Category Archives: Faith

“We’re in territory we’ve never seen in December.”

“The enormity of this … cannot be overstated. This is a true watershed event.”

“I don’t have enough adjectives in my arsenal to describe how massive this is.”

It’s “unprecedented.”

A senior media analyst was trying to describe the record-breaking turnout for the latest Star Wars movie.

The irony, of course, is that Star Wars: The Force Awakens premiered one week before the world would celebrate a far greater event – more massive and unprecedented than anything the earth had experienced before – or since.

Guided by a star, kings would come bearing gifts for the new-born Prince of Peace. All of heaven and earth would awaken to the coming of the greatest Force in the universe.

The arsenal of adjectives would be nearly depleted as humankind strained to describe the wonder and the joy; the majesty and the glory of the birth of the Messiah, Christ the Lord.

George Frideric Handel, composer of the immortal Messiah, nearly collapsed in his joy-induced fervor.

The enormity of this cannot be overstated.

This was a true watershed event.

Seven-hundred years before Bethlehem, the prophet Isaiah punctuated his condemnation of apostate Israel with a promise amazing in its detailed beauty.

After describing the encroaching anguish and darkness, Isaiah wrote of the advent of a “great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined” (Isaiah 9:2, KJV).

What was this light? What was this promise?

“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given …” (9:6, KJV).

A baby would be born to us.

A son would be given to us.

He would be given as a gift to you and me – and to all those who would believe and receive.

The Apostle Paul – reaching for an adjective – called the gift of our Savior “unspeakable” (II Corinthians 9:15, KJV).

It is indescribable – there simply weren’t enough adjectives in Paul’s arsenal to fully express the mystery and profundity of the coming of Messiah.

When the angels of heaven came down to the shepherds that night to make their announcement, they mirrored Isaiah in the intimacy of the gift:

“For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:11, KJV).

“For unto you…”

But not just to the shepherds – Jesus was born to all of us and to each of us.

Christmas is a holiday for families. There is no other time of year when the sense of community – of shared humanity and togetherness – is as great. We cherish those traditions and the love they represent.

At the same time, Christmas is a very intimate and personal celebration. For this child was not only born to the world – he was born to you. This Son has been given to you.

Had you been the only person who ever lived on the earth, Christ Jesus the Lord would have come here for you – such is the depth and breadth and the wonders of God’s love.

This is joy to the world, yes, and the weary world should rejoice and fall on its knees. But it is also a deep and abiding joy for every individual who has trusted him and made him Lord.

Upon the shoulders of this child, upon this Son, says Isaiah, the government shall rest.

At a time when the world is witnessing a widespread crisis of leadership; and in our own nation we despair of finding courage and integrity in our leaders, it is good to remember that Jesus Christ is our ruler and our authority. He reigns supreme over all. He is the King of all kings; he is the Lord of all lords.

“He’ll take over the running of the world” (9:6, The Message).

Of his government, declares the prophet, “there shall be no end” and he will “order it” and he will “establish it with judgment and with justice … forever” (verse 7, KJV).

Truth and righteousness are the twin pillars of his eternal reign.

No term limits.

So while we are properly concerned, we need not panic or distress over the outcome next November.

What child is this who has been given to us?

He is the mighty King. He is over every civil authority on earth.

Isaiah writes that this child shall be called “Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace” (verse 6, KJV).

The full and uncompromising deity of Jesus Christ was set forth seven centuries before his birth.

We rejoice.

In the midst of threats and turmoil and the coming turbulence of an unknown future, we look at this child and we give thanks that he is our Lodestar – the anchor of our faith, the strength of our courage, the comforter of our souls and the hope of our hearts.

Forever.

On the night he was born, the earth shouted its joy; the sea proclaimed its praise and all living things joined in. The rivers clapped their hands in glee and the hills sang out their songs of joy before the Lord (Psalm 98: 7-9).

And heaven and nature sang.

“O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord”

I’ll admit it.

I’m not much into reality TV.

I like heroic characters and happy endings. There’s just too much reality in reality TV. What’s not boring or silly is irritating and painful.

