Live Meaningfully in the Present by Learning from the Past

The biblical stories of saints and sinners are endlessly instructive for people wanting to live meaningful lives in the present, but there is a risk that we will miss what they have to teach us.

The danger is that we will approach these biblical characters with the assumption that they were not like us.  For one thing, they lived thousands of years ago, and weren’t people different then?  And for another, God actually talked to people back then, but he doesn’t talk to us now – at least, not in the same way. 

Very subtly, and without intending to do so, we can remove these people from the sphere of real life. They weren’t like us so, of course, we cannot be like them. It was a different world then, people were different, and God acted differently with them. 

St. James refutes this way of thinking when he says that Elijah, a towering figure among biblical characters, was “a human being like us.” Or, as an older version put it, he “was subject to like passions as we are.” He had feelings, cares, and worries, just like we do.  He had doubts.  He shared our strengths but also our weaknesses and frailties. 

At the height of his career, Elijah experienced a breathtaking victory, like a football player winning the Superbowl and being named MVP, or a diplomat brokering a comprehensive Middle East peace deal, or a candidate winning the presidential election. But within a short time, his world was turned upside down.

Elijah’s success had placed him in the crosshairs of one of the country’s most powerful leaders. He had wrongly assumed that his long struggle against oppression, injustice, and religious abuse was finally over. When he saw that it was not, he entered into the darkest period of his life. The man who was the epitome of faith and faithfulness suffered serious depression and was obsessed with negative thoughts.

The biblical text says that “Elijah ran.” He is not faulted for doing so; under the circumstances, it seems to have been his only choice. But thus began an alienation from the people who might have supported him and, as time went on, from all human society.

This kind of self-imposed isolation is common among those suffering depression. After he pushed away his last ally, Elijah lost hope. He reproached himself for not being a better person and wished that he might die. He began rehearsing all the things that were wrong in the world and in his life. His words may even betray a resentment the great man felt toward God himself.

The saint had feet of clay. In other words, to quote St. James again, he was “a human being like us.” Because of that, we can learn from him and especially from the way God interacted with him.

We can learn, for example, that self-imposed isolation is unhealthy, and this is especially true for those dealing with depression. People flourish in community. It is with others that one’s beliefs about oneself and even about God are refined, falsehoods discarded, and truth embraced.

It is helpful to see how God dealt with his discouraged servant. Rather than rebuking him, or even correcting him, God rested him. God understands that the connection between body and soul is complex and inviolable. An ill-used body and an unhealthy soul are often found together.

Besides giving Elijah time to rest, God gave him the opportunity to reflect on and articulate his hurts and fears. God did not rush to correct the wrong thoughts that Elijah expressed; he let him vent. Then he gently corrected the parts that Elijah got wrong, and he did this without any condemnation.

God also gave Elijah work to do, for God understands that humans need good things to do and to accomplish to be happy. Our first parents were given work to do in the Garden of Eden, and work will be a blessing for people in the age to come. It is an essential part of a flourishing life.

The biblical stories of God’s interactions with people are an instructional goldmine for leading a satisfying life. They merit careful reading and thoughtful reflection.

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A Biblical Model for Handling Church Conflicts

Anyone who has been around the church for any length of time has heard about church fights and church splits. Christians, it seems, are not much better than anyone else when it comes to handling conflict. They might even be worse.

The history of church conflicts is a very old one. It begins only a few short years after the birth of the church. The Evangelist St. Luke tells the fascinating story in his history of the early church, which we know as the Book of Acts.

At the time of the events in Acts 6, the church was headquartered in Jerusalem and comprised of Jewish people who had recognized Jesus as the Messiah. The church had not yet gone out to the world, but the world had come to the church. The growing and vibrant congregation in Jerusalem was comprised of both Aramaic and Greek-speaking Jewish believers.

One of the things that characterized the early church and made it attractive to outsiders was the way it cared for its poor, especially its widows. From the earliest time, the church kept a list of widows who qualified for financial and food assistance.

Being a widow in the first century Middle East was very different from being a widow in America in the era of Social Security. There was no safety net for widows, nor were there any jobs. Work options for women were extremely limited: doing wealthy people’s laundry or prostitution. Because the husband was usually the only bread winner, when he died there might be no more bread.

But in the church, widows were supported. If they lacked financial resources, they were placed on the widow’s list, which qualified them to receive food on a daily basis.

That is the backstory to the conflict in Acts 6. The Aramaic-speaking widows, the locals who were from Jerusalem, were receiving a daily allotment of food while the Hellenistic widows, who were Greek-speaking transplants to Jerusalem, were being overlooked. This caused the Hellenistic church members to complain that they were being treated unfairly.

Most of the church conflicts I have heard about over the years were like this one. They were not theological in nature. They didn’t begin because someone denied the truths of the Athanasian Creed but because a church member was slighted, or at least felt that way. Conflicts happen because people’s feelings are hurt, their views disregarded, their needs unmet.

These things happen in every group of people, including the church. It is naïve to think otherwise. Jesus as much as promised that this would be the case. He once said, “It is impossible that no offenses should come…” When they do come, as is inevitable, what we do next is what is important.

It is worth noting that in the early church, when the Hellenistic Jews were offended and lodged a complaint, the church’s leaders listened to the complaint and acknowledged its validity. They did not call what had happened a misunderstanding nor hire a lawyer to write a wordy apology that meant nothing.

Instead, the apostles brought the entire church together and said, in effect: “We have a problem. It is more than we alone can handle. So, let’s put together a team who will be able to make this right.”

