It is hard to imagine what it must have been like for the disciples of Jesus to hear the words commissioning them to Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria and to the ends of the earth[i].  These local boys were considered ignorant and unschooled by the leaders in Jerusalem[ii]; how in the world could they face the collective government/educational/philosophical/ economic/military complex and power that would confront them in the “uttermost ends of the earth”?

From the beginning, however, Jesus commands his disciples to think globally when it comes to ‘going.’  He issues the commission to act locally and globally – and all points in-between.  He simply does not give us the option of one or the other. Whatever the pressing needs were locally, they were removed from the “either/or” list and placed squarely on the “both/and” side of the column.

And “Go,” they did.  They took the gospel with them.  They also brought medical care and orphanages.  They packed along literacy skills and leadership principles.  Such was the defense of Christians by Tertullian:

“. . . On the monthly day, if he likes, each puts in a small donation; but only if it be his pleasure, and only if he be able: for there is no compulsion; all is voluntary. These gifts are, as it were, piety’s deposit fund. For they are not taken thence and spent on feasts, and drinking-bouts, and eating-houses, but to support and bury poor people, to supply the wants of boys and girls destitute of means and parents, and of old persons confined now to the house; such, too, as have suffered shipwreck; and if there happen to be any in the mines, or banished to the islands, or shut up in the prisons, for nothing but their fidelity to the cause of God’s Church, they become the nurslings of their confession.”[iii]

“That’s us out there,” Tertullian is saying, “feeding your poor, your abused, your forgotten.”   Though the church could point to its own desperate need among itself,[iv] the church reached out past its local walls and administered grace among all peoples, everywhere.

Engagement and encounter changes lives and commitments. It is one thing to know about a need – another altogether to experience the need. 

When I am trying to recruit a person to a particular ministry need, my task is to involve them in the actual need through their presence.  “Come and see,” is an amazing recruitment tool!  When Nathanael thought Jesus could be of no value, his brother, Philip, challenged him: “Come and see.”[v]  When the disciples were caught off by the impossibility of resurrection, the angel offered the evidence of “come and see.”[vi] 

The church in Africa has asked us to do just that; to “come and see.”  I reference an article in Christianity Today[vii] where the question is asked regarding the need to actually go to Africa when money is already given: “But many American churches are already deeply involved in missions overseas.”

The response:

“Of course. Yet it’s so difficult to get American Christians, even those who profess to love missions and their brothers and sisters on the periphery, to actually come and see what is happening where we are. This is especially true of those in the positions of greatest power in the church. I have asked a friend, a pastor of a large church that gives half of its money to missions, to come and spend time on the fringes. But he won’t. He wants to spend his study leave in Oxford, in Australia. How can American pastors be leaders if they haven’t seen what God is doing elsewhere? Every search process for a senior pastor should ask, “Do you have experience in marginal places, economically deprived places, places with HIV/AIDS? Have you gone to be among them?”

Our African brothers and sisters know something we may have forgotten in America: money is not the only and best solution to human need.  We have been invited to “come and see” – to walk among the poor and vulnerable.  It is by being present in the midst of need transformation happens.  Compassion, not just information, happens.  By being present, mercy, not just awareness, takes place.  And for every person that travels to Africa and is transformed by its amazing capacity – come and see ignites a flame that burns both locally and globally as commitment is altered.

We go to Africa because we have been commissioned to do so.  We go to Africa because we have been invited to do so.  And, yes, we go next door and across the street and across the highway and across the county line to the national borders because our Lord has given the mandate.

World Vision has a major itch to scratch: how do we help the poor and needy of the world?  They sum it up in their motto: Our vision for every child, life in all its fullness; our prayer for every heart, the will to make it so.  

You might think that World Vision would prefer that monies be sent in order to meet the need.  Well, they absolutely do want money.  They know, however, that monies sent in response to an appeal will last as long as the emotional impact of the appeal works: usually a given church service.  But what if a team comes and walks among the poor, the vulnerable?  What then?  By practicing a “come and see” approach, the commitment moves from an isolated response to a long-term commitment.  It is, in real world terms, a smart ROI.[viii]  A world-wide ministry knows offerings aren’t enough: win the heart and passion of a person and the money and the relationship will continue for decades.

A few years back, the Salvation Army understood that Christmas was the cash cow that funded huge projects.  The needs of the hungry, the homeless and the abused, however, were not seasonal.  The advertising response: “Need Knows No Season.” 

I would offer that need knows no boundaries, too.  The desperately hungry child in the mountains of California is not superseded by the child in Zambia.  To be sure, one church or person cannot alter every need at every point: but what of the ones brought before us?

Money will be sent.  If we are to believe our African brothers and sisters,

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[i]   Acts 1:8

[ii]  Acts 4:13

[iii] See Tertullian, Apology, chapter 39

[iv] Romans 15:25-27

[v]  John 1:45-46

[vi] Matthew 28:6

[vii] http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2006/july/31.32.html or search, Experiencing Life at the Margins

[viii] ROI: Return on Investment

Like many in his day, David Livingstone assumed that the interior of Africa was desolate and unpopulated.  It wasn’t worth his consideration as a place for a missionary to be.  Until Robert Moffat remarked to him, “I have seen, at different times, the smoke of a thousand villages-villages whose people are without Christ, without God, and without hope in this world.”

Robert Moffat’s comment became the fulcrum upon which leveraged the great and historic work of David Livingstone.

Perceptions about Africa and Africa’s needs still create a lack of authentic assistance.  While church organizations have accomplished much in Africa, the situations brought about by AIDS, poverty, drought and oppression have too often brought about responses that deepened the problem by creating reliance.

On July 23, I will be travelling to Zambia with World Vision to see what they are doing in Africa.  Stephen Pramme, our Student Ministries Director, will be travelling with me, too.  We are going to see what God may be saying to us about long-term support toward the amazing work being done in Hamaundu, Zambia.

