Répondez s'il vous plaît - RSVP

 

The Apostle Paul tells us in Philippians 4:6-7 - “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

In the preamble to Prayer, Finding the Heart’s True Home, Richard J. Foster gives us a glimpse into the heart of God, “He aches over our distance and preoccupation. He mourns that we do not draw near to him. He grieves that we have forgotten him… He longs for our presence.” I am often too absorbed with busyness, accomplishing the next thing, doing something – anything – and then rewarding myself with some downtime, you know, like watching TV or burying my face in my phone. Too busy to spend time in his presence, talking to him, loving him.

Foster goes on to tell us, “And he is inviting you – and me – to come home, to come home to where we belong. To come home to that for which we were created. His arms are stretched out wide to receive us. His heart is enlarged to take us in.”

We receive invitations all the time for birthdays, weddings, baby and wedding showers, poker games. There is generally an RSVP request with contact information toward the bottom of the invitation. RSVP are the initials for the French phase, ‘Répondez s'il vous plaît’, basically meaning to please respond. The literal translation is ‘Respond, if it pleases you.’

Sometimes I get the sense that the host is begging me, “Please tell me you are coming.” “Please, please contact me at 555-555-5555 or by email at lovemybaby@rsvp.com or using the self-addressed stamped envelope.” They seem desperate for my attendance and are anxious to know if I am coming so they can prepare the house for me, have my favorite drink ready, and to make sure that I am comfortable and relaxed. I believe God wants our RSVP for all those things. Though it is more a longing than a begging.

How should I respond to God’s invitation? What is his chosen method for the RSVP? I need to respond with an open heart to Jesus Christ, his chosen contact and use the Holy Spirit to transmit my acceptance to join him. God’s invitation is not a ‘Regrets Only’ RSVP. If he doesn’t hear from me, he assumes I will not be joining him. If he hears from Me, I’ve already accepted his invitation.

It is important to allow time in a corporate worship service for each person to connect with God in prayer, to touch the hem of his garment in a way that allows power to go from Jesus to the believer. I believe this should be early in the service so that corporate worship and singing flows from a place of personal contact. We need the opportunity to RSVP before we jump into the party, otherwise we are just a part of the din trying to harmonize.

I listen for the invitation from time to time. Most often it is during walks, hikes, bicycle pedals, motorcycle rides, or floats when I have some solitude and I’m away from the requirements of social interaction. There is a meditation technique where I envision myself walking along until I find what I'm looking for. I have two such walks that are effective for me in my prayer/mediation life, such as it is. In one, I picture myself hiking in the Sierras, most times I am wending my way through the forest until I find myself hiking along a rushing stream tumbling down the hillside to spread itself through a meadow and into an alpine lake. At some point, I see myself walking with Jesus, talking as to a friend.

There are times that my meditation takes me up a set of switchbacks to a mountain pass where I hope to find the stream leading from the snowpack to the lake on the other side of the pass. When I find myself on this trail, I often come across a rockslide blocking the trail and I need to clear the rocks, some being large boulders. It is hard work to clear the path and I often fail at it. When this happens, my hope is that my work to clear the path has been an effective RSVP and that he will meet me in my labors.

Jesus himself, being fully God and fully human, shows us the need for prayer to connect to God and he practices the art to show us the way. Luke 6:12 tells us “In these days he went out to the mountain to pray, and all night he continued in prayer to God.” This is how Jesus prepared himself to deliver the Sermon on the Mount and gave us the beatitudes. Should we do any different to prepare us for our day?

Don’t forget to RSVP.

