A Word of Grace

Richard Eggers was a law-abiding man. He always had been.

So one can only imagine his shock.

Mr. Eggers was 68 years old. He had been employed as a customer service representative with Wells Fargo Home Mortgage in Des Moines, Iowa. He did his job well and everyone liked him.

Then Eggers was summarily fired. His offense?

Back in 1963, when he was nineteen, Eggers inserted a fake dime into laundry machine. The local sheriff, who apparently had witnessed the crime, arrested him and he was charged with “operating a coin-changing machine by false means.” Sentenced to fifteen days in jail, Eggers served two and was released to return to college. He also paid a fifty dollar fine and the case was closed.

Until nearly a half century later.

You see, Richard Eggers wasn’t a law-abiding citizen after all – not technically. When his criminal wrong-doing finally caught up with him, his decades-old teenage prank cost him more than a dime.  It cost him his job.

Wells Fargo, following an understandable outcry that went suddenly viral, stuck to its guns – and the letter of the law:

“We understand the outpouring of concern for Mr. Eggers and we want people to know that we take this matter very seriously,” the company said in a statement.

“Wells Fargo is an insured depository institution, a global bank, bound by U.S. Federal law to protect our customers and their personal financial information from someone who we know has committed an act of dishonesty or breach of trust – regardless of when the incidents occurred. It is uncomfortable, but it is a law that we have to follow. We have the responsibility to avoid hiring or continuing to employ someone who we know has a criminal record.”

This is the law – no exceptions – not even for a man reformed from his youthful “act of dishonesty”.  Richard Eggers’ past may have been distant and his infraction minor but Wells Fargo’s high standards would never be breached by “someone who we know has a criminal record.”

God’s standards exceed even those of Wells Fargo Bank. He cannot tolerate sin; his eyes cannot even look upon it. His righteousness and holiness can brook no transgression – not even a kid stealing ten cents from a laundry mat fifty years ago.

The Bible is explicit: “The soul that sinneth, it shall die.” (Ezekiel 18:4, KJV).  Paul tells us that we all have sinned and have fallen short of God’s unapproachable glory (Romans 3:23). He also says that God’s law – perfect and uncompromising – serves to place us and our sinful past – no matter what and when it was – under a withering indictment from which there is neither escape nor excuse. “No one can ever be made right with God by doing what the law commands. The law simply shows us how sinful we are.” (Romans 3:20, NLT).

The scriptures are clear: the law cannot save, it can only condemn.

Yet our past need not come back to haunt us. We’ll never lose heaven because of something God will discover about the record of our lives. There is hope. When we place our faith in his Son Jesus Christ and his finished work on the cross and we trust in him to forgive the sins of our past, God does more than forgive – he forgets.

“For I will be merciful to their unrighteousness, and their sins … will I remember no more” (Hebrews 8:12, KJV).

Some people neither forgive nor forget. We can struggle also to forgive ourselves and our memories harass us. Satan is always dredging up our past and whispering condemnation, trying to rob us of peace and joy. He’ll throw up every last fake dime in our face.

In his grace, God does the opposite.

The prophets write of a God who “delights to show mercy” and who “will again have compassion on us” and “tread our sins underfoot and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea.” (Micah 7:18-19, NIV).

Before his throne you are declared innocent.

God will never conduct an excavation or a background check. He knows. He forgives. He forgets. Our records are not just sealed, they’re expunged.

David wrote with confidence out of his own tragic experience with sin when he declared that God’s love is as great as heaven is high and that “as far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.” (Psalm 103: 11-12, KJV).

Dramatically delivered from his own abundant and blotted past, Paul asks:

“Who dares accuse us who God himself has chosen for his own? No one – for God himself has given us right standing with himself. Who then will condemn us? No one – for Christ Jesus died for us and was raised to life for us, and he is sitting in the place of honor at God’s right hand, pleading for us.” (Romans 8:33-34, NLT).

Our Advocate pleads our case.

Nothing – not even a fifty year- old fake dime – can ever condemn us before the presence of a just God who remembers our sins no more.

When we come to him, confess our sin and seek his forgiveness, God clears the record.