The conflict became the starting point for an entirely new set of leaders in the church, people we refer to today as “deacons.” The apostles did not dictate how these new leaders should handle the problem; they merely set the standards for what kind of leaders were needed, let the church choose them, and then let them go to work.

One moral to this story is that church conflicts need not diminish the church. They can be the source of innovations and growth. We see this in Acts 6. After the church, with its new set of enthusiastic and spirited leaders, dealt with the conflict, the church was united, “the word of God spread,” and “the number of disciples increased rapidly.”

As a pastor, church conflicts always worried and disheartened me. Yet, conflicts can provide an opportunity for positive change, fresh insight, and growth if they are handled with faith in God and love for others.

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Magnificent Obsession or Academic Religion: The Wise Men’s Story

The Feast of Epiphany, held on January 6th, celebrates the revelation of Christ to the world. It commemorates the visit of the Magi, traditionally known as the “wise men,” to the Child Christ.

The origin of the Magi has been debated, but the earliest occurrence of the word is found in an inscription from the time of Darius the Great, the Persian King who plays a role in the biblical Book of Daniel. They are thought to have originated among the Median peoples in what is modern-day Iran.

The Magi were a tribal people, like, for example, the Pashtun people in Afghanistan. They were not merely wise men (as the King James suggests); they were a society of scholars who studied the stars and religious texts. They prepared sacrifices for worshipers.  They acted as priests.  Their role was not unlike that of the Levites in Israel.

At one time the Medes, of whom the Magi were a part, revolted against the Persian government and were promptly crushed. The Magians gave up their political aspirations and, from that time on, dedicated themselves to the pursuit of knowledge and religious truth. 

There are references to Magi visiting the tomb of Plato and accompanying the king of Armenia to pay homage to the Roman Emperor. Magi appear as court counselors and priests. Though the word later became associated with sorcerers and magicians (our word “magician” is derived from it), and still later with charlatans and swindlers, the Magi who visited Christ seem to be astronomers and seekers of truth.

In the Gospel of Matthew, the Magi are juxtaposed against Israel’s chief priests, and the pagan astronomers come out looking better than the priests. In the biblical account, the chief priests have answers the Magi seek, but fail to act on what they know. For them, the matter is academic. For the Magi, it is a magnificent obsession.

The Magi traveled something like 800 hundred miles to honor the one “born king of the Jews.” Most people in the first century hated travel. The weather was oppressive, the terrain was rugged, and the roads were dangerous. That did not stop these seekers from crossing mountains and borders to find Israel’s king.

Contrast that with the effort made by the chief priests. They knew where the king was to be born. They knew the Magi believed he had already been born and had traveled great distances to welcome him. They would need only travel about five miles. Yet, from what we can tell, none of them made any effort to see their king.

Are we more like the Magi with their magnificent obsession or the priests with their academic religion? The question is worth pondering. My wife and I are spending a couple of months in Waco, Texas, to be near our oldest son and his family. Waco has sometimes been called the “Baptist Vatican.” It is reputed to have the most churches per capita of any city in the U.S.

Yet many of those churches are nearly empty on Sunday mornings. Though Texas has a much higher church attendance rate than Michigan, where I pastored for 35 years, well over half of all Texans will skip church this week. In Michigan, that percentage is closer to two-thirds.

According to Lifeway Research, the average American owns 3.6 Bibles. That means the U.S. has about a billion Bibles. The Barna Group reports that 54 percent of Americans say the Bible contains everything a person needs for a meaningful life. Yet only one in three of us reads the Bible at least once a week.

It seems we fit better with the apathetic priests than we do with the inspired Magi. If our professed beliefs are not enough to take us to church on Sunday to worship the King or to our bookshelf to open a Bible, what good is our profession? Jesus, seeing the empty religion of his day, reminded people of God’s word from the prophet: “These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.”

If the Christian story is true, then it calls for more than empty professions. It calls for devotion expressed in intelligent, consistent action.

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What’s the Big Deal About Christmas?

Americans love Christmas. They plan for it, spend money on it – this year the average consumer is expected to spend over $1500 – and gather with family and friends to celebrate it. But few Americans understand why Christmas is such a big deal.

To understand what Christmas means and why it is important, we need to go back, way back. We need to go beyond Bethlehem and its mangered baby and travel all the way to Eden, for it was there that the Creator first became Immanuel. According to Genesis, God was with the first humans in a manner they could perceive and in ways that caused them to flourish.

God made the earth to be a place that would beautifully and remarkably sustain biological life. It was perfect. And on the earth, he made a place, the Garden of Eden, that was supremely suited to a particular kind of biological life: the human. He placed two humans, a man and a woman, in that ideal environment.

Biologically, he made the humans so that they could mate and multiply and fill the earth. Spiritually, he designed them so that they and all their descendants would resemble the Creator himself. He gave them characteristics that mirrored his own (appropriate to their biological form, of course) and bestowed on them the responsibility of serving as his representatives on earth.

God gave them dominion over everything on earth. His plan was to set up living images of himself – human beings – all over the planet. They were to lovingly care for the planet and for all its creatures on his behalf. Think of the earth and the universe as a kingdom, the Creator as king, and the humans as the king’s chosen regents.

As time went on the man and the woman, known to us as Adam and Eve, chose to go their own way, and their way was a long and disastrous detour. Instead of serving as the King’s regents, they chose their own path. They did not want to rule under God, they wanted to rule beside him.

