"And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise! Noise! Noise! Noise! That's one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!" The Grinch Looking into the dark mouth of the New Year there is much to fear, there always is: The greedy ever-reaching claws of the tax man, the nuclear football in the hands of a trigger happy President, a hot weapon being pointed at a crowd of people by an unhinged, unhappy loner, and of course there always is the sharpened gleaming edge of the Grim Reaper's sickle. While those fears may be real, and terrifying, they are mostly distant shadows. A foreboding mist that appears in the dark corners of the mind on a lonely night. But the rays of the morning sun send them running the next day. But there is a fear that lurks and lingers in the hearts of men and women, boy and girls, non-binarys and genderqueers every day. It is a fear that seems harmless, nothing to concern yourself about, no big deal. Yet, you and I avoid this fear like the plague. This unspoken fear is silence. Look around. We live an insanely noisy world. Televisions, phones, ipads - small screens, big screens, tall screens, flat screens, handheld screens - constantly blaring and flickering everywhere we go. Moment by moment, everyday, every minute. We are told that people are bored, so electronics fill in the gaps. Or we are all lonely so our device becomes our bosom buddy. An instant friend at the click of button, or swipe of a screen. But I think our need for noise has more to do with fear. People are scared of being alone with themselves. We are uncomfortable with silence. It scares us. Sounds silly. Why would anyone be scared of silence? What about Paul Simon and Disturbed? Don't they welcome the music of silence when they sing their haunting ode... Hello darkness, my old friend I've come to talk with you again But this is not a celebration of silence, but rather it is a reaffirmation of the inability of people to listen to the words shouted in the silence. Oh yes, there are many words that scream and pound in the rythm of the silence. That is why there is constant fear, because the words spoken in the hush and gentle breeze of a quiet morning land on our chest like a lead weight. Listen to how the brilliant writer Frederick Buechner explains silence's power to speak: "A particular truth can be stated in words...but Truth itself is another matter. The truth that Pilate asked for when he questioned Jesus, 'What is truth?' Jesus remained silent because Truth cannot be stated. Truth simply is...Before it is a word, the Gospel that is truth is silence, a pregnant silence in its ninth month, and in answer to Pilate's question, Jesus keeps silent." He continues, "Before the Gospel is a word, it is silence...It is life with the sound turned off so that for a moment or two you can experience it not in terms of the words you make it bearable by but for the unutterable mystery that is. Let him say, 'Be silent and know that I am God, saith the Lord' (Ps. 46:10). Be silent and know that even by my silence and absence I am known. Be silent and listen to the stones cry out." Here in these words is the answer to silence's dread - - it is in the silence God often speaks the loudest! Turn off your screen, go outside and look up in the stars. And then listen. You will hear his voice. Psalm 19:1-4 says the speech of the sky is blaring in our ears, day after day. Verse 4-6 says the sun's roar is deafening. You can't avoid it, you can't go anywhere where it is not speaking. I will never forget when God really screamed at me in the silence. I was a failing salesman, reeling after another rejection. I was near the Lake Erie shoreline on a frigid January afternoon and I decided to drive to the see the ice form on the surface of the water. It was amazing. Ice was stacked for miles like a spilled bag of frozen chips lying across the shore. Everywhere I looked, giant flakes of blue and white lay silent. Looking out in the horizon while my face felt the burn of freezing wind, I heard him. A pregnant whisper, "Chris, what are you doing on this earth?" That's it. But as I stood there shivering I was forced to listen. I felt so small looking over the endless expanse of scattered ice. Silence made me face the facts: Either I was made by a good God, or I was a hapless castaway lost in a senseless universe, no more significant than a piece of frozen water. Something began to stir in me, and it was the silence that first made listen. How about you? What do you hear in the silence? Are you brave enough to turn off that device and listen. It takes time to clear the noise so you can hear. Don't let fear stop you.