Case closed

May God bless you and your family.

Meghan Vogel, as far as anyone knew, was just your typical high school student.

What she did, however, was anything but typical.

It was extraordinary.

Meghan, from West Liberty, Ohio, had already won the 1600-meter state track championship. Trailing in the 3200-meter race, Meghan saw another runner collapse ahead of her. She could have seen a rival’s fall as an opportunity to gain an advantage. Instead, she saw it as an opportunity to care. Meghan helped Arden McMath to her feet. She then placed Arden’s limp arm around her neck and she supported her until together they crossed the finish line.

Meghan was modest in her heroism. “I knew any girl on that field would do that for me,” she said, “so I was going to do that for Arden.”

It’s a simple premise – and a simple faith.

A youth willing to put her idealism into selfless practice is always inspiring. One may only hope that Meghan doesn’t become jaded when she enters a sometimes ruthless world where dogs still devour other dogs. After all, it’s newsworthy when we see the Golden Rule put to the test. And it’s just another day when we see it trampled.

Self-interest is the norm. We expect it. Self-denial is the exception. We’re amazed by it.

For centuries, theologians and philosophers have argued that Jesus couldn’t possibly have thought that people would actually try and live by his Sermon on the Mount. How realistic is it to think that people – even Christ’s own followers – would recognize their spiritual poverty and mourn over it, live in humility and meekness, hunger and thirst for justice, seek purity of heart and show mercy to others? Is Jesus really expecting his disciples to control their anger, forgive others, love their enemies and trust God for all their needs?

That’s great for heaven someday – but not for the here and now.

The here and now is for the pursuit of satisfaction and happiness, not idealism.

Look after yourself. This is what the world teaches us every day.

Even life in the church tells us quite often that Jesus’ most famous sermon is viewed as more pie in the sky than food for the soul. The Sermon on the Mount is certainly beautiful. It’s just not very practical.

The problem with this thinking – especially within the Body of believers called the church – is that the entire New Testament commands us, through the power of the Holy Spirit working in us, to live out the Sermon on the Mount. The Bible tells us plainly that we must flesh out, in very realistic and practical ways, this whole business.  The teaching and preaching of Jesus is clearly intended to directly impact how we live and how we treat others.

If it doesn’t, then we aren’t his followers.

Over and over again we are told to “love one another”. Jesus said this was his “new commandment” (John 13:34). He went so far to say that this was the single, truest, most visible sign of our genuine faith. “By this will all men know that you are my disciples.”(John 13:35, KJV, emphasis added).

Love is the mark of the Christian.

Paul tells us that we are to be “devoted to one another”, to “honor one another” and to “live in harmony with one another.” (Romans 12: 10,16, NLT). Paul was as absolute about this as Jesus was. “Let no debt remain,” he wrote to the Romans, “except the continuing debt to love one another. If you love your neighbor, you will fulfill the requirements of God’s law.” (Romans 13:8, NLT).

It doesn’t stop with the command to love. The Bible goes on to define what love is and how it is shown.

Practically speaking and practically living.

We’re told to “agree with one another,”  “accept one another”, “serve one another”, “be patient with one another” ,  “carry one another’s burdens”,  “support the weak”, “submit to one another”, “encourage one another”, “be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other…” and to “live in harmony with one another.” (I Cor.1:10; Romans 15:7; Galatians 5:13; Ephesians 4:2; Galatians 6:2; I Thessalonians 5:14; Ephesians 5:21; Hebrews 3:13; Ephesians 4:32; Romans 12:16).

The New Testament is the practical owner’s manual for the Sermon on the Mount.

It pulsates with rubber-meets-the-road living.

All this “one-anothering” is what made the first church in Jerusalem the exciting, dynamic and vital organism that turned the world upside down.  It’s what gives flesh and blood to Christianity today.

Practice more than profession; living more than telling. It’s what the non-follower wants to see in you and me.

When an early believer stumbled and fell on the track, someone else cared enough to stop, pick her up, put her arm around her shoulder and help her cross the finish line.

It’s always been true.