They believed that they would be better off – happier, more fulfilled, more who they were meant to be – if they were autonomous. When Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit – the Bible does not say it was an apple – they were not acting like naughty children but like rebellious conspirators and, at least to some degree, they knew it. What happened in the garden was not a slip but a jump that turned into a fall.

God intended the humans to rule his world, but they were now at its mercy. Under God’s leadership, they were being groomed to rule, but when they stopped being subject to God, they became subject to fear and ruled by desire. On the very day of their revolt, there began a struggle between man and God, man and earth, and man and man. They were expelled from the garden, and the world began to fall apart. So did the humans. And, to all appearances, so did God’s plan.

The man and woman were expelled from the safety of the garden into the world they had defaced. Immanuel – the God with them of the Garden – was now the God away from them. And the separation they had introduced into that relationship also came between them. A new reality had been introduced into their world: distance. They were far from God, increasingly far from each other, and even far from themselves – the selves they were intended to be.

The humans rejected their Creator, and that is our shame. But the Creator did not reject the humans, and that is our hope. God promised to send Immanuel, the one who would bring people back to God so that the Creator and the created could be together again.

The story of the baby laid in a manger is part of this larger narrative: the story of the God who would rather die than live without us—who did die rather than live without us. For the story does not end in Bethlehem’s manger but continues to Calvary’s cross. And it is not over yet.

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Christian Nationalism: The Seduction of a Different Gospel

In an article from 2019, Newsweek summarized a Pew Research Center Study this way: “While Americans largely have a positive view of the role of religion in public life, they overwhelmingly want religious institutions to stay out of politics.” I do not know if that is an accurate summary of Pew’s research. It is, however, a sentiment that one hears expressed with increasing frequency.

The enemy du jour is Christian nationalism. The Speaker of the House of Representatives has been labeled a Christian nationalist and considered by some to be a threat to society, democracy, and interestingly, morality. Andrew Whitehead and Samuel Perry, writing in Time, claim that Speaker Johnson is “a near perfect example” of a Christian nationalist, longing for a society that “revolves around patriarchy, heterosexual marriage, and pronatalism”—the promotion of high birth rates to avoid national decline.

According to Whitehead and Perry, the Speaker’s agenda will provide “certain citizens” – think white and Christian – “easy access to various civil rights and liberties, while others should be denied access.” In other words, in the kind of nation the Speaker of the House desires, white Christians will have it made. Everyone else will be robbed of their civil liberties.

Perhaps Whitehead and Perry are correct about the Speaker, although he has not, like other members of his caucus, identified himself as a Christian nationalist. But even if the Speaker is a hard-core Christian nationalist – the Time article provides insufficient context to prove it – that is only part of the story.

The Christian brand of nationalism is not the only one on the market, and all are determined to remake America after their own image. Secular nationalists want to reshape America just as much as their Christian counterparts. Their idea of a just society is based on a worldview that is atheistic, a morality that is postmodern, and a sexual ethic built on the alarmingly nebulous principle of consent. Their ideal society is characterized by gender equality, intellectual superiority, and reproductive rights.

Why are secularists allowed to be political while religionists are not? The fact is that our citizenry is comprised of both secular and religious people, and both are guaranteed the right to express their opinions politically. America is not, and has never been, a theocracy.

Christian nationalists have the same right to pursue their vision of a better society as any other nationalists, whether they are Jews, Muslims, or atheists. I do not object to Christian nationalism because of what it wants to do to America, but because of what it is already doing to the church. Naïve Christians are transferring their loyalty from Christ to politics, and they don’t realize it.

St. Paul would call the gospel of Christian nationalism “a different gospel.” It proclaims the present realization of the kingdom of God through political might. America, rather than the Church of Jesus Christ, is the proverbial city on a hill. Legislation takes the place of God’s Spirit in conforming people to the image of Christ – whether they want to be conformed or not.

In the gospel of Christian Nationalism, it is the blood of our men and women in uniform that saves us, not the blood of the Lamb. What strength does a Lamb have compared to a Navy Seal? Christian nationalism’s saints are soldiers. To honor soldiers is a good thing. To dishonor Christ, through neglect and inattention, is not. Christians give more than lip service to Christ. They give him their highest loyalty.

The problem, once again, is not that Christians want to shape society by legislation. That is their right and, in some cases, their responsibility. The problem is not even that some secularists want to silence Christians in the public square. Let them try.

The problem is that Christians themselves are silent about Christ. They would rather talk about politics than about Jesus. They display more confidence in the power of the president than in the power of God. They have been seduced by a different gospel.

That may be nationalism, but it is not Christian. Christians put Christ first.

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He Has a Certain Way About Him

In both the Old and New Testaments, the Bible speaks about “the way of the Lord.” The biblical writers frequently urge people to walk in God’s ways. What does it mean that God has a way?

The “way of the Lord” can denote the path God takes to get somewhere or the manner God chooses to accomplish something. In either case, the way of the Lord is often very different from the way people would naturally take. As God reminds people through the prophet Isaiah, “My ways are not your ways.”

God and humans once went the same way, but the Bible makes clear that their paths have diverged. This separation is recorded early in the biblical record when the progenitors of the human race knowingly rejected God’s way and chose another. The rest of the Bible tells the story of how God brings the two come back together.

The idea that humans have left God’s way, have sinned, and are lost was once assumed my nearly everyone in the West. People understood that they were sinners who needed forgiveness and ought to follow God’s ways. That cognitive framework has largely broken down.

