Category Archives: Faith

Chris Bires, 41, was on his way to work.

He walked this street in downtown Chicago every day, Monday thru Friday. It was routinely uneventful.

Until that day.

When Chris spotted a man playing his saxophone on the street and the empty can next to him, he decided he’d do a good deed. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out all his coins and emptied them into the can. The bearded young saxophonist smiled at the clean-shaven executive and thanked him.

When he got to work, Chris discovered that he was missing his wedding ring. The ring fit a little loose and he had been planning to have it re-sized. He must have somehow accidently handed it over to the street musician when he gave him his money. His heart sunk. Chris raced back to where the saxophonist had been but he was gone.

As he walked back to his office, Chris wondered how he would explain this to his wife. And then he thought, “If only I hadn’t given that guy my money”. Chris ruefully sneered to himself. “I guess it’s like they say, no good deed goes unpunished.”

Weeks went by.

Then one day, walking to work, Chris was anxiously intercepted by a smiling middle-aged woman. She reached into her handbag and pulled something out. When she opened her hand to Chris, there was his lost ring.

Chris couldn’t believe it.

Bonita Franks, a panhandler, had seen Chris return that day telling someone about the man with the saxophone and his lost ring. She remembered it when she later spotted the sax player. And she took it upon herself to get the ring back, as only a street- savvy panhandler could do.

Bonita didn’t know if she’d ever see Chris Bires on that crowded city street again but she vowed to watch and when she did, she couldn’t wait to return his lost treasure. And there, on that busy Chicago street, surely surrounded by all manner of greed, apathy and selfish striving, two unlikely people hugged, brought together by their kindness and generosity.

We’ve all been tempted to feel that in this world, sooner or later, idealism gets brutally mugged; that good deeds are unrequited and, as often as not, punished. Our age breeds cynicism and contempt and the headlines blare it.

We shake our heads. “That figures. They should have known better.”

God, faith and the Bible go boldly against this rough and hardened grain. They beckon us to a higher standard, a softer heart and a more hopeful disposition.

There is an ancient Hebrew saying found in the Old Testament: “Cast your bread upon the waters, for after many days you will find it again” (Ecclesiastes 11:1-2, NIV).

What does this mean?

Give generously, with no thought to your own interests and, no matter what may happen in the meanwhile, your kindness will not go unnoticed or unrewarded. The blessing may be immediate or it may be delayed but it will never be abandoned or overlooked by a God who sees all and cares deeply.

How do we know this?

Because God will be a debtor to no one. We cannot out-give him. God is the ultimate Giver. He has given us His only Son and our greatest gift, eternal life. Daily God blesses us beyond all measure in so many ways we fail to count or recall. As the poet wrote, “he giveth and giveth and giveth again.” God is unbelievably and extravagantly generous.

He gave all this to us when we had nothing, could do nothing and were nothing.

We cannot pay God back.

This is the glory of our salvation – and its chief stumbling block for so many. We feel we must earn that which we can only accept. There can be no grace without God’s giving; nor can there be grace without our open arms and empty hands.

“In my hand no price I bring, simply to Thy cross I cling”.

In a world and culture that’s all about taking and getting, everything about Christianity involves giving. As Jesus prepared to send out the disciples to perform all manner of good deeds, He reminded them:

“Freely you have received, freely give” (Matthew 10:9, NKJV). Their receiving was the basis of their giving.

So is ours.

“Give”, Jesus tells us, “and it will be given to you: good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over will be put into your bosom. For with the same measure you use, it will be measured back to you” (Luke 6:38, NKJV).

“Give away your life; you’ll find life given back, but not merely given back – given back with bonus and blessing. Giving, not getting, is the way. Generosity begets generosity” (Luke 6:38, The Message).

In these fractured and coarsened times how important that we remember our Savior’s teaching.

The poet Edwin Markham expressed this spiritual truth when he wrote:

“There is a destiny which makes us brothers; none goes his way alone. All that we send into the lives of others comes back into our own.”

Chris Bires and Bonita Franks would smile, fist-bump and say, “Back at ya!”

Through the dark woods the little boy ran.

