Welcome To The Front Porch Swing

WestChaseShops, used by permission

When Good becomes Evil

I’m angry and approaching livid.

It upset me when I read the account of a 10-year-old boy in Tarboro, North Carolina, who was recently disciplined by his fifth-grade teacher for referring to her as “ma’am.”

Teretha Wilson said she noticed something was wrong when Tamarion got off the school bus from North East Carolina Preparatory School. “I asked him what happened,” she explained. “He said he got in trouble for saying ‘yes ma’am.’”

Tamarion pulled out a sheet of paper with the word “ma’am” written on it four times per line on both sides. He says his teacher told him to write the word on the sheet because he kept referring to her as “ma’am” despite her instruction not to. As part of his punishment, Tamarion also had to have the paper signed by a parent.

The next afternoon, Mrs. Wilson met with Tamarion’s teacher and the school’s principal. Mrs. Wilson also brought a separate piece of paper on which her son had written the definition of ma’am. (According to the Oxford Dictionary, ma’am is defined as “a term of respectful or polite address used for a woman.” The dictionary in my study adds, “…especially for a woman in authority.”)

I wonder how Tamarion’s teacher might have responded if the young boy had, like so many today, simply smarted off in class? Would she have responded as severely? I don’t apologize for using the word severe to describe a teacher humiliating a child who has been taught by his parents to show respect for adults. Honestly, I question who was the “childish” one in the classroom that day?

I suspect the prophet Isaiah might have responded, “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter!” (Isaiah 5:20)

Just writing those words from Isaiah retrieves the memory of an autumn Sunday afternoon in the late 1950s. My uncle was listening to The Hour of Decision radio broadcast with his head literally bowed over the radio. Billy Graham had chosen the above text from Isaiah for his sermon—a sermon so powerful I can still hear his voice pronouncing Isaiah’s curse on those who dare call evil good and good evil. Billy was livid as he preached against the gross moral degradation in America back then in the “Leave it to Beaver” era. (Some of you younger readers may need to ask your grandparents about the Beaver.) Billy was warning about God’s judgment on cultural sins; things that now seem almost innocent. Billy Graham and Isaiah could have been describing our contemporary culture.

Before I continue, please hear my confession. My first sentence in this blog is not true. Sure, I was a little angry when I read about Tamarion Wilson being disciplined for calling his teacher “ma’am.” It wasn’t fair. In fact, it was downright wrong. Was I livid? No, not really. After briefly venting I forgot about all about Tamarion.

If you are really interested in seeing me reach “livid” on the anger chart, you need to be here the next time I receive another robocall offering me a low or no interest Visa account. Just got another call a couple of hours ago.

This company has harassed me with calls for almost two years. I have reported them to the government “no call” Website; I have punched #3 on the phone, as per their instruction, to say that I do not want to be called again. I’ve told them again and again (and again) that I am not interested. I have asked to speak to their supervisors who always promise to remove me from the list. On one occasion I actually threatened to come to Atlanta and hunt them down.

That’s livid, I guess.

But it’s also a shallow, selfish, rather carnal response to a minor irritation.

Unfortunately, I seldom approach livid when I see real injustice or when I hear somebody justifying same-sex-marriage. Even worse, in my mind, are those who not only publicly support such behavior but also demean and attack anybody who dares to disagree. That is calling what God calls evil, good.

So-called progressive thinkers today dare to call someone evil when they speak up in defense of the unborn. Perhaps you’ve heard about Chelsea Clinton’s statement that to roll back Roe vs. Wade is almost unchristian. My response? When is it unchristian to defend those who have no voice? “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil.”

Throughout the Bible, God clearly declares His concern for the vulnerable and warns those who would dare to oppress them. Who among us is more vulnerable than little children—whether in the one-time security of the womb or the classroom? Who is more vulnerable than newly arriving immigrant children? How about the elderly—once on the protected list, but today too often neglected, defrauded or even physically abused?

When did our culture get turned so upside down that wrong became right and right, wrong?

I am convinced the battle against the appointment of Justice Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court was less about his qualifications or character than the fear of having another conservative justice with traditional social values on the Supreme Court. It was more about being free to call evil good than doing something righteous.

To illustrate my point, consider Senator Cory Booker’s public comments back in July, shortly after President Trump nominated Kavanaugh and prior to any of the charges of rape Christine Blasely Ford leveled against the candidate. Booker used Scripture (Psalm 23 and credited it to Abraham not David) and stated that Kavanaugh was “evil” and anyone who supported his nomination was “complicit in evil.” Remember, these statements were made before any charges had been made against the justice’s character.

I can’t declare Justice Kavanaugh innocent or guilty. God knows every heart. But I am angry about the façade of liberal Democrat senators pretending their opposition to Kavanaugh was about something moral and good. Call it what it was! An effort to preserve status quo where right is considered wrong and wrong is right.

So is it right to be angry—even livid—today when I see wrong being justified? You bet it’s okay! God set the example throughout history.

If you think I speak as an old man, you’re correct. I grieve for the world we are creating for my grandchildren and great grandchildren. But I am encouraged when I remember there will be a day when God will have the last word—when the One true, righteous Judge renders the final verdict. He is the one true Supreme Court over all nations and every person who has ever lived, including Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler, and even a group of senators playing charades.

Thanks for visiting The Front Porch Swing today. If you appreciate these blogs please invite your friends to join us each week.

http://welcometothefrontporchswing.home.blog

Welcome To The Front Porch Swing

WestChaseShops, used by permission

A Royal Invitation

Imagine receiving an envelope in your mailbox.

I’m talking about your real mailbox, not the icon on your smartphone

At first glance it’s unlike any letter you have ever received. Turning the envelope over you see a very official looking seal. Perhaps it even has a faint aroma…something royal. You read the following return address: Westminster, London SW1A 1AA, UK

What in the world? The postage mark on the unusual stamp is London, England. Curiosity drives you to carefully open the envelope right there on the street corner. Inside is another, more elaborate envelope with an invitation card like none you have seen. Trembling with anticipation you read: “Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, invites you to a private audience with Her Royal highness including an informal afternoon tea.”