It has been replaced by various philosophies of self-actualization in which the problem is not sin but ignorance or social injustice. The older, biblical understanding also viewed ignorance and injustice as dangerous evils, which contribute greatly to human misery. But it took these to be the result of a more fundamental evil: humanity’s dislocation from God.

What difference does any of this make? Just this: if we see ignorance as the primary evil, we will believe that humanity’s problem can be solved through education. This belief motivated twentieth century intellectuals in their efforts to construct a better society. Those efforts have not yet proved successful.

If we believe that injustice, rooted in systemic racism or in economic inequality, is the root cause of human unhappiness, we will want to dismantle the system and build a new one. But if racism and economic inequality are themselves caused by an older and deeper evil, whatever system we build will also need to be replaced.

That older, deeper evil is humanity’s rejection of the “way of the Lord.” Until they return to it, ignorance, racism, and economic equality will continue to ravage mankind. But how will people return to God’s ways if not through education and systemic reforms?

The answer is that they cannot, at least not on their own. They need help. And that help has been, and is being, given. The means by which this help is offered is told in the biblical story of redemption.

After describing the consequences of mankind’s choice to go its own way, recorded in Genesis 3-11, Scripture recounts the steps God is taking to bring humanity back to himself and his ways. This is the story of the Bible. It begins when God chooses one person, Abraham, to be the channel through which he will bless all peoples on earth.

God chooses Abraham “so that he will direct his children and his household after him to keep the way of the Lord by doing what is right and just…” Abraham’s family (later tribe, then nation) was supposed to keep, rather than leave, God’s way, as the first humans had done.

The rest of the Old Testament tells the successes and failures, but mostly failures, of that nation “to keep the way of the Lord.” The New Testament picks up the story with Abraham’s long awaited descendent Jesus. He not only keeps the way of the Lord but inaugurates a new non-ethnic people of God who will also walk in his ways.

God’s ways are mentioned throughout the Bible, but in Deuteronomy they are a constant theme. Chapter 10 elaborates on God’s ways, giving numerous examples: he “shows no partiality and accepts no bribes … defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien.”

We think of such things as ethical standards, but they are more: they are God’s ways. Those ways have proved too steep for us to travel, but God will help. That help comes through his Son, who is known as “the Way,” and his Spirit. 

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Life’s Detours: What You Need to Know

A reasoned defense of God’s goodness and love in the face of suffering and evil is known as a theodicy. Examples of theodicy can be found in the works of philosophers like Leibniz, Hick, and Plantinga. I cannot hope to add substance to their efforts, but I would like to offer an illustration.

Imagine taking a ride with Jesus in a 1966 Cadillac Coupe Deville convertible from New York to Los Angeles. A road trip with Jesus – wouldn’t that be great? You assume you know the way the Lord will take: I-80 to the Colorado line, I-76 to Denver, I-70 into Utah where you will pick up I-15 almost to San Bernardino. There you’ll get on 210 and follow it to 605 and then take Route 10 into L.A.

That makes sense. It is the quickest route. But the Lord knows about a billion things you don’t. He knows there will be traffic jams in Hoboken, Stroudsburg, Youngstown, Chicago, Des Moines, and twelve other spots, so he avoids them. He bypasses the hailstorm in White Haven. He knows there is a wonderful state park just off I-76 near Uniontown, PA, which you are going to love. And there is an ice cream parlor in Wooster, OH that he particularly likes. They have a dark chocolate ice cream with chunks of fudge, which Jesus says is the best in the world.

Jesus also knows that a 74-year-old man and his wife are traveling to visit their son who, unbeknownst to them, will die later this year. They will blow a tire on the south side of Bloomington and the man will have a heart attack while he is trying to get the lug nuts off. So, Jesus takes an alternate route that leads through central Indiana so that you can change a tire. And then, there is a waitress in a diner in St. Joseph, Missouri, a single mom with bills that are piling up, and whose ex is suing for full custody of their only child. She feels like she is losing her mind and really needs someone to give her hope – as well as a big tip – and you are just the person to do that.

Then there is the drunk driver outside Severance, Kansas. Of the thirteen people who notice him weaving, only you call 911. His arrest and brief incarceration are what lead him to sobriety. And there is a poet in a coffee shop in Oklahoma City who overhears one line of your conversation that sets his creativity on fire and someday earns him the title of Poet Laureate of the United States.

If you were to see that route plotted on a map, it would make no sense at all. But that is because you don’t know what the Lord knows. All you know is that I-80 is the most direct route between where you are and where you want to go.

Most people think they know the most direct route between where they are and where they hope to be. But why doesn’t God take that route? One’s whole life seems to have been a series of detours. Forcing one’s way along a chosen route often makes things worse, not better.

God’s ways, St. Paul insists, are impossible to understand. We will never guess them beforehand. We have a better chance of guessing the winning Powerball Lottery numbers, but even that would not make us as happy as we could be if we trusted God’s wisdom and love.

No one qualifies for the role of God’s counselor, though many people have applied for the job. I have often given the Lord recommendations and sometimes, I think, he has worked them into the plan. That’s called grace. But I could not be God’s counselor any more than a preschooler could counsel Albert Einstein on the development of Relativity Theory. I can’t see a trillion things at once, things present, past, and future. But God can.

Evil will always be a problem for a small God. But the God revealed by Jesus is not small. His knowledge and ability – and his goodness – exceed the fancies of our most imaginative writers and the speculations of our greatest philosophers.

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The Only Animal that Asks Why

Some people approach life as if it were an Agatha Christie novel. They want to solve the mystery, explain everything the way Hercule Poirot does in the great “reveal” that happens at the end of each story.

