God believes I am worth it.

When I say . . . "I am a Christian"
I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches,
so I call upon His name.

When I say . . . "I am a Christian"
I'm not holier than thou,
I'm just a simple sinner
who received God's good grace, somehow.

One of the teachers at Hawaii Baptist Academy had this posted on her classroom bulletin board during the 2004-2005 school year. She didn't remember where she got it and I have yet to find the source. But, for me, it says it perfectly.

This is the definition of a Christian.

More Worship Thoughts - HBA CEW 2005

This is a video I made of Christian Emphasis Week at Hawaii Baptist Academy in 2005. The theme that year was tied to the cell phone ads popular at the time where a guy walks around asking, "Can you hear me now?" The idea was to get students to listen for God.

As I observed the programme and students, I wondered if God could be heard above the noise of the "worship services." I also wondered how many people were aware of the voice of God speaking through the service ministries that were part of the week. How many thought to listen for God during the free time between scheduled events?

This video was my effort to stimulate an evaluation of the week.

I Found a Song

I found the words to a medley I liked from the '70's. It's parts of three songs. I've put the words here without the repeats, since it's just the message I'm interested in at the moment. (Give thanks this is not a podcast, so you don't have to endure the sad sounds I make when I try to sing and play guitar!)

Lord, I'm lost inside,
and don't know where I'm goin'.
I'm twisted and tied in masking tape,
trying to hide my mistakes.
before the tears start flowin'.

And right now I don't know what to do.
And though I keep turnin' to you,
Still I'm not knowin'.
What? Who? When?
or Why?
or How?
And Lord your love's not showin' right now.

Did you ever feel lonely,
though you knew you weren't alone?
And it hurt somewhere inside you,
and your song became a groan?

Lord, you said you'd be with me,
and I take you at your word.
But right now I need a touch
and a voice that can be heard.

Reach out and touch
somebody's hand.
Make this world a better place,
if you can.

His touch, his kindly touch,
Can rustle treetops,
Scatter raindrops,
Ease the suff'ring on all the earth.

O use me,
Use me, Lord,
As your eyes to see the need,
Your hands the poor to feed,
Your voice the truth to sing.

"Touch the face of the divine"

I ran across this on Les Chatwin's blog, A Child of the Wind:

"I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago-- whether in the body I do not know, or out of the body I do not know, God knows-- such a man was caught up to the third heaven." 2 Cor 12:2

I was on my way to the third heaven but I was stopped at customs and turned back; too much baggage.

Makes one stop and think. What baggage am I carrying that keeps me from the third heaven?

Walk On

Did you ever dream you could fly?

Soar high above the earth?

Float and swoop effortlessly above the hills and the valleys?

I used to dream that I could do a kind of breast stroke that caused me to glide through the air. I read somewhere that the dream of flying is one of the most common kinds of dreams.

Right up there with running from trains.

Snakes.

And being naked in public.

It must be an old and widespread dream. Remember the old greek story of Daedelus and Icarus who made wings of feathers and wax and flew too close to the sun?

I’ve forgotten what the experts said the significance of flying dreams is, but the dream does give a feeling of freedom and power and great joy.

We talk of our spirits “soaring” when we’re elated.

We’re “soaring along” when everything is going right in our lives.

There’s a beauty in the sight of a bird soaring high above with no flapping of wings. Just a smooth gliding across the sky. I’ve seen birds catch the wind just right, so that from the ground, they appeared perfectly motionless. It was beautiful.

The prophet Isaiah uses this imagery to talk of
our relationship with God:

but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength.

They will soar on wings like eagles;

they will run and not grow weary,

they will walk and not be faint.

Isaiah 40:31(NIV)

“They will soar on wings like eagles.” Isn’t that a good description of the feelings of a new Christian? When you first put your hope in the LORD, your strength was renewed and you seemed to soar up above all the problems of life here in the rat race.

Things were right.

God was in charge.

You were safe and confident and tireless.

Most of us would like life to stay that way. Jesus’ closest disciples felt like that. Remember the story of when Jesus went up the mountain with James, John and Peter? Moses and Elijah appeared to them and Jesus was transfigured so that his face shone like the sun. Peter wanted to pitch camp and stay there.

A friend in Zimbabwe was grading Religious Knowledge papers for secondary students’ final exams. One of the questions required the students to tell this story. Our friend came laughing and read one student’s final sentence. After thoroughly describing the event, the student wrote, “This is usually known as the mount of refrigeration.”

Transfiguration, refrigeration, either word is a mouthful. The disciples were soaring on wings like eagles. They hoped in the LORD in the midst of a spectacular spiritual encounter with God. We’re the same way. I’ve had friends who wanted to become evangelists because they wanted the thrill of Billy Graham style crusades every day. They wanted to keep soaring.