This isn’t the formal high tea served in the evening on a high table with a hot meal. No, this will be time with just you and the Queen, for the purpose of getting to know one another.

I think it would be wonderful. I would say yes immediately and start looking up ticket prices to Heathrow. But I’m not holding my breath. It will never happen, and what I get in the mail these days looks more like a bill or an ad. But honestly, what if? It would make me tremble just to think about it.

After all. Who am I? Just an ordinary guy living in Central Oregon. I wouldn’t know how to act in the presence of royalty. Is it appropriate to wipe my lips on the royal napkin? What if I choked on a scone or spilled my tea. And for that matter, what could we possibly talk about?

But maybe you know where I’m going with this.

There is a royal invitation. With my name on it. It’s waiting for me to open and accept every morning and every minute of every day. This invitation doesn’t come from the Queen of England. No! It comes from the High King of the entire universe. The Lord of angel armies. And when I think about it, if think long and clearly enough, it makes me tremble. If I am unworthy to spend personal time with the House of Windsor, how much more with the living God?

I invite you to read over my shoulder as I open this unparalleled invitation. After all, it has your name on it, too.

Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. (Hebrews 10:19-22, niv)

In last week’s blog, Moses was restrained from entering the tabernacle by the cloud of God’s glory. Inside the tent a thick curtain separated the Holy Place from the Most Holy Place. Only the high priest dared enter the Most Holy Place or Holy of Holies—and that was just once a year on the Day of Atonement when he offered the blood of sacrificial animals for his own sins and also for the sins of his people. To make one minor mistake meant immediate death. Can you imagine the fear and intimidation the high priest experienced? There would have been no cocky, self-confidence performing this annual ministry.

Not so today. The author of Hebrews writes about ordinary people like you and me having confidence to enter “the Most Holy Place.” You and I have been invited into the very presence of the holy God. We are not trusting in the blood of an innocent animal but in the blood of Jesus Christ, the true Lamb of God, that was sacrificed once for all time for sinners just like us.

When Jesus died on the cross the evidential proof that this invitation is sincere was the ripping open of the curtain separating the two holy places in the temple. No longer do we need to depend on a human priest to present a sacrifice that satisfies God’s just wrath over our sins. Jesus is our high priest today. He is our Mediator and Advocate before the transcendent, holy God and invites us to come boldly, drawing “near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith.”

Paul wrote, “In him and through faith in him we may approach God with freedom and confidence” (Ephesians 3:12, niv) Consider that for a moment. We—you and I—can approach God with confidence!

John affirms, “I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God so that you may know that you have eternal life. This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. And if we know that he hears us—whatever we ask—we know that we have what we asked of him” (1 Jn. 5:13-15, niv). Trusting in Jesus’ death, resurrection and ascension we can know we already enjoy eternal life and we can approach God with confidence, daring to speak with our heavenly Father.

Greg Morris, on the June 3, 2018 Desiring God Website wrote, “The question can never be, ‘Who are you to go God in prayer?’ The question now is, ‘Who are you to stay away when the King has invited you?’”

We are who God says we are in Christ. We have been chosen and are now His children—no longer orphans.

So why not open that envelope, sealed with the blood of Jesus, and accept the invitation to enjoy time in the presence of the King of Kings? Don’t worry about spilling tea or getting the napkin dirty.

Come just as you are, in Christ.

Thanks for visiting The Front Porch Swing today. If you appreciate these blogs please invite your friends to join us each week.

http://welcometothefrontporchswing.home.blog

Welcome To The Front Porch Swing

WestChaseShops, used by permission

Glimpses of Glory

I enjoy the older testament—or, at least most of it.

No, the genealogies don’t leap off the page and yank me to the edge of my seat. And to be honest, I used to feel the same way about the detailed instructions for the construction of the tabernacle and the stitching together of the priestly robes. With the passage of time, however, I have come to appreciate these preparations for Israel’s first House of Worship.

I briefly allude to the tabernacle in my book, God in His Own Image. In Exodus 25, Moses began to lay out detailed instructions for the construction of this portable wilderness worship center, including the utensils and furniture inside and outside the tent. The craftsmen assembling this holy place used over a ton of gold. Everything in the Most Holy Place was gold. Silver in excess of two tons also adorned the tabernacle. It is estimated that the cost of constructing the tabernacle would be 45 to 55 million U.S. dollars today.

Consider also the priestly garments. Gold, beaten as fine as thread, was woven through the fabric of the high priest’s robe. Twelve precious stones, including a diamond, were attached.

Everything about the tabernacle was spectacular. Trump Tower or the grandest hotel today would fade in comparison to the lavishness in that desert tent. I was breezing through Exodus 40 just recently, noting all the very specific directions for putting the tabernacle together and placing its furnishings. I’d read it many times before, of course, and was tempted to skim just a little. It seemed a little bit tedious as Moses went on to describe all the myriad details about dressing Aaron and his sons in their priestly vestments.

Reaching Exodus 40:33, I read: “So Moses finished the work.”

And that is where something happened to me. Or maybe in me.

As I continued to read verses 34 and 35, casually swinging my legs back and forth under the chair, I suddenly—almost involuntarily—found myself growing very still. I actually began to lean forward with anticipation as I read these words: “Then the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle. And, Moses was not able to enter the tent of meeting because the cloud settled on it, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle.”

Imagine Moses, his heart racing with anticipation of entering the completed holy place for the first time. Perhaps he had even begun to walk toward the tent for the final inspection when The Cloud—the same Cloud that had led them day after day through wilderness en route to Mt. Sinai—began moving, rolling, toward the newly finished structure.

Was it subtle or more like an approaching storm? Either way, Moses froze in his steps. Aaron and Moses watched the Cloud, symbol of God’s presence, as it enveloped the entire tabernacle, hiding it from view. The next words leap off the page: “The glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle. And, Moses was not able to enter the tent….”