But there is one show I find quite entertaining. It’s called Undercover Boss.

The president of a large company decides to go undercover to work among his employees. He changes his appearance and enters incognito. He becomes just another new employee, learning the ropes. He has a boss and must take orders and pay attention to instructions. Sometimes he does OK but sometimes he doesn’t and everyone has to be patient with him.

Sometimes he gets yelled at. It’s very humbling.

He learns a lot by working with the workers. He observes and listens. He discovers special needs or wishes that some of the employees have. He is moved to compassion and impressed by their dedication.

Nobody knows who he is. Nobody knows he’s the boss. Nobody recognizes him.

At the end of the show, he gathers his entire workforce together and reveals his secret experiment – and his experience. He tells his workers how grateful he is for them and what he has learned from them – and about them.

He meets privately with the very employees he’s been interacting with. How surprised they are to learn his true identity. He remembers what they told him about their lives – their hopes and dreams and challenges. They are moved to tears by his kindness and generosity.

He helps each one.

It’s his way of showing his appreciation for their faithful service.

When God decided to enter the world he had made, he came incognito.

Nobody expected the Ruler of the universe to come through the virgin womb of a peasant girl by way of a cow stall in a cave. That’s not the way the Queen of England gets around; it’s not how the President travels.

The King of kings and Lord of lords went undercover. From his ivory palaces in heaven, our Messiah chose to come here in poverty.

On the night of his birth, with the exception of an angelic visitation to unknown shepherds in desolate fields, things went on as they had. Bethlehem bustled because of the coming census.

Nobody paid much attention to his birth.

Nobody knew who he was. Nobody recognized him. Nobody knew he was the King.

Some did perhaps. They had inklings. Mary and Joseph had a sense; old Simeon who heard the baby cry in the temple; the shepherds maybe; the three kings from the orient who followed that strange star.

But Jesus Christ entered history in the most unlikely manner.

It’s not the entrance we would have planned for the Creator. But we’re not God and this was his plan.

The way Jesus came was the precursor to his life and ministry among men and women.

He forgave prostitutes and touched lepers. He healed those marginalized by society; embraced crooked tax collectors, picked uneducated fishermen and owned nothing but a cloak. He was the scourge of the hypocrites and self-righteous but loved by sinners, to whom he came. The despised half-breed Samaritans seemed always to win his attention and his favor.

This is the irony of God. It is the wonder of Christmas.

In his letter to the Philippians, the Apostle Paul beautifully describes the miracle and glorious mystery of the Advent.

Jesus Christ is in the very “form of God” and “thought it not robbery to be equal with God” (Philippians 2:6, KJV).

In the meaning of the original Greek of the New Testament, Paul tells us Jesus is “essentially one with God … possessing the fullness of the attributes which make God God; he did not think this equality with God was a thing to be grasped or retained” (The Amplified Bible).

Jesus “made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant …” (verse 7, KJV). He “stripped Himself of all privileges and rightful dignity so as to assume the guise of a servant (slave), in that He became like men and was born a human being” (The Amplified Bible).

The King of glory washed the feet of men.

And before his life on earth was over, Jesus would humble himself further to die a painful and shameful criminal’s death on a cross.

For you and for me.

This is what we celebrate. This is the true reason for this season.

Jesus Christ emptied himself of his eternal power and position in order to become one with us.

The heart of Christmas is the incarnation. The heart of the incarnation is the Kenosis – the voluntary self-emptying of our Savior.

God humbled himself.

In his Son and in coming to earth, God gave up the independent exercise of his divine power and privileges. He consented to the limitations of human form.

He became one of us that he might save us – and that in our times of pain we would know that he knows.

In Christ God went undercover.

This is the joy of Christmas. This is the meaning of Immanuel.

This is the beauty of God With Us.

There once was an avid duck hunter who was looking for a new bird dog.

He looked everywhere for just the right dog. He finally found him.

“This dog is very special,” said the seller. “Watch this”. With that, the man threw a stick in a nearby pond. The dog marched out to retrieve the stick – walking on the water.

