Christ Before the Manger

The story of Christmas does not begin in Bethlehem. I have seen it even in our recent journey through the key relationships in the book of Genesis. Perhaps retracing our steps through the “Book of Generations” will add a depth to the wonder of the Christmas story this December.

Jesus is the promised deliverer, “the Seed of the woman,” who will crush the head of the tempter (3:15).

Jesus is the descendent of Seth, the Chosen One (5:3).

Jesus is likened to the Ark of salvation into which Noah and his family entered for rescue from judgment (6:18-19).

Jesus is the Blessing of Shem into whose tents we can go (9:26).

Jesus is the Son of Abraham through whom “all the families of the earth will be blessed” (12:3).

Jesus is One to whom Abraham paid homage, named “Melchizedek, the King of Salem, priest of the Most High God” (14:18).

Jesus is the Angel of the LORD who saw, heard and delivered Hagar in the wilderness; twice (16:9; 21:17).

Jesus is the God-Man who rained judgment upon Sodom and Gomorrah (18:32).

Jesus is the truly the “Son, the only Son, whom [the Father] loves” actually offered in place of Isaac as the “Sacrifice on Mount Moriah”; the provision that “God Himself will see to” and execute completely (22:2,8).

Jesus is the Blessed-Wrestler who limps Jacob and renames him Israel (32:24-25).

Jesus is the innocent One likened unto Joseph who is betrayed by his brothers, thrown into the pit and into jail and left for dead, falsely accused by strangers, forgotten by friends; who arises to supremacy and forgives his enemies (chs. 37-45). Jesus, like Joseph, is the deliverance of Israel who comes up out of Egypt—“out of Egypt I have called My Son” (cf Matthew 2:15).

Jesus is the Lion of the tribe of Judah; “the scepter will not depart from Judah nor the ruler’s staff from beneath his feet until Shiloh comes; and to Him shall be the obedience of the peoples” (49:9-10).

This casts a different light on the Babe, born in a manger—majesty wrapped in fragility. He is great, but only recognized by the margin of society. He is the only Savior of the world, but the world esteemed Him as unworthy. He is in plain sight to all, but hidden from all outside of faith. O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.

Thanksgiving Providence

Thanksgiving—eucharisteo: 1. to be grateful, feel thankful 2. to give thanks

“Enter His gates with thanksgiving And His courts with praise. Give thanks to Him, bless His name. For the LORD is good; His lovingkindness is everlasting And His faithfulness to all generations” (Psalm 100:4-5).

On Christmas Day, 1620, the first work party left the Mayflower harbored in Plymouth Bay to begin building houses and laying out their settlement in the “New World.” The winter of 1620-21 was dreadful for Governor William Bradford and Plymouth Colony as they watched half of their family and friends die. All through the winter the pilgrims only saw a few indigenous Americans from a distance. But on March 16, 1621 a solitary native named Samoset walked into Plymouthtown and greeted the half-starved colonists in broken English! (Can you imagine?) Samoset returned the next day with another remarkable native-American named Tisquantum (Squanto) who spoke the king’s English fluently. (Well, blimey!) With the particular help of Squanto, the colonists learned how to grow crops, gather fish, hunt game and prepare for the looming winter months ahead of time—allowing for a tremendously bountiful harvest the next autumn.

But it is the story of Squanto that inspires (and comforts) me this November. You see, Squanto’s story before he greeted the English colonists in fluent English is absolutely remarkable. About ten years before the Mayflower arrived in Plymouth Bay young Squanto with others from his Wampanoag tribe went out to greet and trade with other English explorers under the leadership of Captain Hunt, with whom they apparently had friendly dealings. But Captain Hunt double-crossed them and kidnapped them to sell in the slave market of Europe. A well-meaning Spanish monk bought Squanto, treated him well, and taught him the Christian faith, as well as a number of European languages. Squanto eventually arrived in England in the care of one, John Slaney, who sympathized and determined to send Squanto back to America. The chance to return to America in 1619 brought Squanto to the devastating news that his entire tribe was wiped out by an epidemic. He was alone in the world.

About a year later Squanto met the pilgrims who had settled the same land his tribe had previously inhabited. He befriended them—knowing full well the risks involved. And the rest is Thanksgiving history. According to the diary of Pilgrim Governor William Bradford, Squanto “became a special instrument sent of God for [our] good…. He showed [us] how to plant [our] corn, where to take fish and to procure other commodities…and was also [our] pilot to bring [us] to unknown places for [our] profit, and never left [us] till he died.”

Have you had a year full of unknowns (like the pilgrims) only to find “God-sent” helpers along the way greeting you in your mother-tongue? Have you had a year full of disappointments and unfairness (like Squanto) when all of a sudden you realize that your hardships actually qualify you to help someone else in need? There is no God-forsaken place!

