Category Archives: Religion

Weariness brought them together.

The searing noontime heat made the dry and dusty road a walk of endurance.

The man stopped at the well and sat down. He was alone. His companions had gone ahead to the local market to buy food.

He was tired and thirsty. It was good to rest.

Soon, a woman came along carrying a water bucket. She could have come earlier in the day, when it was cooler, but the women of Sychar knew her and she’d rather face the heat of the day than the glances and snickers of their scorn.

They detested her. She knew it. And she knew why and she didn’t entirely blame them. It came with the territory of being who – and what – she was. To deny that would be to wallow in self-pity and that’s something she would not do. She would cling at least to that shred of dignity.

The man looked up at her, lifting his hand to his eyes for shade.

They were both thirsty but she had the bucket.

He smiled.

Then he asked her for a drink.

The simple request triggered a profound awareness.

And some surprise.

“How is it,” the woman marveled, “that you, being a Jew, ask a drink from me, a Samaritan woman?” (John 4:9, NKJV, emphasis added)

Somehow – we know not how – she knew he was a Jew. Jews didn’t have anything to do with “half-breed” Samaritans. And men didn’t have much regard for women.

When was the last time a man treated her with kindness – or respect? Not that morning when she got out of bed. And Jews regarded Samaritans with nothing but contempt.

No wonder this woman was surprised that Jesus would speak to her – and with such goodness in his voice.

Yes, he was different – very different.

And so began the dialogue most believers are familiar with.

The woman at the well understood the water literally. Jesus spoke of living springs gushing within the soul and leading to eternal life.

Then the conversation got personal.

When the woman asked Jesus for “this water, that I thirst not”, he told her to go get her husband.

She told him she had no husband. Perhaps she felt a painful sadness mixed with bitter remorse.

Jesus was getting close. Too close, she thought.

You’re right about that, Jesus replied. “The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband.” (John 4: 18, NIV).

Jesus knew her. And soon she would know him.

Before this conversation was over, Jesus revealed his identity as the Messiah. And this woman – tattered and torn by life and her own miserable choices – believed.

And it says she left her water bucket.

Suddenly the well and the water didn’t matter anymore. What mattered is that this man knew all about her and still spoke words of kindness.

For her it was a miracle.

That’s what she told the villagers when she went running back to town. “Come see a man, which told me all things that ever I did: is this not the Christ?” (John 4:29, KJV).

The woman had nurtured her guilty despair for years, hidden in the deep recesses of her broken heart. But Jesus saw her – not only as she was but for what she would become. His love healed her heart, set her free and saved her soul.

Her joyful testimony transformed her community – many believed.

But before she could love the Savior, this woman discovered how much he loved her. She had to know that first.

My friend Carlos Espinoza and I were recently discussing the command to love God. Jesus tells us it is the greatest commandment. The people of Israel were told to love the Lord their God with all their heart and with all their soul and with all their might (Deuteronomy 6:5). Jesus included our minds – and our neighbors.

Carlos and I agreed that we cannot love God like that – we cannot obey this greatest commandment – until first we are changed by God’s love for us. God is the Initiator of love and we are its receivers. And only after you and I have experienced God’s love for us – full, glorious and unconditional – can we begin to truly love God. Only then can we begin to keep the greatest commandment.

Only when Peter realized how much Jesus loved him – even after that horrible night of denials – did Peter love Christ enough to follow him to the cross.

David knew this experience too – and wrote beautiful songs about it. His own love was enriched by the love and forgiveness of God.

The hardened heart that has not yet known God’s love cannot love. But the heart touched by the love of God knows the joy of true love and it shows.

It is the love of God that makes it possible for us to accept and love ourselves, rightly and as we are, and then to love others as we ought.

“We love him because he first loved us” (I John 4:19, KJV).

An empty water bucket by a well reminds us.

May God bless you and your family.

The small bearded man sat under a tree.

He was dressed in rumpled dark clothes, chewing on a cigar. He seemed calm, oblivious to the shouts and screams of the men around him. He was looking down, his broad-rim hat concealing part of his weathered face and the expressionless stoicism of his clear dark-gray eyes.