Knowing his friends would never believe him, the hunter bought the dog and planned a hunting trip with an old buddy who was, by nature, a cynical, hard to please pessimist.

On the appointed day, the two men hid in a blind until a flock of ducks flew over. They fired and a duck fell in the water. The dog jumped and headed out to retrieve the bird but instead of sinking, he simply walked out on the water and brought the duck to shore.

Nothing more than his paws were wet.

The man’s friend didn’t say a word and acted as if nothing unusual had happened.

On the drive home, the proud owner was curious.

“Did you notice anything in particular about my new dog?” he asked.

“Yep, sure did,” the friend replied. “He can’t swim”.

To cease to be thankful is to put our heart and mind on automatic pilot.

As Robert Louis Stevenson put it, “not to be thankful is to fall asleep in life”.

Our pressures and problems have blocked out our awareness of the mercy, kindness and grace of God in our lives. In place of gratitude comes a sense of entitlement. We presume upon the mercies he gives us every moment of every day. We may even think subconsciously we are owed this; we come to expect it. We are no longer in wonder and awe of the natural world God has created for us.

We are unimpressed with God.

Our focus is on what we need, what we want and what we must do. It is no longer on what God has done for us and what he has given us.

When we stop and think of God’s blessings; when we consider his mercies and his kindness then we begin to more clearly see all he has done and all he is still doing for us.

It’s then that we begin to count our blessings. And then we thank God.

We get re-impressed with God.

Thinking and thanking are the peas and carrots of the Christians life.

Before we can be grateful we must take stock of our lives. Before we can take stock of our lives we must think. And before we can think we must stop and take time to think. We rush through life too quickly to be thankful as we should. Our thinking is too preoccupied with the burdens of the day and the pressures of the week.

We don’t thank because we don’t think to thank.

Thankfulness is a discipline; it is an attitude that must be cultivated. It is a perspective that must become a habit and to become a habit it must be practiced. That requires a conscious effort.

It takes time well spent.

Gratitude does not come naturally, especially in the 21st-century.

Everything around us conspires to make us less than thankful. The things of this world make us anxious, envious and discouraged; they seldom make us thankful. To be truly thankful is to think beyond ourselves and our circumstances; beyond our wants and ambitions.

Sometimes we just make it too hard for God to impress us with his goodness.

This is not God’s fault, who daily blesses us with benefits. His faithfulness is great and his mercies are new every morning. The problem is with us – with a heart that does not feel toward God as it should and a mind that is not focused on God and his many blessings.

We are not observant of God.

We become too distracted by the things, the worries and the concerns of this world and our living in it. We rush about and never notice the sunrise, the sunset and the stars and the moon that God has painted in the sky.

Maybe we spend too much time indoors and not enough outdoors.

We are too easily impacted by fabrications and not enough by the divine created order. We take too much for granted and contemplate too little.

It took time for the apostle Paul to realize that the very “thorn in the flesh” he pleaded with God to remove was in fact a blessing of God’s grace. From God’s point of view it was not a disadvantage but an advantage. It was not a bane, it was a blessing.

It was not a weakness, it was a strength.

Since Paul prayed to God on three separate occasions for this physical restriction to be removed it took Paul time to think about this and to arrive at the same conclusion. It wasn’t automatic or natural (II Corinthians 12:7-10).

This was God’s will and it ended up ultimately strengthening Paul’s faith, his relationship with God and his gratitude for the blessings of God and God’s grace, which Paul discovered was more than sufficient.

It was Paul who wrote that we must not let the world force us into its mold of entitlement and ingratitude. We must break the mold by letting God transform our minds – to think anew. Only then can we see God, this world and ourselves as we ought to see them – through the eyes of faith.

Only then can we be impressed with what should impress us.

And only then can we learn what it means to be truly thankful. Every attitude is a formed and disciplined habit. This includes the attitude of gratitude.

God, help us to cultivate thankfulness in the garden of our souls; in the fields of our heart and mind.

