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Friends,
I am no fan of dogs but the truth is that I have two of them. I did not ask for them. One was a surprise, the other was a favor. They are nice animals as far as it goes, but I would not be any the more sad if they were not mine. I know that sounds ‘mean’, but I hear that what matters nowadays is ‘authenticity.’ I am being authentic.
Dogs. Who decided we humans should have pets? Worse, who decided those pets should be dogs? When it comes to dogs there is no in-between: One either likes them or not. I do not. I think part of what I do not like about dogs is simply that I do not understand them. People always say, “Dogs are some of the smartest animals on the planet.” Huh? They make no sense to me. I do not understand the constant following, the panting, the fetching of sticks, the sniffing of butts, the gulping of food, nor their particular affection for, well, feces. Sorry to be so icky about such things, but again, I am being authentic.
I have two dogs. Well, to be sure, they are my wife’s dogs. I tolerate their presence for the sake of my wife and sons. Every now and again I will pat them on the head as a reward for leaving me alone. (They do not receive many pats!) Still, we give them a place to live (I’d rather have a couple of orphans or homeless people), we feed them (I’d rather have more food on my plate), and we exercise them (well, in this case it is better they than I). But do you know what those ungrateful animals do? Every chance they get, every opportunity that presents itself, they will run off into the woods behind our house and be gone for hours. They will run and run and run and run and only when they are ready to come back will they do so. No amount of hollering, whistling, tracking, or anything of the sort will get them back until they are ready to return. It’s almost as if they have minds of their own. Yet for all their supposed intelligence, they are the dumbest creatures on the planet.
Stupid animals.
They have a nice house to live in, food to eat, people who happen to love them and care for them. They are watered, they are fed, they are bathed, they have toys and bones to play with, and three boys who, for some reason beyond my ability to comprehend, like to sleep with them at night. I do not pretend to understand why anyone would want to share their bed with a dog, but they do. These dogs have the life. They have it made. They are living the proverbial dog’s life. And yet they still, every so often, run off into the dark, wet, scary woods. They still persist in constantly reverting to their animal ways.
They do come back; eventually. And when they come back it is inevitable that they come back absolutely filthy. Why you ask? Well, it gets back to what I said above: They (especially the beagle mutt) have a particular affection for scat–and it doesn’t matter what animal has produced it either. As long as it stinks, as long as it is rotten, as long as it is simply beyond the tolerance level of the human olfactory sense they will roll in it, enjoy it, and return to it again, and again, and again. No matter how many times we say no. No matter how many baths they get. No matter how unsanitary it is, they still keep going back. They have an uncanny knack for finding it too. If it is to be found, they are pros.
Stupid animals.
I fully realize there are some of you ‘out there’ who love animals and likely find this offensive. And there are likely others of you who find my attitude towards animals repugnant. Please, however, don’t be too quick to judge. You see, at the end of the day, I am still the master of the house and it is still my decision as to whether or not the dogs come back into the house; I always let them back in to my house. Sometimes, I am even kind enough to spare my wife the worry they have been hit by a car or lost in a pond by going and looking for the dogs. This doesn’t mean the dogs get off scott-free. Oh, no! There are consequences for being a disobedient dog: Sometimes they have to eat in the garage with the cat, sometimes they get a bath with the hose, and other times they ignored for a day or two.
But at the end of the day, stinking like feces, dirty as dirt, and, ironically, happy, they still know where to come home to. And they still know that I will open the door for them, feed them, scold them, and let them sleep under my roof. The rest of the family, well, they have jobs too. They wash them and clean them, they give them all the concern and “oh, we have missed you and are so glad you have returned” they can. Eventually, I come around after I have seen how much the rest of the family has rejoiced at their return, how much they have forgiven those wayward, stupid animals. I just wish the dogs would realize how good they have it right here with me–even when I am distant and uninterested. I wish they wouldn’t be so embarrassed about looking and smelling clean that they have to run back to the scat that is strewn about the woods behind my house. I wish the dogs would learn to be content, to rest, and not so concerned about going back to what we have cleaned them up from a hundred times or more.