He was solitary even in a crowd.

At one point, Brigadier General William T. Sherman approached his friend.

“Well, Grant, we’ve had the devil’s own day, haven’t we?”

Ulysses S. Grant, no stranger to adversity, failure and the struggles of demon drink, had known such days before. Disturbingly, all that seemed to arouse him was war. When some complained of his drinking, his Commander-in-Chief gave a brusque reply: “I can’t spare this man – he fights.”

General Grant looked up at Sherman.

“Yes,” he said, “lick ‘em tomorrow though.”

This was the end of day one of the bloodiest battle on the North American continent up to that time.

It was April 6, 1862, at a place along the banks of the Tennessee River called Pittsburg Landing. It would be one of the most significant battles of the Civil War. Historians know it as the Battle of Shiloh.

Confederate troops, 40,000 strong, under the able leadership of General Albert Sydney Johnston, had surprised an unprepared Union force in the morning hours. Spring was in the warm Tennessee air and the men in blue had taken to relaxing and enjoying the lush, pastoral setting of their camp. They knew the Confederates were nearby and might attack, but they had recently turned them back so never expected this assault.

The Northern troops were overwhelmed and routed.

For them, it had been “the devil’s own day” – a day of disastrous defeat.

Grant’s staff was in a panic.

If there was any thought or hope that this war would soon be over, it evaporated in the smoke and fury of Shiloh that day. Discouragement suddenly hung heavy in the once- cheerful air of the beautiful countryside.

Grant did not panic. He did not let defeat or discouragement overtake him. As bad as it was, he looked to tomorrow and to the opportunity of victory.

The Union forces dug in at a hollow point along a road called the “Hornet’s Nest.” The battle line was formed and after fierce fighting – and the arrival of Yankee reinforcements – the Union army was able to hold its ground. There were nearly 24,000 casualties in just two days of conflict.

It would have been a horrendous loss, even in a nation of 340 million. In 1862, it staggered the imagination.

The war wouldn’t end for three more years.

Have you ever experienced days that seemed like “the devil’s own”?

Maybe it started out good but how could you have foreseen what would happen before it was over?

Perhaps it was a day that started bad and only got worse.

You may be living in a series of days that you could only describe as “the devil’s own.”

You remember that long lonely corridor of grief or uncertainty in your life. Perhaps you’re walking it now.

Heartache, loneliness, discouragement, illness, depression, anxiety and temptation: these are just some of the enemies that assault us. Sometimes they come at us quite suddenly and unexpectedly. We’ve just come off a spiritual victory in our lives. We’re on that mountaintop – the news has been good – and then all of a sudden we’re knocked down again.

We’re in a valley of despond.

For the child of God, there are mountains and there are valleys; triumphs and trials; happiness and hardships; joy and grief.

We know victories and defeats.

Like Grant’s soldiers, one minute we’re basking in the warm sunshine of God’s love and provision and the next we’re in the middle of a fierce battle.

In our daily struggle with the world, the flesh and the devil, we make headway. We also suffer setbacks.

But know this: whatever you have gone through or may be going through right now, victory is yours. There is no day that belongs to the devil or his henchmen, no matter how it may seem to you at the moment.

Satan has not a single day he may call his own. He is a defeated enemy.

The clouds may obscure for a time the love and care of the almighty God, but they remain – undiminished by circumstance. You cannot see God but he’s never taken his loving eyes off you.

Each day is the day the Lord has made. For this reason – and this reason alone – you and I may rejoice and be glad for every day of life God gives us.

Good days and bad days, of course, but God rules them all.

“The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord: and he delighteth in his way. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down: for the Lord upholdeth him with his hand … I have not seen the righteous forsaken” (Psalm 37:23-24, KJV).

So take courage and strength. Rejoice.

Remember, the devil only seems to have his own day.

Challenges and difficulties?

“Yes, lick ‘em tomorrow though.”

May God bless you and your family.

We laugh because we know that humor can sometimes be serious.

Service to a purposeful truth may be humor’s most eloquent contribution.

And often its most devastating.