Help us to be impressed with you.

Help us to be in awe.

It was scary.

It was nothing any sane person would ever think of trying.

It wasn’t safe.

No practical, reasonable, and thoughtful man or woman would dare do it. It made absolutely no sense. Had studies existed on such an attempt, they would have been clear in their consensus.

It wasn’t prudent – not by a long shot.

You just don’t get out of a boat in the middle of the sea in the midst of a storm. And try to walk on water. Besides, it was dark.

Peter, what in the world were you thinking?

Matthew tells us about this in his gospel account; Mark omits it. At around 3:00AM, Jesus was coming toward the disciples, walking on the water. Understandably terrified by what they thought was a ghost, the men heard a familiar voice. Jesus told them three things immediately (Matthew 14: 27, NLT):

“Don’t be afraid.”

“Take courage.”

“I am here.”

Banish fear, buck up, you know who I am. That wasn’t quite enough for Peter – nor probably for his comrades, who sat soaked and cold, shivering in their sandals.

“Then Peter called to him, ‘Lord, if it’s really you, tell me to come to you, walking on the water.’” (Matthew 14: 28, NLT).

“Lord, if…”

Doubt often precedes faith and, by its contrast, defines it. Without comparing it to doubt, how would we know what real faith was? So Peter begins with some skepticism, as we all must. Jesus accepts Peter’s wager with one word:

“Come”

Was it an invitation – or a challenge? Peter had doubts, Jesus had none. Peter didn’t know for sure what he would do, he didn’t know for sure who Jesus was and he didn’t know for sure what would happen if  he got out of the boat.

Jesus knew – for sure.

We start with doubt. Then Jesus invites us to do something. He challenges us to trust him and to act on that trust. What he tells us to do may be just as improbable, just as impractical and just as fearful as asking a man to get out of a boat and start walking on water in the middle of a violent storm.

Peter obeyed.

His friends looked at each other. “He’s crazy!”

He left the security of the boat, stepped out onto the troubled Sea of Galilee and began to walk toward Jesus. Peter began well and we’re proud of him. But almost immediately the winds whiplashed Peter’s faith. He had seen Jesus but now “he saw the wind boisterous” (vs.30, KJV).  Circumstances, not Christ, became his focus.

“He saw the wind…”

All Peter could see was what surrounded him – “the strong wind and the waves” – and “he was terrified and began to sink. ‘Save me, Lord!’ he cried.” (vs. 29-30, NLT). Jesus reached out his hand and pulled Peter up. He might have smiled and gently shaken his head when he said to Peter, “You have so little faith, why did you doubt me?” (vs. 31).

Have the circumstances of your life ever undermined the moorings of your faith and cast you into a churning sea of doubt? Have you ever felt like you were sinking beneath the waves of a bleak uncertainty? Have you ever cried out to God at 3:00 AM and shouted “Save me, Lord”?

If life has ever seemed less than serene, then perhaps you can identify with Peter.

As followers of Christ, we sometimes feel as though we’re in a little boat tossed upon the wide, uncertain sea of life.  The howling winds of adversity blow against us and the angry waves of circumstance break upon us. We are confused and frightened. It’s dark and we can’t see much. Then we see Jesus and he bids us “come.”

He invites us to get out of the boat. To let go of whatever we’re clutching in a false security.

In that moment we must choose between fear and trust.  They argue within our soul.

Fear says, “Stay in.” Trust says, “Step out.”

Fear says, “Why?” Trust says, “Why not?”

Fear says, “I’m on my own.” Trust says, “I’m in God’s hands.”

Fear asks, “What if…?” Trust answers, “So what?”

Fear says, “Impossible!” Trust answers, “Not with God!”

Two choices. Two attitudes. Two ways of living. Jesus tells us, “Come.” And even when we do and even when we doubt and even when we look around and begin to sink, Jesus reaches out his hand of grace and lifts us up again to himself. And he smiles at us and says, “Why did you doubt me?”

Only two men in recorded history have ever walked on water. One was God, the other was a man called Peter. But before he did – and before he could – Peter had to get out of the boat. So do you.