Fright vs. Fear

How easily distracted we are from engaging the things that scare us. Well, that is, normally. This week, however, we will engage, coax, entice, imitate, and set aside time specifically for “fright.” Halloween is a debate all by itself within the Christian sub-culture, but the very fact that it is firmly embedded inside and oddly endearing to our cultural psyche betrays our love/hate relationship with “fright.”

Lucy, in the Peanuts classic, “It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown,” has this wonderfully wry comment as she dresses in her ghastly witch’s costume that the rationale in selecting a Halloween costume is to pick one that is exactly opposite your normal personality. She, the witchiest of all the Peanuts gang, really thinks she is the saintliest!

But all the same, whether we dress up like witches or denounce participating in the pagan revelries of Halloween at all, we like to dabble in fright. It sends surges of adrenaline (which fuels the flight impulse) or noradrenalin (which fuels the fight impulse) through our moderately passive bloodstream all the other 364 other nights of the year. We like to tease the brain—which God made to expertly respond to potentially harmful stimuli with an amazingly complex cooperation of nervous, circulatory, endocrine, respiratory, and muscular systems of confront a dangerous world—without actually having to be in danger. Why else do we rent the suspense thrillers? Why else do we skydive? Why else do we caffeinate every morning? We like the rush of energy without exactly inviting the danger to come too close. Sometimes, ironically, we have even come to depend on the chemicals associated with fighting or fleeing fright in order to feel “alive.”

But fear, on the other hand, exists outside the material world; beneath the layer of "fright." What Lucy does not touch on and what Halloween cannot unfold is that we have deep fear even without the physical stimulus of fright. We automate fear in our minds and souls, quite separately from our brains and hearts. What do we do with this kind of fear—the fear of a spiritual kind? These are the fears that send us into panic, that cause us to lose sleep (or lose the desire to stop sleeping). These are the fears that color our perception of reality, feeding themselves and providing false validation that danger really exists, even when it does not—a filter through which we interpret all our experience. This kind of fear is debilitating; and it is inseparable from the human condition on this, the “dark side” of Eden.

A blog’s thimbleful of discussion on this ocean of fear is hardly worthy of the time to write or read. But may it be at least a post-sign hammered into the earth next to our journey’s pathway. We live in, with, beside fear—what will we do with it?

Gary Smalley in his book, The DNA of Relationships, provides a great starting point for this entire subject—especially when two fearful people interact with their fears and with each other in close and prolonged proximity. Fear is where we live, but will we obey it as our master? We can react to fear, which almost always takes the shape of self-protection or self-exaltation, which leads to lashing out against or withdrawing from those people who have wittingly or unwittingly triggered our hurts, which uncovers a unmet want/need, which aggravates more fear, which triggers the other person’s hurts, unmet wants/needs, fears, etc. It is a “dance”; it is a vicious cycle, and it is a graceless relationship. Sometimes, it seems like we react to our fear in precisely the way that causes the greatest fear in our “dance partner” to shout out.

But there is another way; the vicious cycle of reacting to fear can be broken. We can in faith respond to fear (with God’s power!), taking personal responsibility for our “pieces” of the situation, giving God our wants/needs, choosing to forgive and ask for forgiveness quickly and frequently, redefining what it means to “win” so that both parties can feel honored and cared for, and keep our own “batteries charged” so that fear (which never really goes away) can trigger us to greater faith (instead of flesh) during the next cycle around this "dance floor."

So, take your frights out this Saturday night, but leave your fears at the foot of the cross. “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear” (Psalm 46:1-2).

October 25, 2009 -- A Mighty Fortress (Psalm 46)

October 18, 2009 -- Abraham & Isaac (Genesis 22)

I Can't Believe I Missed Grace

I can't believe I missed grace. Having spent my normal, week-long meditation upon, study of, and writing out the sermon on Genesis 12:10-20--and my 30 minutes actually preaching it from the pulpit--I still missed it. It was only after the sermon, after the closing song, after meeting and greeting the people as they filed out of the auditorium that Don mentioned, "Isn't that amazing about grace." "Was grace in the passage this morning?" I thought.

Hmmm. Yes, there it is. In the middle of the details and the narrative of this ancient passage is the presence and extension of grace. I can't believe I missed grace.

Even though Abram blew it royally (hiding behind Sarai as a human shield, literally) he was still given great wealth: "and gave him sheep and oxen and donkeys..." (vs. 16). Even though he, humanly speaking, threatened the "seed" aspect of the covenant by putting Sarai into danger--she was absconded into the harem of Pharaoh because Abram did not believe that God would indeed protect him like he said He would--"I will bless you...and the one who curses you I will curse" (vs. 3). Even though he proceeded forward with his dastardly premeditated "Plan B" to protect his interests (even above his wife's welfare)...God still allowed Abram to receive great wealth through the agency of Pharaoh!

That's a picture of grace if ever there were one! God actively shows His favor toward the ones who are actively disfavorable in identity and activity.