What work?  Helping villages discover their own path from poverty to self-sustainability.  How?  Through the relational and intentional avenues of:

• building trust
• mobilizing a community
• assessing needs and developing a plan of action
• designing solutions that tap into the innate knowledge of their surroundings and abilities
• assuming full ownership of the communities progress

In what specific areas is this applied?

• Water
• Health and hygiene
• Food and agriculture
• Education and literacy
• Economic development

Word Vision believes spiritual transformation begins in deeds done as witness.  A life lived before a community with integrity is part of building trust.  This leads to sharing the word about the love and compassion of Jesus Christ and offers the only real hope for “shalom” – living at peace and right relationship to God in Christ.

Scott’s Perspective:

I have been praying about a global outward focus that can more directly involve the congregation of SRPC.  While we support global missions through our church budget, I have sensed a need to more directly connect the various ministries and ages at SRPC to a specific call of grace.

About this time, Pastor Shawn Robinson from Clayton Community Church (CCC) called me and asked if I would go on this trip with him.  CCC had already committed to this part of Africa and thought we might be interested.  Two slots were set apart for us to go.

Through the gracious offer of some in the church and the missions committee, both Stephen and I are able to go and see what God will say to us.

Honestly, at first I wanted to commit resources because the need is obvious and the cause so tremendous.  It really means saving lives.  One such example is the sustainability of fresh water supply through a well.  Infant mortality rates alone can be reduced almost 50% just by this one addition to a village.  Can you imagine our children’s or youth ministry raising funds to put a well into a village?  Can you imagine the life of a child and the joy of a mother and father to see that child thrive because of clean water?

As real as is the need, World Vision encourages me to wait – to come and see.  To be in the specific place and meet the real people that would be impacted should we make a decision to respond.

Scanning the channels at home, I came across a documentary called Where the Water Meets the Sky.  It was the story of AIDS orphans in Zambia.  Young girls forced into prostitution in order to survive – until they themselves contracted AIDS.

World Vision responds to such crisis with clinics, counseling, training and stocking medical supplies to help turn the tide.

Ultimately, the work of World Vision is not reactionary – but proactive.  Moving a village from hopelessness to hope and healing – to create a community of meaning and life. 

What will God say to us?  I anticipate, but must wait to make sure.  I need your prayers to help me hear and obey.  I am listening for a church, not just myself.

Stephen’s Perspective

The decision to go on this trip to Africa has been an adventure in itself for me.  When the opportunity was first presented to me I turned it down for a couple reasons.  One was the tight schedule that this trip would fit into for me (squished between junior high houseboats and Spirit West Coast), but more importantly than that was an issue of motive.  I did want to go, but seemingly at first for all of the wrong reasons.  As I began to pray through the issues and think more about the trip it became clear to me that these dates on my calendar were open for a reason.   My selfish motives started to change over time to where the trip was no longer just about me going to Africa.  It was at that time that I got back to Scott that if the spot was still open for the trip that I was ready.  God seems to be teaching me more and more about His justice, righteousness, and holiness all in preparation of this trip.  As I began to experience things through an event with Invisible Children, our own mission trip to Philadelphia, and even the houseboat curriculum for this year, my heart has begun a transformation to attempt to see things the way God sees them.  This is clearly a journey and I fully recognize that I am in process.  I believe that we are going to Zambia in order to see where God is already at work and to see if there is an opportunity for us (personally, and/or corporately as a church) to get involved with at this time.

There are so many ways to come alongside me in prayer for this trip.  For the team in general I know that safety, health, and travel mercies are among the concerns.  For me personally, I know that this trip is going to be difficult.  As it is a vision trip, we are not being asked to do any physical work.  I know that I will want to bring my western thought and just start digging in to help where I can.  I pray that God would break me of the mentality that I have all the answers; that I would be able to truly listen and hear those we meet.  With all of this being said, I pray that God would invade my preconceived notions of why we are there and show me His intentions of why we are there.  I pray that I could see people how God sees them.  I pray that my heart would break for the very things that break God’s heart.  I pray that it would only be by relying on God’s strength that I physically would make it through these 3 weeks of travel.  Thank you for all of your support, encouragement and prayers.

Psalm 25:6-7

Remember, O LORD, your great mercy and love,
   for they are from of old.
Remember not the sins of my youth
   and my rebellious ways;
according to your love remember me,
   for you are good, O LORD.

Last night the Session of SRPC met with some of the leadership of San Ramon Valley Gospel Church (SRVGC) to pray together.  Meeting in the youth room and various classrooms of SRPC, SRVGC is a partner with us as we both seek His kingdom.  We prayed through portions of Psalm 25 – which is the basis of my reflection today.

In ancient Greek thought, Homer taught Hades was the kingdom of lēthē (oblivion and forgetfulness).  Its inhabitants are mute and unremembered.  To put it into a parallel equation:

• Forgetting = silence = death
• Remembering = speech = life

It isn’t hard to imagine this as we struggle with our parents as Alzheimer’s sets in.  The inability of remember often goes to silence.  Hades or not, this forgetting/silence leads to a gradual decline to death. 

Remembering is not simply nostalgia of the past – it is, in itself, a reengagement of life.  We know this as we hear the stories of our families shared by Grandparents and parents.  We hear the joys and struggles, the relocations of home and relationships; we take in the emotion and passion of life along with the plotline in the details.

In the Bible, remembering is also an act of reengagement.  The focus, however, is often on the nature of God and covenantal grace God has established with us.

We pick up this sense when we read of the Noahic covenant in Genesis 9:15: “I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures of every kind. Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life.”

To think of God as needing to or having to remember is odd.  Our lives, however, are staked to this act of remembering.  When we call for God to remember his covenantal promises to us, we are asking God to act in accordance with the covenant. 