Some people take a short mission trip and have a great experience seeing God at work. They have a time of soaring. They want to keep repeating the experience.

There’s a time to soar.

There’s also a time to run.

Running isn’t quite as dramatic as soaring, but it, too, can be beautiful. I’m not talking about the slow motion close-ups of the faces of world class sprinters at the Olympics where you see their eyes bulging and their lips flapping. But the grace of a long stride and steady rhythmic movement of a good runner is a work of art.

We run more than we soar.

We run to work.

We run to school.

We run to the market.

We run to church.

We run to meetings.

We finally run home.

We wake up running and at the end of the day we go to bed with our legs still churning. We can identify with the words the Red Queen says to Alice in Through the Looking Glass:

Now, HERE, you see, it takes all the running YOU can do, to keep in he same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!

Running tires, but also refreshes. Running can also give a “rush” to the runner, if he makes it past the “wall” of pain in long distance runs. There comes a time when we get our “second wind” and can do things beyond what we thought possible.

We usually talk about soaring when we study this verse. We promise others that if they’ll just “hope in the LORD,” or as some translations say, “wait on the LORD,” they will soar.

Soaring is exciting.

Running is graceful.

Walking is so . . .

pedestrian!

Walking is unglamorous.

Did you ever see the walking race in the Olympics? Race walking is ugly. It’s awkward. It looks painful. It’s extremely tiring.

For most of us walking is a last resort. We walk when we don’t have a car and the bus drivers are on strike.

When our bicycle is broken.

When we’re poor and insignificant.

Walking is slow.

Running gets you somewhere faster.

Soaring gets you there fastest.

But there are times when we don’t soar.

There are times when we can’t run.

There are times when it’s all we can do to walk. When we’re tired and weak, walking is the best we can do.

John Claypool was one of Baptists’ leading preachers in the late 1960s and early 1970s. He knew what it was to soar in the pulpit. Then his ten year-old daughter was stricken by leukemia. He tirelessly ran everywhere seeking whatever prayer or other means of healing might save her. Finally, as he could only sit and hold her hand as her life slipped away, he made these observations regarding this last part of Isaiah 40:31:

Now I am sure that to those looking for the spectacular this may sound insignificant indeed. Who wants to be slowed to a walk, to creep along inch by inch, just barely above the threshold of consciousness and not fainting? That may not sound like much of a religious experience, but believe me, in the kind of darkness where I have been, it is the only form of the promise that fits the situation. When there is no occasion to soar and no place to run, and all you can do is trudge along step by step, to hear of a Help that will enable you to “walk and not faint” is good news indeed.

There are some places we have to walk.

Places where we can’t soar.

Places where we can’t run.

Places where we need this good news.

It’s interesting that Psalm 23 doesn’t say, “Yea, though I soar over the valley of death.”

It doesn’t say, “Yea, though I run through the valley of death.”

It says, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of death, thou art with me.”

It is as we walk in the depth of the valley of death that the presence of God and the protection of His rod and staff becomes real to us. When we walk through the valley of death, it is only God’s presence that gets us through.

I think it would be safe to say that most of us seldom soar.

We do some running.

We spend a lot of time walking.

Often, for a lot of us walking is a major accomplishment. We can’t identify with the imagery of soaring on wings of eagles. We feel more like we’re being preyed upon by hungry eagles.

We not only can’t find the energy to run, we no longer even want to run. The things that have had us running no longer seem important.

We’re ready to quit.

Drop out.

Go to bed and not wake up.

If we saw a big truck coming at us as we crossed the street, we wouldn’t even try to dodge.

We’re past tired.

We’re ready to faint.

Isaiah’s message is for us, the walkers.

Those who hope in the LORD will walk and not grow faint. We can make it through the valley.

God does not promise that we’ll always soar or even run.

He does promise to be with us, comfort us and protect us as we walk.

Remember what God said to Jacob as he fled from Esau?

“I will be with you.”

Remember what Joseph discovered in Egypt, even in prison?

God was with him.

What did God promise Moses when he sent him to risk his life challenging pharaoh?

“I will be with you.”

Jesus is known as Emanuel. What does Emanuel mean? "God with us."

I remember when I was in high school. There was a song made popular by Gerry and the Pacemakers, I think. People argued whether it could be sung in church or not. Listen to the song’s words:

When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of a storm is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark
Walk on through the wind
Walk on through the rain
Tho' your dreams Be tossed and blown
Walk on..
Walk on..
With hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

If the hope in our hearts is hope in the LORD, we can boldly sing this song as a hymn anywhere. We don’t walk through the valley alone. Those who hope in the LORD never walk alone.