Stupid dogs. Will they never learn?
Soli Deo Gloria!
Father, Have mercy on us! We, the wayward, we cry out for your grace. We pray your guiding hand lead us home safely. Amen.
Friends,
What is the best advertisement campaign ever? Take Nike for example. Every year they spend millions of dollars on advertising their product. The ads are fancy. They are video. They are audio. They are paper. The ads are on television, radio, the internet and on billboards.
The product is marketed by professional athletes who are given access to as many shoes as they need. (It is hard to imagine buying a product from someone who doesn’t have to buy it himself, but that’s another point altogether.) Go to a ball game and see the wall signs. See the ads on players hats, shirts, pants, socks, and on the gloves and bats they use. Nike places their logo in just about any place they or anyone can imagine.
I suppose some of their best advertising comes in the form of spectacular television spots that are designed to stimulate the senses. But is this really where the best advertising comes from? Is this the best Nike can do? Is the television the place where Nike sells the most shoes? I don’t think so. Let me tell you how I discovered this.
I was walking through the snow one day in my pair of Nike’s that I managed to find at the bargain price of $25 or so on the sale rack at a local sports store. The snow was fresh, clean, and no one else had dared to walk where I was walking. It is one of the small pleasures in life being the first person to walk on a fresh blanket of snow. I don’t know why, but there is something rather thrilling about being the first person to leave a trail across a yard covered in beautiful gleaming white snow. I was doing this one day.
I happened to look down and I noticed that I had left a perfectly formed footprint in the fresh snow. You know what I could see? That’s right. There in the snow, in the center of my footprint, clear as day, plain as sky, was the outline of a perfectly shaped Nike Swoosh.
This got me to thinking about advertising. I don’t care how many Nike golf balls Tiger Woods hits into a green or how many Witnesses there are to Lebron James’ mastery of the basketball. The best advertising that Nike gets is every single step that ordinary folks like myself take in a pair of their shoes. Why? Because we leave a Nike Swoosh everywhere we go. It is stamped into the mud, the dust, the grass, the concrete, snow, slush, and hardwood floors. That image, that Swoosh, left in a billion footprints every day is the best advertising that Nike will ever get.
And so too it is with the church. It is not the great big campaigns that advertise Christianity the best. It is not the Billy Graham crusades. It is not 40 Days of Purpose. It is not Your Best Life Now (not that Best Life is an ad for Christianity). None of these things: Not the biggest mega-church or the most charismatic evangelist nor the preacher with the most miracles under his belt. The best advertising the Christians do is found in every single step we take. Trillions of steps taken each day in the Name of Jesus are the best advertising we can do.
With each step of perseverance, with each step taken despite opposition and persecution, with each step taken in spite of suffering, with each step we take in the race marked out for us we ‘advertise’ Jesus. This is because Christians, like Nike, leave an imprint on this world with each step we take. This is why we press on, ahead, and are commanded not to look back. If we look back we run the risk of gloating over our victory or grousing over our failure. Instead, we look straight ahead to Jesus who also had a path to walk (Hebrews 12).
And that path is hard to walk. Oh so hard to walk.
Lord, I’m too weak to walk. Too stupid to understand. Too ungracious to be graceful. Too unlovely to be lovable. Lord, I, like you, see all the ugliness inside of my heart. I see all that which is despiseable–all that which you suffered for. And yet you chose me to be an ad campaign for Jesus. You chose me to carry his marks, his wounds, in my life. Those wounds…Lord can wounds save even me? Help me walk the path marked out for me…sketched by your finger…traced by your eye…trod by your feet…mark the place in my heart Lord that is lonely and afraid on this journey…mark it with your grace. And I–I–carry the marks of Christ?
Soli Deo Gloria!
Friends,
I have been working on my 90 Days with Jesus series at my other blog. I have 5 more to go. I have been thinking about Jesus’ words: “It is Finished!” in John 19.