Glory is the Hebrew word “heavy.” To be made heavy was to be treated as important and to have great dignity. Our God is inscrutable. Awe inspiring. Beyond human comprehension. Filled with splendor and marvelous beyond description. Just a glimpse of such glory would knock us off our feet. That was exactly what happened when Isaiah saw the magnificent glory of the Lord filling the temple. Here in Exodus, God’s glory also filled the tabernacle blocking Moses’ approach.

I share a quote from my book, God in His Own Image:

“But the most important feature was not the gold or the eye-pleasing work of skilled artisans. All that creativity and beauty paled when “the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle. And Moses was not able to enter the tent of meeting because the cloud had settled upon it, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle.”

I wonder, have we abandoned, by negligence or intentionally, the proper respect for God? Have we, by ignoring or glossing over His sterner attributes, made God into something safe? To do so is to fashion an idol.

Quoting from C. S. Lewis’s children’s classic, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Lucy asked Mr. Beaver if the great lion, Aslan, was safe. “Safe?” responds Mr. Beaver, “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”[1]

Let us never forget Jesus was and is the Lamb of God and the Lion of Judah. Both lion and lamb. Not lion or a lamb? He was God among us in flesh and blood. He is also transcendent and glorious and awesome beyond words. Ask the three disciples who stood on the Mount of Transfiguration.

John described it this way: “The Word (eternal One) became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory…” (John 1:14) To see Jesus, the authentic Jesus, is to see God’s glory—the same glory that prevented Moses from entering the tent and the same glory that thrust Isaiah to the floor.

Sadly, many who saw Jesus, heard Him teach and witnessed miracle after miracle ended up rejecting Him—preferring a Messiah made in their image. Knowing the cross was imminent, Jesus prayed for God’s name to be glorified (John 12:27-29). The Father responded audibly from heaven to any who wanted to understand. Most of them did not.

John quotes Isaiah 6 to explain the hardness of Jesus’ critics. John concludes in 12:41, “Isaiah said these things because he (Isaiah) saw his (Jesus’) glory and spoke of him.” Some religious leaders secretly believed on Jesus but feared excommunication because they “loved the glory that comes from man more than the glory that comes from God.”

I wonder, how might that describe theologians and preachers today who have created their own “safe” and popular Jesus because they prefer the glory and praise of men rather than glory of the awesome God who filled the tent in the shadow of Sinai?

Mr. Beaver had it right. He isn’t safe at all. But He is—eternally—good.

[1] C. S. Lewis, The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, (New York: MacMillan Publishing Co., 1950, reprint 1976), 96

Thanks for visiting The Front Porch Swing today. If you appreciate these blogs please invite your friends to join us each week.

http://welcometothefrontporchswing.home.blog

Welcome To The Front Porch Swing

WestChaseShops, used by permission

Meet John Oldcastle, another hero of faith

I casually picked up one of my Bibles this morning, as is my routine, to read.

Three words in the above sentence, as I contemplated it, stand out : “casually, Bibles and routine.”

Each word emphasizes one simple truth. I take the privelege of reading the Bible for granted. I have several translations. I don’t tremble with amazement when I am holding The Bible in my hands. Yet, many of my fellow pilgrims would sacrifice greatly to have just a copy of John’s Gospel.

Last week, while visiting old friends in Tilamook, I was reminded by Lori Franke of a sermon I had preached over thrity some years ago in Portland. The word routine was part of the quote from Dr. Vernon Grounds that Lori reminded me of last week. I share the quote: “The ruts of routine become the grooves for God’s grace.” In other words, reading the Bible routinely (as a daily discipline) can reap benefits in a time of painful stress.

But in today’s brief, special edition of The Front Porch Swing, I want to share about a hero of faith who willingly gave his life so that I can casually hold a Bible in my hand each morning.

In today’s, September 29th, edition of “Today in Chrisian History”, a publication of Christianiy Today.com, I learned about John Oldcastle. Oldcastle was a follower of Wycliffe, the first translator of the Bible into the English language so that laypeople could read God’s Word. Wycliffe paid a still price for his “sin” in the eyes of the Roman Catholic Church at that time. John Oldcastle was condemned by Archbishop Arundel and given forty days to recant of his “heresy.”

John escaped and went into hiding in Wales until eventually captured and “roasted to death” on September 29, 1413. Burned alive so that I can casually pick up a Bible and read it in my mother tongue.

Someday, I hope to find Joh Oldcastle in heaven and embrace him along with Wycliffe.

Thanks for visiting The Front Porch Swing today. If you appreciate these blogs please invite your friends to join us each week.

http://welcometothefrontporchswing.home.blog

Welcome To The Front Porch Swing

WestChaseShops, used by permission

God in His Own Image- Recovering God’s Majesty

“Humph! You couldn’t raise much wheat here.”

So spoke Mr. Wutzke, a North Dakota farmer, as he gazed into the Grand Canyon for the first time. Having been raised on a Nebraska wheat farm, I can imagine one of my stoic ancestors saying the same thing. After all, if the land can’t produce grain, what value does it have?

What was wrong with Mr. Wutzke’s statement? It was true. Unless there is something going on in the bottom of the canyon that I don’t know about, I doubt that the Grand Canyon has ever sent a bushel of wheat or corn to market.

So even though the farmer’s statement may have been factually correct, it was the wrong response. I know, because I have stood almost breathless on both the north and south rims of the Canyon. The sheer majesty and splendor is almost disorienting on first glance. I don’t like overusing the word, but I think awesome fits very well here. Mr. Wutze’s view was too small for the occasion.

The same is true when we minimize, or worse, ignore the attributes of God that make us uncomfortable. To make God into our image is to make Him safe. Comfortable. Even cuddly.

Recently I met my acquisition editor from Moody Publishers. Drew authored a book, Yawning at Tigers, that deals with many of the same concerns I share in my book, God in His Own Image. In a chapter titled “The God Worth Worshipping,” Drew shared an illustration from the early church leader, Gregory of Nyssa. Comparing contemplation of God’s nature to standing at the edge of a sheer cliff with no foothold, Gregory of Nyssa wrote:

The soul…becomes dizzy and perplexed and returns once again to what is natural to it, content now to merely know about the Transcendent, that it is completely different from the nature of the things which the soul knows.

