Away in a Manger

THE CATTLE ARE LOWING, the Baby awakes. But little Lord Jesus no crying He makes. Wait a second! That line in the second verse of the beloved carol, “Away in a Manger,” has irked me for years. Of course, it has not been enough to stop me from singing it at Christmas Eve services or at times of caroling around the piano or even at bedtimes with the children (during, potentially, any month of the year, not just December!). But the pebble of irritation about the manger scene has proven to be just enough to re-open the Christmas narrative and see if such a detail is explicitly mentioned or implicitly inferred anywhere. Did little Lord Jesus, really, no crying make?

Verdict—Mary’s first delivery was a normal, healthy delivery in every way, which leads me to conclude that there must have been plenty of crying to go around! Jesus, Mary, Joseph, shepherds, and eventually the wise men—pass the Kleenex® box around. Can angels cry? Well, if they can they too might have joyfully blubbered with the rest of them! “I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people” (Luke 2:10).

Not in 2011 … nor, for the record, in 2012(!) … but Shellie and I have made our rounds through the obstetrics ward at the hospital five wonderful times in the last 14¾ years. We have concurred that it would not be in the least bit serene, or happy, or joyful to have a baby who was not crying in the first moments of life. There is nothing in the Christmas account in Scripture that even remotely suggests that Mary’s delivery was any different than any other woman’s delivery or that Jesus’ birth was anything different than any other baby’s birth. Certainly, Mary and Jesus were unique in ways that beg for more study and more dialogue, but the events of that night were entirely … and dare I say … blessedly ordinary.

I am not trying to spar with poetic license written into “Away in a Manger.” Actually and tangentially, I found something else noteworthy in the relatively few verses allotted to Jesus’ birth in the Bible; something that I might have missed if it were not for my borderline compulsive urge to fact-check traditional Christmas carols. This year I noticed an amazing absence of anything out of the ordinary with Jesus’ actual birthday. His birth infused blessing into uneventfulness.

Perhaps you are like us in this regard, too often we give thanks for the brushes with the supernatural; those macro- or micro-deliverances that could only be explained after-the-fact by a providentially attentive Almighty God who graciously scrutinizes our paths. But I don’t know if I have ever before thought of the blessing of the ordinary. Granted, on that first Christmas there are many elements of sheer drama and utter terror, where the so-called experts were tongue-tied and the so-called bumpkins were silver-tongued. We would be the last to remove, even remotely, the supernatural from the Incarnation. But on that night, with that couple, in that stall, with that feeding trough nothing extraordinary happened. On the nearby hillside where the shepherds were guarding their flocks at night, there were supernatural fireworks going off. In the far-away sand where the Magi were studying the night-sky, there were miraculous “dots” being connected. But in the stable behind the inn which had no room for the King-in-disguise there was the blessing of uneventfulness.

Mary, for sure, had unanesthetized labor-pains throughout her delivery. Joseph, for sure, wished there was someone else present who had actually delivered a baby before; or at least someone who could advise him about basic female anatomy since he and Mary had not seen each other in that way yet. Not to belabor the point (pun intended!), but there was blood and fluid and after-birth and the ubiquitous clumsiness of figuring out how to feed a baby as a first-time mom. And, in my imagination, crying must have been generously exercised—before, during, and after the birth.

For Mary and Joseph all the miracles—and there were many—happened before and then after this very ordinary birth. The conception, of course, was perhaps the greatest miracle of all. The marriage that was not severed when Joseph discovered the news of Mary’s pregnancy without his (or any male’s) participation—this was a miracle that must not slip past our careful attention. Mary’s miraculous welcome received from her relative, Elizabeth, who was also miraculously pregnant. Jesus’ fantastic in utero greeting from his in utero cousin, John (the Baptist), was also miraculous. Time prevents a full treatment of the miracles that light up the narrative: the shepherds, the angels, the Christmas Star that apparently moved as needed to guide the wise men to Jesus, the escape from the massacre at Bethlehem, the dreams given to Joseph several times along the way, the name selected for the Savior, the city where the birth took place, even the timing of the tax requirement issued by Quirinius the Roman governor of Palestine at the time.