You know what, I can believe I missed grace--I've missed it so many times. But even to this actively disfavorable one--who misses grace despite a complete work-week spent hovering around this passage--God actively shows His favor for His own glory.

Here's the link to the audio file, but don't miss grace like I did:
www.fellowshipsiloam.org/audio/2009_10_04_ABE&SARAH

Image of God

Image is not left entirely to the imagination. While there is great speculation about what the “image of God” stamped into each and every human might include—reason, communication, conscience, intellect, love, freedom, compassion, trichotomy of body, soul, spirit, immortality of the spirit, creativity, capacity to receive the word of God—there are some definite pieces we can know for certain.

Sprite® ads suggest that “image is everything.” Life coaches might suggest that image is anything you can think it to be. But God communicates that image—His image, which He has woven into us as integral to our being as DNA is to our body—conveys dignity, ownership, responsibility, and a unified plurality that is above gender, above ability, above productivity, above culture, and above time.

Whatever it might be—and many speculations are probably part of the recipe, no doubt—the “image of God” at a bare minimum carries these characteristics (my working definition):

· The image of God makes humans unique to all of creation in essence, long before human behavioral traits were even in operation.
· The image of God is bestowed upon males and females together.
· The image of God privileges all humans with such inherent dignity that if a human life is taken, the human life of the aggressor is forfeited (Gen 9).
· The image of God makes humans more like God (in a non-physical sense) than the rest of creation; yet without making humans mini-gods in any sense.
· The image of God transfers the unified plurality of the Godhead to the unified plurality of humans in some sense, particularly in the marriage bond.
· The image of God makes relationship with the Trinity possible, desirable, and enjoyable in a way that no other created thing understands or participates; not even the angels. And likewise, somehow the image of God makes relationship with spouses possible, desirable, and enjoyable in a way that is unparalleled in any other corner of creation.
· The image of God is also functionally connected to the role given to man and woman to rule and subdue the earth—in other words, humans were specifically designed to be God’s vice-regents on earth, uniquely connected to the earth yet specially inbreathed by the breath of God and imprinted with the image of God.

The person on your left, on your right, speaking into the microphone that is relayed through your radio, teaching your children, washing your car, sharing your name, getting mail at your mailbox, looking back at you in the bathroom mirror—each one bears the “image of God.” The question then is this—how are you bearing that Image? How are you relating that Image in your spider-web of relationships? How are you fleshing out that Image at work, at play, at home, at church, at large? We were imaged for a reason.

Breaking Inertia

The hardest part is just getting started. Today was back to school day. The kids are all extra tired, overwhelmed, convinced that their subjects are too hard and their days are too long, at least one of their teachers is too strict, and sure that something like a 5-paragraph essay looms in the near future. "Yes, that may be true" begins the Dad reply, "but you have just done the hardest part--you have broken inertia." [Disregard the "what's inertia?" whine.]


Supertechnically, there must be more inertia in late August facing a return to *school* than there is keeping the space shuttle on its launch pad. Gravity must have greater influence in the matters of transitioning a child's orientation from Summer to Fall. But the hardest part is over. To fully break free from the gravitational pull of summer will take a full month, true. But the hardest part of the hardest part is over.


So it is with all of us, whether we return to school or to the post-summertime routine. Ah, yes, but the hardest part is almost over now that we have crossed through that eventless/eventful "first day" threshold. Perhaps there will be a groove we can all find. Perhaps there will be an updraft we can all navigate. Perhaps there will be a little more confidence, a little more determination, a little more delight in "day two." Perhaps we will find that grace is already in place. Well ... you know ... the hardest part of the hardest part is just getting started. Lord, help us.

Can't Be Polite About This

To tell you the truth, I am so completely fed up … sick and tired … downright spitting angry at my pesky, tricky, uninvited, unrelenting tendency toward sin (e.g. my “flesh”). Grrr. No matter if I fill my mind with the higher virtues of grace and mercy, practice love and generosity, or meditate on patience and contentment—my “flesh” is there the whole time, as able to poison the work of God in me after a breakthrough in spiritual development as it is able to calcify the work of God in me after a breakdown in spiritual discipline. Double Grrr.

In our Christian subculture we often talk in such ways to suggest that one of our core values is politeness; that impoliteness is a chief sin. But I can't be polite about this—I hate sin. More specifically and because I have a front row seat, I hate my sin. I hate my expertise in sinning. I hate my self-justification before, during, and after sinning. I hate that my sins are thematic; that they are often the same core issues reemerging over and over again. I hate that my sin never remains just my sin; it eeks out to harm those whom I love dearly, whether directly or indirectly (there are no victimless sins). I hate, Hate, HATE this.

Sure, the Lord has caused me to be faithful with regard to those sins that are culturally unacceptable: stealing, murdering, speaking against University of Arkansas sports teams. But I hate my sin with regard to those culturally acceptable vices: self-righteousness, self-ambition, self-exaltation. True, these so-called “minor” sins rarely see the “light of day,” but they run like mice in the walls of my heart. “Don’t appear weak.” “Make sure he knows it was you who did that kind deed.” “Don’t be the first one to apologize.” “If you can’t win, don’t play at all.” “Keep some leverage for the future.” Triple Grrr.