They walk with God . . .

and never faint.

Do you not know?

Have you not heard?

The LORD is the everlasting God,

the Creator of the ends of the earth.

He will not grow tired or weary,

and his understanding no one can fathom.

He gives strength to the weary

and increases the power of the weak.

Even youths grow tired and weary,

and young men stumble and fall;

but those who hope in the LORD

will renew their strength.

They will soar on wings like eagles;

they will run and not grow weary,

they will walk and not be faint.

Isaiah 40:28-31 [NIV]

Soar when you can.

Run when you must.

But always . . .

Hope in the LORD and . . .

Walk on!

Habakkuk: A Word For Today?

During sixteen years as a missionary in Zimbabwe, I became a Zimbabwean at heart. After leaving Zimbabwe and moving to Moçambique, I continued to follow events in my adopted heartland and mourn the devastation being wrought upon the land and people by unscrupulous leaders who set no limits upon the means they use to maintain and increase their power. Since returning to the U.S.A., I have discovered that I can listen on the internet to a radio station, SW Radio Africa, which broadcasts daily news to and about Zimbabwe. It is run by exiles seeking to inform their people the truth of what is going on in their country. The government has been very successful in controlling the news accessible by the majority of the people. Those who try to speak out from inside the country are silenced by being prosecuted under draconian laws, tortured or killed. These exiles also seek to provide messages of hope for an oppressed people.

I heard an exiled pastor offering a biblical word to the people of Zimbabwe on SW Radio Africa. He read this passage from Habakkuk:

How long, O LORD, must I call for help,
but you do not listen?
Or cry out to you, "Violence!"
but you do not save?
Why do you make me look at injustice?
Why do you tolerate wrong?
Destruction and violence are before me;
there is strife, and conflict abounds.
Therefore the law is paralyzed,
and justice never prevails.
The wicked hem in the righteous,
so that justice is perverted.
(Habakkuk 1:2-4 NIV)

These words echo the cries of the people of Zimbabwe. Where is God in the midst of violence, injustice, destruction, strife, conflict and lawlessness?

Daily youths trained by the ruling party in Zimbabwe beat, rape and kill those accused of supporting the opposition. AIDS is not just a disease, it is a political weapon. Workers are evicted from their homes and jobs as politicians send thugs to invade commercial farms. Violence abounds.

Millions of people in Zimbabwe are starving. Starving because farms are no longer producing food. Farms are no longer producing food because the farmers and workers have been driven off the land and political leaders have taken the farms and allowed them to fall into neglect. "Landless blacks" have been given land of white farmers, but they have returned to the city because they have neither the desire to farm nor the skills and resources needed for intensive farming. Real black farmers remain landless unless they have the right political connections. A land that once fed its neighbors can no longer feed itself. Yet the leaders get fatter and fatter. "Destruction and violence are before me."

Injustice abounds. The government and ruling party ignore laws they don’t like. High Court judges have fled from the country in order to save their lives after ruling against government violations of the constitution. The police refuse to aid victims of political violence. When victims report crimes to the police, they are arrested for creating a public disturbance while their attackers dance in the streets. "Justice is perverted."

Those who oppose the current rulers are helpless because they strive to remain law abiding and refuse to return violent act for violent act. The just man suffers for being just while the unjust is rewarded as a result of his unjust acts.

And so the people of Zimbabwe pray the words of Habakkuk:

How long, O LORD, must I call for help,
but you do not listen?
Or cry out to you, "Violence!"
but you do not save?
Why do you make me look at injustice?
Why do you tolerate wrong?

Throughout 2002 and 2003 I felt that I was living in stereo. On one channel I was bombarded with the acts of Robert Mugabe and ZANU-PF (Zimbabwe Africa Nationalist Union - Popular Front) destroying my adopted home. On the other channel I was buffeted by the actions of the leaders of the International Mission Board and the Southern Baptist Convention, my spiritual home. Daily I reflected upon the parallels between the actions of Mugabe and the leaders of the IMB and SBC.

It is now 2007 and I’ve been re-adjusting to life in the USA for about three and one-half years. Now I feel as if I’m living in surround sound. The current Bush administration displays this same hunger for power and disdain for those who question his actions. George Orwell’s 1984 is coming to life. And I’m left with the words of Habakkuk:

Destruction and violence are before me;
there is strife, and conflict abounds.
Therefore the law is paralyzed,
and justice never prevails.
The wicked hem in the righteous,
so that justice is perverted.

All I can do now is pray Habakkuk's prayer, also:

LORD, I have heard of your fame;
I stand in awe of your deeds, O LORD.
Renew them in our day,
in our time make them known;
in wrath remember mercy.
(Habakkuk 3:2 NIV)