I once had a professor who could explain life’s profoundest mysteries in three to five points. He wrapped everything up neatly, even God. He was a respectable, intelligent man, but even when I was young, I realized that his explanations were an oversimplification.

Recently, Stanford University neurology and biology professor Robert Sapolsky declared that human beings do not have free will and therefore “holding people morally responsible for their actions is wrong.” It seems to me that if people don’t have free will, those who hold others morally responsible are themselves not responsible. So, to say they are “wrong” is simply meaningless.

Of course, Dr. Sapolsky was trying to clear up one of life’s great mysteries: the universal human perception of free will. I suspect some of his colleagues in Stanford’s renowned philosophy department will strongly disagree with him. But either way, they are all engaged in trying to solve a mystery.

The desire to demystify life is understandable. What we do not understand we cannot control, and what we cannot control we fear. The longing to solve mysteries comes from our very human need to manage our environment.

Some people, my professor was one, cannot rest until they have explanations. The unknown haunts them like Hamlet’s ghost. If they could, they would suck the mystery out of everything.

They won’t succeed, for we are not only surrounded by mystery; we are a mystery. “Man,” said Charles Colton, “is an embodied paradox.” Our biological makeup is blueprinted in the 3.2 billion nucleotide pairs that comprise our DNA. Each nucleobase can pair in one of four ways. What that means is the number of possible combinations in any one person is greater than the number of atoms in the universe. Why did the billions of nucleotide pairs combine in the particular way that produced you? It is a mystery.

No wonder humans are inveterate explorers of mystery. We are animalis interrogatio, the questioning animal, the only one that asks, “Why?” Finding answers is one of our chief joys. We cannot not seek, for seeking is in our nature.

That is how God designed us. St. Paul told the philosophers of Athens that God set things up as he did so that people “would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him.” We seek God, the ultimate truth, as a cell phone scans for wireless networks and for the same reason: we were designed to do so.

Like Poirot and his predecessor Sherlock Holmes, we cannot be happy if we do not have a mystery to solve. That means our potential for happiness is unlimited, for we shall never run out of mysteries. But we must learn to embrace mystery, not fear it.

Mystery is not a threat but a promise. It promises to be our teacher and offers us knowledge we could not otherwise attain. Satisfaction does not come from the annihilation of mysteries, but from the fruitful exploration of them.

As a young pastor, I squirmed when I came to biblical passages I did not understand. Wasn’t it my job to clear away all mysteries? How can one God exist as three persons? In what sense did Jesus descend into hell, as the creed declares? How can a loving God allow people to suffer? I found these and dozens of other questions threatening.

I have since learned that difficult questions like these are invitations to fresh knowledge about God. I no longer fear them. I follow them as guides.

What helped me most was the realization that I did not need answers as much as I needed the Answerer. Answers, even true ones, do not satisfy. The answerer does.

All my answers have not dispelled the mystery but have taken me deeper into it. It is in those depths that encounters with God can take place. Even there, we do not uncover the secrets of his mind, but we do discover the kindness of his heart.

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Do Not Grow Weary (Galatians 6)

This 29-minute sermon from Galatians 6:1-10 encourages us not to give up when things get tough. Click the link Do Not Grow Weary to listen or read the manuscript below.

Emmet Smith, the great running back for the Dallas Cowboys, was just 5-foot-9 and weighed 210 pounds. That’s pipsqueak size in the National Football League. But he holds one of the most impressive records in pro sports: the career rushing record. In his 15 years in the NFL he rushed for 18,355 yards. That’s almost 10-and-a-half miles!

What’s even more impressive is that on his way to the 101/2 mile mark, some colossus on the other side kept knocking him down every 4.2 yards, on average. Can you imagine getting slammed to the ground every thirteen feet for ten miles? But Emmet Smith kept getting up. That’s what it takes to win. It takes endurance. And that’s what this short series is all about.

Today’s message is for those of you who’ve been knocked down and are thinking about just staying there. You’ve become weary. You’re not sure that you have the energy to get back up – or the desire. Well, that’s an experience that others in this room share and have shared.

            Today I’m going to encourage you to get back up. If you say, “I can’t,” I’ll answer: “You can.” If you say, “Why should I?” I’ll answer, “There is more riding on this than you can imagine.” If you say, “How can I?” I’ll answer, “Let’s look at our text: Galatians 6:1-10.” It’s a text that has something to teach us about perseverance.

Brothers, if someone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should restore him gently. But watch yourself, or you also may be tempted. Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. If anyone thinks he is something when he is nothing, he deceives himself. Each one should test his own actions. Then he can take pride in himself, without comparing himself to somebody else, for each one should carry his own load. Anyone who receives instruction in the word must share all good things with his instructor. Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows. The one who sows to please his sinful nature, from that nature will reap destruction; the one who sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life. Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers. (Galatians 6:1-10 NIV)

            Chapter six begins with reference to a problem: a person “caught” in a sin. Paul might be thinking of someone whose sinful behavior has been detected – the word can be used that way – but he might also have in mind the person who has been caught like a fly in a spider web. He got too close to something harmful and now he’s wrapped up in it and doesn’t know how to get out.

            The word the NIV translates as “sin” is not the usual Greek word, but one that means something like “a false step” or a “trespass.” In other words, this person who is “caught” fell into something wrong inadvertently, he didn’t rush into it on purpose. The wrongdoing may be, as the New Testament scholar Alan Cole argues, false (but fascinating) teaching that has caught hold of a person, or it may be a behavior or a habit that ensnared him or her.