So it seemed when someone recently sent me a YouTube video of Victoria Osteen. She’s the wife of Joel Osteen, pastor of America’s biggest congregation, Lakewood Church in Houston. Mrs. Osteen serves as the co-pastor of Lakewood.

On this particular Sunday morning, Mrs. Osteen, standing next to her husband, told the thousands gathered in rapt attention:

“I just want to encourage every one of us to realize when we obey God, we’re not doing it for God – I mean that’s one way of looking at it – we’re doing it for ourselves, because God takes pleasure when we’re happy. That’s the thing that gives Him the greatest joy. So I want you to know this morning: just do good for your own self. Do good because God wants you to be happy. When you come to church, when you worship Him, you’re not doing it for God really, you’re doing it for yourself, because that’s what makes God happy. Amen?”

As the crowd begins to thunder its glowing approval, there is a cutaway to Bill Cosby, undoubtedly a clip from an episode of The Cosby Show, in which he is likely reacting to a child’s explanation of wrongdoing.

America’s favorite dad stands up, shakes his head, and proclaims in disgusted disbelief:

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life!”

Surprise always aids good humor, so I immediately laughed out loud. I couldn’t help it and meant no disrespect. It was just a spontaneous reaction.

Someone thought Victoria Osteen’s comments might have been that, and attached the surprise ending, but who would have picked Bill Cosby to make such a succinct theological reply?

I thought it was very funny and quite clever.

I must confess to having made my share of embarrassing comments in the presence of my long-suffering spouse – and even a church congregation. In this I sympathize with Mrs. Osteen.

She’s conceded “I could have been more articulate”, though that may not be the chief objection to her remarks.

And it’s true – and must be said – that Joel and Victoria Osteen, for all any of us know, are utterly sincere in their beliefs and their words. Their books, tapes and televised sermons have encouraged millions around the world. They believe, preach and practice a gospel of hope to those who are discouraged.

Who among us doesn’t subscribe to the amazing positive power of Christianity to heal the sick, comfort the afflicted, cheer the disheartened and otherwise miraculously transform desperate lives?

In all this there is truth – and important truth.

Insofar as what Mrs. Osteen said to her church that Sunday morning is what she believes – and even if it’s not – it deserves a response, in addition to Bill Cosby’s.

“Good philosophy must exist,” wrote C.S. Lewis, “if for no other reason, because bad philosophy needs to be answered.”

God’s job is not to make us happy.

If the holiness God desires in us leads also to our happiness, it is a blessed result of our faith, but hardly the reason for it. Happiness may be an effect of our confidence in Jesus Christ; it is not the cause of it.

God does not exist to give us what we want. We exist to bring him glory.

God owes us nothing, least of all personal happiness – he will be a debtor to no man. You and I, as God’s children and as his creation, owe him everything. This includes our obedience and our worship.

We obey God and worship him not because it brings us happiness – though it should give us joy, even in the most difficult of circumstances. We obey and worship God because this is God’s command and because it brings him pleasure.

This isn’t about us – none of it – it’s about him.

Going to the cross didn’t make Jesus happy – though the Bible tells us he endured it for the joy that was set before him even while “despising the shame” (Hebrews 12:2, KJV). The immeasurable love God showed us by denying his own Son’s desperate prayer for escape from the indescribable suffering of Calvary “demands my soul, my life, my all.”

When you and I look to the cross – when we realize – or try to – the great sacrifice of the Atonement, we don’t come to church figuring that God’s fortunate to have us there, or owes us anything. Instead we bow our heads, fall on our knees and seek not happiness but his forgiveness. With the songwriter, we count our richest gain but loss and pour contempt on all our pride.

In this we discover true joy.

Understanding God, Jesus and the Christian faith is to know that there is woven into the colorful fabric of every life the dark threads of pain and suffering that are needed for our growth and maturity. This is not intended by God as a curse but a blessing.

Throughout the scriptures, it’s discipleship that defines the Christian faith, not happiness. God’s people have always known that heaven awaits and this is hardly Your Best Life Now.

Sincerity never justifies error nor does hope alone define sound doctrine.

In speaking to her church that Sunday morning, Victoria Osteen wasn’t inarticulate. She was crystal clear. And therein lies the danger and the warning.

