GOALS 2 Corinthians 5

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No, I’m not rehashing errant field goal attempts from some past Super Bowl!  Nor am I remembering the annual visit to my investment company manager’s office to declare in writing what my dollar goals would be for the new year.  Like I have a crystal ball.  Or some tea leaves to decipher.  Or worse, slicing an animal’s liver to decode the year ahead.

2 Corinthians 5: 9–‘So we make it our goal to please Him (Jesus)…’  St. Paul doesn’t issue a command, but voluntarily decides to please his Lord and Savior.  His preference.  Ours?  Goal #1?  Most of the time it’s you-know-who.  Me!

But who deserves it most?  Guess!  It’s not like God is narcissistic and self-serving, craving endless attention.  Like some people we know, who must always be right.  Know-it-all smart alecks.  Talk incessantly about themselves.  A regular I love me.  Boring beyond measure.

No.  He’s not needy like we are.  After all, He actually deserves our attention, praise, and worship.  Because He’s Lord of all… always.  Don’t rob Him of what’s rightfully His.

And, by the way, we owe Him.   2 Corinthians 5: 15–‘And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again.’  Crystal clear?  Shouldn’t we live for Him?  The answer’s way too obvious.  Here’s the goal–  ‘…for him.’  Again ‘…for him.’

All this week, we’ll have choices to make.  To please God?  How?  Don’t ask me.  Ask Him.  By the way, why not admit it.  We know what pleases God.  Don’t we?  Then do it!

 

Lord, to follow Jesus is absolute joy.  Thank you.  Amen.

EVEN ELIJAH CAN’T FIGURE IT OUT 1 Kings 17

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If Elijah can’t figure it out, what hope is there for me?  Here in 1 Kings 17, the prophet finds himself in a quandary.  About what?  Fleeing drought and famine in Israel, he finds much the same in Zarephath, a Phoenician town along Israel’s Mediterranean northern coast.  He meets a widow who is preparing a last supper for herself and her son.  Only enough flour and oil for a trifle of a final meal.  Nothing extra to share especially with a total stranger.

Not known for shyness, Elijah tells this poor woman to give him some water and food before they get a bite or a sip.  Can you imagine?  What chutzpah.  What a nerve.  Brazen so-and-so.  Here, serve me first!

You probably know that God performs a miracle.  This widow will not run out of flour or oil as long as the famine lasts.  Cheers go up daily as God’s provision is made for all three.

Sometime later, this woman’s faith gets tested when her only son dies.  She rails against Elijah, wondering if her sins have caught up with her–‘What do you have against me, man of God?  Did you come to remind me of my sin and kill my son?’ (1 Kings 17:18).  Her faith hits a brick wall.  Hangs by a tiny filament of thread.

Elijah knows who can help–“Then he cried out to the Lord, ‘O Lord my God, have you brought tragedy also upon this widow I am staying with, by causing him to die?'” (1 Kings 17:20).  The prophet doesn’t know what’s going on.  What gives, Lord?  What are you up to?  Killing her son?  See what I mean?

If Elijah doesn’t know, how can we?  Often I have no idea what God wants me to do.  Oh sure, not to murder or steal or lie.  The Ten Commandments.  No problem there.  But lots of other decisions are left hanging in the air, without a clue or hint…from Him.  Silence from above.  E-mails and texts ignored.  No return call.

When in doubt, do what Elijah does.  What’s that?  He takes hold of the boy.  Doesn’t bury his head in the sand.  Grabs hold.  Talks with his Lord.  Lays it all out.  No crafting certain words.  Prays for life to return.  And then prays some more.

In this case, the boy revives.  But who knows?  Maybe, in my case, nothing changes.  Or I won’t like God’s answers.  The opposite of what I asked for.  Or no word at all.  Then what?  That’s my quandary.  Just me?

Can I still hang in there with Jesus?  Pray without ceasing?  Without obvious answers?  Move ahead with trust and faith?  Be true to Jesus, the Father and the Holy Spirit?  Can I?  Will I?

And you?

 

Thank you, Lord, for faith that doesn’t give up.  Amen. 