What Meghan Vogel did is what we need to do – for “one another” – at every opportunity God gives us.

How should we live?

Let’s get practical.

May God bless you and your family.

It was quiet in the room.

There were ominous signs.

Events would soon overwhelm them and strike fear and confusion into their hearts.

The men glanced at each other but tried to conceal their anxiety.

This night was special. One that none of these men would ever forget.

Three years of an incredible journey had led to this. They would write about it; about him; about what they had seen and heard and handled.

They would never be the same. Neither would the world.

They would die for this – for him.

Jesus looked intently at the men around the table. He knew it was just the beginning. He would entrust all but one with the building of his church and the advancement his kingdom.

He had spoken to them that night with words of steel and velvet. Before supper he had washed their feet and set an example. He said that one of them would betray him, another would deny him. He told them he was going to leave them and they would not be able to come.

Not tonight. Not for a while.

He told them to love each other, that by doing this they would prove to the world the authenticity of their faith and their loyalty to him.

Whatever they were thinking by this time is hard to imagine. There was a moment of silence.

Then Jesus smiled. He knew what they were thinking and he knew what they were facing.

He loved these men. He had chosen each of them to be in his band of brothers. It was a band that before this night was over would be stretched but in the end even the gates of hell itself would not break it. Time and persecution would only serve to strengthen it.

Jesus had much more to say to them. He would tell them about the Holy Spirit, about the vine and the branches, about the world’s hatred and how, in the end, their sadness would be turned to joy.

But now he wanted to offer them hope and encouragement.

Reading their anxious spirits, Jesus told them, “Let not your heart be troubled” (John 14:1, KJV). If you believe in God, he said, believe in me.

Why?

Because he would defeat Rome?

Because he spoke the truth?

Because he would give them political victory?

Because he would defeat ISIS, Planned Parenthood and gay marriage?

Because he had all power?

Because right would inevitably triumph over wrong and good would defeat evil?

No. None of these.

“I go to prepare a place for you” (14:2, KJV).

This was the comfort he offered these men on this night of crisis.

Jesus spoke of a place.

It was a beautiful and wonderful place; a place that human eyes had never seen. It was a special and specific place filled with breathtaking glory and unimaginable happiness; a land of unspeakable joy and endless wonder.

“In my Father’s house,” Jesus told them, “are many mansions” (verse 2).

Years later, on his island of exile, the aged apostle John jangled together all manner of strange and conflicting metaphors as he tried desperately to describe the magnificence of his vision; the sights and sounds he experienced.

Words failed him – and they fail us – but they were all he had.

In the end, sadness, sickness and even death itself were all destroyed. John saw a new heaven and also a new earth – an earth spotless and perfected in all its glorious splendor.

The most spectacular places you’ve ever seen, multiplied by ten thousand.

And God wiped away all tears forever.

In this land we’ll never grow old. We’ll never have to say goodbye. We won’t go home – we’ll be home. No clocks, no calendars, no endings and no partings.

Timeless glory.

Heaven?  Can’t wait!

We struggle and persevere in this world and in this life; we stand and we fight and we vote. We care deeply. We resist evil and pursue justice – not because we think heaven will come to this fallen and dying world – it won’t. This present world, shrouded in darkness and shackled by sin, is sick and doomed. It is passing away.

Some day it will perish. No nuclear deal will prevent that.

You and I live in hope. We work and pray for renewal and change right now because we know that every day leads us closer to our final destiny, to our continuing city, to our Beulah land.

To this place Jesus is preparing for us and has promised us.

We’re not marching on Washington. We’re marching to Zion, “beautiful, beautiful Zion”

As Paul reminded us, because of the hope of our glorious future, “your labor is not in vain in the Lord” (I Corinthians 15:58, KJV).

Jesus told his disciples that night that he would come back and get them.

“When everything is ready, I will come and get you so that you will always be with me where I am” (John 14:3, NLT, emphasis added).

He’s coming back for you and me too.

When our hearts are troubled, as they so often are these days, let’s listen to his whisper:

“Don’t worry. I’ve gone to prepare a place for you.”

May God bless you and your family.