In His grip,

Jerry

Author’s note: After writing my first draft for this post, I went on a bicycle ride. I found it nearly impossible to hear the invitation or to make any meaningful connection. Even riding around the Rose Bowl and Brookside Golf courses where it is a relatively safe place to ride, there are too many things to think about – other cyclists, joggers in the roadway rather than in the pedestrian lane, cars, or golfers crossing the road between holes that feel no need to stop and look. Maybe I’ll get to the point where the pedaling is second nature and hearing and responding to the invitation is first nature…

My Heart Held Hostage

 

My Heart Held Hostage

I am rarely without my friend Webster except for those rare occasions when I am off the grid or phoneless, like when I take a shower. Webster doesn’t go there with me. He and I were discussing something that has been on my heart now for weeks and he says this regarding the word ‘Hostage’:

1a - person held by one party in a conflict as a pledge pending the fulfillment of an agreement. 1b – a person taken by force to secure the taker’s demands. (Merriam-Webster smartphone ap)

I must confess. The reason ‘hostage’ has been on my heart is because I am holding my heart hostage, as I frequently do. It looks sort of like this: ‘If the Dodgers win, I’ll do this; if they lose, I get to do that.’, ‘If they call, I’ll do this for them.’, ‘If that guy signals to get into my lane, I’ll let him in with a smile; if they don’t signal, to darn bad for them!’, ‘If this happens, then I’ll serve God today.’ – and so on.

When I am in that mode of operation, even if the outcome is what I want, I won’t really get all the benefits that I could have. In fact, my heart will be marred and not truly free. Just like hostages in a bank takeover need therapy for PTSD when they are released, so will my heart therapy. It is a no-win situation. The minute I chain up my heart, I’ve lost.

Rather than go to God and put demands on him for the Dodgers to win for him to get what he wants from me, I need to enjoy the game for what it is and give in to the Lord and be his servant. Except for maybe today when they lose 0-13, there is no joy in a game like that, so I should just turn it off and write something that might touch someone and meet them where they need to be met or when on the road I need to be gracious and not be surly and even if they don’t call, I need to be there for them.

It gets more serious when my heart is held hostage over my walk of faith. If I hold back because our worship isn’t the way I like it or even go so far as to think I’ll change churches if it’s not my favorite way and at the time I want it to be, then I have lost and however I worship will not be all that pleasing to the Lord. I cannot say to myself that I will reject my church if the church does not take a particular stand, then I have lost and even the service I do give the church will gain me little and my effectiveness will be limited.

It is not until I raise my hands in surrender that raising my hands in worship hits the mark.

1 Corinthians 12: 17b – “But now God has set the members, each one of them, in the body just as He pleased.”

I confess that over the years, and there have been many for me, I have on occasion been flummoxed enough to pray about moving on. Thankfully, that verse in 1 Corinthians is etched on my heart and I’ve sought the Lord rather than let my emotions get the best of me and ride out of town. I’m too simple a person to understand the whole purpose of God for me, I must listen.

It is not until I take a knee and swear fealty to God that my heart will be unchained.

The writer in me thinks of it like this – when I go through life writing my story and working to fit God into it, the plot ultimately falls apart and the story makes no sense. What I need to do is figure out how to chronical God’s story and my place it. Then the plot works itself out and makes sense.

As I am encouraging myself to unchain my heart from being a hostage against my own desires, I encourage you to do so as well.

In His grip,

jj white

Confessions of a Wayward Writer

 

What do you do when you believe God has called you to a vocation and you engage in all manner of ‘good’ things instead of that which you are called to? 'Good', as in necessary everyday activities like three sets of tax returns, including your recently deceased parents’ final return, and any number of things – wash dishes, cook, do yard work, work on estate processes, spend time with family… What do we do when we know we should be spending time and energy on activities we are beckoned to do by that quiet voice we have come to trust as God’s?

Confess with a sincere heart, move on, and get down to it. And so I confess:

I am a writer. I believe God has called me to it and He did so after I searched for the creativity that exists in each of us. We who are created in the image of God have a spark of The Creator in us. I searched for mine after giving up on the notion that I was creative on the basketball court. While that may have been so, if the divine creativity for me was that of an athlete I would be writing this as a former NBA player, or at least that is how I see it.

I did a lot of business writing for the phone factory and was well thought of for my efforts. White papers, business cases, reports, and all sorts of communications that paved the way for me to have a nice little career.