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Four-score and three years ago my friend, my father, Donald C. Weeks was born. Three-score and one years later he went home to be with his Father. So for eleven years now, I have missed his presence. I have missed his laughter: It was never at the other person's expense, it was never crude nor crass, and it always had a unique ability to get me out of my blue moods. I miss that. I have missed his fashion: Polyester pants, white socks, a large gray sweater with holes - my dad just didn't care. Everyone felt welcomed in his presence, from the man with no hand, to the black bus driver who dropped off my handicapped sister, and all my crazy friends, my dad never acted better nor did he care if you were or were not. I miss that. I have missed his faith in Jesus: Men, as a group, did not impress him much, but Jesus the man, sure did. Religion - the pomp and incensed circumstance - didn't move him much, but Jesus did. The stories of the Savior captivated his heart, he really enjoyed Jesus, not because he felt obligated, but because he was captured by the Spirit. I miss that. I have missed his conversations: He would take the time to talk. I wish my sons could have had that the last eleven years! Hey, if you are someone's grandpa, spend time with your grandkids, they need that and they miss you without saying it. I have missed his missing teeth: He got them knocked out from playing football without a face-mask. He got fake teeth put in and so he could pull them out anytime he wanted. He would often pull them out during a scary movie and slowly stalk my sisters saying, "Step by step, inch by inch..." And then grab them. I miss that. I have missed how he loved my mom: She came first in his world. I miss that. I have missed his handwriting: He would send me letters written on yellow legal pad paper in his powerful and sweeping script. Boy could he write! I miss that. Oh, one more thing... I have missed long walks in the woods with his dog in the snow: Boy was that fun, he would talk about anything and everything. "Chris, when you get married there are five things you need to look for in a wife...", "Chris, how is your job going....", "Chris, what do you think heaven will be like..." Well, I can answer that last one now, heaven will have my dad. I can't wait. Happy Birthday Dad! God gave me a wonderful gift for Two-score years in you! “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” Mary the mother of Jesus (Luke 1:38) What was Mary thinking?
We know the story so well we imagine that Mary did too. But let’s be honest, this is a crazy story, and Mary had to wonder if she was losing her mind? First, she was visited by an angel. What does that even mean? Was Gabriel the size of an average man? Was he sporting a cotton-white robe with long locks of blond curls? Or was he a massive celestial being standing 20 feet tall with wings spreading from wall to wall and bright as a neon sign? And what about her pregnancy? God’s Son being ‘fearfully and wonderfully’ formed in the womb of a teenager...without...Well, you know? No one would buy that? So what did Mary do? Did she scream in fear? (I would) Did she faint in disbelief? Did she squeeze her fists and eyes tight saying, "I know I can, I know I can, I know I can?" No, the scriptures paint her response in a much more measured way, "Let it be according to your word." Mary simply accepted what the angel said as true. She allowed God's truth to be realized in her life. That is what belief is. Acceptance of what God is already doing and a willingness to be a part of it. I like what Marva Dawn says about belief, "I do not believe because I am a good believer or good at believing. I believe because God is believable." You see, belief is not dependent on me but on God. I just open myself up to what God asked me to join. People today think belief is all about me and how much faith "I have." Marva Dawn continues, "We do not manufacture our faith. We don't bulldoze up better believing, and we don't force ourselves into finer faithfulness. God's gifts it in us and gifts it through us." We become a channel of grace by belief, not by conjuring up faith. We live in the age of the "prayer warrior" who believes certain people have more access to faith like Yoda does to the force. If they can just learn how to channel the power God will accomplish more on this earth. But that isn't true. God is no respecter of persons, all are invited to his table of delicious promises by faith. No matter if you have been going to church your whole life or not. You are welcome! Like Mary, faith simply believes God can do what he said he can do. Believing rests completely on his ability and character. Mary believed because she knew God was believable. So the question for you is, do you believe God is believable? Nothing is impossible for Him! Water is next to impossible to stop. It leaks into cracks, it steals away into soil, it saturates without being detected. Water collects in springs that run deep. Water gives life. So does God's love. God's love can be found in the least lovely of places. It enters human hearts when it seems like there is no reason to love. God's love loves without logic. It gives without getting in return. I find it baffling. Today I saw God's love in a place I never expected it to be. It seeped in unaware. It goes to places I would never go. It loves people I would never choose to love. It humbles the proudest of hearts. Especially mine. It reminded me of Christmas... The Christmas story showed us how God's love came to the last place in the world by the one who didn't have to come. Why would God do it? Why would he leave heaven for such a dirty, smelly place? I