We can see this in Psalm 25, where David calls for God to remember and remember not!  The basis of the covenant is God’s own character and attributes. Knowing this, David appeals to the great mercy and love which are from old, old times – indeed as old, so-to-speak, as God.  That God would have mercy at all is rooted in His move toward us with a zeal of love and kindness, not judgment.  David does this many times: he appeals to God on the basis of who God is rather than who David is.  And this important truth is the key to “calling” out for God to remember.

If God does not remember – if God is silent – then there remains only loss for us.  But if God remembers – and God speaks – then life is restored.  So David confesses his sin – but he asks God to remember not his rebelliousness – his youthful transgressions.  To those, David appeals for forgetfulness=silence=the death of judgment.

We see this again in Psalm 51.  David has grievously sinned.  Not as a youth, but as a King and leader of Israel and her military. Nonetheless, David begins his confession by appealing to the covenantal promises of God to be merciful: Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions.

Acknowledgement of sin absent from covenantal mercy results in either despair or apathy.  David has no part of either – he is passionately broken in the Presence of God.  But it is a brokenness that is also the result of God’s mercy to sensitize us to His heart: Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones you have crushed rejoice. (Ps. 51:8)

Israel understood (another act of remembering, but that for another time) that remembering was incumbent upon them, too.  To quote from the Dictionary of New Testament Theology (ed. Colin Brown, vol. 3, pg 232):

The existence of the people of Israel, their faith in Yahweh as their savior and redeemer, their obedience to him as their sovereign and as Lord of history, their public worship—all these things are grounded in their experience of his gracious help in the past.  Hence, at their festivals the people of God are publically called upon to remember, and as they do so, the same God who did such great things for them in the past, speaks to them once again at the present.  In this way, at daily worship and at the recurring festivals, the words spoken, sung or heard take up redemptive history and turn it into something requiring present commitment.

We see this in the David’s request of God to, “Show me your ways, O LORD, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.” (Ps 25:4-5)

After David’s repentance in Psalm 51, and after being cleansed by God’s mercy and love, he knows this must result in present commitment:

Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.  Then I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners will turn back to you. Save me from bloodguilt, O God, the God who saves me, and my tongue will sing of your righteousness. O Lord, open my lips,  and my mouth will declare your praise. – Psalm 51:12-15

Remembering God’s covenant toward us moves us in the moment to act out of His great love.  David recommits to righteousness and to teaching the ways of God.

When we come to the Lord’s Table we are called to a new covenant and to a new remembering.  Rooted in the salvific history of Israel in Temple, sacrifice, priesthood, atonement and grace, Jesus establishes a covenant of forgiveness written in his blood (Matt 26:28).  He held forth the bread and spoke: “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.” (Luke 22:19). 

Remember what?

Remember that He is the Lamb of God, as John the Baptist declared, that takes away the sins of the world.  Remember that He will drink it again with us in His kingdom.  Remembering this sustains us in the present.  Remembering this challenges us to act in keeping with the forgiveness we have received (John 15).  Remembering this covenant calls for us to recount the goodness and grace of our Lord Jesus Christ.

We approach the Holy season.  In but a few days we, like Israel of old, will gather in order to remember: Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter (Resurrection) Sunday.  We will tell of His love and His new covenant.  We will reflect on the depth of Jesus’ life as Son of Man and Son of God.  We will tell of His goodness and the sweetness of grace received in the love of God through Christ.

And we will remember.

We hear the screaming from up the street.  We knew the voice.  Although modulated by shock and pain, we immediately knew the cries of our son, Jason.  Running out of the house, we found him next door on the ground.  He had run his bike into a fence and a jagged piece of the metal had ripped open his sking at the knee.  We could see the bone, the tissue, the skin serrated by sharp metal.

We lived 12 miles from the clinic, the only medical facility closer than another 45 miles.  Placing him into the care, we raced toward the little town of Downieville.  One lane each direction was all we had.  The road skirted alongside the river.  Places to pass were minimal and before us was a behemoth RV whose driver had – apparently – never seen a squirrel since he slowed at the sight of each critter dashing around the woods lining the road.

My frustration was quickly moving to anger as I tried to get around him – flashing my headlights and forcing the horn on my car to shrill out warnings.  He never moved off the road, not even when there were pull-outs available.

At that moment, with my son bleeding and our compressing the wound – I wanted to hurt the driver for his refusal to honor the code of the mountains and pull over when he could.  I was extremely agitated.

Finally, a place to pass even if it meant crossing the double line.  I swerved around the hulking, shuttering home on wheels and floored the pedal.   Five miles before me lay the clinic and I made it there in record time.  I dropped off Janet – and my anger was so out of control – that I went out to the only way, the single road, through Downieville.  I waited.  I waited for the Behemoth to come through town.  We were going to have a confrontation.

I think of this when I think of Jairus.  His only daughter, daddy’s little girl, was dying.  Jairus was a man of importance.  A ruler of the synagogue.  At the moment, he would surrender all his status to do one thing: get help for his little girl.  He heard Jesus was in around and Jairus sought out this Healer.  Ignoring his standing, Jairus fell at the feet of Jesus and begged, pleaded, besieged, cried out for Jesus to come to his home and heal his only daughter of only 12 years.

Mercifully, Jesus responded and started toward the home of this synagogue leader.  But there was a behemoth in front of him: the crowds, filled to the brim with their own desperation, crushed down on Jesus – making movement difficult.  Nonetheless, Jesus pressed on.

There was one need that would not be stayed, however.  One woman who was desperate, too.  Like the age of Jairus’ daughter, she had been bleeding for 12 years.  She had spent everything to stem the flow, to stop the bleeding.  There was nothing left.  Not money.  Not doctors.  Nothing but a glimmer of hope moving through the crowd.

Pushing, grabbing, asserting herself as a last-chance-before-I-die woman, she finally reached forward and touched the edge of Jesus’ cloak.  How can you describe what happened?  A shockwave of healing flooded her body.  The blood draining from her found its way back into her body – into all the places it was supposed to be. 