But the piece that infuriates me most; I can’t overcome my “flesh” with my “flesh.” In other words, I am powerless to correct, not to mention cure, my internal bend toward self, which operates in league with the world system and the enemy (1 John 2:15-18). I cannot strengthen my resolve to stand against my pride, for instance, or else my resolve becomes self-righteousness because it does not spring from faith in Christ. I cannot strengthen my humility enough to undo my tendency to put my wants/needs ahead of those wants/needs of others or else my humility becomes a dead work. I cannot successfully tell myself, “Don’t think of revenge, don’t think of revenge, don’t think of revenge” without … you guessed it … thinking of revenge more than ever. In the end I am doubly wrong—for the sin and for the attempt at self-redemption to fix myself. I cannot overcome my “flesh” with my “flesh.” Hallelujah, we are forgiven for even these sins through the perfect propitiation of Christ’s sacrifice—nevertheless, I hate that I am powerless in my own strength to escape sin’s gravitation pull on me.

But there is hope. Although we cannot overcome our “flesh” with our “flesh,” we were never meant to be our own messiah. The one Messiah is Messiah enough for the universe and for all time. Stop trying to overcome and start trusting that Christ has already overcome the world, the devil, and yes … even the principle of sin housed in what we call “the flesh.” This is the life of faith—“put on the Lord Jesus Christ and make no provision for the flesh in regard to its lusts” (Romans 13:14). Grrreat is our God!

A Better Country

John Adams on the thrilling occasion of the successful vote to make a formal Declaration of Independence wrote to his wife Abigail back at the farm in Massachusetts, “I am apt to believe that [this day] will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the Day of Deliverance by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty” (David McCullough, John Adams, 2001, p. 130).

Language was drafted. A document was written. And on July 4, the Declaration of Independence was ratified, authenticated, and printed thus formally and publicly severing America’s allegiance with Great Britain. All of this, of course, was high treason; punishable by death—but the chance to create a better country from scratch was worth it.

It is a great page out of the history books; one that fills me with pride and gratitude. I wave the red, white, and blue with my chest out and my chin up. For many Americans this event is so sacred an event that even to suggest that it is eclipsed by a greater, a better, a higher idea sounds like betrayal.

Yet, there is something that eclipses even this euphoric nostalgia and reverie; as great and as proper as it is. Adams alluded to it himself in a letter written on the eve of the historic vote, “there is nothing on this side of Jerusalem of equal importance to mankind” (p. 126). America pales in comparison to the New Jerusalem.

Ours is a great history; but there is a better Story. Ours is a marvelous citizenship; but it is secondary at best to our true citizenship to the kingdom of Christ—just as real and true as our precious republic, and even more so, though it is temporarily invisible. Our ideal civil government with its genius balance of power, “of the people, by the people, and for the people” is gloriously eclipsed by “the Son given to us upon whose shoulders the government will be, whose name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6).

Ours is a good country; but there is an even better country still…infinitely so. Come, Lord Jesus.

“All these died in faith, without receiving the promises, but having seen them and having welcomed them from a distance, and having confessed that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For those who say such things make it clear that they are seeking a country of their own. And indeed if they had been thinking of that country from which they went out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God; for He has prepared a city for them” (Hebrews 11:13-16).

Soul Addition

Soul addition, what a concept. I am sure that I am not alone in my ability to mindlessly rattle off several of the usual culprits and conditions that famously subtract from the soul. [Deleted is my quick list that offers nothing constructive--ugh!] But to list ingredients that actually add to the soul ... now that is tough. And if I have difficulty in thinking of soul-health-additives, then how precarious is my soul at the edge of malnutrition.

With the season of summer, the *sigh* in the middle of the year, and the blessing of vacation, I want to be about soul addition. Brainstorm with me--what adds to the soul? And more specifically, what adds to your soul? My list is just an impetus. Add your own edits.

*Silence adds to my soul (in limited doses)

*Natural beauty and grand, non-industrialized landscapes add to my soul

*Laughter, music, coffee, and art add to my soul

*Tears for someone other than myself (admittedly rare) add to my soul

*Companionship can add to my soul, but not to the exclusion of solitude

*Realizing my incredible smallness in comparison to the current in which I swim surprisingly adds to my soul

*Fresh-fruit smoothies and the Sunday comics must make this list of soul addition

*A sharp pencil with a good eraser and a blank sheet of paper adds to my soul

*Deliberate "pausing"--being intentionally unproductive--adds to my soul (but I cringe each time)

*Exercise adds to my soul, especially hiking on new-to-me trails

*Fireflies at dusk and dragonflies at noon add to my soul (not mosquitoes, however)

*Experiencing the bliss of my wife and children when they are finding soul addition adds to my soul

*Crumbling up this and all lists adds to my soul...