            Paul says “You who are spiritual” – meaning people who live in and keep step with the Spirit (Galatians 5:25); whose lives are plainly under the influence of God’s Spirit – “should restore him.” Paul didn’t know anything about NFL rushing records, but he knew that people take missteps and get knocked down. If they’re going to get back up and persevere they are going to need brothers and sisters to help them.

            The word translated “restore” is used in the Gospels of the disciples repairing their fishing nets – cleaning them and sewing up the holes – so they would be ready for use the next time. If we are going to persevere in our service to Christ, we will need to undergo repairs from time to time – and we are going to have to help each other with that.

            But do it gently, Paul says (or literally, do it “with meekness”). Destroying people doesn’t require gentleness, but restoring people is delicate work and only those who are led by the Spirit should try. “But watch yourself,” Paul warns, “or you may also be tempted.” He doesn’t say exactly what that temptation may be. Perhaps to the sin that has caught your friend. Or perhaps to the sin – more destructive still – of pride and spiritual superiority.

            In verse 1 Paul is instructing the Galatians about what to do when a fellow Christian succumbs to temptation. In verse 2 he tells them what to do when a fellow-Christian is weighed down by a burden. In verse one, the Christian has wandered off the path and needs someone to help him get back on it. In verse 2, the Christian is still on the path, but the weight he’s carrying threatens to crush him.

The word translated “burdens” in verse 2 was sometimes used metaphorically of sorrows or griefs, but here it is probably more general. The burden could be an illness, a financial weight or a relational difficulty. It could be an addiction or a bereavement. The burden is the thing that weighs a person down, that threatens his or her perseverance in following Christ. It is important to note that we are called to carry one another’s burdens, not solve one another’s problem. Solving problems will often be beyond our ability. But carrying the burden, offering relief and encouragement, is something we can do.

            You may have heard of Sir Edmund Hillary, the first man to climb to the summit of Mount Everest. But have you heard of Tenzig Norgay, the Sherpa guide who accompanied him? On the way back down the mountain, when Sir Edmund fell, Tenzig Norgay rescued him. He would have died had Norgay not pulled him back up the cable.

            When asked why he never bragged about what he’d done, Norgay answered simply, “We mountain climbers help each other.”[1] That’s what we Christ-followers do, too. We help each other.

            What does this have to do with the subject of this sermon series, with perseverance? In the Christian life, people persevere best when they have others to help … and others to help them. Perseverance wanes when we are alone.

But while we must be quick to carry other’s burdens, we must not be quick to fault others for not carrying ours. Indeed, we have a load that other Christ-followers cannot carry. When we read this text, it may seem to us that Paul is contradicting himself, especially if we read it in the King James Version, which translates: “bear … one another’s burdens” in verse 2 but “each man shall bear his own burden” in verse 5. But the burdens of verse two and the burden of verse 5 are different types of burdens. Paul even uses different words to represent them in the original language.

I believe the word in verse 2 refers to a heavy burden that comes to a Christ-follower for a time – illness, a financial weight, a relational difficulty; an addiction or a bereavement – and can cause him or her to give out. We need to help each other carry those burdens. But the burden (or load) of verse 5 refers to the specific life work given to each of us by the Lord, and for which he will hold us accountable. It is the same word used when Jesus said, “For my burden is easy and my yoke is light.” I can share your temporary burden and you can share mine, but we cannot be responsible for the life-work God has entrusted to another. Only Jesus has the power to share that with us.

Sometimes people get this wrong. They try to shuffle the responsibility God gave them off on others. They start comparing themselves to others. They think of times they helped others but cannot remember times when anyone helped them. They pride themselves on what they’ve done for others but anger themselves over what others have not done for them. That kind of thinking is the death knoll for perseverance. If you are engaging in it, I plead with you to stop. If you say, “But it is not fair,” I can only say: “Fair or not, you’re poisoning your own spirit with those thoughts. Please stop.”

Now look at verse 7: “Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows.” Paul has switched metaphors on us. He’s gone from carrying loads to sowing seeds. But both kinds of work – burden-bearing and seed-sowing – require perseverance. And when it comes to seeds sowing, it can take a long time before one sees any results.

We were in California earlier this year, and we marveled at the miles and miles of vineyards we drove by. I understand that working a vineyard requires great perseverance. At the beginning of the first growing season, a vintner will plant vine shoots and at the end of that first season, he will cut them back. A second year passes. He cuts them back again. It takes three years before he has any usable grapes. But even then, he leaves the clusters on the vine. For most vintners, it will be year four before they bring in their first harvest.

If they are growing grapes for winemaking, it takes even longer. Those vintners won’t see the fruit of their labors for seven or eight years. In fact, most vineyards in Napa Valley don’t reach the breakeven point for their investment until fifteen years or more have passed.[2] There is always a lag time between planting and harvesting – both in the agricultural and the spiritual worlds. It is a principle in both realms: We live off last season’s fruit. Your life is what it is because of seeds you planted months ago and, in many cases, years ago.

Paul points out another principle here, an inviolable one: A man reaps what he sows. We know that’s true in agriculture. If I plant rutabagas I’m not going to harvest potatoes. It would be crazy to think otherwise. But somehow people think that they can plants seeds of self-promotion, greed and sexual immorality and still harvest love, joy and peace. That’s just as crazy.