Healed.  In one moment.  Healed.

“Who touched me?” Jesus asked.

No one would admit it.  Not even the woman healed.  Peter, often incredulous at Jesus’ statements, can’t believe it: “Master, the people are crowding and pressing against you.”  Of course people are touching you.  Let’s just keep moving forward.

But Jesus is not talking about simply contact. He is talking about the kind of touch that is filled with faith.  The kind of touch that stops him from moving forward to a dying girl.  Jesus delays.

However Peter may have thought Jesus to be absurd in this moment – what was Jairus thinking?  I imagine maybe a little like me in a Subaru behind an unrelenting hotel on wheels.  Come ON!  COME ON!

But Jesus will not move.  “Someone has touched me;” Jesus said, “I know that power has gone from me.”  And Jesus waits.

Although she wanted to remain unnoticed, the waiting finally defeated her anonymity.  Trembling, she too, like Jairus, fell at the feet of Jesus.  With words filled with the anguish of 12 unhealed years, she explained why she reached out for healing.

Then, Jesus says something to her that must have struck Jairus to the core.  “Daughter.”  Twelve years she had bled – and his 12 year-old was soon to not bleed at all.  Daughter.  “Daughter,” Jesus said, “your faith has healed you.  Go in peace.”

She rests in peace.  Your daughter, Jairus, rests in peace now.  “There is no need to bother the Teacher anymore.”  Even as Jesus was talking to the woman healed by faith, another daughter slipped away into eternity.

Jesus delayed.

Maybe had Jairus fell harder at the feet of Jesus.  Maybe had he been more persistent.  He should have cleared the crowds – even if forceful, even if it meant losing his standing as a synagogue leader.

But why?  Couldn’t these healings have been prioritized?  Certainly a girl dying is triaged over a woman who can make one more day with chronic condition. 

Jesus hears the report at the same time Jairus receives it.  Two men – one a father, one a Son – standing between two daughters in extreme difficulty.

“Don’t be afraid; just believe, and she will be healed.”  Jesus rescues a crumbling man with a word of certainty.

Have faith?  Believe?  The daughter just healed had faith.  The daughter just died cannot whisper words of hope.

The delay of Jesus tells us something about His love for all people.  A woman in need is not ignored over a young girl in need.  We have to prioritize because we do not bear with us the ability to speak to the living and the dead.

The delay of Jesus was not only a healing moment for a chronically ill woman – it was an acknowledgement of a healing already given.  It would not take the faith of Jairus’ 12 year-old daughter for healing.  Jairus carried her to Jesus when he came to Jesus in faith.  Just believe.  Don’t give up now.  Yes, keep bothering the Teacher.  It’s no bother at all.

I stood at the corner just outside the only gas station in town.  There were no roads between Sierra City and Downieville except Highway 49.  No turn offs to other places.  No connecting state highways to other towns.  Just one road.

At that moment, I would have surrendered my standing as a pastor in a small town in order to pour out my anguish for healing delayed.

I understand what Jairus must of felt as Jesus delayed.

But there is one huge difference – a difference as big as the lumbering boat-factory-on-wheels.  Jairus went to Jesus.  Whatever frustration he may have felt, he felt it in the presence of the Savior.  He walked with Jesus and was with Jesus in every moment of his crisis.  At the end, Jairus received back his little girl as man strengthened in faith and in closer walk with Christ.

I stood on a road apart from Jesus.  Against Jesus.  Rage was my companion.  I did receive my son back.  The scar on his knee is still there.  He is well.  But I was not.  I didn’t learn that day.  I lost sight of Jason’s needs and became consumed by my anger and healing delayed.

What happened?  There must have been an especially unusual squirrel cross the road that day – because the entire-city-on-wheels never came through town.  He must have pulled off the road into a camping ground somewhere.

And echoing in the background I can hear: “Scott, don’t be afraid.  Just believe.  I will take care of your son.  I will take care of you.  Walk with me.”

“ . . . it pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe.”  I Corinthians 1:21b (KJV)

Okay.  The NIV probably clarifies 1 Corinthians 1:21b when it translates it as, “God was pleased through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe.”  But I have always liked the good old KJV here – that preaching was foolishness!  In preaching, we are speaking into eternity and inviting God to invest the Spirit into the proclamation.  How foolish that I should think God would somehow use a sermon I preach to reach someone for Christ!

If the NIV is correct, it is the topic about which I preach that is foolishness! Let’s take a look at the passage in context (I Corinthians 1:20-25, NIV):

Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not know him, God was pleased through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe. Jews demand miraculous signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than man’s wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man’s strength. 

I am aware every Sunday that what I say is at odds with the wisdom of this world; indeed, it is foolishness.  Only a fool spends time speaking foolishness week after week. but I believe that the foolishness of God is wiser than the wisdom of man.

In some sense, preaching is a warfare of wisdom.  Against what the entire world deems as wise, a pastor asserts counter-wisdom: a subversive wisdom of faith in Christ.

How can you benefit the most from a sermon?  Here are some simple suggestions inviting you into this foolishness of God!