But that night, away in a manger, God steeped sublime dignity into the ordinary by allowing His Son to be birthed in exactly the same way all humans are birthed. God infused supernatural guidance and perseverance—incognito—into the otherwise uneventfulness of Christmas. This is the Christmas meditation that I stumbled across while looking for another thing altogether—what so often feels like God’s distance when it takes our every ounce of energy just to keep “treading water” in the ordinary, just trying to make it, just waiting for the time to punch out for the weekend … what often seems like God’s disinterest or even disapproval in our achingly long stretches of silence and uneventfulness … might actually be the times when God is nearest of all. God is not always found in the euphoria of the phenomenal, or in the serenity of the mystical. Sometimes—and arguably most times—God is found in the ordinary manger straw that is intentionally hidden in the alley behind the neon “no vacancy” sign, underneath the pain, awash with salty tears on the clumsy side of life when we think no one is paying any attention at all. Pass the Kleenex® box—for what seems to be the most ordinary may be, in fact, our front row seat for the most extraordinary thing of all: God came near.

Uganda 2011

Webele Yesu (WAY-buh-lay YAY-soo)—thank You, Jesus—for a very good, very deep, very rich 11 days to Uganda and back again.

Dr. David Livingstone—Scottish missionary to and explorer of the African interior during the mid-1800s—wrote many books and journals that our eyes have never skimmed. Conceivably his mind has forgotten more information than our minds have ever learned. Certainly his feet have gone places our feet have never dared to go—that is until last week. For an unforgettable week Shellie and I were in places nestled between Lake Victoria and Lake Albert in the Rwenzori Mountains of western Uganda; places that might very well have hosted Dr. Livingstone we presume(!) as he hunted for the sources of the Nile … places that help us to understand a fraction more of what Livingstone once said, “If you have men who will only come if they know there is a good road, I don't want them. I want men who will come if there is no road at all.”

Last week we saw where the “good road” quite abruptly ends and where, beyond the asphalt, rose the “smoke of a thousand villages” as Dr. Robert Moffat said to young Livingstone, thus propelling him deeper into the African interior than any missionary before him (William Garden Blaikie, The Personal Life of David Livingstone, 1880). Last week we tasted the other-worldly lure of contributing to the spread of the gospel of Jesus Christ to all nations through the agency of the local church. Last week we thanked the Lord for the honor to travel several hours beyond the spot where the “good road” ends for the purpose of speaking the promises of grace in at least one of those “thousand villages”—Nyahuka village in Bundibugyo district, Uganda, just a few kilometers from the Congo border.

It was a week of “firsts”: our first trip to Africa, to Uganda, to the Equator where the water doesn’t swirl when flushed (when there was water!). This week brought the first glimpses of banana, mango, and cocoa trees; the first fields of coffee bushes and tea plants. We trekked into the rainforest to see a community of chimpanzees, drove on the left-hand side of the road through mud as deep as the 4x4 tires were tall—these were all “firsts” for us. Never before had we forded a swiftly running river in a vehicle or eaten the parts of a chicken we normally toss to the dogs. Never before had we gotten sunburned in November. These were our first tastes of goat, posho, millet, and matooke. We have never before been awakened at 5:30am by Arabic-speaking Muslims over the loud speaker indiscriminately calling would-be converts in the village to wake up and stop being lazy (or so the translation was reported to us since we do not, nor does anyone in the village, speak Arabic) and come to prayer mandatory for their salvation. Subsequently, we have never before distinctly thanked God for His grace in that particular setting, as the loud speakers crackled in the pre-dawn darkness—thanking Him particularly that it is not what we do that saves us (like pray five times a day) but what Christ did—serenely rolling over to sleep for another hour in our freedom in Christ before the sun blazed through the screened window. It was a week of “firsts”; even spelling them out makes me think of more “firsts” to round out our journey story.