wouldn't, you wouldn't? Think about it. Mary was young, pregnant, an embarrassment to her mother and father. Joseph was blue-collar, a tradesman, forced to walk across the arid hills of Israel to register for taxes. God chose them. I wouldn't. They were too poor. It was the wrong time in history for God to come. It fails to impress. Today I was at a funeral. It wasn't well attended. It was for a small lady with dementia. Who wants to go to that? The church that held her service was small, decorations were simple. Cut out paper ornaments placed on a plastic Christmas tree with no lights. Where were the suits? The golden casket? Just simple people hugging, crying, and laughing. But there it was. God's love. I listened to stories of a son who cared for a dying mother for 5 years without fanfare. No awards. Just love. This woman died surrounded by the small family she left behind. Where were the lines of cars? I sat in the audience overwhelmed. I couldn't hold my tears in. I was humbled by humble love. I wasn't expecting it...it seeped in, it soaked into the cracks of that small family that stayed with a dying aging woman who didn't even know her own reflection in the mirror. How many people came to see Jesus when he was born? He wailed for the first time on a dark night. God sends his love in places no one ever would. God is amazing! I'm amazed at what I saw. I'm embarrassed by my desire for the impressive. Forgive me Lord. "After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him. So Jesus said to the twelve, “Do you want to go away as well?” Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.” John 6:66-68 I am the baby of my family, the youngest of six. And as the youngest, I always felt left behind. I was patted sweetly on the head while being called "itty bitty buddy"- - I can still feel those flashes of anger when my older siblings got to do things I wasn't allowed to do. They watched movies I couldn't watch, they stayed out late playing with the neighborhood kids while I had to go to bed while the sun still waxed bright in the summer sky, and they knew all the new music. I was desperate to know and understand what my older siblings were interested in. So I would sneak, snoop, watch and learn from them. I was like a little mouse in the corner. My sister Tammy, the oldest, always had something cool going on. Her bedroom in the attic was like entering a hippy-wonderland: She had a rock polishing machine, a neon green lava light, flower-child beads hanging down from her doorway, and a candle maker. And I loved her music: "Bread"; "Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young"; "Jim Croce"; "Peter, Paul and Mary", "Don McClain" and many other late 60's to early 70's folk and rock favorites. Even though I was only 10, I learned how to sing all of those songs by heart and they are still stuck in my brain 40 years later. My favorite thing to do was to sneak into the living room when Tammy and my dad would be watching some of their favorite movies together. One movie in particular I will never forget was "Ben Hur." It was one of the most successful Charleston Heston movies ever made, a true "Epic". The story follows the tramatic life of an important Roman citizen, Ben Hur, turned slave, who gets to exact his revenge in a chariot race against the friend who betrayed him. The whole movie was set against the backdrop of the Gospel narratives often referring to the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ of Nazareth. I didn't understand much of Ben Hur's plot, or the wierd Roman names of the main characters, but even as a young boy I sure did understand the person of Jesus. He was compelling! And what was even more fascinating to me was that the movie never showed his face. Everywhere he went people were mesmerized by him, some where healed (lepers and blind) and Ben Hur even became a follower of him. One of my favorite movie scenes of all time comes from this story. Ben Hur the slave was dying of thirst. Roman guards were leading him and a group of other pathetic slaves through a small town in Palestine called Nazareth; there they stopped at a well in the center of town to get some water. Everyone was allowed a drink from the well but Ben Hur. The Roman guard in charge of the slaves was a cold, mean and callous man who wanted to exert his power over Ben Hur - - he enjoyed mentally torturing others. The soldier also carried a quick whip and threatning scowl - he was very intimidating. Just as the Roman soldier was denying Ben Hur water, the presence of a large muscular man entered the scene. This unknown man stooped down to give Ben Hur some water, but the nasty guard pulled out his whip and told the man to leave Ben Hur alone or else. Without saying a word, the man stood up, turned to the soldier, and looked at him causing him to fall down backward and slink away like a beaten dog. I was held spell bound. Who was this man? This was Jesus of Nazareth! This is when I first wondered, "Was there really a man like this walking this earth?" I knew this was only a movie, but what if Jesus was more than a superhero - - what if he was in all actuality the living, breathing Son of God? I wondered, if he cared