Drew writes, “When it comes to God, we’re all beginners.”

Last week I described Moses’ first impression about God at the burning bush. Remember also the response of the people as they stood on the foot of Mount Horeb waiting to meet God and hear His voice for the first time. To borrow words from a movie title, Moses and the people felt “a clear and present danger.”

I wonder, do we? Or, have we created our own safe version of God?

When we gather for corporate worship is there a sense of anticipation? Do we come with fear, respectful in the right sense of the word? Do we anticipate an experience that is extraordinary—even transcendent? That will only be true if we acknowledge God in His own image.

Just for a minute or two, let’s consider another man in the older testament who had a personal introduction to God. His story, in his own words, is recorded for us in Isaiah 6.

In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him stood the seraphim. Each had six wings: with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. And one cried to another and said: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory!”

I know it’s difficult—and maybe even impossible—but try to experience that scene in your mind’s eye. The nation was grieving the death of a godly king. And then, in a moment of time, Isaiah suddenly saw the living God, the God of Abraham, seated on a high and lofty throne. Perhaps that describes one dimension of God’s holiness. He is separate from everything in all creation. In other words, other worldly. The train on His robe “filled” the temple—no skimpy Hollywood prop. The seraphim, gloriously bright angelic beings, recognized God’s transcendence and humbly covered their face and feet while calling to each other responsively, “Holy, holy, holy!”

So if you even felt a tinge of Isaiah’s experience, what was your response? But wait! (Sounds like one of those TV commercials pushing some great one-time-only deal if you call in the next sixty seconds.) The plot thickens. Listen. “And the foundations of the thresholds shook at the voice of him who called, and the house was filled with smoke.”

Now what is my response if I had been there? I am certain it wouldn’t be something bland like, “You can’t raise much wheat here.” Nor would I be singing a song with all the potentially offensive terms like holy or wrath or blood deleted.

Hear Isaiah’s response as he lay sprawled on the floor: “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell among a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, The Lord of hosts.”

Paraphrasing in contemporary language, “I’m dead meat. I have a filthy mind speaking filthy words and living among filthy people just like me. I have seen the King! The king who is the Lord of hosts.” I wonder why I don’t feel like Isaiah when I try to pray or when I enter the worship center on Sunday?

Why don’t I anticipate experiencing an authnetic encounter with the living God? Why do I seldom feel the need to confess my filth?

Maybe one of the reasons people feel burned out or “done with church” is because we have lost the sense of awe over God’s holiness and transcendence. Some have said the reason fewer men than women attend church is that the church has become feminized—safe and predictable. I wonder what might happen if we had to put up warning signs saying “Caution, you are about to enter the presence of the holy God. Management is not responsible for injuries from falling off your chair.”

Yes, I’m joking. But, what would it be like to experience God’s presence—His transcendence—and to sense the conviction of the Holy Spirit making repentance and confession a natural response! What would it be like to leave the church building realizing, not just in my mind but experientially, that I have been forgiven—cleansed and my sin atoned. I would then be prepared to exclaim, “Here I am, Lord, use me anywhere you want.”

Is that impossible or is that true Spirit-driven-revival?

Thanks for visiting The Front Porch Swing today. If you appreciate these blogs please invite your friends to join us each week.

http://welcometothefrontporchswing.home.blog

Welcome To The Front Porch Swing

WestChaseShops, used by permission

God in His Own Image

Next June, Moody Publishers will release my new book: God in His Own Image.

They came up with a good title…but I like the subtitle even better.

Loving God for Who He is, Not for What We Would Like Him to Be.

That pretty much sums up the book in just 15 words. We can’t (even if we wanted to) change God to fit into our small boxes.

Scripture tells us that God created us in His own image, and some have suggested that we have tried to return the favor by creating God in our own image. That may sound like an attempt at humor, but there’s nothing funny about it. In a previous blog, I shared what I believe to be the two most vital questions each of us must face in life. Is there a god? And if there is, what is He like and how can we know Him? The second question is the heart and soul of the forthcoming book

If there is no god then you and I are simply the product of chance—the highest order of life on an evolutionary chart at this particular moment in history. If God doesn’t exist we are free to do as we please without fear of eternal consequences. But if God truly does exist…well, that’s a game changer, isn’t it?

So what is God like? How we answer that depends on whether or not God has revealed Himself to us. God is other worldly—like nothing else we have known. He is majestic. Marvelous. Powerful. His footprints and fingerprints are everywhere in Creation.

But He is also invisible.

As Paul writes, He is “the King of ages, immortal, invisible, the only God” (1 Timothy 1:17). So how can we describe an invisible, spiritual and always-existing Being?

Answer: We can’t. Not unless He chooses to pull back the mysterious curtain that separates us from Him. That is exactly what God did when He coaxed Moses to investigate the burning bush that wasn’t being consumed by the fire. God’s first words turned the old shepherd’s curiosity into fear and wonder. It wasn’t just a voice from a bush that shook Moses to the core, it was the abrupt command to take of his sandals, because he was standing on holy ground. Almost instantly he was barefoot and trembling.

From that initial encounter Moses discovered that God is holy and will be treated with absolute respect. Holiness is a word that seems to be fading from our Evangelical vocabulary. And it’s not the only attribute of God that’s gone missing from our conversations and our worship. We love to sing about God’s love and His amazing grace, and rightly so. He is the very definition of a loving Father, and amazing doesn’t even start to describe His grace. We also love to think about God’s mercy, and that He doesn’t treat us as our sins deserve. If He did, we would all be destined for hell. (Now there’s another word fading from our vocabulary. Hell doesn’t sell well in seeker-friendly churches.)

Moses had several more encounters with God after the burning bush. In fact, God introduced Himself to the nation of Israel standing at the foot of the mountain with severe warnings not to approach under penalty of death. The mountain quaked and smoked and a piercing trumpet blast frightened the people so greatly they asked Moses to request God not to talk to them. Please, they begged, only talk to Moses from now on.