We have seen grasshoppers before, of course, but never had we seen crowds gather where men turned on bright lights at dusk in order to attract the insects, catch them in nets, and sell them wriggling in the bag for future feasting. We have experienced cold showers before, of course, but never because there were no hot water heaters at all and certainly not during a typhoid outbreak in the local water sources. I have keynoted at conferences before, but never before had I taught 21 pastors across 3 denominations for 8 consecutive hours about disciple-making through the gospel of Matthew…and never before had I taught a second time in one week with 12 missionaries from 3 countries about the “glory” of Christ. Shellie had visited medical clinics before, but never before when latex gloves were luxury items and never before when malnourishment was so rampant (even in a place where everything seems to grow; but too little protein).

We have participated in prayer services before, thousands of them probably, but never before had we prayed for and with people who were dying of HIV/AIDS. We have joined in praise services before, but never before to our ears had the songs been offered to Jesus in the beautiful Lubwisi language; never before had the instrumentation been solely homemade drums and voices woven together in distinctly non-Western harmonies. We have gone on pastoral visitation before, no doubt, but never before has it been on foot down trails far too narrow for vehicles through clusters of banana trees, mud houses, and very thin children practicing their one memorized English greeting, “How are you?” We must have replied, “Fine, how are you?” a thousand times. [How did they know we spoke English; two of probably six mzungu (foreigners) residents in their whole district all of whom form the World Harvest Mission Team of missionaries and who are consistently, visibly sunburned—almost glowing—whether they are seen at the village market or in the health clinic or at the water project or around the church?]

Webele Yesu—thank You, Jesus—for such a deeply moving, textured, and soul-altering week with the Babwisi people. May they be well-represented when all the tribes and tongues and peoples sing Your praise at that great Ingathering of worshipers when You return to earth as King of the nations.

Webele Yesu—for our friends, new and old, serving with World Harvest Mission in Bundibugyo, Uganda, East Africa for the sake of Your name. May they be sustained and empowered on all levels and in all ways by the Spirit, especially in those non-glamorous parts and storylines that never make it into the prayer letters or the mission conferences.

Webele Yesu—for allowing Shellie and I to make this trip together, for allowing our children to be well-loved and “super-cared-for” by Grandma and Grandpa, for allowing our church in Siloam Springs, Arkansas to be ultra-supportive and generous to “lease us out” to minister to the larger Body of Christ (which is not often the case!).

Webele Yesu—for each of you; some who prayed, some who gave money, some who donated supplies, some who filled the pulpit, some who administered the communion, some of you who did a combination of all of these gifts. This trip was simply impossible without your participation.

Webele Yesu—for the gospel of Your grace that changed our hearts from merely focusing upon ourselves to focusing upon the nations, even if only for 11 days at a time.

Webele Yesu—for the upcoming opportunity, July 4-24, 2012, to return to Uganda with a team from our local church (a team which this time includes our son, Seth, who will be 15-years old and excited to join the “adult” ranks in missions!) to serve and assist Your servant-missionaries who are living among and ministering to the most vulnerable in eastern Uganda. May Your name be glorified now and then and beyond then.

For the sake of the Name (3 John 7),

Kevin & Shellie Rees

2 December 2011

“God, send me anywhere, only go with me. Lay any burden on me, only sustain me. And sever any tie in my heart except the tie that binds my heart to Yours.” — David Livingstone

Who Doesn't Love October?

October. I’m glad it is October. Aren’t you? I mean, who doesn’t love October? Crisp nights, warm days, apple harvests, bugs in the backyard die in the frost, and sports—sigh … I’m glad it’s October, especially because it’s playoff time in baseball. During the summer I’m lucky to get one baseball game a week, but in October I’m, at times, feasting on two and three games a day. Who doesn’t love October?