I hadn’t started my search for the creative spark at the time but when a student ministries director asked me to do the writing for the church’s monthly newsletter, I took to it and enjoyed the outlet. I wrote about our youth activities and what was coming up and did some pieces about the depth of our mission trips and camps. What I really loved doing was zeroing in on a particular person and writing a story about him or her and what I found special about them. I could and did write from the heart on those occasions and they were the ones that touched people. My mom and mother-in-law were my biggest supporters in this and they carried it over once I heard the call to write creatively.

I am not a good writer and I feel this way for several reasons. I do not do it consistently enough to say I have a writer’s life but I wish that I could claim that I have such a life. My work needs a lot of editing and I need to learn the craft more completely. I write some good pieces here and there but nothing that has been published outside of my own blogs or social media outlets. Some of that has to do with me lacking the confidence to believe the piece is worthy of printing and some of it has to do with me lacking a tough inner shell to withstand the common practice of writers to collect rejection letters.

I completed a novel a couple years ago but it has been left idol. It is the book I believed I was urged to write by the Author of our Faith and yet I cannot bring myself to rewrite it as it desperately needs. The book needs to be cut it in half if there is any hope in having a publisher even look at it. The story is mortally out of date due to my delays and I need to refigure the timeline and at least bring it up to the point where it touches on the pandemic.

All of this falls short of a legitimate excuse for falling short of having a writer’s life, one meant to touch the hearts of at least one person with each piece I publish. For all of this, I am sorry and will rekindle my efforts.

I am a writer. My best of friends Mike and Jim say so. Mike even puts ‘Writer’ as my occupation when he uses me as a reference when he is job seeking. Mike is a professional editor so it must be true that I am a writer. Jim is my coach and he tells me how touched he is when he reads my work. He was key in showing me the error in a short story I have now submitted several times to start my collection of rejections, so it must be true that I am a writer.

Ani is a published writer, has a master’s in fine arts (MFA) Degree, and is an entrepreneur. She took a short story I wrote almost on a whim for the family and put it in a picture book for us. My mom had me autograph her copy, so it must be true. I guess this means I need to retract my earlier statement that I have not be published outside of my own media resources.

What led to me writing this confession was Phil talking to the men on our Zoomeeting the other morning and telling the group what a good writer I am and how he appreciates the works that I put up. Having spent that morning in the presence of the Holy Spirit, I was uplifted, touched, and convicted all at the same time. Phil is a published writer himself, so it must be true.

Thus, I must confess that I fall short of God’s call to me.

I looked on the back of a piece of intarsia my late father did for me and he said, “Together in His grip, love Dad”. And so I’ll sign off on this confession as I frequently sign off on my Calvary's Thread posts.

In His grip,

jerry

OJT

During the last few walks with Oliver, a wonderful lad of mixed canine decent, I have been considering that putting ‘Grandfather’ on my resume has been one of the coolest things I’ve added since June of 1979. It amazes me that I’ve come into the position with a certain amount expertise that, until I began considering it more fully, has baffled me.

When I was a child I was able to observe my own four grandparents and benefit from their love of the job. Grandpa White gave my sisters and me wheelbarrow rides around the double cul-de-sac in Gardena and let us play with his wooden hardware organizer drawers as a place for us to put play money and act like we were a store. Grandma White fixed her wonderful English cuisine meals. I especially liked the way she prepared carrots. Grandma Matt (Mattingly) always made a couple of my favorite dishes when I visited at Bass Lake – lemon meringue pie and shrimp cocktail were her specialties for me. Grandpa Matt had a way of teaching me the practicalities of daily life and snuck a $5 bill into my hand for gas as I was driving away when I was able to go up on my own. My favorite memory was him sitting us down at McDougal’s for our favorite ice cream dish. It was a banana split for me.

Those four could be gruff at times and I suppose that was due to coming through the depression and other depredations of the lives they had. I never once felt they didn’t love me. I know they did, or do. I seem to still have conversations with them now and again. Most of them were great huggers even if Grandpa Matt liked to rub his stubble on our young cheeks. I suppose the good long time I had with them burned the programming into my firmware.