about a forgotten slave, he would probably would care about a 10 year old boy who was the youngest of six kids living in Cleveland? So I started listening closely when the nuns in Catholic school taught CCD (Catholic Christian Doctrine), or when my dad talked about him around the dinner table - - he talked about him alot. I actually can remember one conversation quite well. It was Easter and I was sitting at the kid's table. My dad was at the adult table and he got into quite a loud and heated argument with his mom, my grandma, about how Jesus was greater than Mary. My grandma didn't like it so she said, "Don, don't talk about Mary like that! You are disrespecting the Holy Mother." And my dad said, "Ma, Jesus made Mary, why do I need to go to her when I can go directly to the Creator himself?" That simple statement set my heart aflame! I wanted to know this man Jesus. Overtime from listening and reading, here is what I learned: - He was a poor Jewish boy born to a young teenage girl that was a virgin. And this miraculous birth was foretold 700 years before it happened in the book of Isaiah 14:7, Micah 5:2. The virgin birth means that Jesus physically IS both God and man. - He grew to be an amazing worker of miracles: Healing the blind, the sick, the lame, the cripple and even the dead. Isaiah 29:18 also predicted this. In one story he went to a funeral of a widow's son, and as the casket came by Jesus told the dead boy to get up, and he did! He truly put the F-U-N into funeral! - He went head to head with religious leaders who used their positions as a way to have power over others. This made him furious (See Matthew 23). If he came to church today it would be both scary and exhilarating to see him face down bad pastors, pedophile preists and even a Pope who acts holier than other men. The Pope is just a man. Jesus is God! - He died on the cross....for all who believe. - He rose up from the grave...to prove he is stronger than death. - He is alive, right now, sitting at the right hand of God waiting to come back to reclaim the earth.. As one man said, he truly was more than just a carpenter. So as I learned, I also realized I had to make a decision: Do I actually follow him, or keep him at arms distance?For the longest time I decided to keep Jesus as only a Christmas and Easter thing. I claimed to believe, but I acted like I didn't. As Malachi 1:6 asks, "If I am your Lord, where is the fear due my name?" Well for 23 years I exhibited relatively zero fear toward Jesus, only lip service from a worldly distracted and foolishly ignorant man. By the time I graduated college the interest I had for him was only a vague memory, the childlike wonder I once had faded to a fuzzy indifference. Beer and late night parties does that to you. I was more impressed with me and my reflection in the mirror than I was for the man who died on the cross for me. Well God started to allow my world to collapse. Depression became my bedfellow. And I knew the only person who could help me was Jesus. God was using anguish and dissatisfaction to bring me back to his Son. That is his number one way to get a person's attention (see Romans 11:32). I remember picking up a number of books about Jesus and they began to rekindle a small spark of wonder. As the camp song says, "It only takes a spark...!" Statements like this from C. S. Lewis started to penetrate my hardened heart: I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept his claim to be God. That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic—on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg—or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronising nonsense about his being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to. . . . Now it seems to me obvious that He was neither a lunatic nor a fiend: and consequently, however strange or terrifying or unlikely it may seem, I have to accept the view that He was and is God. (Mere Christianity, 55-56) So who was he? I had to make a choice. Was I ready to fall at his feet? Or should I give up on the miracle worker all together? It was time to live what I believe, "Chris you need to put up or shut up!" But I was stubborn and lazy and I needed one more thing to move me...this will be discussed in Part 4: The Prick! Before you go any further, ask yourself: "Who is Jesus? First of all, did he really live? If he did, which choice of C. S. Lewis' tri-lemma do you choose?" Remember, you can only play games with God for so long. 35 miles.