In the little garden Karen and I plant we have a variety of vegetables: potatoes, beans, tomatoes, squash, cucumbers, and sometimes peas, carrots and onions. I don’t always remember exactly where we’ve planted what, but when the plants begin to grow, I usually figure it out. Sometimes even then I can’t tell the grape tomato plant from the Rutgers, or the yellow squash from the zucchini, but it becomes clear when the fruit finally begins to form. When it comes to which kind of seed has been planted, I can’t be mocked.

And when it comes to the spiritual crop we’ve planted, God cannot be mocked. (The etymology of the word is to “turn up one’s one.”) What we’ve planted will grow, whether we planted in secret or in public; whether we were careful about the seed we were sowing or were careless; and whether or not we now wish the plants would come up. What we plant, grows.

When preachers talk about sowing seed, they’re usually thinking about evangelism; about spreading the gospel through the witness of word and deed. But Paul has a different aspect of sowing in mind. The harvest that Paul has in mind is reaped in your own life. You become the kind of person you’ve prepared yourself to be by the seed you’ve sown. As John Stott remarked, “It’s not the reapers who decide what the harvest is going to be like, but the sowers.” And we are the sowers.

You can, verse 8, sow to (that is, with a view to) the sinful nature (literally, the flesh) or with a view to the spirit. The translation “sinful nature” can be misleading. The flesh is not evil or sinful in itself. That is important to understand. God created us in such a way that our flesh (the powers resident in the physical body) were to be governed by the spirit. There is an order in creation and within human beings themselves that cannot be altered without serious consequences. When that order is messed up – for example, when the flesh operates without regard to the spirit (which is the disaster that happened when humans turned from God) – people find themselves stuck in all kinds of ruinous patterns of behavior. The flesh simply cannot rule itself

To sow to the flesh is to invest in life apart from God and without reference to your own spirit. That kind of life is defined by its natural appetites and sensations, and is subject to, as Paul puts it in verse 8, destruction (or better, corruption or dissolution). It is a life that falls apart.

The perfect biblical example of someone who sows to the flesh is the rich farmer in Jesus’s parable. He says, “I’ll say to myself, ‘You have plenty of good things laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry’” (Luke 12:19). Now it is important to understand that there is nothing wrong with eating and drinking and being merry. In fact it is a good thing. The problem was that the farmer lived without reference to God or even to his own spirit. He violated his own nature – violated the way he was made to run – by limiting his life to natural appetites and sensations.

Paul knows where that kind of life leads: to destruction. Not because it is so evil, but because it is so weak. The flesh cannot survive without spirit. Its powers fail. It falls apart.

The other way to live is in reference to the spiritual – to God himself and to our own human spirits. We can sow – that is, we can invest in – the spirit. The NIV capitalizes Spirit, as though it refers to the Divine Spirit, but I rather doubt that is what Paul had in mind. We can sow with a view to our spirit, so that it grows and flowers and produces fruit.

How do you sow to the spirit? What might that entail? I can mention a few things, but there are many more. First, we can invest in sound biblical teaching – that is the point of verse 6, where the idea is that we should financially support true teachers of the word. We can practice spiritual disciplines – actions that prepare the spirit – like prayer, Bible reading, worship, fasting, solitude and others. These are actions we take in the present to prepare us spiritually for the future. We practice these actions in order to form “habits on the basis of the grace of God,” as Oswald Chambers put it. “If we refuse to practice, it is not God’s grace that fails when a crisis comes, but our own nature. When the crisis comes, we ask God to help us, but He cannot if we have not made our nature our ally.”[3]

In verse 10 we see another way to sow to the spirit: we can use every opportunity to do good to everyone. Doing good here is intentional. In the language of spiritual formation, we are engaging in the discipline of service. When we do good for others – every time we do good for others – we are changed. Every good thought and deed toward another person is a seed planted, and it will bear fruit.

Let me tell you what happens when a person sows to the spirit consistently over a lifetime. He or she becomes increasingly full of love – what a beautiful thing that is! He or she becomes increasingly joyful; the problems of life, even the imminence of death, cannot rob his or her joy. That person increasingly lives a life of peace. The events of life may be rough on the surface, but below the surface there is peace that remains undisturbed. That person is experiencing the eternal kind of life even now. It is a beautiful thing.

I have seen it, usually in men and women who have been sowing to the spirit for many years. “Some of the most beautiful people I have ever seen” – these are the words of the philosopher Dallas Willard, “are elderly people whose souls shine so brightly their bodies are hardly visible.”[4] He lists some such people: Malcom Muggeridge, Dorothy Day, and Agnes Sanford. And I would add to that list Ken West, William Mack and Dallas Willard himself. The wise man knew how this works. He said, “The path of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn, shining ever brighter till the full light of day” (Proverbs 4:18).

But here is the thing. It takes time to reap the harvest when we sow to the spirit. I am reaping some of it now, and enjoying it immensely, but there is much more to come than I have yet tasted. People who sow to the flesh see their path grow ever darker as they go through life. Their returns diminish. They know that death will end all light. But not so the people who sow to the spirit. Their last day on earth merely opens the door to the glories of heaven.

But because it takes time, it is possible to grow weary. Seeds sown to the flesh grow faster, but die sooner. Seeds sown to the spirit grow slowly but last forever. But because we don’t see changes in a day or in a month or sometimes even in a year, we can become weary, verse 9, and give up. We can give up doing good for others and focus on ourselves – that is, on our flesh.