• Listening to a sermon starts well before you arrive on Sunday mornings and grab your coffee from George and Janis.  Prepare your mind and spirit by asking the Holy Spirit to teach you in the Word this day.  Jesus promised us regarding the Spirit: “But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you.” [i]  Since this is an activity of the Father in the name of the Son, we gladly receive this empowering teaching in the Spirit.
  • Earlier in the same chapter of John[ii], Jesus tells us the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of truth.  Ask the Spirit to bring forward truth in what is spoken and what is heard.
  • Sermons consist of reading Scripture, comparing and contrasting Scriptures and extrapolating principles from the Scriptures.  Sometimes a “practical” application concludes the teaching.  This can be helpful, but it can be limiting, too. Given by a pastor, practical application is but one aspect of response to the Scripture.  More importantly is the question, “What is the Spirit saying to me today?” and “To what is the Spirit calling me to do in response to this teaching?”  
  • This is not to say that a specific response voiced by a pastor isn’t important – it is! It is needful for community response at times because we are a family acting in life together. Move freely in this response – and continue to press in to the nuances the Spirit is bringing to you
  • Every sermon is for everyone-all-at-once and just-for-you-alone event.  Certainly the teachings of Scripture are true for all present, but the Spirit is intentional in parking these truths into your soul and working specifically with forming you into the image of Christ.
• Bring your Bible.  I know this is old school since so many churches toss the words into a PowerPoint, but a Bible is essential.  Just to show I’m cool with technology, the Bible could be on your iPad, iPhone, iTouch, iKindle, or even an old, worn and tattered iHoly Bible you got at iVacation Bible School.  Many churches provide Bibles in the pews or seats – they are there for visitors and harried parents that barely got the kids out the door that morning.  Bring YOUR Bible with as a means to get it off the shelf and into your heart. 
  • Let’s say the sermon gets boring (unlikely, but possible) – you always have a Bible in front of you to peruse and take in the context of the passage.
  • Having a Bible allows you to run down cross references and make notes of specific impact verses.  The more you hide the Word of God in your heart the greater your grasp of any sermon – and any points of application.  Knowing Scripture is the “no-brainer” of every Believer.  Let’s put it this way: If we believe God created us and redeemed us in Christ – if we believe that God sent the Spirit in the name of Christ – if we believe God leads us into eternity – how could we possibly ignore the words God has spoken to us in Scripture?  
  • Having a Bible with you is a purposeful statement that we recognize the authority of God in Scripture to “command belief and obedience.”[iii]  With this understanding, the function of preaching is all the more clear.
• Before leaving your seat at the end of the service, take a moment to breathe a prayer.  Ask the Spirit of truth to continue teaching you through this week. 
• Discuss with others, your family, perhaps a small group or a co-worker – what the teaching was about and what the Spirit was teaching you.  Share the commitments you have made as the Spirit has led you into responding.

What if Sunday was the height of the week, the day from which everything flowed and to which everything anticipated?  Look at the chart and think about the four “R’s” of the week:

Flowing Out From Sunday (Sunday through Wednesday)

• Reflecting.  Take time to think about, meditate on, pray about, turning over and over the Scripture and the teaching.
• Relaying.  Begin talking to people about what you’ve been discovering in the reflection time.  Talking with others not only seals your thinking, it invites others into the process.

Flowing Toward From Sunday (Thursday through Sunday )

• Responding.  In thoughtful steps, begin responding to that which God’s Spirit and Word have led you.  Put feet and hands to the commitments.
• Readying.  Begin preparing your mind and soul for Sunday – anticipating the richness of the fellowship, worshipping together, prayer and Word.

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[i] John 14:26

[ii] John 14:15-18

[iii] For a full discussion of this point, see Millard J. Erickson, Christian Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 1998), pp 266-285

There is a confluence of the Yuba and Downie rivers in Downieville,  California.  The waters sweep over rocks creating hydraulics and there is more than one risky horizon lines to navigate. “There’s gold in them there hills” is not a quaint quote from bygone days: dredges and sluice boxes work the rivers seeking fortune a pennyweight at a time.

With class 4 and 5 rapids and outstanding mountain bike riding, the surer gold on the river is dredged from wallets belonging to Urbanites seeking a thrill during an extended weekend.

Highway 49 drops you into this isolated hamlet where once, back in 1851, Juanita was hung from the Jersey Bridge for stabbing Fredrick Cannon to death.  “Adios Senores,” parted her lips before the rope fulfilled its duty. 

For eight years we served this town, ministering in a small Assembly of God church that met in the school, then the Community Hall and at last in the United Methodist Church.

It was in this town I really learned about bedrock.  Not as a principal or a geological data point – but as the opportunity for a dream to be met: a dream that showed up in the form of a gold nugget in the offering plate.

These rivers and their tributaries force gold downstream.  The heavier the stone, the deeper it descends until it can sink no more because it encounters bedrock.  Through a labyrinth of gravel and rock and silt and moss the gold miner straps rock to cable, vacuum to stone, and hose to air supply for one goal: gold.

It’s dangerous work, moving to bedrock.  The wrong displacement can lead to an arm smashed and wedged between rocks.  Cables can snap.  Exhaust from the dredge can find its way into the air supply for the diver.  Death can – and does – happen under the cold waters of the river.

Bedrock: the goal of serious dredgers – or at least the place of their goal.  The way to it provides flakes and pennyweights of gold – always beckoning for further exploration.  Move everything if you must; but get to the bottom of things.

We were praying in staff the other day when in my prayers this issue of bedrock became a metaphor during my prayer.  “How hard it is,” I thought during my prayer, “to get to bedrock.  There is so much that gets in the way.”

Not only is there the voluminous tuff of tailings to move through, there is the sheer physical labor of moving sand and stone.  It is extensively hard work accompanied by constant setbacks.  It takes strength of body and mind to keep moving through false hopes and freezing water.

Then there are the smaller successes prior to bedrock.  Nuggets that got wedged between rocks and very small slices of gold that swirl about when added to small vials of water.  You can take these immediately and sell to local stores and gaping tourists.  Every moment away from the dredge counts off time toward the end of the season.  Nonetheless, the immediate exchange of nugget to cash is hard to resist.  The successful gold miner does resist the urgent and presses to the important.

Edward Mote and William Bradbury knew what they were writing when they penned the words and music :

My hope is built on nothing less

Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness

I dare not trust the sweetest frame

But wholly lean on Jesus’ name

His oath His covenant His blood

Support me in the whelming flood

When all around my soul gives way

He then is all my hope and stay

On Christ the solid Rock I stand

All other ground is sinking sand

All other ground is sinking sand

The Rock.  The Cornerstone.  On Christ , the solid rock I stand.  Not a rock laid upon other rocks.  Not a boulder resting on the bedrock.  But the bedrock.