As fast as his skinny legs would take him he ran. Through the gullies and up the hills; across the streams and over the fields he breathlessly scurried on.

His heart beat faster and faster. Fear raced through him like a freight train. He dared only once to glance back at the giant vicious predator. The bear was closing on the lad, his growls of hunger growing louder as he pursued his tiny prey.

The boy finally reached the place of no return –and no escape.

He was cornered.

The little boy closed his eyes tight. The bear leaped on him from behind and gave a menacing final growl.

Then just as suddenly, the bear released the little boy from his powerful grasp. The boy squirmed out and jumped to his feet and turned to face the bear. The boy giggled and ran into the bear’s strong limbs.

“I love you Daddy!” he gleefully exclaimed.

Hugging him tight, the dad smiled and whispered, “I love you too, son.” Taking his little hand in his, the father walked his son out of the bedroom.

Game over.

How comforting to know that the menacing bear you imagine pursuing you is really your loving father. Your unfounded fear melts away in the warm embrace of the one who would never harm you because he loves you more than you’ll ever know.

After all, he’s your father.

When Francis Thompson first published his iconic poem, The Hound of Heaven, many readers were at first startled at the metaphor of God as a relentlessly pursuing animal. But when studied and understood, the comparison pulsates with a passionate beauty. The poem is the story of God’s determined persistence in the face of our stubborn and foolish resistance. We try to run and hide, but we can’t. God chases us “down the nights and down the days … down the arches of the years …”

We continually flee “from this tremendous Lover”, Thompson writes. Until, in time and circumstance, God corners us with his love. And we surrender, not into the grip of a ravenous hound, but into the arms of a compassionate and merciful God, who loved us all along.

After all, He’s our Father.

When Jesus first addressed the Almighty Creator of the universe, shrouded in sovereign, inscrutable mystery, as “Our Father”, the Jews were unaccustomed to such Deistic intimacy. Nor were the gods of other religions any more approachable.

People perceived a menacing bear, a hungry hound, perhaps, but not “Our Father.”

Still, Jesus pressed the analogy.

“You fathers,” Jesus said, “if your children ask for a fish, do you give them a snake instead? Or if they ask for an egg, do you give them a scorpion? Of course not! So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?” (Luke 11:11-13, NLT, emphasis added).

We all want to be good parents. Most of us believe we are, whatever else we may be. Is not God our Father capable of being so much more to those who commit themselves to his care?

That’s the point Jesus is making, not only in his Sermon on the Mount, but throughout his teaching and his stories – throughout his brief life on this earth: God is our merciful and loving Father. Yes, he will punish us, he will correct us, he will test us and he will teach us. But the one thing he will never do is hate us.

Why then do we so often fear him and flee from him? Why are we tempted in our sorrow and pain and suffering to see God as a cruel, vindictive or, at best, indifferent Sovereign?

God loves you and me perfectly and John tells us that “there no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear.” (I John 4:18, NKJV).

John wraps up our relationship with God into the arms of the Divine loving nature:

“We have come to know and have believed the love which God has for us. God is love, and the one who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.” (I John 4:16, NASB, emphasis added).

This is much more than a lovely esoteric concept; it is a life-altering reality for the one who believes.

The Bible is nothing more – and nothing less – than the story of our Father’s abiding presence, his faithful provision and his unfailing protection. The essence of its panoramic display – cover to cover- is the Father’s unchanging, unconditional and endless love.

CS Lewis, in The Chronicles of Narnia, consistently portrays the lion Aslan – the Christ figure – as neither tame nor safe but always good.

I don’t know why God should love me. I truly don’t. But I know he does, despite my occasional misgivings. It is his nature to love me. And as Paul reminded Timothy: “he cannot deny who he is.” (II Timothy 2:13, NLT).

After all, he is my Father.

“God is love.” This is the summation of his nature.

In this central, undeniable and incontrovertible truth is our hope – both now and forever.

Martin Ross was a drunk.

He wanted no part of religion.

But Bertha Ross was a praying wife.

She didn’t condemn her husband, nor did she give up on him. She loved him, remained faithful to him through his frequent bouts with alcohol – and she never stopped praying for Martin.