God certainly had their full attention. But only for a moment.

When Moses lingered on the mountain receiving the commandments and instructions for the tabernacle Israel’s attention soon wandered like a toddler. The fear and wonder they had experienced at the foot of the mountain was yesterday’s news. Now they were busy trying to re-create God in a safer image.

Exodus 32 records the tragic story. They asked Aaron to “make us gods who will go before us.” Pause to reflect on that statement. Who had just delivered them from bondage in Egypt? Who had led them through retreating seawater and buried the pursuing Egyptian warriors? Who had provided safe drinking water and food? Who, at that very moment, was meeting with their leader, providing him with guidance and direction for the long road ahead?

A golden calf mysteriously formed itself out of molten gold. (If you can believe that try selling ice to Eskimos in January.)

The next words from the Israelites are enlightening. Pleased with the golden calf image they said, “These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you out of Egypt.” Insulting? Blasphemous? Yes! But the calf—the image—the idol—was safe. They could see it, touch it, control it, and pass it around through the crowd. They were so moved they declared a national day of worship, which quickly degenerated into a full-blown drunken orgy. The calf-god, it seemed, wasn’t too worried about holiness.

I don’t predict our churches will soon set up images and icons in the worship center, but sometimes I wonder. Are we in danger of creating God, the sovereign and all-powerful God—the Holy One—into something friendly, manageable and safe?

Here’s a brief test. Complete this sentence by adding your favorite attributes of God: “I praise God because He is ­­­­_______.” (You fill in the blank)

When this is actually done in a church setting or a home Bible study the responses will typically include God’s love, grace, mercy, faithfulness, kindness and patience. And they are all true! They perfectly describe the God of Scripture. But where are the “other” attributes like God’s holiness, justice, anger, or even jealousy? Yes, God frequently introduces Himself as being jealous of anything man substitutes in His place.

Consider this: Without God’s wrath and justice and holiness, mercy is just five letters on a page. Because God is holy and just He will not excuse sin. You and I desperately need His mercy and grace. But grace without wrath and justice isn’t amazing at all. In fact, it isn’t even grace.

We can’t pick and choose our favorite attributes to the neglect of others. My book is based on two words Paul uses in Romans 11:22. “Consider the kindness and severity of God.” I worship Him for His kindness. Without it I perish. But I also worship Him for His severity. I don’t want an anemic God who never angers, never judges and never punishes anybody. That isn’t our sovereign God, it’s a myth. It’s a weak and wimpy concept worth no more than the statue of a bull.

I like to close these conversations with lyrics from songs. Today I choose the third stanza of a traditional hymn that reflects God as He really is.

Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty”

Note the three-fold emphasis on God’s holiness.

“Though the darkness hide Thee,

though the eye of sinful man Thy glory may not see.”

Sinful men and women cannot see His glory, let alone explain it. Unless He chooses to reveal Himself, we can never know Him in our spiritual blindness. Note the pronouns referring to God are capitalized out of respect.

“Only Thou art holy—there is none beside Thee…”

God is set apart and unique from all Creation.

Perfect in power, in love and purity.”

God is perfect in all His attributes. His power has no limit but is never abused. His love has no end. He is morally pure and always does what is right. He is righteous!

Now, there is the God who alone can meet our hunger for a sense of transcendence. A safe god, made in our image, inspires no sense of awe or transcendence but is as ordinary and unremarkable as we are.

And our God is anything but ordinary.

Once again, thanks for visiting The Front Porch Swing today. If you appreciate these blogs why not invite your friends to join us each week.

http://welcometothefrontporchswing.home.blog

Welcome To The Front Porch Swing

WestChaseShops, used by permission

Soul Music: Talking to Myself in The Eye of The Storm

Why are you cast down, O my soul,and why are you in turmoil within me?

Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,my salvation and my God.

—Psalm 42:5, 11; 43:5

Last week on The Front Porch Swing I confessed that I often talk to myself, finding it therapeutic. But when I choose to listen to myself—and the accusing voices within—I lose the joy of salvation by grace through faith. I feel abandoned and overwhelmed.

The solution? Be careful who you listen to. Keep your ear tuned to the frequency of God’s Word and God’s Spirit. Always remember and reflect on God’s promises that I can do nothing to make Him love me more than He already does.

This week, let’s focus on how soul talk can encourage us in the eye of the storm. Sometimes life is the pits. Things seem wildly unfair or out of kilter. We pray for relief, but God is silent. We feel He has abandoned us like an absent and distracted father.

The operative word here is feel.

We begin to listen to ourselves. The Accuser joins the battle for and in our minds. As he does, faith falters, and the songs of praise we sang yesterday are replaced with sour lament.

Listen to the psalmist in Psalm 42:3. He feels like a deer wandering through a trackless desert: “My tears have become my food day and night, while they say to me all the day long, ‘Where is your God?’” That last question is the most painful one of all. “Where is your God?”

His emotions scream, “I am no better than a dehydrated deer ready to collapse.” His accusers mock, “Where is your God now that you really need Him?” Do you pick up what’s happening here? At this moment he is listening to himself rather than talking to himself.

Repetition within Psalms 42 and 43 seem to couple these two poems like cars on a train or two verses of a song. Twice the musician asks himself, “Why do I go about mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?” (42:9; 43:2) Three times he asks, “Why are you downcast, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me?” (42:5, 11; 43:5) That is the sound of life in the pits!

Three times the musician reveals his spiritual depression caused by listening to himself and focusing on his circumstances. Three times he responds by talking to himself, “Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.” The psalmist finally turns the corner, climbing out of the pit of self pity and onto the pinnacle of praise.

Like the song writer, I can choose to stop listening to the wrong voices. I can talk to myself, reminding myself of God promises and His character. Faithful to a fault, He promises never to leave or forsake me in the eye of the storm. Jesus came to His frightened men in the darkness to calm their raging sea. He still does the same for you and me.