NASTY COLD FRONT Mark 2: 18-22

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I always wanted to ski.  On snow that is since I can’t swim.  Looks like such fun sooshing down newly groomed slopes of fresh powder.  Bobbing and weaving past evergreen trees.  Jumping moguls.  Only problem is that I’m petrified of heights.  No problem going down but the other raises immediate issues!  Since I can’t fly, I try the chair lift.

Oy vey!  I didn’t know my fears could rise higher than where this infernal moving bench is going.  An instructor advises me to persist as the phobia will eventually disappear.  Yea, right.  Liar, liar, pants…

Only gets worse.  Sashaying onto the lift is easy, but elevating skis and timing my exit, as the chair keeps going, is way too complicated.  Off I slide, down on all fours!  Skinned hands with skis stuck in the packed ice and snow.  Lift stops with other skiers dangling in the frosty air.  I’m never so popular.

I immediately notice that it feels mighty cold in my nether regions.  Falling was one thing but ripping the entire back of my ski pants ushers in a cold snap where least wanted.  An ill wind blows for sure.

On a much more serious note, Jesus talks about ripping garments and bursting wineskins.  In Mark 2, He points out that the newness He brings will not work within worn-out garments and brittle wineskins, symbolic of stifling religious rituals.  His new rips apart the old.  No patches allowed.  Religious rigidity won’t work.  Never has, never will.  It’s the supple heart He looks for.

Garments rip when Jesus appears before the high priest Caiaphas in Mark 14.  When Jesus affirms that He’ll be seen sitting at the right hand of God and coming again in judgement and glory, Caiaphas no longer tolerates such blasphemy.  Mark 14:63–‘The high priest tore his clothes’.

Wine sacks burst open, the high priest’s clothing tears, but even more happens in the Temple when Jesus dies.  The heavy curtain, which separates off the Holy of Holies, reminds all that God detaches Himself from sinful people.  Division rules.  ‘Keep Out’ signs will be obeyed, until Jesus dies and that heavy curtain is torn from its top all the way down to the bottom.  Ripped apart.  As if by God’s own hands.

And a new welcome sign goes up.  The porch light stays on.  Back door unlocked.  Welcome home, my child!

 

Thank you, Jesus, for tearing sin from our lives.  Amen.

 

FOUNDATIONS AND FOOTINGS 1 Corinthians 3

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At this moment two homes are being constructed across the street from us.  We’ve lived in this new development for over 4 years.  Our home being one of the first ones built.  Construction noises part of our DNA.  Do we mind it?  Sometimes, but no pain, no gain!  And we love it here.

After the land is cleared by a rather noisy piece of earth-moving equipment which we call the ‘evil machine’, we shout a word of thanks!  Then the foundation men arrive.  Measuring tape in hand.  Blueprints to follow.  Wooden foundation frames put in place.  Concrete footings constructed, along with poured cement filling those frames.  Cement usually hardens in a day or two, meaning that the foundation guys return removing the wooden framing.  Voila!

Foundations complete.  Now begins the structural framing to finish the home in about 4 months.  Takes awhile.  Requires exact planning and measuring.  Hard labor.  Precision work.

Windows…insulation…mudding…painting inside and out…gutters…doors…composite roof…cabinets…electrics and plumbing…and so on.   All at a rather high price!

Reading 1 Corinthians 3, I note similarities with our Christian life– ‘For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ’ (1 Cor. 3:11).  Hence, the question–upon what am I building my life?  To make money?  It’s necessary but not as our all-in-all.  To get recognition?  It’s nice to be appreciated.  To make my mark for Jesus?  Not as often as I’d like.

Here’s a warning sign–‘But each one should be careful how he builds’ (1 Cor. 3:10).  ‘…careful how he builds.’  Good point.  For me I have to work at keeping Jesus front-and-center daily.  He too easily gets booted to the sidelines almost out of sight.  Often I’m asking Him to bless decisions I’ve already made long before even thinking about consulting Him.  I’m in charge until I remember who really is.  A tad late but better than never.