Bertha trusted God for Martin’s salvation and deliverance.

So did her family and friends.

One day, Martin gave his life to Jesus Christ. He finally found his deliverance from those inner demons. But Martin Ross didn’t believe in going half-way. Not only did the man become a Christian. He entered the ministry and became pastor of the Baptist church in Brooktonville, New York, a small upstate community about eight miles outside Ithaca.

Some years later, Martin’s daughter, Rhea Miller, was taking a stroll through the beautiful back fields of their Brooktonville home. She reflected upon her father’s life, her difficult childhood while he was drinking and God’s miraculous rescue of her dad.

Rhea recalled his stirring testimony. Martin Ross often said he would rather have Jesus than all that the world could offer; he would rather walk with his Lord and be guided by him than to possess all that money could buy.

This was, Rhea knew, her dad’s full and unconditional commitment to Christ – his unending gratitude for God’s gift of a new life and a fresh start. The world’s material wealth could not begin to compare to what Pastor Martin Ross had found while in the depths of his own despair: the overflowing abundance of God’s amazing grace.

Martin was a truly rich man. He would never forget that.

Moved in a strange way, Rhea, who loved poetry, later wrote some verses about her father’s devotion to Christ.

It was 1923 and Rhea Miller was 30 years old.

More than a decade later, in another update New York home, another praying woman was asking God’s certain guidance for her young son. He was dashing and musically gifted, possessing a rich baritone voice, perfect diction and a confident yet humble presence.

The son had auditioned on some secular radio programs. Fred Allen’s NBC radio show was very impressed. This young man was wowing both critics and fans alike. Gifted and attractive, he was told he could really go places.

It was heady stuff for one so young.

He had been raised in a Christian home. While the lucrative opportunities tugged at his pride and ambition, he was still uncomfortable in this secular setting. The pressures were not only on the outside, he struggled within.

He was torn.

His saintly mom observed; she knew and she prayed.

Then somehow, somewhere, she came across a poem. Reading it, she prayed to God that its powerful message might have an impact on the undecided boy she loved. So one night she placed it gently on the piano she knew he would play. When he read it the next morning, he was so struck he decided to put music to its words.

His mother urged him to sing it in church that next Sunday.

He did.

I’d rather have Jesus than silver or gold,
I’d rather be His than have riches untold;
I’d rather have Jesus than houses or lands,
I’d rather be led by his nail-pierced hands.

I’d rather have Jesus than men’s applause,
I’d rather be faithful to His dear cause;
I’d rather have Jesus than worldwide fame,
I’d rather be true to His holy name.

Than to be a king of a vast domain
Or be held in sin’s dread sway.
I’d rather have Jesus than anything
This world affords today.

It was the poem written by Rhea Miller as a tribute to her dad.

When Mrs. Miller died in 1966, George Beverly Shea, the young man who had been influenced by her words to choose a career in Gospel music, had already sung her poem to millions around the world. In 1940, Shea had met another young man named Billy Graham. Graham told Shea he liked his singing and invited him to join his fledgling evangelistic team. Before he died at the age of 104, George Beverly Shea had sung before an estimated 200 million people worldwide.

One of his signature songs was I’d Rather Have Jesus.

It’s a song taken from a poem written by the daughter of a Baptist preacher in a small town in upstate New York – a preacher who used to be a drunk.

The Bible tells us that God alone declares “the end from the beginning” (Isaiah 46:10, KJV).
His plans – made in eternity past – are inscrutable to mortal man. Human eye cannot see, nor can the ear hear the extraordinary things God has prepared for those who love him.

What an ironic God! What a surprising and sovereign Creator! In what divine ways he works! What rich and indescribable grace!

When we wait on him, when we trust him, when we deliberately choose to follow him, God will never cease to amaze us.

Paul said it well in his letter to the Romans:

“O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!” (Romans 11:33, KJV).

Martin Ross and Bev Shea would give a unanimous “Amen” to that.

Monday evening, December 28, will live in my heart and mind forever.