“We’re doing it for ourselves.”

Really?

May God bless you and your family.

I saw Abigail the other day.

She’s beautiful.

This lovely young lady is my sister’s daughter. I’ve tracked Abby’s older sister Mary through high school, college and Baylor Medical School. She’s on her way to becoming a doctor.

Somehow, quite incredulously I suppose, I left Abby behind – in elementary school carrying a lunch box.

So when I asked her what grade she was in and Abby said “a senior” I was a bit surprised.

How’d she get this far this fast?

I had been ambushed by time once again.

Now here I was discussing college with my younger niece!

A lot of you know the feeling.

Maybe it’s your son or your daughter – maybe it’s your grandson you used to take fishing.

Now he’s off to college and you can’t believe it.

 Another academic year has started. Young people from all over the country have headed back to school. Many are going there for the first time.

Some of us still remember what it was like to be in college. In many ways, it was the very best time of our lives. We had few responsibilities, limitless opportunities, and a lot of exciting choices. For many of us, it was the first extended time away from home, away from our parents, and away from our church.

College is an adventure. It’s time for intellectual and philosophical exploration, for broadening horizons and new ideas. For all of its excitement, this is also a time of particular vulnerability for young people who claim to follow Jesus Christ.

Why?

A recent study says that over 70% of young adults in America abandon the church between the ages of 18 and 22. This doesn’t necessarily mean that they turn their backs on God. However, this statistic reflects the fact that the college years have traditionally been a time of increasing doubt and questioning when it comes to religious faith.

If you’re the parent of a college student – or a college student yourself – here are some thoughts.

Doubt is not to be feared.

It’s natural, especially for the young who are transitioning into independent adulthood. Better the freedom of honest doubt than the forced coercion of belief. Inherited, second-hand faith, passed on by loving parents, is often brittle and cannot withstand the winds of skepticism. You may even discover that doubt is a comfort and a guide on your journey to a faith you can actually embrace.

Parents ask, “Why can’t you just believe like we do?” The child asks, “Why should I? What if I don’t?”

“Let truth and falsehood grapple openly in the arena,” wrote John Milton. “Who ever knew truth put to the worse in a free and open encounter.”

In the end, no one else can believe for you. You must choose to believe for yourself. Personal, intimate faith is the only authentic faith. It’s the only faith that will stand the test of time and the trials ahead. It’s the only faith worth having.

It’s the difference between the abstract and the real; between theory and life.

And this is true whether you’re 65 or 19.

It’s OK to take the time to sort it all out.

Contrary to popular myth, your professor does not have all the answers.

Take his or her opinions for what they are: personal opinions. Add a few grains of skeptical salt. They may be smarter than those who taught you before you arrived at college, but don’t count on it. Question the questioners. Respect, but don’t be intimidated by, the title of “Doctor”.

The excellent film God’s Not Dead revealed the inner pain and fragility that often masquerades as scholastic smugness.

I learned a lot from my university professors. But I never blindly accepted their biases because of their academic status. In the end, they’re all just mortals, struggling with faith as we all are. Be on guard against their certainty.

In another context, the Apostle John wrote that we should “test the spirits” (I John 4:1). This same principle of objective inquiry and critical thinking applies as equally to unbelief as it does to belief. And it works as well in the classroom as it does in the church.

Make friends with fellow student travelers. Find ways to meet other Christians. They are facing the same experience, the same challenges, and the same doubts as you are. Draw strength from your shared – and perhaps different – perspectives. You may feel it sometimes, but you are not alone. Seek out fellowship. It will be a source of great encouragement. And perhaps some lasting friendships.

Mom and Dad:

Don’t worry, pray.

Don’t argue, listen.

Don’t judge, hope.

Don’t condemn, love – and give a hug.

One of the wisest men who ever lived offered some advice that we should consider before we cast our vote on faith at the age of 21:

“Don’t let the excitement of youth cause you to forget your Creator. Honor him in your youth before you grow old…” (Ecclesiastes 12:1, NLT).

Parents and students: test your faith. It can stand it – and so can you.