While preparing this blog, another story was spinning in my life—a real life story illustrating what it means to stand by faith in the eye of the storm. Kirk and Sandlin Poth, our dear friends who are church planters in Ireland, have a little two-year-old granddaughter, Oakley, who was diagnosed leukemia. Fervent prayer was released throughout the USA and the world to find a bone morrow match for Oakley. None was discovered. Therapy robbed her of her blond hair and her strength. Eighty days in the hospital surrounded by her family and supported by prayer brought hope but eventually no relief. Oakley was released to come home to her family where, after a few days, she passed from this life into the presence of Jesus.

Throughout these months of hospitalization and treatments scores, if not hundreds, of people prayed for Oakley’s healing. Her parents and grandparents walked together through their personal storm. Her father, Zach, posted regularly on Oakley’s Caring Bridge site. I just revisited and perused the messages on Oakley’s site. I read promises from many friends to pray for Oakley. I read words from her father that resonated with faith and confidence in God. I was brought nearly to tears.

In Zach’s posts I saw a man talking to his soul rather than listening to himself or the storm swirling outside and inside both the hospital and his heart. I read eulogies from Oakley’s father and grandparents—eulogies resonating with faith and confidence that God remains faithful and good even if the story doesn’t end the way we had requested.

I realize the journey through grief has just begun for Oakley’s family. Emotional reserves have been depleted. Sleep deprivation has taken its toll on caregivers. Prayer for those left behind remains critical. May God give grace to trust even when we don’t understand or feel His hands. Let us trust His heart.

After more than four decades in the ministry, I testify one of the most severe experiences in ministry is standing by a tiny coffin. It makes no sense. There are no answers. So let us talk to ourselves by rehearsing what we believe and have experienced to be true.

Often I find myself singing an old hymn to myself, “Be Still, My Soul! The Lord is on thy side; bear patiently the cross of grief or pain; leave to thy God to order and provide; in every change He faithful will remain. Be still, My soul! Thy best, thy heavenly Friend thro’ thorny ways leads to a joyful end.” Now, that is real soul music.

I encourage you to visit the following Websites and let the lyrics speak to your soul:

The lyrics of the song, “Even If” by MercyMe are profound. When I can’t understand, I can trust.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B6fA35Ved-Y

For you who prefer traditional hymns, check out “Be Still, My Soul,” by Kari Jobe. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mq59iE3MhXM

If you prefer an acapella boys choir interpretation of “Be Still, My Soul”, check this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hqgC1tqifV8

Once again, thanks for visiting The Front Porch Swing today. If you appreciate these blogs why not invite your friends to join us each week. Please use the following address: http://welcometothefrontporchswing.home.blog

By the way I will be sharing the title of my book in the next few weeks.

Welcome To The Front Porch Swing

WestChaseShops, used by permission

Soul Music: Talking to Myself

“Have you realized that most of your unhappiness in life is due to the fact that you are listening to yourself instead of talking to yourself?”[i]

That quote came back to me the other day, seemingly out of the blue. But this time I could even remember where I had seen it. It was from a sermon on spiritual depression by an English preacher named Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones. Pleased with my recall ability, I looked up the sermon on line to retrieve the larger context. The fact is, lots of people quote Lloyd-Jones—and for good reason. He was a wise and celebrated pastor in the last century.

The above quote is a response to David’s song of lament in Psalm 42. It’s a wonderful psalm with deep emotional and spiritual roots. You might even call it “soul music.” If you will indulge me, it may be more closely related to contemporary rap music than to traditional hymns. Reflect on David talking to himself in Psalm 42:

Why are you cast down, O my soul,

and why are you in turmoil within me?

Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,

my salvation and my God.

We’ve all witnessed a driver in the car next to us at a stoplight who seems to be carrying on a dramatic conversation with an invisible passenger. He’s talking to himself, we assume. However, in today’s digital age with Blue Tooth and smart phones, it might be a woman reminding her husband to pick up milk after work.

I chuckle when I witness somebody actually conversing with himself or herself. In the interest of full disclosure, however…I do it, too. Consistently. I could try to blame it on my advancing years, but I also talked to myself when I was much younger. Some of my best conversations have been with myself. You know what I’m talking about. You’ve also done that.

I used to verbally talk through my sermons. There I was, alone in my office on a Saturday night, preaching to a large imaginary and appreciative congregation.

But let’s get back to our opening quote: “…Most of your unhappiness in life is due to the fact that you are listening to yourself instead of talking to yourself.”

Life is tough. We are like batters standing at home plate with two outs and facing a two-strike count in the bottom of the ninth with the game on the line. Victory is in our hands to win or lose. The ace pitcher throws crazy curves, blazing fastballs and sneaky sliders past us. Our confidence wavers. We over-analyze, tiptoeing toward defeat. Our greatest problem is listening to the wrong coach—our old fallen nature or worse, the enemy’s accusing voice.

Let me share how the conversation goes when I listen to myself versus when I talk to myself. When I listen to myself I listen to my emotions and feelings. Talking to myself, however, is more like rehearsing what I already believe to be true.

Sometimes I wallow in my past sins and guilt rather than laying hold of God’s marvelous grace and the promise that His grace is always greater than my sin (Romans 5:20-21). Too often, I listen to the lie that I will always be a homeless loser wrapped in filth rather than God’s redeemed son, cleansed and forgiven, and seated with Christ in heavenly places

(Romans 6:3-4; Ephesians 2:6). When I listen to myself, I hear the voice saying “You blew it again, Syd, just like I said you would. You’ll never be good enough.” When I talk to myself I am reminded that even though I will never be “good enough,” it doesn’t matter. After all, it’s not about how good I am but how perfect Jesus Christ is. He’s the One who took my place, experiencing the just wrath of our holy God that I deserved. My feelings say I am a jerk; God says I am justified. I must remind myself that not only am I forgiven, God has charged the righteousness of Christ to my account. That’s justification, a big word for a truth that is beyond words.