So, as early as possible, ask for His guidance.  His will, which is not always easy to discern.  But hang in there.  Don’t jump before you look.  Take your time.  Use the measuring tape of the Bible.  Jesus your foundation.  Frame Him Lord of your life.  You’ll find your footing.

Doesn’t happen overnight.  He has lots to do.  Takes time.  Will be costly.  Notice that the house is going up.  We’ll soon move in.  Get ready.

By the way, He has another one for us over the hilltop.  A mansion (John 14:1-6).  That He’s built.  Won’t that be just out of this world!

 

Thank you, Jesus, for home sweet home with you.  Amen.

QUICKLY! MOVE ON… 1 Samuel 12: 20-25 and 16: 1

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I feel bad recalling what I did years ago.  No, not rob a bank or murder someone!  When I was about 12 years old, some of us would shout out scary sounds at night when an 8 year-old neighbor crosses the street, spooking him into running back home, crying his eyes out.  Why does this bother me?  I know that he’s utterly frightened of ghosts and the dark, suffering fears galore, and yet can’t wait to hear his shrieks and screams.  Pathetic me.

Years later I have the chance to ask his forgiveness and he does just that.  He is a kind and gracious man, indeed.  Over and done with.  But is it?  Not really as I easily replay it in my mind.  That’s one episode.  I could give you an encyclopedia of much more.  Just me?

But God tells me to move on… as He has.  Be forgiven and enjoy its freedom to be better… from now on.  Don’t let Satan drag you back into his muck and mire.  His misery loves company.

In the Old Testament, the prophet Samuel witnesses God’s people repenting of their sins.  He tells them– ‘Do not be afraid…you have done all this evil; yet do not turn away from the Lord, but serve the Lord with all your heart…consider what great things He has done for you’ (1 Samuel 12:20-24).

Get right with God.  Move forward with Him.  Stop staring in sin’s rearview mirror.  Looking over your shoulder.  Stuck in the past.  Jesus forgives… and forgets.

Even Samuel gets bogged down–“The Lord said to Samuel, ‘How long will you mourn for Saul, since I have rejected him as king over Israel?  Fill your horn with oil and be on your way;  I am sending you to Jesse of Bethlehem.  I have chosen one of his sons to be king'” (1 Samuel 16:1).  Come on, Samuel, giddy up and go!

Hold onto God’s promises.  I’m trying to.  After all, He has many blessings ahead.  Don’t miss any by a too long looking back.  But if you do, grab His hand.  He’ll help you get up, standing on your feet, while you turn your eyes upon Jesus.  That’s more like it.  Let’s go!

 

Thank you, Jesus, for taking my sins away.  Help me to live forgiven.  Amen.

NOT JOHN DOE John 10: 1-30

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A new movie about a children’s TV show is making quite a splash.  The gentle spirit of its host stands in marked contrast to our day and age.  Such was Fred Rogers, a fellow Presbyterian minister, whose calling was communications and children.

Presbyterian clergy are required to take two weeks of pre-approved study leave each year.  Hopefully, it keeps us on our pastoral toes, so to speak.  I sign up for a two-day conference in New York City at the Riverside Church, an edifice more like a Protestant cathedral.  Hundreds of pastors are in attendance.  The theme?  Haven’t a clue over forty years later.  Went with a friend whom I can’t recall as well.  How could I ever forget what’s-his-name?

Sitting down about half way from the front of the church, I look around to see if I recognize anyone.  Not a soul.  Until I see Fred Rogers!  Yes, THE Fred Rogers sitting right in my neighborhood!  The session hasn’t started yet, so I scoot out of the pew, down a side aisle, bend over a few nice folk to greet the man himself.  I tell him how much my boys love his show.  He wants to know my name and theirs as well.  That’s it.  Half a minute.  Over and out.

But not the end of the story.  Next day I’m hanging out in the foyer of Riverside Church, waiting for my unremembered friend to arrive, when Mr. Rogers comes through the front door and right over to me, shaking my hand, saying, ‘Good morning, John.  How are you today?’  What?  He remembers my name?  I can barely recall it myself at that moment, which becomes something I’ll never forget.