When I became a man and after June, 1979 I was blessed with observing Cindy’s and my parents take to the role of grandparent and man, they are hard act to follow. From the moment each of the four held Ashley in their arms the first time I knew we had an awesome foursome of grandparents for our kids. Our mothers were creative and attentive and our fathers were watchful and protective. All of them were playful at times. One thing that stands out about them is the sense of wonderment at the joy of being a grandparent was. It is as though my observations of my and Cindy’s parents reemphasized the programming that took place when I was a boy and maybe did some debugging as well.

With all that training by osmosis I still needed some more practical lessons and there is nothing better than On the Job Training (OJT). The best teachers for grandparent OJT started with Teya and Jeremiah, then Logan and Nairi, and now Becca. Grandchildren are the best teachers of grandparents and it happens in the field, on the playgrounds and on living room floors, in their highchairs and on changing tables. We get tested here and the programming gets beta-tested right then and there and we adapt.

After twelve years of experience, one great lesson I’ve learned from them is that expectations from them are going to change as they get older and their needs get more…sophisticated. Add to it that I’m just getting older and rolling around on the floor and tossing them in the air isn’t quite as graceful. I know Teya’s experience of me will be far different than Becca’s.

Those are a lot of words to get to this point and you are likely wondering, if you’re still reading, what does this have to do with a Calvary’s Thread post about my Christianity? And these days, what does it have to do with covid-19 and faith?

Let me go here with my tangent: How did twelve fishermen, tax evaders, and otherwise tier-one individuals come to be the founders of Christianity? OJT. There were no seminaries and no Bible schools to mold them into Apostles other than the rabbinic teachings they got growing up and those somehow missed who the Messiah was to the point the leaders of these schools had Jesus put to death. Only the revelation that poured from the disciples turned some of the teaching into truth for the Jews at the time.

These guys hung out with Jesus for three and half years and were taught on the run and in the field. They were instruments in Jesus’ hands for the feeding of the five thousand, were sent out by twos to minister in His name (Mark 6:6b-13, Luke 9:1-6, and Luke 10:1-24) and otherwise assisted Jesus with his ministry. On the Job Training.

Then their mentor, teacher, and the Father of their faith was killed and they scattered only to be reeled back in to have their training refreshed. Their OJT continued in Acts and when a new teacher, or rather a teacher with a different aspect of the Father, came upon them, the lessons continued. The first big evidence that they were ready to graduate into Apostleship was Peter preaching and adding three thousand to the faith. He’d never really preached before. OJT baby.

Do you want your faith to expand, your effectiveness to grow? Wade into the river and get hip deep into the work of the Kingdom to the point the Holy Spirit has to come upon you to succeed. Learn by doing, live by grace.

In His grip,

jerry

Battery Life

Isaiah 40:28-31 and 41:10^a – “²⁸Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. ²⁹He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. ³⁰Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; ³¹but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” And “^41:10afear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God”.

Have you ever been using a portable electronic device for something important to you? Like your smart-phone, iPad, or notebook computer for a work presentation, or an oral report for a class, or, God forbid, your Sunday sermon and your plan is to be *hip and sharp using the device for your notes instead of, gasp, paper? And the battery dies…you know, like the terrorist underling video-taping the leader’s manifesto in True Lies. “Battery Aziz…” (YouTube clip: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=An-9zO0PlvA)

Do you think it’s a good idea to make sure you come into your critical event fully charged?

Have you ever done all the prep-work I mentioned above and finished your presentation only to look at your battery life to see it in the RED? And you say to yourself and anyone around, “God, that was lucky.” No, that was grace and a simple heartfelt “TYG (thank you God)” is in order.

It is the same way with our spiritual life and my suggestion is to plug in whenever the opportunity presents itself. Go a step further and create the occasion to top off your batteries throughout the day.

How do you recharge? What devices do you use to maintain a connection to the Holy Spirit throughout your day? However you choose to connect, do it. And find something new to try. Maybe it will work for you, maybe not, but the action of finding one will provide a connection in itself and perhaps refresh some of your old tried and true methods.

A few weeks back I downloaded a new ap to my phone, “Oh Snap”. It’s a random reminder generator that pops up with a reminder now and then throughout the day and within the hours you set for it. They can be green (low priority), yellow (medium), or red (hot and frequent). I have one reminder loaded and it is labeled “Stop, It’s Time to Pray”.