Oh wait. Maybe not everyone loves October this year. Other years perhaps everyone does, but this October maybe the Boston Red Sox and the Atlanta Braves are not feasting on baseball like they thought they would be. They had October-playoffs in their grasp, but lost it … and have no one to blame but themselves.

The last week of September marked the dismal, October-erasing, historic collapse of the Boston Red Sox and Atlanta Braves. On September 4, the Red Sox had a 9-game lead in the American League Wild Card Race over the Tampa Bay Rays, but after a stellar August they had a tragic September (7-19) and watched their lead vanish. On the last game of the regular season in the last week of September, the Red Sox lost a must-win game—a game in which they held the lead into the ninth inning; a game in which they were playing the worst team in the division; the Baltimore Orioles. But a ninth inning rally for the O’s denied the Red Sox of the privilege of baseball in October. (I love the fact that it was the Orioles that did this, by the way!)

The Atlanta Braves did not perform any better. They had an 8.5-game lead in the National League Wild Card Race at the beginning of September. They, too, limped along all month while the St. Louis Cardinals made strides. In the last game of their regular season, in the last inning of the last game, the Braves also surrendered a sure lead and lost the privilege of baseball in October.

I’ve seen it so many times; in every sport, every level, and every sort of field. A team has a solid game-plan and the lead. And then something happens; something that defies logic. It’s like black magic. Something happens at half-time or between the fourth and fifth sets or at the beginning of September; some bewitchment that spooks them into switching from winning the game to not-losing the game.

Do you know what I mean? Red Sox: the way you started is the way you continue. Braves: the way you started is the way you continue. Your game-plan was successful—why switch in the middle from winning to “not losing”?

The leap from the baseball world into the church world is not at all difficult. Church, the way we started in Christ is the same way we continue—by faith, not works. We, like the 2011 Red Sox and Braves, are often at the brink of a historic collapse when we think of switching from faith as the way to please God to human works as the way to keep God pleased. Whether it is because of panic or neglect or miscalculation, we are often tempted—in some strange September enchantment—to conclude that “faith alone” cannot carry the day anymore and therefore exit from God’s game-plan.

But why would we ever even consider changing God’s game-plan of faith? The way we started in Christ—by faith, not works—is exactly the way we continue in Christ. By faith, not works. It is so simple, so genius, so inspired that Paul scratches his head in Galatians 3:1-14 and wonders out loud if there is some bewitching going on; some logic-eroding, memory-erasing black magic, evil-eye spell-casting that is diverting the church’s eyes from fixing upon Our Great God and Savior Jesus Christ to the one of the thousands of counterfeit saviors.

“O foolish Galatians, who has bewitched you … having begun in the Spirit are you now being perfected in the flesh?” (Galatians 3:1,3)

Yet before we shake our heads at the ancient Galatians or cluck our tongue at their tendency to revert to a system of human rules to please God (and men), let us own the fact that this is our dismal track record as well. We, too, forget how the Lord got us started in the new life—by faith, not works—and quickly devolve into a game-plan to grow in the new life on our own merits and rule keeping. We often chuck the game-plan out at the break, despite its success in setting us free from the endless bondage of “trying harder” and “doing more,” morphing into a squad that shifts from faith back into the same systems that enslaved us before faith arrived. And we have no one to blame but ourselves.

The Supernatural Amplification of Glory

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. This is a physical law. Unless God interrupts this natural conservation of energy--observable throughout the visible universe--it continues just the way God designed it to continue. One domino falls into another domino that falls into another domino ... and even when those fallen dominoes lay down flat on the table under gravity's pull, the table still reacts equally and oppositely to hold up the dominoes. (It is about this time that I wish I had paid more attention in Dr. Stachan's 11th grade physics class.)

But some of that energy in any physical action is converted into an unusable form; it is still there, but "trapped" in a place that cannot be retrieved (by us). So there is always a small subtraction. The pendulum swings but not quite as far as the last time. The ball bounces but not quite as high as the last time. The energy is still there--equally and oppositely reacting--but some is lost to friction or whatever else until that pendulum and that ball eventually "subtract" down to zero movement held still in the pull of gravity. (It is about this time that true physicists will want to sit me down and teach me all that I am missing about this in the fascinating world of physics).