It seems that our life goes from one ache to the next. My brother in law has a brain tumor and we have no idea what will be the outcome of that. He’s taking treatments, but who knows how those will end. Strangely enough, he called us last night to see how we were doing. Doesn’t make sense to me; but it does. You see, the Lord Jesus got a hold of Bob the first time around with brain tumors. I remember baptizing Bob and his wife and later conducting their wedding. Bob realizes that Jesus has finished the work, begun something new, and that He will not fail to bring to completion that which he began in us. Bob can call us (my wife and me) for precisely that reason.
And I complain about my aches and pains! The weather in NE Ohio changed again: We went from walking around with no coats in the 60’s to full blown blizzard the last two days. So of course my sinuses are clogged, draining, clogged, draining. And all the while I am complaining! Bobby called us to see how we were doing.
I went to visit a member last week. Her son was there. We were talking and having a nice conversation. He said he had a beef with me. He came to church one Sunday last year or the year before and it happened to be a day when I was asking my congregation to pray for me because I had been having some difficulties with my health. He launched into a rant about how I ‘don’t know what pain is’ how he’s ‘on morphine.’ I didn’t disagree, but I did tell him it wasn’t a contest. I thought of several other things I would like to have said–I did say, “Well, if you had been in worship on the other 51 Sundays you wouldn’t have heard a word from me about my pain.” He was quiet afterwards. I left 2 minutes later. I somewhat regretted the conversation.
A member of the Church recently had surgery to replace a hip. She’s already turning summer-saults and kart-wheels down main street! She hasn’t complained a bit and was happy to see me when I went to visit her. She didn’t accuse me of not knowing pain. She and her husband were glad to see me after her surgery too and when I went to their house: You guessed it, tea and donuts. They served me!
I’m not very good at the pastoral aspect of my work. Sometimes it is so frustrating I don’t even try. But I know that in the midst of all this complaining about sermons we don’t listen to, and all this surgery, and all this cancer there is work being done–not at all by me. No I see in all these things the different ways that people respond to the grace of God. I hear all the ways that people accept the words of Jesus, “It is finished.” I think this strong sense of completion is exactly what makes Christians different. We know what does and does not matter. We not only can serve when we are dying, but we will serve even though we are hobbled by this life’s pains and aches.
For Bobby–done deal! For the member with hip surgery–done deal! For others, Christ hasn’t suffered enough yet; his work is not yet done because theyare not satisfied. Those who understand, serve. Those who don’t, complain. I have found this to be true in nearly every visit I have ever made pastorally. Some people really understand what Jesus meant when he said: “It is finished!” and they live their lives accordingly. They are joyful servants. There is a profound difference between Christians who understand that ‘it is finished,’ and those who do not.
I told the story this past Sunday about a woman who belonged to the last church I served. I’ll never forget this woman, dying of cancer. Couldn’t even get out of bed and had to be cared for around the clock. I’ll never forget the day that she, for all intents and purposes dead already, had her husband and son roll her into the church building so she could worship the Lord before she died. I’ll never forget it.
She got it. She understood, “It is finished.”
Lord, I thank you for finishing the work on the Cross. I’m glad that I don’t need to perform to the end that I add something to your work. I’m glad that you have accomplished all that needs to be done. I’m thankful for your grace. I’m thankful that even though our bodies and lives fall apart, yet because of your work we are being renewed day by day. I pray that more and more and more will understand that the end was merely the beginning. Lord I pray you have mercy on us all as we learn to live, as we learn to accept that “It is Finished!”
jerry
PS–I just started reading Jesus’ Blood and Righteousness by Brian Vickers. I can’t believe I read this not two hours after making this post. He wrote of his father who had been diagnosed with cancer: “Yet he did not fight in desperation, even though the prognosis never got better than a hope of a slight prolonging of weeks, perhaps months. After the initial shock, he faced cancer with confidence–not confidence that he would ‘beat it,’ but confidence that came from resting, as he put it, ‘only in Jesus and all he has done for me.’ My dad was resting in the imputation of Christ’s righteousness in the face of a disease that was quickly ending his life…I was working on the topic that sustained him and gave him hope and confidence in the face of the last enemy; the defeated enemy.” (14) That’s exactly what I am talking about in this post.