At times in my life I have settled for the lesser.  While every nugget is a treasure, there are yet still greater treasures to be had in Christ.  There are times the immediate blessing takes over the need to persevere over the long haul.  Because the work of digging deeper is arduous – I too often take what is surface and easier to obtain.

Weary, I settle in on sand and silt while wiser Believers know this is just tailing.

It’s dangerous work, getting to bedrock.  It threatens me.  I think at the start I know what I want – but Christ so alters me in the task that He changes my desires.  The gold I thought I wanted turns out to be fool’s gold and the real gold – well, it’s found by finally resting my feet on the bedrock of Jesus.

Sometimes I lament that the shifting sands, the sinking sands, are doing just that.  Sometimes I would be content to settle in, even if it is on a false foundation – a far lesser foundation.  To counter Mote and Bradbury, my hope is built on settled sand.

I know this is true of me.

So, where then is my hope?  In my ability to force my will to go to bedrock?  To exert all the harder, all the longer – to press through the dark and freezing waters at all cost?

I thank God that One has already done this for me.  Where I cave in to my weakness, He stood firm.  Where I settle for lesser – He meant it when He said, “Not my will, but Yours.”  I hold fast to the statement by the apostle Paul:  ^“Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose.” (Philippians 2:12-13, NIV)

To be sure, there is a working out – but it is framed in the context of a God who works IN us – altering the desires of our heart and changing our will to conform to His.  All my striving toward bedrock is in some sense a resting in what He is doing within.

It’s an active resting, however.  Of course, it is.  To actually rest in Christ’s work is one of the hardest things I have ever done.  I find this wonderful nugget – and then jump out of the stream to accomplish my desires (even in His name!!).  To stay on this wonderful Rock, this bedrock of eternity – this is the greatest reward of all.

I think I’ve messed up this thought and will have ot come back and rework it for consistency of thought and metaphor.  Nonetheless, I toss it out as that – a reflection that is still messy, not fully developed and needing a better writer than me!

Nebraska restrains the bitterest winds until the temperature drops far enough down to make their partnership especially harsh.  Then, as if it were some odd, twisted Christmas gift, Nebraska releases the two in a welcome to its grayish winter.

Like awkward penguins, we shuffled across the iced parking lot toward the doors that swung open to our dying mother.  For days my sister – and then the two of us – had played Yhatzee by her bedside.  Interspersed with questions for the Hospice nurse, the staff of the home and memory trips between the two of us, we had drawn near to Christmas with the realization this was our last gift to Mom: our presence.

Our brother came, too.  Finally, after a week of waiting, we took a brief break for lunch.  Of course, she died while we were out eating: her last gift to us.

Here in the Bay Area of Northern California, it is hard to sing songs about the weather being frightful and the snow being so delightful.  The wind is about the same and the temperature does get chilly . . . but not too much.

This is the first Christmas without my parents.  Dad died back in July of 1996 and mom joined him in December of last year.

With Passover drawing near, Jesus made arrangements to secure a room to partake with his disciples.  Passover was a meal shared with family; yet in some manner Jesus took each of his disciples away from their immediate families in order to eat this meal with them.

In the background another conversation informs this one:

While Jesus was still talking to the crowd, his mother and brothers stood outside, wanting to speak to him. Someone told him, “Your mother and brothers are standing outside, wanting to speak to you.”

He replied to him, “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?” Pointing to his disciples, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.”

The apostle Paul, revolutionized by the risen Lord, is incredulous that the church at Corinth does not take in either of the above incidents as their own.  Gathering for the supper of our Savior, they come and maintain their economic and ethnic distinctions.  Those with rich tastes sit together lest the poor partake in the ancient Sunday pot-luck dinner.  In the midst of such division, the apostle warns: “For anyone who eats and drinks without recognizing the body of the Lord eats and drinks judgment on himself.”

It’s as if Paul can’t believe he has to tell them that they are part of a new family: made brothers and sisters in the risen Christ.  How can such division continue in this family meal?  If it does, Paul warns: judgment.

Though these verses may seem strange to you as a Christmas message – to me they make perfect sense.  I am orphaned in this world through the death of both parents.   But there is another sense – and a more real sense – in which my father and mother are made my brother and sister in the redeeming work of Jesus.

The same Spirit that adopted them into the heart of God and put on their souls the words of ‘Abba, Father’ is the One that has done so for me.  For all of eternity my father and mother have become my brother and sister as we worship the Lamb who blazes brilliance throughout all creation.

Jesus certainly did not make this earthborn family of no value!  Honor your father and mother was but one of the commandments of God he perfectly kept.  But Jesus went about creating a community that was based on something eternal: himself.

That child in the feeding trough in the city of David came to make sure I was not orphaned in eternity.

So, Dad and Mom – you’re having the merriest of Christmases as you behold Him with unveiled faces.

See you in His time.

Recently a friend wrote to me about a question he had been asked: “Throughout the entire Bible, from Genesis to Revelation, which is the single most important biblical verse?”  My friend wanted to know what I thought.  What a difficult task!

My favorite passage of the Bible is Psalm 51 – but that’s an entire chapter.

One of my favorite concepts in the Bible is the rich and deeply nuanced thread throughout the Scripture: the Temple/Priesthood.

My favorite story in the Bible? The Prodigal Son.  Or maybe, Esther.  This is too hard to decide.  Okay, the Prodigal Son.

My central person?  Jesus, and through Him – the Father and Spirit.

But one verse?  And not just my favorite: the question was about important.  I thought of many – perhaps the oddest being Genesis 15:17.  Yes, Genesis 15:17. That’s a story for another time.