Ah yes, but here is the majestic leap from the physical world into the supernatural realm of worship. Worship of the living God actually amplifies when we give it away. For every act of God revealing His glory to humans, there is a greater and amplified response (not merely a reaction!) of glorifying the God of glory in worship. Okay, I admit that the language isn't as precise as Newtonian physics, but the principle is certainly in the Scripture.

I see this supernatural amplification of glory in several places. To Abraham in Genesis 12 and 15 and 22, God reveals His glory to a singular individual--He blesses Abraham, which starts a chain response (not a mere chain reaction!) that amplifies the blessing to every nation. God reveals His glory to one. That one shares the glory revealed by God to him to others. And over time all the nations will glorify the God who first revealed His glory to the individual Abraham. Over time the pendulum and the bouncing ball return to a state of rest. Over time the glory of God will amplify and expand and will result in all the nations of the world giving glory to God in worship.

This principle of amplification shows up exceptionally well in Psalm 96. "Tell of His glory among the nations, His wonderful deeds among all the peoples" (vs. 3). God reveals His glory to some (namely Israel) who are then commissioned to declare that glory revealed to them by God to the nations (which is functionally the Great Commission of the Old Testament, compare Matthew 28:19-20!). The result is not less glory, but more! "Ascribe to the LORD, oh families of the peoples; ascribe to the LORD glory and strength. Ascribe to the LORD the glory of His name; bring an offering and come into His courts. Worship the LORD in holy attire. Tremble before Him all the earth" (Psalm 96:7-9).

The principle of amplification screams from John 17 as well. Jesus in prayer says, "Father, the hour has come; glorify Your Son, that the Son may glorify You" (vs. 1). Glory given away is not glory lost; it is glory that takes root, so to speak, and produces a crop of a hundredfold. And Jesus inside the same prayer says, "The glory which You have given Me I have given to them (the disciples), that they may be one, just as We are one .... Father, I desire that they also, whom You have given Me, be with Me where I am, so that they may see the glory which You have given Me (vv. 22,24). God the Father gives glory to Jesus who gives it back to the Father amplified; increased. But while that inner-Trinitarian worship cycles, Jesus also shares that glory given to Him with the disciples (and their disciples and their disciples, etc.) for the expressed purpose of sharing in the glory of Jesus amplified in number; increased in worship over time.

We are blessed in order that we might bless God back in worship and bless others so that more and more blessing might return to the Lord who blesses. God reveals glory to us in order that we might glorify God back in worship and declare that glory to others so that more and more glorification might return to the Lord of glory. Jesus asks for more glory in order that He might glorify the Father all the more, and share that glory with His followers so that in the end of time every nation will join in the glorification of God with exponential amplification.

May the cycle of amplification of God's glory not be interrupted with me; with us. May the amplification increase and expand in and through us to the glory of the One who alone is worthy.

The Silence of God

We all know the shame and the pain of a broken conscience when we fail to speak up, to defend, to intercede, to counteract, and to testify. But there are times when the loudest, most compelling, most courageous form of testimony is conscientious silence; times when the shape of our faith and the sound of our confession is silent trust in “Him who judges righteously” (1 Peter 2:23). How, when, why, and where we actively step into silence, however, is by-and-large uncharted territory, but “there is a time to be silent and a time to speak” all the same (Ecclesiastes 3:7).

Our silence as human witnesses is one thing, but the silence of the Savior is another. When our Savior was on trial, the conflicting testimony of false witnesses in a kangaroo court filled the room with its noise. But even more remarkable than their cacophony was the striking silence of Jesus before His accusers. The incarnate Word of God silent before His slaughterers—how can it be? “He was oppressed and He was afflicted, yet He did not open His mouth; like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so He did not open His mouth” (Isaiah 53:7).