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 fierce 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 the boy’s 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. 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.

He’s our “tremendous Lover.”

May God bless you and your family.

The attic, like any other, smelled musty.

And like any other attic, there was stuff piled everywhere – dusty, musty junk. Anyone who‘s ever been up there knows the smell and the sight.  You look around and you don’t know where to begin. It is an experience of overwhelming fascination. Or perhaps just overwhelming.

For Karl Kissner, the journey to his late grandfather’s home in Defiance, Ohio was both sentimental and necessary. The old house was bulging with a hundred years of accumulated clutter.

As Karl stood in the old attic, surveying the task before him, he spied a small cardboard box in a corner. Opening it, he was startled. The box was filled with old baseball cards, all of them in pristine condition. Staring up at Karl were the virile, robust images of long-departed legends.

There was Ty Cobb, “the Georgia Peach”, who spent twenty-two amazing seasons with the Detroit Tigers. There was Cy Young, the gifted pitcher who played for five teams during his career, compiling a record 511 wins. And Karl found a Honus Wagner card too. Known as “The Flying Dutchman” for his incredible speed, Wagner is considered by most baseball historians as the greatest shortstop who ever took the diamond.  These men were among the first players to be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in the 1930s.

Karl Kissner counted seven hundred perfectly preserved baseball cards that day in his grandfather’s musty attic.

He did what anyone would do after making such a discovery. Karl located an expert. It turned out that Karl’s grandfather had owned one of the rarest collections of baseball cards ever found – a long-lost series that had been issued around 1910.

It’s estimated value? Three million dollars.

Karl couldn’t believe it. “It’s like finding the Mona Lisa in the attic,” he enthused.

Or perhaps it’s a lot like finding a treasure hidden in a field or discovering a rare pearl in an open market. You don’t expect to find it. You’re not looking for it. In fact, just like Karl Kissner standing in that old attic, it’s probably the very last thing you thought you’d ever find. But you’ll never forget the day you found it.

When Jesus went down to the sea, a large crowd, eager to hear him, gathered so intently that Jesus had to get in a boat, push it slightly off shore, and speak from there. According to Matthew, he shared with the crowd seven parables that day. All seven of these stories Jesus told illustrated the Kingdom of Heaven. (Matthew 13: 1-52).

Two of them spoke to the supreme value of spiritual discovery.

“The Kingdom of Heaven,” Jesus told them, “is like a treasure that a man discovered hidden in a field.” (Matthew 13: 44, NLT). The man, likely poor, is plowing this field for someone else. He expects nothing for his labor except dirt, sweat and a modest payment.  Instead, Jesus says, the man discovers “a treasure” hidden in the field.

And what does this poor man do? He does just what Karl Kissner did. He immediately recognizes that this surprising discovery is of such great value that it could change his life forever.

He must have this treasure.

Jesus said that “In his excitement, he hid it again and sold everything he owned to get enough money to buy the field.” (Matthew 13: 44, NLT, emphasis added).

This man, making his unexpected discovery, instantly knew the value of what he had found hidden in the ground. He wanted this treasure more than he wanted anything else in life. And so the man gave up everything else in order to have this one great thing. He discovered, then he decided, he acted, he sacrificed and he gained what mattered most to him.

And so it was also with the merchant seeking “choice pearls.” Finding the one “pearl of great price”, the shrewd merchant recognizes the true value of his discovery. Jesus says “he sold everything he owned and bought it!” (Matthew 13: 45-46, KJV, NLT).

Very different in background and life experience, both the plowman and the merchant understood the true value of things. They wanted what mattered most. And they willingly gave up everything else in order to get it.

To Jesus – and to those who would be his followers – this means the Kingdom of Heaven. It means eternal life. It means possessing Jesus himself, being his disciple and putting him first in our hearts and in our lives. It means, as Paul told the Philippians, giving up all that the world  holds dear but cannot keep in order to gain all that truly matters and can never be lost.

Living for Jesus – discovering in him our greatest need and greatest treasure –  is worth more than anything else.

Even a box of old baseball cards gathering dust in an attic.

May God bless you and your family.