The problem with my new ap is that over the last several days it’s been crazy busy with stuff and I’ve simply scrolled by the reminder. They’ve been important things that aren’t fun. I’d rather have been writing a Calvary’s Thread post like I’m doing right now and pausing in the flow to pray.

So friends, stop and pray. Reconnect and recharge every day and frequently. Do. It. Now.

In His grip,

Jerry

*or current, cool, chic, stylish, in vogue, or whatever the latest term for this passe word is that I’ve been unable (or unwilling) to dig out.

Surely Not I Lord

How can we be so sure it is not us?

During the Lord’s Super Jesus was reclining at the table with the twelve disciples when he said, “I tell you the truth, one of you will betray me.” (Matthew 26:21 NIV)

The disciples were very sad and replied one after the other, “Surely not I, Lord?” (Matthew 26:22 NIV)

Jesus expanded on His prophesy saying that it would be better for the betrayer not to have been born. Judas then asked, “Surely not I, Rabbi?” (Matthew 26:25 NIV)

Look at the difference between how the eleven ask and how Judas offers the question. The eleven know Jesus is Lord while Judas still thinks him a simple Rabbi. That lack of revelation allowed Judas to betray our Lord out of greed. But, how could any of them been so sure he was not the one?

I prefer the English Standard Version translation of the question, “Is it I, Lord?” I can’t be sure enough to say ‘Surely not I.’

When things go a bit wrong or completely haywire we too often hear, “Not my fault” and then a bunch of dissemination coupled with defensive positioning and a digging in behind half-truths, outright lies, or self-deluded beliefs about one’s own actions and culpability.

What I need to do in those times is to respond with, ‘am I the one?” Then I need to react like David in Psalm 139:23-24, “²³Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. ²⁴See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” (NIV)

I will rarely resolve anything by saying that it is not my fault. We will never advance God’s Kingdom with that approach – never come close to what we see for ourselves in God, or bring our vision for the church to fruition unless we hit the deck and cry out to be searched. And the first to do this need to be the leaders. Publicly. They cannot say that it’s the congregation’s fault, it’s not the pastor’s or elder’s or director’s fault. We must lead by example and be the first to hit our knees in repentance. It is the only way or it will be us that betray the Kingdom.

When we do this it clears the way for the Holy Spirit to act because God does not despise a broken and contrite heart. (Psalm 51)

So, take five or ten minutes today and pray to be searched. Read and meditate on Psalm 139 or use Psalm 51. Then, do it again tomorrow and act on what the Holy Spirit shows you.

In His grip,

jerry

And then I saw…

Photo credit to Cynthia on our New Orleans trip

Our Wednesday morning men’s group meeting started out as per usual until my imagination took an active role while we read God’s Word, worshiped, and prayed.

I saw myself as though I was releasing doves into the air except they were men, men that I know or have known over my lifetime. I was lifting them up to God as I listened to His word being read, as we sang songs of praise, and as we prayed over a wide range of people and events. Some came to me as names and others as faces drifting from my uplifted hands. They continued to emanate from me coming from my heart to my hands and into the sky to be blessing even when it was my turn to read and as I sang songs.

My imagination, for I’ll stop short of calling it a vision, operated nearly of its own accord. I say nearly because the men came to me and were lifted up in concert to what we were doing. They did not intrude but enhance. I think an excellent wine aptly paired with the food does that to a meal, enhance it without intruding on the dining experience.

My best of friends were there for healing and a touch of peace. Men in my family from generations past, present, and just now blooming. I think of four-generation photos with my grandfather, father, and son and now 4-gen shots with my dad, son, and grandsons and they were all a part of my offerings. Men who’ve left their mark on me, Spiritual Fathers, grandfathers, uncles, teachers, both living and having passed on, were a part of the stand that spread out in front of me. Even men whose marks left behind were meant for harm. There were missionaries and adversaries, bikers and ballplayers, churchmen, and a few kite fliers…some I scarcely know and must have been included simply because they need a blessing. In-laws of every ilk; brothers, fathers, and sons…it has been quite a kaleidoscope.