My friend needed a quick response because he was speaking to the person asking the question: a person searching for a place to land in faith.  So I picked the obvious and in a few moments of looking at the verse, jotted down some initial thoughts.

I sent the letter to my friend and thought I would share it with you with one proviso: What is your favorite verse in the Bible?  Write me and let me know why.  You don’t have to list 17 reasons.

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 (NIV)

This passage is important to me for several reasons:

1. It presupposes the existence of God (For God . . .)
2. It speaks to the personal nature of this God (so loved)
3. It speaks to the fact that God is not dispassionate (his love moved him to act – I am using this in a nontechnical sense.  Way too much to go into here!)
4. It speaks to the awareness and interaction with that which is outside God’s own existence (the world)
5. It speaks to the redemptive and generous character of God (he gave)
6. It speaks to the nature of the godhead: there is relationship within the godhead (his son)
7. It speaks to degrees, if you will, of distinction within the godhead (his son given/sent)
8. It speaks to the incarnation and the intentional emptying by the son to the father for the purposes of redemption (son given/sent)
9. It speaks to the uniqueness of the relationship (his one and only son)
10. It speaks to the state of the world apart from God (perish)
11. It speaks to God’s movement of redemption (there is a way to not perish)
12. It speaks to the need for direct interaction of the world toward God (whoever believes)
13. It speaks to the need for relationship as the core of the belief, not only a doctrine (whoever believes in him)
14. It speaks to the issues of religious practices as the means of redemption in distinction to faith in a person (whosoever believes in him)
15. It speaks to the possession of the one who believes (but have)
16. It speaks to eternity – thus moving us to the greater issues of what life itself means (eternal life vs. perishing)
17. It speaks to God’s ability to bring about that which He purposes (shall not  . . . but have)

Each one of these points would need expansion to understand them properly; but the genius of this short little 26 word passage is that it presents all of these issues either outright or in an incipient manner.  The reflective reader will spend time pursuing the many implications of this masterful verse.  I spent about 10 minutes to come up with the 17 reasons above – which only proves you don’t have to be too reflective a person to think through a passage.

For example, number 13 – It speaks to the need for relationship as the core of the belief, not only a doctrine (whoever believes in him): The working out of this issue is the turning point in the life and meaning of the apostle Paul.  For him to move from religious practice to faith in Christ is what the book of Romans, Galatians and Ephesians is all about.  In his letter, James wrestles with the implications of faith as it relates to religious works – and what moves one to redemption.

Where people land on these varying discussions will certainly differ.  This only affirms the passage bears the basis of the discussions – it’s all there ready to be unwrapped.  Brilliant!

The Bible is a mercy of God to us – new every morning.  Take some time to meditate on your favorite passage.  Then check out a few more verses while you’re at it.  Maybe among your favorites you’ll find one that seems deeply important.

May His Spirit open your heart and understanding to His Word.

 

 

 

 

 



The remaining fruit salad waited in isolation as the conversation turned theological.  The early evening dinner was another moment with our friend, Tracie.  About three months ago her husband had been waiting to turn left when a SUV careened out of control and landed on everything that was Stephen.  Gone.

Three months into a life she hadn’t planned, she sat at our table and shared in the simple discussions of simple things.  Two grandchildren and our daughter and son-in-law sat with us as the satellite music channel pumped out contemporary Christian music.

Now, toward the end of our evening, eschatology was the discussion.  With one grandchild in the bath and another downstairs with Dad, we three talked about Jesus and peace.

Just as she rose to leave, the music filtered through the moment and Chris Tomlin was in our kitchen singing, “I Will Rise.”

There are moments when the veneer of normalcy is stripped back and raw, unfiltered, unfettered, “I-am-so-deeply-pained-and-I-can-hardly-take-being-alive” emotions manifest themselves.  This was one such moment.

Shortly after Stephen was killed, I arrived at his home with a song that had invaded my soul all morning.  Taking the CD from the car, I told Tracie that this song was comfort to me as I reflected on Stephen.  His knees badly scarred from multiple surgeries, his gait altered from adjusting to the pain – Stephen found getting up from a seated position a process of focused energy.  Now, released from the constraints of joints and tissue, Stephen could rise and give God praise.

Tracie listened to the song and signed some of the words that wafted through her kitchen.  A deep, guttural cry released as the final tones quieted.  With strength of emotion to hard to describe, she cried out. “It’s perfect.”  Her own grief intermingling with the thoughts of Stephen worshipping/Stephen gone from her.

Now, in this unexpected moment months away, the enormity of his absence was exposed as the song played and an abyss of pain filled the room.

There is little anyone can do in such a moment.  Only cry.  And hug.  And hold.  And stand in awe of the incredible immensity of grief.  This was a pain not contained: it reached out and demanded our surrender to it.  And we did.  Janet held, I circled the three of us.  A momentary thought: turn off the music!!!  But there was no turning back – this moment could only be journeyed through, not around.

“Jesus wept,” the writer, John, tells us.  He weeps at the tomb of his friend, Lazarus.  How profound his weeping must have been.  Those around him, those that observed him, commented about the depth of his love for Lazarus measured alongside his significant sorrow.

Jesus wept.

But so did Mary and Martha, the sisters of Lazarus.  Their grief multiplied by a torturous thought: “Where was Jesus?”

Hadn’t Jesus received the news of Lazarus’ illness?  To drive the point home, the message was sent to Jesus in this manner: “Lord, the one you love is sick.”  The one you love.  The reasonable expectation of such a statement is that the one loved would receive a hasty response.

But Jesus waited.  Two days passed before he gathered up the crew of disciples and headed into Judea and Bethany.  Two days.