And the God Who dealt with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob – and with Peter and Paul – will understand.

They came around. So will you.

May God bless you and your family.

Izzy Friedman was what you might call an unforgettable character.

Izzy lived on Deer Isle, Maine, where my mother was born and raised. He owned a clothing store on the island. It was probably the only one. An outgoing man, Izzy was always excited to see people enter his store. And Izzy was always anxious to please his customers and get a sale. He was nothing if not enthusiastic.

Izzy Friedman was a natural born salesman. You might say he had the gift.

On occasion, customers would attempt to return clothing that didn’t fit. But first, they had to get by Izzy.

And one might say that getting by Izzy wasn’t easy.

“What’s the problem here?” Izzy would ask with a big smile.

When it was the fit, Izzy was prepared:

“If it’s too big,” he’d say, “it will shrink. Too small? It will stretch”.

Izzy didn’t claim that one size fits all. It was more like any size would fit anybody.

How often did Izzy’s logic – and his persuasive manner – prevail? That’s hard to say since I wasn’t there. But it wasn’t for lack of trying.

A lot of churches and ministers today are like Izzy Friedman. They want customers and they want sales.

Is the Gospel of Jesus Christ too big? Is it too cosmic, too powerful, too holy, and too supernatural? They can shrink it.

Is the Gospel too small? Is it too narrow, too intolerant, and too dogmatic? They can stretch it.

Whatever the problem, whatever the objection, whatever the reluctance, these religious salesmen aim to please.

They’ll make the Gospel fit.

They have to – it’s the only way to get people in the door and keep them in their seats.

Too many churches and too many pastors in America have tried too hard for too long to try and make Christianity palatable to the postmodern taste. They have used smoke and mirrors, sound and light, and tricks and gimmicks.

They have shrunk, stretched and twisted their message.

As our culture has slid toward Gomorrah, these shallow attempts at popularity have appeared increasingly pathetic and desperate. People have ended up either cynically rejecting or naively embracing the latest church fad.

Truth can easily get lost in that shuffle – or worse -sacrificed upon the altar of what is mislabeled as “relevance”.

The contemporary church too often longs to be loved by the world. It seeks a credible acceptance of the Christian message –a message too willingly “tailored to fit” the “seeker’s desires”.

We work overtime to find new marketing techniques to sell Christianity to a world grown increasingly hostile to its claims. Tragically, the more we seek to win the world by becoming like the world the more the world holds us in mocking contempt.

That is the sad irony of all this. It cannot possibly succeed, not in the end. Clever tactics may fill a church but they empty the heart and mind of the rigorous truth of the Christian faith. And the unsaved have no lasting respect for the apologizing and groveling Christian.

Bait and switch is a poor substitute for authentic Christianity.

The Gospel of Christ – the old story of Jesus’ unchanging love and saving grace; his death and resurrection; his perfect humanity and sovereign deity – doesn’t need to be redesigned, reformatted or repackaged. It needs to be preached without compromise and without apology.

We don’t need more accommodation in the evangelical pulpits of this country – we need more courage.

We need more Jerry Mitchells – my friend from California who has been holding forth the Word of Life and preaching and teaching the whole counsel of God at the same church for a quarter century. Jerry knows God doesn’t pay attention to polls – and neither does Jerry. A gifted communicator, Jerry might have more people at his church if he’d only compromise the truth – just a wee bit. But he’d rather have the approval of God than the praise of men.

May the good Lord increase his kind.

There’s nothing wrong with using technology and crafting creative strategies. It’s good and necessary that churches upgrade and update their methodologies. But let’s be careful that these methods are our servants and not our masters; our means, not our end.

When he bowed before his Father in the garden, Jesus prayed for us. He asked God to make us “holy by your truth; teach them your word, which is truth” (John 17: 17, NLT). Jesus added that you and I, as his disciples, would be hated by the world because we do not belong to the world. “The world would love you as one of its own if you belonged to it, but you are no longer part of the world” (John 15:19, NLT).

So why should the church mimic the world? Why do we seek so often to fit in when we should instead stand out?