As amazing as Mr. Rogers’ greeting is to me, there’s something far greater.  You know what I mean.  Jesus knows us… by name.  Yours and mine.  And knows us through and through.  And loves us like no one else could or would.

John 10: 27–‘My sheep know my voice; I know them and they follow me.  I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand.’  John 10: 14–‘I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me…’  We’re not John Does to Jesus.  Quite the contrary.

Here’s an idea–this week why not go out of your way to mention someone’s name.  Work at it.  Promise to do so.  See their reaction.  Welcome them to your neighborhood!

 

Lord Jesus, thank you for knowing us by name.  Amen.

WHO’S THAT IN MY MIRROR? Psalm 52

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Walking through the Mount of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemene, my wife and I marvel at olive trees hundreds of years old.  Probably none from Jesus’ day, but this is how His garden looked.  A stone’s throw from the Kidron Valley.  Close to the holy city of Jerusalem.  Not far from the Temple Mount.

Old, bent, twisted olive trees with new shoots appearing from the side of their wizened stumps unveil new life.  These stubby trunks look dead but aren’t so.  Life becomes visible in surprising ways and places.  What’s gone belly up hasn’t.  Far from its last curtain call.

I look in the mirror these days and wonder who’s giving me the once-over.  That can’t be me.  No.  It’s some moth-eaten old goat who’s invaded my body.  I feel like I’m in my 40’s.  So, who is this over-the-hill, rusty, creaky, old fuddy-duddy?  Me?  Tis true.  Like an old-as-the-hills olive tree.

Enough of my moaning and groaning.  Let’s hear from God’s Word.  Psalm 52: 8-9–‘But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God; I trust in God’s unfailing love for ever and ever.  I will praise you forever for what you have done; in your name I will hope, for your name is good.  I will praise you in the presence of your saints.’

I may be a bit long in the tooth, but I can still praise Jesus!  Flourish in closer relationship with Him as I read, meditate upon and dig deeper into the Bible.  I have hope because God is forever good and trustworthy.  I’m not.  He is.

So, let’s share with others how much He can mean to them as well.  Not being selfish, keeping all the goodies for ourselves.  No.  Better to share than to hoard.  More blessed to give than grasp.  Someone said that a long time ago.  Who?!

No matter your age, flourish…grow…trust Jesus…bask in His love which never ends or fails…hope in His goodness…remember all He’s done for you…share His Word with others…enjoy your family of faith.

And don’t stop there.  Keep on keeping on…  Like an old olive tree.

 

Thank you, Jesus, for new life forever.  Amen.

WHO’S THAT IN MY MIRROR? Psalm 52

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Walking through the Mount of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemene, my wife and I marvel at olive trees hundreds of years old.  Probably none from Jesus’ day, but this is how His garden looked.  A stone’s throw from the Kidron Valley.  Close to the holy city of Jerusalem.  Not far from the Temple mount.

Old, bent and twisted olive trees, with new shoots appearing from the side of their wizened stumps, unveil new life.  These stubby trunks look dead but are not so.  Life becomes visible in surprising ways and places.  What’s gone belly up hasn’t.  Far from its last curtain call.

I look in the mirror these days and wonder who’s giving me the once-over.  Can’t be me.  No.  It’s some moth-eaten old goat who’s invaded my body.  I feel like I’m in my 40’s.  So who is this over-the-hill, rusty, creaky old fuddy-duddy?  Me?  Tis true.  Like an old as the hills olive tree.

Enough of my moaning and groaning.  Let’s hear from God’s Word.  Psalm 52: 8-9–‘But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God; I trust in God’s unfailing love for ever and ever.  I will praise you forever for what you have done; in your name I will hope, for your name is good.  I will praise you in the presence of your saints.’

I may be a bit long in the tooth, but I can still praise Jesus!  Flourish in closer relationship with Him as I read, meditate upon and dig deeper into the Bible.  I have hope because God is forever good and trustworthy.  I’m not…but He is.