That's it. People say the Yungas Road in Bolivia is the scariest and deadliest stretch of road on the planet. This winding ribbon of dirt, rock, asphalt and mud is located high up in the mountains of the Bolivian rainforest. My brother who lived there for six years said the locals call this road "Camino de la Muerte" - the road of death. In 2006, 300 people perished as their vehicles slid off the side of mountains, while some of the drivers lost thier vision in a quick forming fog and hurdled past the hair-pin turns of 2,000 foot cliffs, and others got crushed under falling rocks that were impossible to avoid. It is such a dangerous highway that the most daring of thrill seekers and mountain bikers are drawn to it - - often to their own peril. 18 cyclists have died on the death road in the last decade believing they could conquer the steep downhill grades and wet muddy trails. But suprisingly, this road is not the most treacherous and deadly road known to man. There is one more. And you want to know the strangest part of all? It is only 18 inches long. You heard me right, 18 inches. This is the road that connects the human heart to the head; it is far more treacherous and deadly than any other road known to man. And because of the real danger of death to self when you travel this road, most people refuse to take it. In Titus 3:8 Paul tells the reader to be "careful to devote yourselves to good works". In other words, what you believe about God should compel the believer to let what is in the head affect the heart. But because of sinful complacency and fear, this road is avoided by most. True thrill seekers in the Christian church are a rare find because the cost of travel from the head to the heart is high. People prefer to live in the safety of their head without letting the road of devotion lead them to the heart. The comfort of lazy argument and speculation is easy and soft. It takes almost no courage at all to think without demanding action. Ideas, concepts, theories and philosophies are wonderful mental toys to play with. Sitting on a couch with a book, or even a Bible, and letting the images, arguments and ideas spark the synapses of your brain can be exhilerating. But if all you do is close the book, or end an invigorating spiritual conversation without letting these ideas lead you to your heart, you are already dead. You are nothing more than a lonely hermit lost in your world of words. James 1:22-26 warns against this: "Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But whoever looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues in it—not forgetting what they have heard, but doing it—they will be blessed in what they do." Devotion requires you to really consider the truth. Living truth forms convictions. And it is conviction that leads a person down this road to action. Otherwise, if all you do is live in your thoughts, all you have are words, light and airy, words. You are a mist that appears for awhile and then fades away. This is where the Biblical concept of confession comes in. It means that after I have learned something, I agree with it - - not just intellectually, but emotionally and willfully. Agreement means you will risk travelling down the road from your head to your heart. So if I read in God's word that it is good to give to others out of my excess and I see someone with want and I don't do anything, than I really don't believe what I have confessed. I am nothing more than a lonely hermit dwelling only in my thoughts, my heart is not connected. All because it is so easy not to travel down this road! The practice of meditation allows the thought to travel to the heart. Prayer is like the blood that gives the mediation life, and action is what transforms concept to reality. "Husbands, love your wives.' Meditate on it. "Love them as Christ loved the church and died for it." Let that sink in. Pray that it will be true of you. And then when she burns the roast, or spends too much from your budget, after being saturated by meditation your heart should naturally respond in "patience, kindness, keeping no record of wrongs, self-control." This is how your head begins to connect with the heart. This is the road where life flows. Wives, confession means "I respect" my man. I build him up and believe in him. You can read that and agree, but if it doesn't travel down the road to your heart it is only a game of words. How many wives these days sing in church, cry over a beautiful song on the radio, but yell, complain, demand and belittle their man in the daily grind of life? Does not respect include "kindness"? You must travel those all important 18 inches! This is the road that is less traveled, the head to the heart. Because it is deadly. It is actually deadly both ways: if you decide to take it or decide not to take it. You will die slowly and eternally if all you do is live in your head. But if you dare travel down this road, allowing truth to lead you to your heart, your flesh will be forced to die. That is what meditation does, it causes your pride to slide off the road, or the bolders of truth to crush your sick desire to always have things go your way. But this is the death that leads to new life. Strange, I know. So we will die either way. 18 inches. That's it. Drive down it, and be prepared to die in order to finally live. Brothers and sisters, my heart’s desire and prayer to God for the Israelites is that they may be saved. For I can testify about them that they are zealous for God, but their zeal is not based on knowledge. Since they did not know the righteousness of God and sought to establish their own, they did not submit to God’s righteousness. Christ is the culmination of the law so that there may be righteousness for everyone who believes. Romans 10:1-4 Why do I believe? Because I grew really, really tired of religion. Let me explain. . .