Toward the end of our time together we read John 1 and what I saw then were thousands of men in a field like a wide-ranging wisp of snipe and then again as they waded in the shallows like a vast mustering of storks. They fed, preened, and generally got along with life.

Upon reflection of this phenomenon I wonder if I experienced just a taste of the flow of Living Water Jesus talked about in John 7:38. Regardless, it is my wish, my prayer that this will be the case for each man who has come to mind and lain upon my heart today.

The experience continued as I wrote these notes in my little notebook and typed up this post. I’d like to continue here for a while.

In His grip,

jerry

Don’t Doddle, be Led

photo courtesy of my subscription to Storyblocks

Selected portions of versus from Psalm 23: “²…he leads me beside quiet waters, ³…he guides me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. ⁵You prepare a table before me…”

He leads – it is up to me to follow.

He guides – it is up to me to listen to his directions.

He prepares – it is up to me to sit down and eat.

Oliver, our most outstanding Labradoodle companion, and I walk between three and five times a week from two to four miles  at each outing depending on the route and the route depending on the day of the week and my to-do list.

For much of the time I lead Ollie on-leash. Company policy, as I think of it, requires that I keep him on leash in parks proper. On the various trails we walk that are found branching out of parks and off mainstream walkways I take him off leash as long as I am reasonably sure others aren’t nearby on the trail. If he is off leash and someone comes around he goes back on leash until we are clear again.

I keep Ollie on leash when we encounter people, with or without dogs, mainly so that I can control the encounter until I’m sure of the person and their dog. Unruly dogs we ignore. Mostly we see good people who have good dogs. There are some other reasons you might observe him on-leash and out on a trail and I’ll cover those in a bit.

Since these walks are more about getting Ollie out than me exercise I make sure to let him do dog stuff. This means that while he’s on-leash I end up with an interval workout – ten steps, stop, sniff, mark - move on. Once off his leash, he gets to stop as long as he wants while I keep moving, then sprints to catch up.

Now, once in a while he’ll get off trail. It happens and I’m not too upset unless when I call him back he doddles. Doddling doodles can be irritating. If it gets serious enough he goes back onto the leash and we walk for a little bit, no dog stops included until I feel he’s learned and then he gets off leash again as long as the coast is clear.

I have to admit, and hate doing so, but Ollie is better at this with me than I am with Jesus. I doddle. I go up a wrong path and take my own sweet time getting back on the trail where he is leading. Because Jesus is who he is and operates the way he does, it’s up to me to get back on the trail, he doesn’t clip a lead to my collar, though at times it may feel that way.

He guides me on the path of righteousness for his name’s sake. He is generally pretty quiet about it, but of late, let’s say over the last several months, he’s been rather intrusive about it and his guidance has me into things I wanted nothing to do with. I’m still straining at the leash to stop and diddle around or go my own way and it’s making the walk along the path I know to be of his choosing an unpleasant one. I fear that I won’t get to the place that it will all be for his righteousness sake. Grace here is a heavy requirement.

Sometimes I don’t feel like sitting down to eat when and where the table’s been prepared for me. There are people there and some of them are difficult to eat with. There is food there that is tough to swallow for a guy that likes fast food and copious amounts of chocolate. It’s a banquet table and requires certain manners and customs to be observed when I’d rather bolt down the food and be on my way when I’d be better off digesting the whole experience.

It is always up to us. You know, free will and all that stuff? We must make the choice to be lead, to follow our guide, and to sit and eat with our Host. Jesus would rather we do these things out of an abiding love for him rather than out of fear of reprisal.

So, let us be led by Jesus and walk alongside our Guide to sit at the banquet table with him and fill ourselves with a heavenly feast.

In His grip,

jerry

Decisions, Decisions; the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

The Apostles cast lots to determine the replacement for Judas...

Decisions, decisions; the good, the bad, and the ugly. Let me fix something right up front that I couldn’t bring myself to do in the title. There’s the Right Stuff. It’s the decision we need to make every time if it’s there for us to make.