It may be a crazy thing to do but sometimes faith is like that.

May God bless you and your family.

Tommy’s a cute kid.

He didn’t seem threatening.

But today you just can’t be too cautious.

True defenders of the faith can brook no quarter to disbelief.  After all, who knows what evil lurks there?

So when little Tommy, a second-grader at an Indiana elementary school, told his classmates that he didn’t believe in God, his teacher ordered him to sit alone during lunch – for three days.  He was further instructed not to speak to any other students.

This imposed isolation was because, the teacher insisted, Tommy’s views on religion “offended them.”

Tommy’s parents filed a lawsuit.

One wonders what seven-year-old Tommy may have thought of all this. Before he was banished to solitary as an infidel by his Christian school teacher, she interrogated him on his views, his parents’ beliefs and why he didn’t go to church.

Tommy asked what he had done wrong. When he got home he cried.

When he’s a 25-year-old atheist and is asked why, Tommy will tell this story about his first impression of practical Christianity.  He’ll remember the hurt, his “offended” classmates and a cruel teacher who thought she was doing Jesus a favor.

Sadly ironic but often true, Christians help to explain a lot of atheism. We defend ourselves with the excuse that we’re “only human”. This is an unpersuasive way of saying that our faith has no real impact on how we live or treat others. We hold forth on theology, prophecy and politics but struggle with the simple Golden Rule. We practice a selective ethic that invites hypocrisy. We prioritize sin in others, ignore it in ourselves and thank God we’re not like other losers and miscreants.

Not all Christians are like this of course. Hopefully, you’re not. But I am sometimes.

Like Paul the apostle I make it my chief ambition to know Christ and realize to my shame how little I do. And like the man once named Saul, I too struggle, doing things I wish I hadn’t and failing to do those things I know I should.

“And I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature” (Romans 7:18, NLT). With him, I cry in frustration, “who shall deliver me from this body of death?” (Romans 7: 24, KJV).

“…from this life that is dominated by sin … “(NLT).

God’s grace has saved us all. In his infinite mercy he puts up with even the best of us. Our finest moments, if and when they come, are all because of him – and nothing in ourselves. We’ve no cause to glory in the filthy rags of our self-righteousness but only in the unfathomable riches of the abounding grace that chose us when we were lost; helpless and hopeless.

We were wretched, undesirable and unworthy sinners.

You and I haven’t gotten what we deserved. We’ve received what we couldn’t earn, had no right to expect and didn’t deserve.

If we would only remember that more than we do, it would make a difference in how we see ourselves and how we look at others, especially those who are not like us.  It seems that if we would correct our theology we’d improve our attitude.

What an opportunity to show the love of Christ that teacher missed. What a lesson could have been taught to the other students. What an impact could have been made on the life of a confused and uncertain child.

Children are impressionable and sometimes those impressions – for good or for bad – are written with indelible ink. They remain in the heart and mind and on the soul. Teachers, of all people, leave lasting impressions. I still remember those who showed kindness and patience to me when I was Tommy’s age.

Don’t you?

Kindness is so powerful. One cannot read the thirteenth chapter of Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians or his listing of the fruits of the Spirit in his letter to the Galatians without noticing the pulsating theme of kindness. Those qualities of character that Paul says define us as Christians are all variants of human kindness.  They find their root and their blossom in this simple but too often elusive virtue.

You’ll search in vain for a self-assertive trait.

Only a kind person can know love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, and faithfulness. Only someone who is genuinely kind will also be gentle and self-controlled.

It is kindness that conquerors more often than courage and conviction. Paul says you and I may exhibit all manner of heroic deeds; we may sacrifice everything and know everything but without love we are nothing.

The hymn writer and clergyman Frederick William Faber was right when he observed that “kindness has converted more sinners than zeal, eloquence or learning.”

How many have found the door of faith bolted by cruelty but opened wide by charity?

Kindness can make all the difference in the world.

Especially, perhaps, in the heart of a little atheist.

May God bless you and your family.