Friends,
Life can be discouraging at times. Who hasn’t discovered that to be true? I take a minute to peruse the headlines at a few of my favorite websites and discover that there isn’t much happiness being spread around the world. Some bloggers are very fond of ripping and destroying everything that is against theirparticular version of Christianity. Others go out of their way to do nothing but tear to shreds in mockery and sarcasm those who are not “Evangelical Reformed 5 Point Calvinists.” (I have noticed that Calvinists tend to be very arrogant at times. Not all of them, but many of them, especially in the blogosphere.) Sadly, it is these ER5PC blogs that I visit the most because I do appreciate their high view of Scripture even if I deplore their very low view of God’s Sovereignty. This is just one thing that is stuck in my craw this morning.
I’m not innocent. I’ve done it too. I was convicted yesterday morning while I spoke about God’s grace in my sermon. All of the sudden the Spirit convicted me saying, “Look how you have treated the atheists and Darwinists who have visited your blog.” I realized instantly that I was no better than those Christian bloggers who spend all their blogging time defending their superior version of faith against the likes of those who hold an inferior position. As if any of us are saved because of our opinions about Scripture! Isn’t that just the point of grace? I see very little grace coming from some people and I realize that I don’t want to be one of them. I need to respond to people with grace because it is the right way to behave, it is the only way to show that I am saved by grace, and it is the response that Jesus commanded me to offer.
Grace. Sometimes, in moments of selfishness, I wonder what the world would be like if grace did not exist. Doesn’t grace rather complicate things?
The congregation I serve recently passed the 2008 budget. Included in the budget was a line: $1200, Minister’s Education. Now, to be sure, $1200 will pay for about 1 class per year where I am going to school. It will not cover gas expenses, books, room, or food. And besides that $1200, I did not get even a cost of living raise despite the fact that the offerings have increased this year by 5-6%. Don’t misunderstand me: I’m not complaining. I don’t preach in order to make money. That’s not the point. The point is, a husband and a wife decided that was too much: they have left the church over this issue. Well, it’s not even an issue. They are evidently the two who voted against the budget, and they have decided not to return.
What they have essentially said is this: We don’t believe the church should be that generous with the preacher. What is my response supposed to be to this? Grace. Isn’t there some room in this for a little ‘righteous indignation’, a little ‘holy anger’, a little ‘you people are so unbelievably ignorant’, or even a little ‘tossing of the temple tables’? Sadly, and yet in a liberating sort of way, no, there isn’t. Instead, the best response I can have right now is silence, the letting go.
Life can be discouraging at times. These are the difficulties we are faced with as preachers in churches. It is, to be sure, a paltry thing. I’m sharing this, not because I want sympathy, but because I want to put a face on the nature of grace–at least the grace that I am learning about right now. This is, after all, a prayer journey. My prayer today is that I will learn not to be so petty and that someday, when I’m an old preacher put out to pastor and a young preacher’s family comes along in the church I worship with, I pray now that God will help me to be gracious to him and his family. I’m praying now that God will change me in such a way now so that then I will not be like some of the people I see in the church today who have no concept whatsoever of grace.
Father,
Help me to be a man of grace. Lord, help me to be a man who understands the nature of his salvation. Help me Lord to be a man who forgives and forgets others as easily as you forgave me. I need to be gracious Lord so that I will not, in any way, fail to demonstrate to others what you have done for me. I confess Lord my own arrogance and sin and my own unforgiving attitude. I confess my ineptitude and shallowness. I ask Lord for your mercy to be evident in me so that in turn it might be evident to all. Soli Deo Gloria!
jerry
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