Jesus’ silence was not a cowardly or inactive sort of silence with eyes on the floor and shoulders drooped, but the bold and courageous sort of silence with eyes ablaze and teeth gritted—fully engaged, fully intentional, fully powerful. Of all the power that Jesus exhibited in His time on earth the power of restraint that He demonstrated that morning during those illegal and sacrilegious trials was unparalleled.

The enemies seemed to gain the “upper hand” over Jesus. But something graver, more somber was happening. They were not just attempting to win a fight over Jesus who had trumped and stumped them in public for over three years. They were crossing the point of no return, so to speak. They rejected Word so completely that Word ceased—how can it be? Virtually the only testimony they got from then on from Jesus was silence … the silence of God.

Silence can break the back, melt the heart, and shake a man’s timbers … but this was not the perceived silence of God that we often get when we struggle with the trials. This silence, at that dark hour of history, was the actual silence of God. They stepped beyond Word and seemed to enjoy themselves in the moment, still unaware of the awful predicament into which they crossed. This is the silent treatment no one can endure.

"Therefore everyone who confesses Me before men, I will also confess him before My Father who is in heaven. But whoever denies Me before men, I will also deny him before My Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 10:32-33).

You don’t want the silence of the Savior. You want Him to speak up for you. You need Him to speak up for you. He was silent for you in His trial in order that He might speak up for you in your trial before the true Judge. Those who have rejected Jesus in life will find Jesus silent in their defense in the afterlife. Those who have accepted Jesus in life will find Jesus willing and able to speak up in their defense in the afterlife. There is a correlation: how we respond to Word matters. It matters immensely. Reject and even hate Word now and it will cease both in this life and in the one to come. Receive and even love Word now and it will flow all the more in this life and in the one to come.

Sauerkraut and Jesus

Can vitamin C really be that important? (I have a $2 bottle of it in my cupboard.) Yes, in fact, it is that important!

Consider the lack of it a couple of generations ago, for instance, during the Seven Years War (1756-1763). During those seven years in which His Majesty’s Royal Navy conscripted 185,000 sailors into service, 133,000 lost … not in battle, but lost to poor nutrition; largely to scurvy (Wikipedia) which is chronic vitamin C deficiency. Now, if Wikipedia is right(!), that is 72.3% of British sailors in seven years of wartime died because of undernourishment!

By contrast, about the same time, British Navy Captain James Cook (1769-1771) circumnavigated the globe three times (1769-1779) without losing a single man on his ship to scurvy. “How?” you may ask. (Did he, like I, have a $2 bottle of vitamin C in his cupboard? Hardly.) Captain Cook learned, from trial and error, that a diet that included sauerkraut (pickled cabbage) and wort (the liquid extract of barley generated in the first step of brewing beer) warded off scurvy. It would take science 150 years to directly link scurvy to vitamin C deficiency (1932) but Captain Cook found life in sauerkraut: “the only vegetable food that retained a reasonable amount of ascorbic acid in a pickled state” (Wikipedia). Can you imagine the smell aboard the HM Endeavor?!?

Why mention this? It is a straightforward reason: our diet significantly affects our health, and our health significantly affects our journey. Whether we proceed in ignorance or stubbornness, it is fair to say that what we consume, or fail to consume, can quickly become a life or death affair—physically and spiritually. We could have the best strategies, the best maps, the best ships with the best rigging, but if we have a chronically poor or chronically foolish diet then it may be our ship that loses 72.3% of its crew with dozens of burials at sea before the tour is concluded.

But here is the beauty of the gospel. Unlike Captain Cook who stumbled upon the minimum requirements for staving off death aboard a ship, our Captain Jesus gives us, not the bare minimum requirements for life, but the maximum. He gives us Himself as our true sustenance; our spiritual food. He is the Bread of Life filling not our bellies, but our souls. He is the Water of Life gushing out unto eternal life. He Himself gives us not only minimum requirements for life, but an abundance of eternal life that starts now, that truly fills and overflows our small containers. “Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!”