Finley Cooper Morgan, two years old and the youngest of our daughter Suzanne’s and husband Casey, had been looking a bit pale. He had an ear infection and had recently gotten over a cold.

Kids get colds and ear infections, that’s normal, and Finley’s appetite, I noticed, was in fine shape. But Beth mentioned his lack of color to Suzanne and she decided to have it checked out.

“Probably an iron deficiency or something like that,” they agreed.

Like most grandfathers, this came to me by reports and I didn’t think much of it.

“Yep, probably should have it checked out just to be sure”.

Kids – there’s always something and you’ve got to be diligent.

Suzanne told her mother that the doctor said the initial tests showed a precipitous drop in Finley’s blood count, from 11 to 4 since last year. Better see another doctor. After taking more blood, the second doctor explained that if there is just one number that’s dropped, it could be an iron deficiency or some other issue. If all the numbers came back low, it could be more serious.

But that’s highly unlikely.

“We’re going to Suzanne’s to be there when the doctor calls”, Beth told me. Casey was out of town.

I wondered at this urgency but remained optimistic and expected good news. We prayed for that. We sat in Suzanne’s living room waiting for the doctor to call. We played with Ava and Jackson – Finley seemed fine to me.

The phone rang. Suzanne went into the other room to take the call. It seemed longer than it was and we couldn’t hear the conversation.

Then Suzanne said, “Mom, come in here”.

In that instant I knew.

I heard Suzanne sobbing. We hugged her. The numbers were all very low and she must bring Finley to the emergency room of Dallas Children’s Hospital immediately. We gathered around Fin and prayed while his tearful mom held him. Beth went with Suzanne; I stayed and tried to concentrate on babysitting.

After the kids were in bed I sat on the couch and wondered about what had happened. The unthinkable was at our door and it was turning the knob. This couldn’t be. I prayed hard.

At 11:30 PM Beth called me from the hospital.

“Finley’s got leukemia”.

He was one of fewer than 3,000 children who were diagnosed with this cancer last year – in a country of more than 340 million people.

I lay in bed that night wondering why God would do this to a young couple who had tried hard to honor him; a beautiful mom who adored her kids and was so conscientious in teaching them about him; a dad who was faithful and working hard to provide and to provide an example.

I suppose, in those dark moments of fear and sadness, I was like the older brother in Jesus’ story – “all these years I’ve served you …” It wasn’t a very flattering reaction but it was an honest one.

As you may have said or thought on more than one occasion, “This just isn’t right”.

I thought of losing Fin. I didn’t sleep much.

We learned the next day that Finley has the less aggressive of the two types of leukemia and his cure rate is 90%. I never thought I could be so ecstatic over such news.

Finley’s prognosis is good, praise God!

The three years of chemotherapy will be a long and difficult journey but God will go with us every step of the way. This we know.

And so will many others. Their support, their encouragement, their love and their prayers will sustain us on the road ahead and will make lighter the burden.

Our friends Tom and Chris have a daughter who is a vibrant, healthy and beautiful young woman expecting her second child. When she was Finley’s age, she had leukemia. They know and they will be there for us.

Over lunch on New Year’s Eve, my friend Andrew told me, “Jack, everybody’s got something. Nobody goes through life untouched by hardship or pain”. For Andrew and Kayla I learned it was a son who had a rare and serious heart condition that took five years to cure.

On this journey we call life, the Lord our Good Shepherd sometimes lets us lay down in green pastures. Sometimes he leads us by the still waters. Life is good. But there are other times, quite unexpected, when we find ourselves walking through the dark valleys. In those times he is close by our side, protecting us, comforting us and being our God.

And we will see too the tender hearts of others as never before.

Yes, “everybody’s got something”.

Remembering this binds us together as mere mortals and makes bearing one another’s burdens not only possible but a thing of joy and beauty.

“He comforts us in all our troubles,” Paul writes, “so that we can comfort others” (II Corinthians 1: 4, NLT).

Is this not central to our understanding of all human suffering? It is part of the meaning – and the glory God will receive – in Finley’s illness and long recovery.

For the Christian it is the triumph of many a tragedy.

In this we rejoice and thank God.

Thank you for praying for our little Fin.