The ugly decision is the easiest one to describe. We make them all of the time and yet they should be the easiest ones to avoid. We know the pending action is a sin or is bad for us and we make it anyway. We drink ourselves to drunkenness or we take those office supplies. We drive under rage screaming at the doofus words we’d never utter anywhere near the front steps to the church. We smoke anyway, we flirt and carry it too far, or deny our faith. We tell our children, our spouses, our friends, pastors, and ourselves lies. And sometimes we boast about the ugly decisions we made while in certain company.

These are the classic sins, the deadly sins of lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride. Why do we sometimes brag about them? Why do we make the decision to sin like this at all? I’m hoping by the end of this post I’ll shed some light on it. That’s what I’m trying to do here, figure it out by writing it out and end up with a little better grasp of the issue to get myself to the right stuff more often.

The bad decision does not necessarily lead to the commission of a sin. Sometimes it is just a stupid mistake we’ve made like telling ourselves we have plenty of time to step off the curb and jog-walk across the street as the signal turns yellow - surely the car speeding along the boulevard will stop for the yellow even as he accelerates. When we wake up and see the worry etched on the EMT’s face is when we accept that we’ve made a bad decision and we were just plain stooopid.

Wait a minute though. What led us to that decision? If we did a little root cause analysis we’d probably see a little seasoning of deadly sins mixed in our recipe for the bad decision. At least pride and sloth. If we make enough bad decisions they become habit. It we don’t learn from close calls, near calamities, and I-told-you-so moments, they could become deadly. And that would be wrong.

The good decision. Ah, some relief here. We’re Christians and we make plenty of good decisions like when we decide to record our favorite team and go church anyway even though we aren’t up front that morning and all the while we pray nobody says anything about the Saints’ game as if nobody has their handheld device out to watch scores for their fantasy football team. That gets us every time, doesn’t it? Still, it was the good option; who can control what’s said at the ‘party’ between services in the breezeway?

Good can be a subjective determination and in the process of decision making it’s usually made in our own mind and hopefully confirmed by others later. The big question I’m wrestling with is what makes a good decision the right decision?

Some of you may be tired of hearing about Mission Arizona when I talk about stuff. Sorry about that but for more than a quarter of a century I’ve made decisions around that yearly event and it’s something most of my friends who’ll read this are familiar with. I’ve been asked many times if I’ll be going on the upcoming MAZ. My response has been the same and now it will be true about the CASA trip replacing it. I tell them, and try to convince myself, that I’m a year to year contract with God on my involvement, just like Walter Alston was with the Dodgers. I give it careful thought and prayer and I’m trying to make the right decision which by my definition will include the right motivations. You should see what trips me up in that last sentence. It’s not ‘my definition’ that does it; it’s ‘right motivations’.

Over the years I’ve decided to go or not to go that, to me, have clearly been the Holy Spirit telling me to go while at other times it’s been habit and felt right, or it was the right thing but I was unhappy with it, or it was more me than the Holy Spirit saying to stay home but I’d convinced myself it was the spirit. There were a couple of times where I truly felt it would have been fine with God either way to go or not to go.

What’s a boy to do here? What’s the key? Waiting on the Lord. Learning His voice over your own and waiting on Him to decide. It seems that this would be simple for the event or occurrence that’s a year out, or even next week. It is not; it’s hard work separating our own desires to get down the kernel of truth that makes a right decision. It seems that it would be terribly difficult to wait on God to determine if you should cross a street or for that matter, if you should raise your hand and volunteer to serve for the request being made right then, right in front of you. It doesn’t have to be. Set yourself to walk the right path for the day, reinforce it by prayer when you awake, strengthen it with communication with Jesus through the day and when the time comes he will make it known to us.

Jesus lived this way, only doing what the Father told him, showed him. When Jesus leaned over and picked the kernel of wheat, shucked it and had a snack, the Father had shown him it was right even though the Pharisees were there to condemn the act. We can live like this. We are told we can do all that Jesus did and more. It’s a tall order, getting ourselves out of the way, and letting the Spirit lead. But it’s doable.