Lloyd-Jones challenges us to always come back to the gospel of grace. It’s a matter of belief or unbelief, faith or feeling. The problem is unbelief; the solution is belief. When I am dwelling on my sin, have I forgotten that “the blood of Jesus Christ keeps on cleansing us from all sin”? (1 John 1:7, emphasis mine)

It’s a matter of focus, isn’t it? Remember when Peter clambered out of the fishing boat to walk on the storm-tossed Sea of Galilee? When his eyes were fixed upon the Master and his ears listening to Jesus’ inviting voice, Peter did the unthinkable. But when he looked at the waves and listened to the wind, he began to sink, only this time it was more than spiritual depression. It was the bottom of Davey Jones’ locker!

Faith, according to Hebrews12:2, “persists in looking at Christ—the Author and Perfecter of our faith.”

So I ask myself, “Who am I listening to? Who is shaping my thinking about my spiritual identity?” Is it the lying voice within or the promises of God? Am I listening to myself or talking to myself? Listen again to the musician:

Why are you cast down, O my soul,

and why are you in turmoil within me?

Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,

my salvation and my God.

Deep down, do you believe that? Do you actually believe and take your stand on the fact that He is your salvation and your God?

If you do, then take a minute to tell yourself the truth.

For those who prefer music to conversation, I share a couple of sites to enjoy and be reminded of our standing before God even though our inner voices challenge our faith and try to condemn us. The first song, “Greater” by MercyMe is more contemporary and contrasts what we were before and after submitting to Jesus. The second song is a southern gospel rendition of Fanny Crosby’s classic “Redeemed, how I love to proclaim it.”

So take your pick, but as you listen to the lyrics, let them talk to your soul.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GXI0B4iMLuU

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7IIsV8FpoLQ

Next week I invite you join me as we reflect on how “Soul Music” can encourage us when life is the pits and our emotions scream, “God, why have you deserted me?” [1] Martyn Lloyd Jones, Spiritual Depression: Its Causes and Cures, (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2016), 15

Thanks for visiting The Front Porch Swing today. If you appreciate these blogs please do me the favor of inviting your friends to join us each week. My tech friend, Rich Gardner, suggests they use the following address: http://welcometothefrontporchswing.home.blog

Welcome To The Front Porch Swing

WestChaseShops, used by permission

Done with Church?

As a child and a PK (preacher’s kid), I often wondered when a church service would finally end. I couldn’t wait to get outside and squash June bugs on the sidewalk or roll in the grass with my friends. But today’s conversation on the Front Porch is much more serious than that.

Over the last decades there has been an increasing number of people responding as “not affiliated” to the question in the National Census or a survey about their religious affiliation. In fact, those who track this information have coined the title “Nones” to describe those who claim to be “not affiliated.”

Sadly, 78 percent of the Nones admit they were either raised in or once very active in a particular religious denomination or sect. I recently asked a woman if her family attended a church. Her response was pointedly abrupt, “We were raised in the ______ (an Evangelical Protestant) church.” Without pausing for a breath, she raised her voice and added, “But we are not church people!”

Those words, “not church people,” and the manner expressed, revealed much more than the fact they didn’t attend a church. Her family was part of the growing phenomena of the Nones. I suspect they may also be part of another growing movement called the “Dones.”Recently, I began to come across the term “Dones.” I asked myself, “What in the world is a Done?” Out of curiosity I went to the Internet and googled the word “Dones.” The computer screen filled with articles about and testimonies from the Dones.

As you may have guessed, the Dones have been there and done that. They’re not only unaffiliated but sometimes anti-affiliation with any religious organization.

So why have they bailed out of the church? And why the hostility?

I offer a few probable reasons: Some have become bored or fatigued with the Sunday routine. They’ve heard it all before. They have volunteered to serve in many capacities to keep the church ministries afloat. I suspect that others have left the church after painful, unresolved conflicts. Sadly, it was easier to just find the closest exit then to apply biblical instructions for resolving conflict. By the way, conflict is inevitable but not always bad. I sometimes, almost facetiously, have said, “Wherever more than one person exists conflict is inevitable. When there is no more conflict, all but one has died.”

I wonder, even deeply suspect, that there may be another reason behind the rise of the Nones and Dones. Something vital to the health and mission of the church is missing. In a recent sermon, I shared the alarming rising statistic about the Dones. I asked, “Have we, the American Church, placed greater emphasis on growing large churches than on growing deeper relationships? Have we replaced making disciples with making church workers?” In other words, have we displaced our primary mission to make disciples who “know and do” what Jesus commanded?

The relationship between Elijah and Elisha gives us a positive example. Elisha shadowed his teacher-mentor until he began to think and to act like him, eventually picking up the mantle and continuing Elijah’s mission.

I also share three examples from the New Testament.

First, Jesus chose twelve men to “be with Him,” to watch Him, and then to assist Him by spreading the good news in partnerships of two.

Then, moments prior to His ascension into heaven, Jesus left His students (now called friends) with one command: “Make disciples, teaching them to know and to do all I have commanded.” Luke is spot on when he opens the book of Acts with the statement, “all that Jesus began to do and to teach.” Did you catch that? Jesus did not complete the mission but entrusted His followers to continue to do what He had begun.

Paul instructed his disciple-student Timothy to entrust what he had been taught by Paul to faithful men who would “be able to teach others also.” That is Christianity 101— building relationships that produce Christ-followers in word and in action.

John addresses three generations of believers in 1 John 2:12-14. He writes to the fathers or older men and to the young men who are strong. But he also writes to the little children-beginners in their relationship with Christ.

It has been said that the church is always within two generations from extinction. Making disciples is the church’s priority. Ours is a relay race not a sprint. Handing off the baton—the message and the mission—from one generation to another is critical.

There is a world of difference between making church workers and making disciples. Without the disciple relationship, I fear church members-workers may become weary or bored.

Having already begun writing this blog, I was affirmed by the August 13th edition of Christianity Today’s, The Exchange. Author and missiologist, Jeff Christopherson, raised the question, “So What Comes after Church Growth?”