There is a saying that goes, "All that glitters is not gold." Not only can this refer to pyrite, or fools gold, which glimmers brighter than actual gold - - but it is also true concerning the religion of my youth. Surrounded by shiny gold crucifixes, statues of saints, silver rosary beads, priests and altar boys arrayed in robes of white, and flickering candles lit on a snowy Christmas Eve night, all seemed to my young eager mind, beautiful and bright! But as I said before, "All that glitters is not gold." This is where my wrestling match with religion begins, behind the dark shadows of Roman Catholicism's glittering gold. I was far away from the real life of God without even realizing it. Following the model of Paul in Philippians 3:4-8 I will begin my faith account by saying, "If anyone else thinks he has reason for confidence in their Roman Catholic roots, I have more...baptized as a baby to German and Polish Roman Catholics, I attended a private Roman Catholic school where I was confirmed in 8th grade, I was an altar boy for six of those years, often chosen over other altar boys to serve the Bishop in my area for important ceremonies, I went to a Roman Catholic college that was dedicated to Mary (University of Dayton) and while there I was one of the few students who attended mass each Sunday with my grandmother who married a brother from the Marianist order, my other grandparents were members of a strict Marian community in Wisconsin for 10 years where they were compelled to attend mass 3 times a day - 7 days a week, and I was named after St. Christopher wearing his medal for protection for most of my younger years." So needless to say, I was a Catholic of the Catholics, I was very religious even considering joining the priesthood for awhile. That is until I grew tired of trying to be good. Being religious is exhausting because you never know when enough is enough? 1962 for Roman Catholicism was a very significant year. Vatican 2 made a bold move to try to contemporize the Roman Catholic Church and my family was caught in the middle of this cataclysmic change. My grandparents came from the more repressive, strict era of Vatican 1 Catholicism where fasting, Latin Mass, unquestioned respect for the patriarchal priesthood and the daily practice of saying the rosary were tantamount to faithful Catholic duty. My parents were of a younger generation where faith and freedom were taught. So they sent us to a Local Roman Catholic Church with an attached parochial school that embraced the new Vatican 2 changes. No longer was strictness and stoic duty respected, but liberal progressive nuns with guitars desiring mystical experiences and public service were all the rage. While my German grandfather insisted that the Roman Catholic church was the only road to gaining access to the Father, my forward thinking school taught the importance of learning from other religions and how they too could know God by embracing the light they had. This new Vatican 2 teaching even had some members in my church embrace non-Catholic teachings of reincarnation and karma. One lady who often came over to our house believed she was Cleopatra in her past life. So with Vatican 2's radical changes came major questions for me and my parents: What was necessary to really know God? How did a person find acceptance before God? And what did I need to do to do the work that God required? This question is not as easy as it sounds because I was getting differing opinions from everyone I loved and respected. That is the thing, just because you love someone doesn't mean they are right. (See Romans 10:1-4 above!) My grandfather was convinced pleasing God was all about praying the rosary and participating in the eucharist. My grandmother thought accepting people of different color, she was a foster mom to a black child, and giving to the poor was what God desired. My nuns didn't really know, all they wanted was for their students to shut up and listen. My priest said "True religion is thinking about what you are thinking about what you are thinking about." My mom and dad were convinced all God wanted was simple faith in Jesus. You see, religion can be confusing because the path to salvation often depends on who you ask. Were the other religions right? And if they are don't Buddists believe there is no god? And don't faithful Hindus believe in 330 million gods where some have eight arms and faces like elephants? What about the faith of Muslims, is dying in an Holy War enough? What if that Holy War is waged against American troops? And can praying to the saints really help save you? How about Mary, does she really have more pull than Jesus? Who is right? I didn't know. I really didn't. So in my confusion and desire to be accepted by heaven, I began to experiment with an assortment of "good works" to achieve God's favor. Sometimes I fasted on Friday and sometimes I didn't. Sometimes I got ashes on my forehead for Lent and sometimes I didn't. Sometimes I prayed to Mary and sometimes I didn't. Sometimes I went to mass, and sometimes I didn't. I was confused, frustrated, and tired of playing religious games and jumping through all the hoops. So one night I quit. I will never forget that night: My