It’s in these moments that we most ardently hope that God is paying attention to our lives.  C.S. Lewis observed during his own grief at the loss of his wife, Joy:

Meanwhile, where is God?  This is one of the most disquieting symptoms.  When you are happy, so happy that you have no sense of needing Him, so happy that you are tempted to feel His claims upon you as an interruption, if you remember yourself and turn to Him with gratitude and praise, you will be – or so it feels – welcomed with open arms.  But go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find?  A door slammed in your face, and a sound of bolting and double bolting on the inside.  After that, silence.  You may as well turn away.  The longer you wait, the more emphatic the silence will become.  There is no light in the windows.  It might be an empty house. . . Why is He so present a commander in our time of prosperity and so very absent a help in time of trouble?

Martha must have felt the bitterness of this delay.  Were not she and Mary and Lazarus the best friends he had?  “Yes, go and do what you must,” Martha may have thought, “but when your real friends need you – COME!”

Jesus arrives too late.  Lazarus is in the tomb and Mary—the one so attentive to Jesus in the past—stays in the house as Martha goes out to see Jesus.  Her first words to their friend, Jesus?  “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

If you had been here.  If only you were paying attention.  If only you responded to our plea.

These words carry the pain of disappointed faith.  Disappointment with the One we trusted.  In these words all the words we aren’t supposed to utter come forth.  Why?  Where were you, God?  Is it too much to care for those you love?

So broken.  So unfathomably hurt.  “If you had just showed up things would be different. But you didn’t.  And things aren’t different.”

Martha goes to get Mary: “The teacher is here and is asking for you.”  And what does Mary say when she sees Jesus?  “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

Those who know the story know that Jesus said he would raise Lazarus.  Those who know the story know that Martha, after saying things would be different if Jesus had come also said, “But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.”

“All this confidence shows that they trusted Jesus and never wavered in their faith,” counter those who know the story.  “Jesus is the resurrection and the life; he even tells Martha this,” counters the contextualist.

But do you hear the weeping?  Are you standing in the room with Mary and Martha?  They are mourning!  And Jesus.  He weeps.

Throw all the theology around and you still have grief in full display.  Loss.  Pain.  Suffering.  Hurt.  Stand with us in the kitchen and wonder at the severity of the wounding.

“I will rise,” Tomlin sings.  It is a hope not lost at all, but certainly pushed to the outer edges of focus at the moment.  Right now, in this moment, we weep.  And Jesus?  I believe he was in the kitchen with us.  He knows the song better than Chris Tomlin.  He knows where Stephen is and where we all will be.

I also believe he was doing what he did standing outside the tomb of his friend: weeping.

Tissue Issues

This Sunday, the first Sunday of September, we come to the table of our Lord.  As is the practice each first Sunday, we come as a community to a common meal of redemption.

It was in the presence of family, of disciples, of friends that Jesus gathered for the Passover meal that would end all meals, as such.  The Passover required community at a meal.  Appropriate, since Jesus came to build a new community, a new people, a church.

It is in this sense, and much more, that when we gather we participate as a people in Communion; the word itself – and the practice of our Lord – make clear the connection.

While no given approach may be in itself prove to be more sanctified than others – it is clear that the approach to serving communion can shape and inform the understanding of it.

At SRPC we have been using intinction.  In the gathering around a common (common-union) cup, we all partake of the cup of Christ.  By dipping the bread into the cup, we signify a participation in His sacrifice that makes us His Redeemed and unites us as a family.

Growing up sitting in a pew with trays of hardened crackers followed by one of grape juice, I treasured the meaning of communion as applied to me, Scott Downing.  The form, while meaningful on a personal level, did little to remind me of the communal nature of what was being offered.  In some way, the ‘me’ of redemption was reinforced while the ‘we’ of communion was sublimated.

We face this issue as the spread of the H1N1 flu virus becomes a concern for some.  Is taking of a common cup an easy way to catch the virus?  Aren’t churches in England and Ireland abstaining from a common cup for fear of the virus?  Should our practice not pay attention to the warnings of theses churches?

It is true that some churches in Europe have issued directives to their congregations to abstain from various practices:

• Shaking hands during the ‘passing of peace’
• Serving the cup and the bread (some now only serve the bread for Communion)
• From any ‘holy kiss’

Along with these measures, the repetition of common sense flu season warnings has been forwarded:

• Wash hands frequently
• Cough into your arm rather than your hand
• Use tissues when sneezing and dispose of tissue properly and wash your hand again!
• Stay home if you are sick
• If someone is sick in your home, stay near home for five days to see if you have caught the virus
• If possible, cease all living functions, end all relationships and draw your life to a close.

Okay, that last one was not on the list.  I made that one up. Perhaps it’s an overreaction.  Sorry.

What are we to do?  Just the other day the Washington Post reported:

Fairfax County middle school student Hal Beaulieu hopped up from his lunch table one day a few months ago, sat next to his girlfriend and slipped his arm around her shoulder. That landed him a trip to the school office.

Among his crimes: hugging.

All touching — not only fighting or inappropriate touching — is against the rules at Kilmer Middle School in Vienna. Hand-holding, handshakes and high-fives? Banned. The rule has been conveyed to students this way: “NO PHYSICAL CONTACT!!!!!”

In light of this fear, I think it wise for a dialogue for our church.  We are blessed to have several doctors in our congregation and a theologian or two (I’m thinking Jim Sawyer and Denny Smith) that can help us navigate through this discussion.  Look for a date for discussion before our next Communion.

This week we still will have intinction but there are a few things I and the Session suggest:

• Wash hands prior to church.
• Use the normal hygiene practices noted above (except the one I added)
• We will use larger pieces of bread allowing for several things:
  • Easier to take a piece of bread
  • Easier and more firm grip on the bread while dipping
  • The servers will slightly lean the cup toward you – allowing for simpler access
  • Dip bread only slightly into cup – save full immersion for Baptism Sunday

For some, these steps are simply not enough.  For others, it is silly overreaction.  One thing is sure: we will not satisfy everyone on this discussion!  We will, however, take seriously the discussion and seek a respectful resolution that balances the theological and medical issues.

Thank you for your time, your participation and your prayers.