  

In His grip,

jerry

Be One Whom He Seeks

“Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks.” John 4: 23 (NIV)

There are times I mourn some for lost spaces, little nooks and crannies where I’ve found a moment or two of solitude for quiet reflection, even talks with others that began in hushed tones and, as often as not, broke out in laughter. There was the small memorial chapel complete with waterfall/fountain that even worked for a season or two that became a storage facility and then was removed.

There was the space with comfy couches arranged around a fireplace that really worked – or works still for all I know but it's become a multipurpose room now. With a fire going we’d gather around and talk about a Bible verse or story or some sort of personal train of thought and our discussions would range from here to there with tangents and such until a game of some kind would break out. Eventually the group would quiet down as the fire calmed to embers. On a New Year’s Eve some of us would nap there until the word went out that it was time to go and freeze our butts on Colorado Avenue for the Rose Parade.

There used to be a library with real books filling the shelves with Bibles, concordances, journals, expanded studies of all the books of the Bible. It's a craft center now. You could go in there and pull down a book on nearly any Christian topic of the day and study. There was always a current (and several earlier renditions as well) Book of Order. Groups could gather there for in-depth discussion and discovery.

Now reading the verse above I have to chastise myself. Solitude can be found anywhere you set your heart to look. Worship can take place along any pathway, in the midst of a shopping mall, on the beach, on the bike (pedal or otherwise), and in the trenches of everyday life. It’s up to me to find my spot, to make it the Lord’s for His purpose.

And there are still spots that can be found on the campus I refer to here if you find the right time and know where to look. The seekers can find them and there is always time for worship. We must leave space in our lives for quiet contemplation and worship, to make/take the time and find the location holy for His purpose. If we do this, worship while our bodies, even our souls, are busy doing other things, then we become the ones whom the Father seeks.

In His grip,

jerry

Stop. It's Time to Pray

Romans 8: 26 “And in the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words” NASB

A couple of Sundays ago Ashley, our Director of Children’s Ministries, spoke to the children that had gathered on the chancel stairs. I had a pretty good view from stage left of the chancel as I prepared to follow the children’s time with the prayer of confession. It is Operation Christmas Child time so the church family is busily gathering supplies and gifts to pack what we hope will be well over three hundred boxes for needy children throughout the world. Ashley shared how at the Samaritan’s Purse packing stations while the workers are preparing all of the collected boxes to be shipped to over a hundred countries a voice comes over the loud speaker system saying “Stop. It’s time to pray.” Everyone stops whatever they are doing and prays over the boxes, blessing them with the Spirit, and praying for the recipient to know Christ through the gift and the givers.

That phrase has stuck with me and is my nugget from the service. It has become a touchstone over the last couple of weeks. With my mother-in-law suffering a debilitating stroke and a few days later my sister-in-law was in a freak accident in which suffered a broken pelvis I have much to be in prayer and intercession for with these two who are so near to my heart in such deep need. At work, during my walks, working at home, and even while vegetating in front of the TV the phrase resonates in my mind and I have to quiet myself in some way and pray. Even while gathered with the family in the hospital room with my mother-in-law, one not fully aware while we carry on conversations of every kind, the reverb comes to me, “Stop. It’s time to pray”. And so I do stop and touch each one with a feather of prayer to aid in our vigil; we pray and hope, wait and see.

I found it interesting that in a place with people gathered in an activity inherently good and with a Christly objective that we are also in need of reminders to stop and pray. I think it is another instance of Martha versus Mary, Mary stopped, prayed, and paid attention to the best thing while Martha needed to be reminded to stop her good work and heed to the groaning of the Spirit. We need to be reminded from time to time to give voice to the groanings within us; pause a bit in our labors, in our joys, and in our sorrows, to acknowledge the Spirit within us that intercedes on our behalf.

Of all of the things I have to be thankful for, a list that I cannot do justice to or am deserving of, I am at this moment extremely thankful for the nugget that I picked up, the echo of hope that invades my conscious thought to give me an opportunity to thank God for that list and pray for those that the Spirit has placed on my heart.

Yes, one would be you.

In His grip, jerry