sister Stephanie and I went to a college age Bible study at the local Roman Catholic Church in a wealthy Chicago suburb. The study for the night was "Does Hell exist?" Our priest was young and cool, everybody loved him. And through the course of the study he let the students argue the question at hand. Some students said that since God is love he can't send anyone to Hell. My sister and I said it had to exist because Jesus talked about it, "If your eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into the hell of fire." So we looked at the cool, kind, compassionate priest and asked, "Who is right?" He scratched his head, leaned back in his chair, folded his arms and smiled. Here is what he said, "Don't worry about it. Hell is not that big of a deal." Let his answer sink in a bit...don't rush ahead, just stop on that. How could Hell not be a big deal? Being punished perpetually in eternal torment is kind of a big deal to me! So instead of being churchy, and going to a place that dealt with life or death in a jovial manner, I decided this was no place for me. I quit. Why run the rat race when the people telling you to run don't know where the rats are even running to? So I got off. I began to study Roman Catholicism's history. Have you ever studied the history of the popes? I never did before, but when I did I felt hoodwinked. Have you ever learned about St. Christopher? I never did before, but when I did I felt like a fool. Have you ever wondered what "Transubstantiation" meant? The teaching that bread is actually Jesus' flesh and that wine is actually His blood - - you just can't see it. I felt lied to again, and again and again. So instead of being transfixed by the gleam of religion's gold, I started to question the dark scary shadows that no one wanted to talk about which included ignorance, doubts and fears....yes, fears... I needed answers to quiet those fears and I found none in mindless glittering religion. There is a tendency today among the younger ranks of evangelicals to give those who are raised in more traditional religious homes, especially Roman Catholicism, a wink and a nod of genuine fellowship considering them as true members of Christ and his church. We are more than willing these days to exchange tolerance for truth. Extending kindness and acceptance to those whose teachings and traditions we don't really know nor understand. We don't want to offend, so we give the benefit of the doubt even campaigning for the genuineness of another's faith - - even if we have no idea of what really goes on behind the glitter of the other faith's gold. But there is a real true truth. And each person is responsible for that truth. Do you know it and do you even care about it? Because if there is even a 10% chance Hell is real, don't you want to know how to avoid it? I did, so I went on a major two year search which led me to part 3: The Man! Stay tuned. . . At one time we too were foolish, disobedient, deceived and enslaved by all kinds of passions and pleasures. We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another. Titus 3:3 Tom Petty , "Hello Cleveland!" Numbers don't lie: Between 300-500 people per day check out my blog. That shocks me - - but that is what the Weebly home page tells me. So I wonder, "Who would even want to read what I have to say?" As a Marketing graduate I was taught the first step to knowledge is to know your customer. I need to figure out my demographics, so I must ask "Who is my audience?" I believe there are three groups of people that generally read my posts: (1) I think one third of the readers are loyal members from my church. I am sure there is about 70-100 KCBC'rs who feel guilted into reading my blog simply for the fact they have been conditioned to "Support the Pastor at all Costs." There is that voice of loyal duty compelling them "you must read what the pastor writes, for he is the Lord's servant sent to bless you." There is much truth in that; but you know, sometimes guilt is the pastor's best friend - - I am not sure where I would be without it? (2) I think there is another third that sit in the shadows and read what I write so they can find fodder to take me down, or at least find flaws to prove that a pastor is just as wrong and muddle-headed as the rest of us. "Can you believe what that guy wrote, and he calls himself a man of the cloth?" Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa! (3) The final group are the curious third. These are the friends and acquaintences who once knew me, but not as the man I am now. They wonder "what happened to him? He use to be cool, a Tom Cruise bartender wanna be, and a powerful force on the Rugby Pitch, now look at him? He is one of those wild eyed fire-breathers standing on street corners telling people they will burn in the fires of hell if they don't 'Repent'!" So they secretly read because they want to know, did he go insane? The truth is I have finally found my sanity, and it is in a man named Jesus. And for the next five weeks I am going to appeal to all three groups in a short five-part series I am entitling "Why?" I think this series will help all three groups get to know me better, it will offer more fodder to those