I say, we can become weary. Let me speak more plainly: I can become weary. I have at times been very weary and have become all self-focused – that is, I have sown to the flesh. I need you to encourage me to keep going. I need you to help carry my burdens. And you need me. We need each other. The only way we will fail is if we fail to persevere. “We will reap a harvest,” verse 9, “if we do not give up.” And what a harvest!

Some people have learned how to sow to the spirit and are competent at it (like a good farmer), and some don’t understand it very well and are incompetent at it (like a poor farmer). But whether he is good at it or not, everyone who sows to the spirit will reap a harvest, unless he gives up. Don’t give up.

And know this: the smallest seed you can sow is a thought, but you sow so many of them that they are phenomenally important to the harvest. So mind your thoughts. Don’t plant thoughts of discontent, of foolish comparisons, resentment or envy. Instead, turn your thoughts to “whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things” (Philippians 4:8).

Let me close with a story from Pastor Dale Durie that illustrates the harvest that comes to those who persevere in sowing to the spirit. One autumn afternoon, Durie’s grandparents were at home when they heard a knock at the door. It was a neighbor, a widow, who said to his grandfather, “I was out feeding the horses, and I felt like God was prompting me to come and say thank you for the difference you’ve made in my life.”

She sat down and began relating one story after another of how grandfather had helped her; how he’d cared for the cows and horses and done all of kinds of practical things around the farm. She went through a litany of good deeds, including the help he gave her in making peace with some of her children. She thanked him for being so real. She finished with, “I just felt like God wanted me to tell you that.”

Durie’s grandfather looked at her and said, “It was the Lord Jesus Christ who did it.”

After a pause, Durie’s grandmother began chatting with the neighbor. A few seconds later they heard a cough and turned to see grandfather slumped over. He was with Jesus. His last words on earth were, “It was the Lord Jesus Christ who did it.”[5]

That was a man whose path was shining ever brighter until he reached the full light of day. He did not grow weary in doing good, and he reaped a harvest. That’s what I want for my life, but I need your help. When I grow weary, come and help me. And when you grow weary, I’ll come and help you. And when it is all over, we won’t say, “See what I did!” We will say, “It was the Lord Jesus Christ who did it.”


[1]Calvin Miller, “From Entertainment to Servanthood,” Preaching Today Tape #132

[2] Margaret Feinberg, “Napa Valley on Leadership,” Q Shorts, http://www.Qideas.org

[3] Oswald Chambers, “The Psychology of Redemption, 26-27. Quoted in Dallas Willard, The Spirit of the Disciplines, p. 118.

[4] Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy, p. 211

[5] Dale Durie, from the sermon Mission Possible (6-1-03)

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The Vacant House: A Horror Story Jesus Told

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Jesus once told a story about an “impure spirit” that “comes out of a person” and “goes through arid places seeking rest” but does not find it. The spirit then says to itself, “I will return to the house I left.” It does so and finds the house, which is a person, “unoccupied, swept clean, and put in order.”

At this point, Jesus’s tale sounds very much like a horror story. The spirit “goes and takes with it seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there. And the final condition of that person is worse than the first.”

Having recently celebrated Halloween, Jesus’s story seems timely. Though people once thought of Halloween – the eve of All Hallows – as a religious vigil that preceded All Saints Day, it is now considered a time of darkness, demons, and ghouls. So, Jesus’s story about an impure spirit – we could probably say, “demon” – living inside a human being seems like an apt subject.

If Jesus’s parable is a horror story, it is an unusual one. The horror is not located in demons, which never frightened Jesus, but in the fact that a person – and even a generation of people, as Jesus made clear – can become a place where unclean things live. Humans were designed so that they could be joined to each other and, more importantly, to God. They were not made to be alone. “It is not good,” according to God himself, “for the man” – the human being – “to be alone.”

When humans are alone, neither joined to God nor to people, they can be joined to other things. Some people, including some theologians, think that the existence of unclean spirits and demons is a myth that humanity should have outgrown long ago. They scoff at the idea. But the Bible takes seriously the presence of spiritual beings that are opposed to God. Humanity lives in a war zone.

And we can’t be neutral. That is a major point of Jesus’s story. Neutrality is defeat. We must take a side.

In his story, Jesus says that the impure spirit or demon goes about “seeking rest” but not finding it. That spirits, whether angels or demons, feel the need for rest reveals how little we know about such things. It then decides to return to the house it left – “my house,” in the original language – and finds it clean and orderly but unoccupied.

Jesus seems to be picturing people who have reformed their behavior, maybe even started attending religious services, but whose interior life is vacant. They have no place for God. They are temporarily clean, but empty—like a motel on a lonely stretch of road, flashing a neon vacancy sign for all and sundry.

We must remember that humans were designed to be joined. They are like ions – unequally charged atoms. Ions either have a positive charge – more protons than electrons – or a negative charge, more electrons than protons. When atoms are out of balance like that, they are said to be unstable, and are quick to pick up or to shed electrons.

When people are unstable, which happens when they lack God, they are quick to pick up something in his place. That something may be detrimental. Jesus makes that point in his story: “It goes and takes with it seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there.” The original language is something like, “settle down there.”

It is clear that Jesus was not merely talking about individuals because he adds, “That is how it will be with this wicked generation.” It is the fourth time he has spoken of a generation in the space of a few paragraphs. Jesus worked to overturn the powers of darkness and liberate an entire generation, but people – including religious leaders – were welcoming the dark powers’ return by their rejection of God.

That is where the horror lies in this story. When people turn God away, they forfeit their protection from the evils that haunt humanity. That, sadly, is where the current generation finds itself. The vacancy sign is lighted, and evil has taken up residence.

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