Birthday Contemplation

"Happy Birthday, Daddy!" the kids told me this morning as if they didn't remember accusing, umm I mean wrongly concluding, that I turn 45 instead of 35 today. After all, what is one digit in the tens column? It is just a number, right? It is just being born in 1964 instead of 1974. It is just a decade. [On the subject of feeling 45 years old instead of the 35 years that I actually am, I will not comment here (smirk!)]

As is common, my birthday used to be the most important day of the year for me--or at least tied with Christmas, which was a "me" day all the same. Birthdays are not such a big deal anymore. By comparison, my anniversary is far more significant a milestone each year. For that matter, my wife's birthday is a far more brilliant day in the cosmic scene of things. And for that matter, my kids' birthdays are more highly decorated than my birthday as well. My birthday might rank somewhere near Groundhog Day (February 2) or Flag Day (June 14)!

"What do you want for your birthday?" went the conversation this birthday-eve. Sure, I want a pair of channel-lock pliers large enough to fix that PVC pipe fitting on the garden pond waterfall. Sure, I want a steak and potato on the grill. Sure, I want a camera that can actually do a decent job with depth-of-field aperture shots. But I would far rather save up any blessing that might come to me on "my" day and pass it along to my wife and kids. I can honestly say that I don't need anything more or want anything different for my brithday--I already have it in spades.

Anyway, such is my birthday contemplation. But, as it seems in my head as I write these sentiments, any contemplation about important days during my humble trips around the sun must esteem one day above the others; my death and re-birth day, when by faith I died with the Lord Jesus and in faith rose again in His resurrection ... the day God caused me to connect all these dots, confessing with my mouth that Jesus is Lord and believing in my heart that God raised Him from the dead resulting in salvation (Romans 10:9-10) ... the first Sunday in January 1991.

Pesky Patterns

Why does it have to be this way? Act I. In order to clean up the bedroom--I mean really clean it--we first have to make it messier. Out come the boxes and clutter from under the bed. The dust bunnies have to be herded into open before the vacuum can pull them into the corral. The winter clothes have to relinquish their hangers before the spring clothes have a spot in the closet. Two hours into the project, the bedroom is most definitely messier than it started. Granted two more hours later the bedroom looked and smelled great! But the pattern is a kick in the ribs--messier before cleaner.

Why does it cost money to save money? Act II. As a family, we decided to trim back on our utilities bill. The home phone is hardly used as our cell phones are always on, so off with that feature. The extra cable stations show nothing but infomercials, Texas Hold 'Em games (is that even a sport?!), and reruns of Hannah Montana, so off with that feature. The high-speed broadband Internet signal ... well ... two out of three is a good start, let's just leave that feature alone. [Anyway, the chances for family mutiny greatly increase with threats to tamper with the Internet connection.] But in chopping off those two features, we no longer qualify to get the "bundle" rate on Internet and basic cable so the savings per month were not nearly as deep as we hoped. And, on top of that, we also had to return the equipment the cable company was "loaning" us as a perk with the larger service package. So in the end, we had to pay $50 to save $60. The pesky pattern holds.

Why does spiritual growth require pain? Act III. We all want to grow in our spiritual maturity, but there is always destruction before there is construction. It is never just starting afresh and anew; there must be excavation of the heart and the mind, plumbing the depths of personal motives, confessing sin, and initiating conversations that have been long avoided. Two steps into the process and we are far more broken than we bargained. Faith says two steps more before we see any progress, but the pattern is easily disheartening; disheartening, that is, unless we doggedly keep the end result in sight.

Lord, answer me, demanded Job. But God's answer was too much for Job to stomach. Lord, show me Your glory, Moses prayed. But the glimpse unglued him. Lord, allow that my sons, James and John, sit at Your right and Your left. But the request was far too bitter for them to endure. Lord, please take this thorn in my flesh away, pleaded Paul in triplicate. But the removal of this pain would unravel so much that the Lord had already cultivated in Paul's heart and mind.

Were it not for the promise of the Lord's presence, none of us could bear this pesky pattern--brokenness yielding restoration, mourning yielding dancing, weeping yielding rejoicing. But we have a High Priest who not only knows this pattern theoretically from a distance. Our High Priest knows this pesky pattern experientially and so empathizes with all who follow Him through pain to paradise. Lord, please take this cup from Me ... not My will, but Yours be done.

Working Your Part

Good job, good job … in a close game an R.B.I. is just as good as a hit—applauded my daughter’s softball coach. Her teammates cheered in agreement, “Yeay, Emma!” Though narrowly thrown out at first base, she drove in a lead-changing runner from third base. It was marked down as a fielder’s choice in the box score, but Emma showed a question mark on her face. “Dad, what’s an R.B.I.?” she asked me through the chain link fence as I sat in the drizzle in a faded blue fold-out chair. This was her first at-bat in her first game in her first season of softball. “An R.B.I. is a run-batted-in … you forced the other team to make a throw to first base to get you out so that your teammate could score. In a close game, an R.B.I. is as good as a hit. You worked your part so the team could succeed.” “Oh.” The significance still hadn’t dawned on the rookie.