Jesus warned us against seeking “the approval of others … Popularity contests are not truth contests … Your task is to be true, not popular”. (Luke 6:26, The Message).

Now that’s the right fit!

May God bless you and your family.

He detested typewriters.

He wrote all his personal correspondence – and it was extensive – with a pen. He believed the noise of a typewriter interfered with the flow of creative thought.

His brother later typed his letters, being the only one who could decipher the scrawled penmanship.

This particular letter on this day required thoughtful attention. It was the reply to a young girl named Ruth Broady. Ruth had written to say how much she enjoyed his books.

He smiled at the affirmation. He loved children as much as he hated typewriters. Taking pen carefully in hand, he wrote the date in the upper corner: 26 October, 1963.

“Many thanks for your kind letter, and it was very good of you to write and tell me that you like my books; and what a very good letter you write for your age!”

He paused for just a moment. Then he wrote:

“If you continue to love Jesus, nothing much can go wrong with you, and I hope you may always do so.”

Then he paused again. This next part would be interesting:

“I’m so thankful that you realized the ‘hidden story’ in the Narnian books. It is odd, children nearly always do, grownups hardly ever”.

The Chronicles of Narnia, one of the greatest pieces of children’s literature ever written, was sometimes attacked by academics as racist. Others assailed it as sexist. Everyone had an opinion; everyone had an interpretation. The scholars thought they knew. This work of allegorical fantasy was examined and analyzed from various perspectives and prejudicial mindsets in search of supposed underlying cultural themes.

In the end, CS Lewis knew that children would get it.

They would embrace it in its purity and creative beauty. They would accept it and enjoy it for the wonderful and imaginative story it was.

Children would cast no cynical judgment on the work nor offer any smug critiques. They would perceive “the hidden story” that “grownups hardly ever” recognized.

What Lewis appreciated about children is what Jesus also celebrated.

Jesus attached great importance to child-like faith.

When his disciples got into an argument about who would be the greatest in the kingdom of heaven – a childish preoccupation typical of adults – Jesus stopped them and startled them.

“And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them” (Matthew 18:2, KJV). Jesus didn’t want these arguing grownups to miss “the hidden story” and so he brought it center stage.

Jesus looked at the little boy and smiled. He caressed the lad’s tousled hair. And he held him tenderly in his arms.

Then Jesus looked at his disciples – the men who would be the first leaders of his church.

“Except ye be converted and become as little children,” he told them, “ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3, KJV).

How often have men and women missed the profound simplicity of the Gospel because they’ve refused to believe it could be that uncomplicated? They’ve wanted to add to it, analyze it and work for it. Anything but simply accept it as God’s free gift.

That’s too easy. Nothing this important could be that simple.

So many people remain blinded by their sophistication and cynicism; by their success, their money and their power; by their intellect, the approval of their peers or political correctness.

Saddled by skepticism, they miss the “hidden story” of God’s great love. They fail to “become as little children” and so never enter the kingdom of heaven.

They miss it.

When the disciples scolded parents for bringing their children to Jesus to be blessed by him because they thought it was a distraction, Jesus brought them up short.

“When Jesus saw what was happening, he was angry with his disciples” (Mark 10:14, New Living Translation).

These men had a lot to learn about children and the Kingdom of God and this was another teachable moment.

“Let the children come to me,” Jesus told them. “Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children” (vs. 14, emphasis added).

Then Jesus said:

“I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it” (vs. 15, emphasis added).

Then Jesus gathered these little boys and girls lovingly into his arms; he hugged them and put his hands on their heads and he blessed them.

Children are humble, transparent, trusting, affectionate and unaffected. Many lose these qualities as adults. And when they do, the kingdom of God grows more distant.

The true Christian is one who has not lost the child’s heart.

Pray that you may always be child-like in your love and faith.

“I’m afraid the Narnian series has come to an end,” Lewis wrote in closing his letter to Ruth Broady, “and am sorry to tell you that you can expect no more.

God bless you”.

Less than a month later, CS Lewis, who never lost his child’s heart and never stopped loving Jesus, walked through the Gates of Splendor into a heavenly kingdom more glorious, more beautiful, more colorful and more creative than even he could ever have imagined.