It was quite an experience for a thirteen year-old boy.

My dad, who took hunting, fishing and the great outdoors with a seriousness of purpose and joy of heart fit for Field & Stream, had arranged for my brother and me to join him on a three-day fishing trip to northern Maine.

We would fly – the whole way.

It was July and the summer still reminds me of my incredible journey.

I’d never been on a plane. We flew from Harford, Connecticut to Bangor, Maine. Then we jumped on a small plane in Orono, home to the University of Maine, and flew about twenty minutes to a town called Millinocket. But our plane rides weren’t over and my dad had saved the best for last.

We boarded a pontoon plane for the final leg of our journey. I watched the water churn white with foam as the floats glided us across the lake and we mounted up for the clear, picturesque flight over the green wilderness. We had been in the air for nearly an hour when we touched down on Henderson Pond.

It’s important to know that the word “pond” in Maine is not so much a metaphor as it is a misnomer. This was a good-sized lake.

The only way into Henderson was by sea plane. There were no roads, no homes, no stores – and no power. It was a beautiful and tranquil place and the stillness you heard was the majesty of creation.

We unpacked and got settled.  As darkness began to envelop our small cabin that first night, Dad took charge. After all, if you were going to be in the middle of nowhere, our dad was the guy you wanted to be with. From a carefully packed box Dad removed the magic that would transform our tiny sanctuary.

It was a forest green Coleman lantern.

As he pumped the small knob to prepare the kerosene for ignition, my brother and I watched in anticipation. The small glow grew bigger and soon the Coleman was shedding its warm light across the room. Then Dad took the lantern and carefully hung it high above the table. It lighted the whole cabin. Each night was the same – out came the Coleman and behold, there was light.

Had it not been for that Coleman lantern, those three nights in the Maine wilderness would have been pretty dark. But Dad had come prepared and he had brought the light.

When Jesus prayed for his disciples on another dark night in an upper room in Jerusalem, he asked his heavenly Father for light. And his prayer wasn’t just for the men in that room who shared his ministry and would lead his church. Jesus prayed for his church throughout time. He prayed for you and for me and for all those who would be his true followers.

“Sanctify them through thy truth,” Jesus prayed. “Thy word is truth.” (John17:17, KJV).

Jesus did not ask the Father to sanctify – that is to consecrate and make holy – his followers through emotion or experience; or politics, popularity or fads; or subjective reasoning and relevant argument. Holiness, Jesus knew, comes through the truth and nothing but the truth.

Jesus also knew the sole repository of all truth was the word of God. And so he inextricably linked them as cause and effect, as a hand slips into a glove. God’s truth is the only source of spiritual awareness, wisdom and progress. And God’s word not only contains that truth – it is God’s truth. And truth is what ultimately matters – not our opinions or feelings or our latest ideas.

Polls and supreme courts can never alter God’s purpose, his mind or his will. It cannot abrogate his truth. Not even slightly. God doesn’t change his mind about his law; he only grieves in his heart at man’s defiance.

God’s word is our light in the darkness.

This is the foundation of Christian faith. Though it is lashed today by the torrents of post – modern cynicism, it stands firm. Peter reminds us that though heaven and earth shall fade away, God’s word shall forever remain.

It is the assault upon the possibility of absolute truth – and the fear and embarrassment of defending God’s word to a culture in wholesale rebellion to it – that has led the Christian church to a slippery accommodation with the world.  Paul, who commanded Timothy to “preach the word”, laid down the gauntlet to believers living in pagan Rome: “Let God be true and every man a liar.” (Romans 3:4, KJV).This must still be our standard and the moral line Christians draw in the shifting sand of public opinion.

Now more than ever, you and I must follow the light of God’s holy and unchanging word.

“We only progress in sound living,” said English preacher Charles Spurgeon, “as we progress in sound understanding.”

Only God’s word can enlighten and instruct our minds and convict and comfort our hearts. Only his word can show us the way.

The psalmist exclaimed in awestruck gratitude:

^“Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path” (Psalm 119:105, KJV).

In a world growing darker by the day, that’s even better than Dad’s Coleman.

May God bless you and your family.