“Oh!” Working your part so the team could succeed—the significance still hasn’t fully dawned on the veteran either. The month of May brings many things—flowers, pollen, end-of-the-year testing, graduation, Mother’s Day, Memorial Day—but it also brings analogies for life from the ball field. Though most of us do not wear team jerseys anymore, we are still players on many teams: family, work, community, church, etc. Yet, do we often realize that our individual contribution plays a larger role in the team’s success? Our participation sets into motion, creates the space, offers the time, holds back the opposition so that success, growth, advancement, progress, unity can mark a run scored in the cosmic box score. It is never just a random at-bat that leaves no mark in the overall team experience—it is one of relatively few at-bats that causes the other team to expend the energy to pitch and catch, that elevates the pitch count, that weakens the pitcher’s arm for later innings, that could allow her fastball to lose some steam, that could allow another player make contact with a pitch she could not turn on in earlier innings, that requires the shortstop to have to run deep into the gap to field the groundball, that leaves her off balance so that her throw to first base is off-target, that allows the game winning runner to reach third, so that when a rookie approaches the plate for the first time her humble contribution scores the lead-changing run. There is great significance in working your part so the team can succeed.

Paul said it this way, “the whole body [think: ‘team!’], being fitted and held together by what every joint supplies, according to the proper working of each individual part, causes the growth of the body for the building up of itself in love” (Ephesians 4:16). “Oh.”

What is your part? What is your role? What is your contribution? What is your piece? Yours is not a random at-bat; it is one of relatively few that counts within the entire flow of the team and the conclusion of the game. Work your part so that the team can succeed. Individual stats are meaningless when compared to the end result of the team. “Wow!” May the significance fully dawn on all of us.

Kevin Rees, May 1, 2009

Cannot Spend Our Way Out of Recession

Money is on my mind ... not only because of our church's participation with the free, live event via streaming video with Dave Ramsey's "Town Hall for Hope" (this Thursday at 7p CST, www.townhallforhope.com/), but also because money is on nearly every news show, in very many conversations over backyard fences, and because the bills keep showing up in my mailbox. It is even on the international scene. At the request of a friend who intelligently keeps his finger on the pulse of "all things current," I watched a video from the UK parliament about ... you guessed it, money. But the conclusion ... well ... hit the money. "Prime Minister," one Daniel Hannan said, "you cannot spend your way out of recession; you cannot borrow your way out of debt" (www.youtube.com/watch?v=94lW6Y4tBXs). Wow, that is different from what I am hearing about money on those news shows. I am ready to get even more serious about standing in the freedom of frugality and even more resilient to the worldview that shouts, "Spend more money now." [I hope you can attend a "Town Hall for Hope" event at our church or one of the many other venues nationwide.] We must not give in to fear. "So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' ... but seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own" (Matthew 6:31,33-34).

Proximity Does Not Equal Nearness

Devotion involves motion. Sometimes abrupt, sometimes steady, sometimes slight—but devotion involves motion. But even that statement—devotion involves motion—seems like a shallow echo of its deeper punch. Devotion demands motion! However, motion is not necessarily a physical characteristic. Devotion demands motion at our spiritual core. At times devotion compels and propels us to “go out, not knowing where we are going” (Hebrew 11:8). But devotion-motion might also cycle at full-tilt internally while our feet remain at home. Devotion demands spiritual motion … and all spiritual motion intersects Calvary.

I am awed at the microcosm at Calvary. Around the crossof Christ, during the day of His crucifixion, even at the precise moment of his death at 3pm when “He breathed His last” (Luke 23:46)—a full representation of humanity orbits. Many are in physical motion that dark day; but not all motion is devotion-motion. The “centurion” (Luke 23:47) is on shift duty; initially there because he has to be there. The “crowd” (Luke 23:48) is present because, frankly, they want to be there in a disturbing circus-kind of darkness. The apostles, reduced to anonymous “acquaintances” (Luke 23:49a) are there, but not really … close enough to see, but far enough to elude identification with Christ and risk their own arrest. The “women” are there, as close as their appropriate fragility will allow, but the pain is sharp. They will be the first witnesses of the resurrection.

Within these four groups everyone is represented and every response to Calvary is demonstrated: a volitionally thoughtful response, the frenzied and cursory response, the painfully passive response, and the acutely emotional response. But proximity to Calvary does not equate nearness to Christ. The crowd is closer than the women, but the women understood the deeper punch of Calvary. The women seemed to be shoulder-to-shoulder with the apostle/acquaintances, but the apostles were elsewhere internally. The soldier ought to have been so desensitized to Roman crucifixions by this point in his career, but he kept rapt attention to all that was happening with “this Man” (Luke 23:46). All of humanity orbits Calvary, voluntarily or involuntarily, but not all land on the Mount of Crucifixion. Many hover around the vicinity of Christ, but few cling to the cross of Christ.