Chistopherson questions using business principles to facilitate the church growth movement. He does not condemn mega churches but warns that building a large church on pragmatic business methods can circumvent biblical disciple-making. He writes, “Pragmatism tends to skip the messy grind of disciple-making for a more untroublesome operation of producing busy churchmen. … But churches powered singularly by a church growth operating system seem to find it impossible to foster effective disciple-making environments … Churches are forced to focus on training volunteer armies, often at the expense of any disciple-making strategies, bringing the church further from her commission.”

Let’s be honest, the same can be said about smaller churches that create programs requiring workers to sustain them even after the program is no longer effective. Church members become, in essence, workers or producers. Without the disciple relationships burnout is inevitable.

Jesus never commanded us to build large churches or small churches. He promised to build His church. Our mission is to make disciples. That can only be done through relationships. It begins with a healthy, personal relationship with Jesus that spills over into our relationships with others who naturally pass it on to their friends.

Simply stated, the church has but one mission: make disciples.

What say you? I anticipate both affirmation but also push back from this blog. If you consider yourself a Done, I would like to hear your story.

Thanks for visiting The Front Porch Swing today. If you appreciate these blogs please do me the favor of inviting your friends to join us each week. Please use the following address: http://welcometothefrontporchswing.home.blog

Welcome To The Front Porch Swing

WestChaseShops, used by permission

Bruised Reeds

Last Sunday I preached at The Chapel in the Pines in Camp Sherman, Oregon. Envision a delightful congregation gathered in a quaint chapel surrounded by magnificent old growth ponderosa pine. Two refurbished railroad cars—once part of a logging camp—make up the chapel, with a large deck for outdoor seating. This was the third in a short series of messages about Elijah, a man the apostle James claimed was “just like us” (James 5:16).

Just like us? Just like me? Really, James? Most of the time, I don’t feel like Elijah at all. I’m not like the bold divine spokesman who stared down King Ahab, making bold prophecies about the weather. I don’t see any resemblance between myself and the Elijah who single-handedly challenged 450 prophets of the pagan god Baal to a throw down on top of Mt. Carmel.

But then again, I do somewhat identify with the wimpy prophet who ran like a scared rabbit from Queen Jezebel’s death threat. Remember the scene in 1 Kings 19? Elijah sprinted deep into the wilderness and cowered under a broom tree, praying for a quick death.

The bold man was now a broken man. The man of faith was hiding in fear. Now, that’s a bit more like me. Been there, done that, bought the tee-shirt. Groveling with guilt and failure tends to come naturally.

But let’s not focus on Elijah’s stunning collapse. Let’s consider God’s stunning response.

If I had been writing the story, I would have thought that a severe divine rebuke was in order here. “Hiding under a tree? Really, Elijah? What in the world has come over you? Where is your faith? What happened to the bold prophet? Suck it up, man. And get out from under that scrawny tree!”

But that’s not what happened here. Not at all.

Picking up the story in 1 Kings 19, I discover that God sent an angel into the boonies to care for His AWOL prophet. Note that Elijah was sleeping—bone-tired from the massive spiritual battle on Carmel and physically exhausted from sleep deprivation, lack of nourishment, and from running a fast 10k into the Negev. The angel “touched” Elijah— no brutal shaking—just a gentle nudge. When the angel spoke, there was no scolding. He simply said, “Arise and eat.” Freshly baked bread and cool water were on the menu that day. The angel let the prophet drop back into deep slumber, before awakening him later for another nourishing meal. I like to imagine the heavenly visitor sitting under the broom tree with Elijah, protecting him while he slept and dined.

Refreshed and renewed, the prophet was ready for a journey to Mount Horeb—and a close encounter with God Himself.

Secluded in a mountain cave and probably replaying the tapes of his failure, Elijah ignored the earthquake and the violent wind. But then a gentle whisper drew him out of his self-imposed prison. The conversation between the Lord and Elijah went like this:

“Elijah, what are you doing here?”

“…I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts. For the people of Israel have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword, and I, even I only, am left, and they seek my life, to take it away” (1 Kings 19:9, 10, emphasis mine).

The conversation replayed a second time almost word for word—the words of a depleted man running for his life and struggling with his sense of failure. In the words of Isaiah 42:1-4 and of Matthew 12:15-21, Elijah would qualify as a “bruised reed” or a “smoldering wick.”

In those passages, both Isaiah and Matthew were applying them to the earthly ministry of Jesus. In other words, Jesus would show compassion for rejected, discouraged men and women.

Most people would ignore or simply trample a broken reed. What good is it? It’s worthless for weaving a basket, crafting a boat, or making a walking stick or parchment. And a flickering, smoldering lamp? There is no beauty or utility in that! You might say the same about broken and destitute people like Elijah. They tend to get overlooked—or worse—trampled by the strong in their rush to make it to the top of the heap.

Not so with Jesus. Our Lord took notice of the outcasts, devalued or scorned by the religious elites. I love Matthew’s description of our Lord: “When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (Matthew 9:36). That’s our God, isn’t it? This is the God who restored a broken prophet—and sent along a friend and companion named Elisha to walk with him. To the day of his passing, Elijah would never again have to face his foes alone. Never again would Elijah say, “I alone am left.”

We serve the God of the second half and the second chance. He heals broken reeds and trims smoldering lamps so they shine brightly again.

Listen again to His invitation to people like you and me: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30).

When the moment came for Elijah to exit the world, beamed up to heaven in a whirlwind, the prophet’s younger friend Elisha cried out, “My father! My father!” In God’s grace and kindness, they had become that close.

Could it be that you feel a little like an exhausted servant of God hiding under a bush today? A broken reed…a lamp that barely stays lit. Just remember we serve the same God who sought out Elijah in his lowest moment, gently restoring his strength and giving him back his will to run the race.

The God of the second chance. Hallelujah.

Thanks for visiting The Front Porch Swing today. If you appreciate these blogs please do me the favor of inviting your friends to join us each week. My tech friend, Rich Gardner, suggests they use the following address: http://welcometothefrontporchswing.home.blog