So, let’s share with others how much He can mean to them as well.  Not selfish, keeping all the goodies to ourselves.  No.  Better to share than to hoard.  More blessed to give than to grasp.  Someone said that a long time ago.  Who?!

No matter what your age, flourish…grow…trust Jesus…bask in His love which never ends or fails…hope in His goodness…remember all He’s done for you…share His Word with others…enjoy your family of faith.

And don’t stop there.  Keep on keeping on… Like an old olive tree.

 

 

Thank you, Jesus, for new life forever.  Amen.

WELL WATERED Psalm 1

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Every January 1st I start reading my Bible all over again.  Kick-start with Genesis, Psalms and Luke.  Two Old Testament and one New Testament reading every day will cover it all by year’s end.  My Bible hasn’t changed, but I have.  Thank the Lord!

Thirty years ago, when I first committed to reading my Bible annually, I was single and a financial planner with over 850 clients.  Worked hard every weekday and night, leaving weekends free to enjoy my sons.  A busy season of my life.  Not without some loneliness.  If it wasn’t for my boys, and all the good times we had together, life would have been very bleak.

Decades later, I’m happily married to a wonderful woman.  Our children are grown with grandchildren blessing this life’s season.  Retired and not too tired, as it feels like heavy weights have been lifted from my shoulders.

Time to slow down a bit?  Maybe.  In some ways.  But not much.  Still love to travel.  When home, daily write and rewrite.  Edit and re-edit.  Want to communicate the best I can, always depending on the Lord’s help.  And He does just that and more.  Thank you, Lord Jesus!

So what will this season, or any for that matter, look like?  Psalm 1:3 says–‘He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither.’  No matter what season you’re in, grow and mature, be fun, season other’s lives as well as your own.  Grow your spiritual roots profoundly deep.

Come gather by the old mill stream.  Where fresh waters flow freely.  Soak in God’s Word.  Its truths buoy your mind and heart all year long.  Your relationship with the Lord, a rising tide of love, loyalty and mercy.  Spiritually sail on the waters of God’s Word.  Your Bible–life’s essential irrigation every day, all year.

Well watered.  But only if you drink deeply.  Dive in.  The water’s fine!  Happy New Year!

 

Thank you, Lord, for all we can do through you.  For Jesus’ sake.  Amen.

MERRY CHRISTMAS? Luke 2

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The events surrounding Jesus’ birth hardly shout a ‘Merry Christmas’.  If Mary and Joseph post a Christmas letter, it will include some rather disruptive details.  You know them.  The unexpected pregnancy, especially since they hadn’t sexually consummated their marriage.  The accompanying whispers, rumors and stares of gloating, nosey neighbors and family.

The rotten timing of Rome’s census/tax business.  The arduous journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem, which winds up having no room in which to stay, not even in some crummy hostel.  Only a stinky stable with its foul ball feeding trough in which to cradle this child.

And guess who shows up to wonder at the babe but some unknown, uninvited shepherds, whose acrid aromas fill the air.  Later on a bunch of astrologer-types, wearing strange outfits, show up from somewhere back East.  At least their gifts amount to a small treasure trove.  Maybe it will be a Merry Christmas after all!

But no, it’s off to Egypt they must flee, avoiding King Herod’s paranoid slaughter of innocent children.  Exiles now far from home, work, family and friends.  Now you know why no letter may be included in their Christmas cards.

However, what can be said is that in spite of everything, Jesus’ unassuming arrival into this battered and broken world is the best news ever.  Troubles will not win in the end.  They won’t grab hold of the upper hand.  Not for long.  So, we’ll say a hearty ‘Merry Christmas’ wherever we go, whatever we’re going through.  Whether anyone likes it or not.  Merry…Christmas!

When clouds roll in and storms lash away at us, let’s focus on Jesus more than ever.  Joining those shepherds and Magi surrounding that very humble family, gazing with wonder at God’s gift that Christmas day.

Have a ‘Merry Christmas’!  We are so blessed!  Aren’t we?

 

Father, thank you for the gift of Jesus, our Savior.  In His name.  Amen.