Devotion demands motion … motion of the spiritual nature. It is the motion that breaks the inertia of sedentary spirituality. It is the motion that moves us from onlookers to witnesses wherever our feet happen to be physically. Let me suggest taking two steps. The first step: step into the narrative … which role do you fill? The second step: wherever your starting point happens to be, step toward Christ by faith. May these two steps be the first of many as the Lord moves you from onlooker to witness. “Almost” is never close enough to the nearness of God in Christ Jesus.

Kevin Rees, April 3, 2009

The Clash of Confidences

Though I am reluctant to remember, I have been known to watch Saturday morning professional wrestling matches. In my pre-teen era, the "actors" in the canvas ring included such names as Hulk Hogan, Andre the Giant, Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka, and Randy "Macho-Man" Savage. The clashes were legendary ... staged, yes ... hyped up, certainly ... but legendary. Look out, your adversary might grab that metal folding chair when you're not looking or disoriented from the pile-driver or the suplex from the top rope. "One, two, three, that's a match, folks."

But the clash of confidences lives on, interestingly enough, in the ring of spirituality. And this challenge dwarfs any of the professional wrestling matches in any era. In the blue corner, religion. In the red corner, relationship with Jesus Christ. There could be no more diametrically opposed adversaries than these--religion and relationship. Allow me to run down a list of synonyms that sheds light on what I mean.

Religion is man-made; attempting to please God with the things we can do and generate. Relationship is God-given; standing upon the fact that Jesus pleased God for us, doing everything perfectly on our behalf.

In the blue corner is trying. In the red corner is trusting. In the blue corner is striving. In the red corner is resting. So the contrast continues: flesh vs. Spirit, law vs. grace, works vs. faith, duty vs. love, have-to vs. want-to, complying vs. obeying, never-ending vs. once-and-for-all, death vs. life, the curse of Adam vs. the blessing of Christ, slavery vs. freedom, external vs. internal, image conscious vs. heart conscious, renovation vs. regeneration, Pharisees and the Sadducees vs. Christ and the apostles, oral tradition of men vs. the written Word of God, Old Covenant vs. New Covenant, the blood of bulls and goats vs. the blood of the perfect Lamb of God.

Christ has exposed the hollowness of man-made religion, challenged its confidence, and extended His hand of grace to rebuild a relationship severed since the Garden. "One, two, three, that's a match folks!" Hallelujah, what a Savior!

Up to Easter 2009

Join us this season at Fellowship Bible Church as we march toward the center of our worship calendar—Resurrection Sunday, April 12. Even without the chocolate bunnies and the bright spring colors that Easter invariably and delightfully brings, this is a joyful and deliberate season of pilgrimage. We are marching to the cadence of the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ—with so many other born-again worshipers all over the world. It is a spiritual journey we all must personally take in faith—trekking up to the city of God to glimpse (for the first time or for the next time) upon the great love of Christ against the dark backdrop of our sin. But even with the personal nature of faith, our faith is never meant to be isolated from or insulated against those who walk these same, well-trodden paths up to Easter. We really are meant to sojourn together. Join us as we march, together fixing our eyes on Him.

Cheating Death

There was frantic barking in the backyard. What was it this time? Did the dogs corral another mole? Is the meter-reader attempting a brave shortcut through our backyard? Is that frisky Border-collie taunting from the fence-less beyond? I gave it no second thought. But apparently Shellie did not so easily disregard chaos. She brought the report a few minutes later; her voice slightly frantic—“It’s a stray kitten. The dogs have a kitten and are tossing it around like a chew toy.”

It turned out that the kitten was not supper; not even bloody, just terribly slobbered upon. Shellie was somehow able to get the dogs into the garage, coaxing the kitten out from a corner, setting it free on the dog-less side of the fence. It sprinted off, but did not sprint away. Into the night the kitten meowed, taking residence in our van’s warm, dry, and safe engine compartment. Safe, that is, until we cranked the engine … which we mercifully didn’t do the next morning.

After extending to this rather foolish kitten water, food, and solitude over half the next day, we decided to double our efforts of scatting this cat. We turned on the van’s radio, misted the engine area with water from a spray bottle, rolled the van backward (without the engine), doused the cat with the garden hose, called Animal Control, and (with the officer’s help) finally started the engine. Surely that would scare it off. No.

This traumatized, wet, disoriented, sticky from dog slobber, stray kitten was decidedly not going to come out without a physical removal. With much effort the officer finally snagged the little … (ahem!) feline … but it wriggled free. And where did it run? IT RAN BACK TO OUR BACKYARD WHERE THE DOGS WERE WAITING. We darted to get the dogs in. The officer darted to pluck the kitten from the jaws of “round two.” How many lives this kitten has left is only a guess.

But the analogy of the story is its punch. Here we were attempting with great effort to show mercy and grace to this kitten; being even more cognizant of the danger than it was. Yet for all of our trying, the kitten was convinced that we were the enemy—sadistically heating up the environment, causing all kinds of racket, slinging water around on a cold and windy afternoon. And after a forceful deliverance, at first opportunity, the kitten attempted to dart straight back into the “lion’s den” where this whole escapade started. We are that kitten! In the jaws of our own sin and death—there was literally no escape. Mercy and grace stepped in, in the person of Jesus Christ, to rescue us. Yet in our frenzy, largely oblivious to the depths that rescue effort cost Him and meant to us, we run straight back to the danger from which we were plucked because we misinterpret His forceful rescue as malicious toying. Nevertheless, He will not let us wriggle away—even when that is all we want to do at times.

“I give eternal life to them, and they will never perish; and no one will snatch them out of My hand. My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father's hand. I and the Father are one” (John 10:28-30).

Kevin Rees, March 4, 2009

Sense of Wonder

I THINK I UNDERSTAND a little bit -- a tiny bit -- of what Louis Pasteur once said, "The more I study creation, the more I see the Creator." Quite removed from freshman biology class, I am nevertheless amazed all over again at the level of complexity and interconnectivity in the created world. Whether I look into the most powerful electron microscope or the most powerful full-spectrum telescope, God is fully present. I would have to agree with David's rhetorical question, "Where can I flee from Your presence?" (Psalm 139:7). Not only is God everywhere; God is everywhere undiluted. It is not like somehow God is too little butter spread over too much bread (to butcher a line from J.R.R. Tolkien's Fellowship of the Ring). With that in mind, there really is no "God-forsaken place;" that is except for the dark moments when Christ hung on Calvary's cross for our sins, crying out, "My God, My God why have you forsaken me?" The contrast between all time and that time is infinite. The comparison between all places and that place is unfathomable. "How precious are Your thoughts toward me, O God! How vast is the sum of them!" (Psalm 139:17).

Reasons to Celebrate

ORGANIZATIONALLY SPEAKING, there are some reasons to celebrate with regard to our three stated and church-wide goals for 2009 (and beyond!)—knowing Christ deeply, loving God and others authentically, and serving the world sacrificially.

Know. We celebrate a successful launch of the “Truth Project.” Each Sunday evening there are 46 participants assembling around living rooms for a DVD-based lecture and discussion series probing into the foundational and transformational dynamics of having and living a Christian worldview. If you missed out on this cycle, we hope to launch another 12-week cycle this summer. See Randy Blackwell for more information.

Love. We celebrate family; not only the idea of family, but also the determination to strengthen real families in real ways. Think and plan ahead toward participating in this year’s Weekend to Remember® with Family Life. In mid-May, this highly acclaimed marriage enrichment conference is coming to Rogers, AR. If enough couples sign up from FBC, we can qualify for a discounted group rate. See Nick DeYoung for more information.

Serve. We celebrate the amplification of our children’s ministry. Two new classes, a new curriculum, and several new volunteers have been added to better help our children to know Christ, love God & others, and serve the world. This has created multiple opportunities for the FBC body to use their gifts and resources to serve the world, starting right here at home … for only God knows to where in the world these children will zoom with the message of Christ. See Shellie Rees for more information.

Warmth from an Ice Storm

AS THE FICKLE WINTER seems unable (or unwilling!) to make up its mind about the weather, I am genuinely warmed on this cold February morning by several instances of healthy “body life” within our church family here at Fellowship Bible Church. In fact, I am so moved by these instances that I am still thinking about them several days after the fact. I hope by the mere exercise of spelling them out in this newsletter that you too will be warmed regardless of winter’s general inhospitality.

On the day after the ice storm, while “professional minister” I was preoccupied with the temperature in my own living room several of our people were preheating their vehicles to go and check on the situation of others in the body. No prodding. No cajoling. No applause-seeking. They just quietly navigated the tree-strewn streets across town, pulled out some tools, spread some salt, fired up once or twice a chain saw and became my teachers. My guess is that these were not merely the first strong acts of quiet fellowship; but were midpoints in a long string of ministry.

That would have been enough to thaw out a dozen Februarys, but I was soon amazed at the number of FBCers who showed up to help clear the Blackwells’ property from heavy tree loss. That too would have been enough to remind me that love given in Christ’s name has long been part of the very fabric of FBC (long before I was called!), but I was floored at the willingness for TJ to preach last Sunday with literally no warning as I weakly waved the white flag of surrender to all of my microscopic “killjoys” having a party at my expense. That too would have been enough to melt my cynicism about the spiritual state of the modern church, but I realize that these examples of authentic community all happened in less than two weeks’ time. If an ice storm can bring out this kind of warmth, I wonder what spiritual crop a gentle spring might conjure.

Kevin Rees, February 2009