who want to see me as a flawed human and to the last group because I want them to know that Jesus is really God, who came to earth, and he is coming again - and I actually know Him! I got the idea of this series two days ago when I was at a bookstore and I saw a John Stott book entitled, "Why I am a Christian?" It is a short but simple book that explains the heart of how one man came face to face with the living God. I also have been studying a portion of scripture this week, Titus 2:15-3:7, that first opened a window to my soul as I began my search as a young confused man looking for meaning in a world gone mad. Which brings me to my first post in the series. . . Why? Reason One: Because Scripture Alone Told Me the Unvarnished Truth About Myself A quick synopsis of my life before I met the Lord can be summed up in the phrase "I was the ideal suburban kid." I was raised in the greatest town ever to grow up in, Bay Village, Ohio. It had everything a growing boy wanted in a childhood: A seasonal pool pass all summer, a dark and mysterious Great Lake across the street to explore - it is there where I would throw sticks to my dog and skip shale rocks for hours, I had many friends with money and toys, a family that loved and even liked me, some degree of athletic success and of course all-American good looks. If you don't believe me, just ask my sisters. They were pretty protective of me, especially if I liked someone - - my sister Stephanie who was in the same grade as I, knew how to keep the girls away from me that she didn't like. Spraying water at them from the sprinking hose comes to mind. My sisters could be pretty fierce (that is a politically correct way of saying 'mean, mean, mean') as they looked out for their dear, sweet baby brother! After High School I attended a private Roman Catholic college where I studied Marketing and Communications receiving a BS degree in Business Administration. I was following my dad's footsteps by going to his Alma Mater and pursuing his choice of occupation, sales. The school I went to was known to be nationally as "A Top Ten Party School." And party I did. Well, when you play rugby and they have beer kegs on the sidelines while you play, you have no other choice but to join in. I think the alcohol was part medicinal as well, after you get your head bashed in, a few beers have a way of taking off the sting. When I graduated, not only did I not know what to do with my life, but my partying ways continued. I didn't think I had a drinking problem, but I sure did like beer. So after work in downtown Chicago, every weekend I would visit Rush and Division street with my buddies. It was at this time that God first started provoking me. And the haunting question that troubled my soul was simply this, "Why Chris, are you on the earth? Simply to make money and party? What a waste!" As I would ride the early morning train to work I couldn't shake the sensation I was made for more than this. It was also at this time I entered a severe state of depression, working downtown in cold-call sales made me miserable. I would sit at coffee shops alone, watching crowds of successful business people, lawyers, salesmen, accountants, all making it big and while I was this measley fresh faced sales stooge barely scraping by. There was only one thing to do, drink more. I was in pretty bad shape, but I was from Bay Village, I was a bright man with a college degree, I could handle it, right? Wrong, God was bearing down on me hard, in three areas of my life: (1) MY IGNORANCE: I was a mindless fool, following the currents of culture, laughing at what everyone else was laughing at, frequenting the same smelly bars that everyone else was congregating at, and performing a job because I thought I was suppossed to. I was being led like a beef cow to and from the barn to the field, chewing grass, and doing nothing more than existing. The first time I realized this was when I went to a Tom Petty concert with my friends in Cleveland, Ohio. We got to the venue on time and waited for the main act, the skinny sallow faced singer wearing a black top hat. When he arrived he said something that caused the crowd to erupt in wild cheering and high fiving. I didn't hear what he said so I turned to my friend to ask him why everyone was going wild. He said, "Tom Petty said, 'Hello Cleveland!', he mentioned Cleveland man, he knows us!" I wondered to myself, "Huh? A crowd is going crazy because a performer knows what city he is in? That seems kind of...well...like a zombified brainwashed response?" I don't know how to say it, but I felt like I was smarter than this. If Tom Petty would say, "Hey, everyone from Cleveland, here is some garbage, eat it" they probably would because Tom Petty, the hero, said the word 'Cleveland." It was a wierd moment, but I felt like I had to get off this mindless zombie train. (2) MY FOOLISHNESS: It was also at this time that I realized alot of my friends enjoyed folly for folly's sake. I can remember I had one friend that would go to the bar to fight. One night he purposely got into an argument with a skinny kid just so he could pummel him, and I did nothing. On another night he was attacked by a large guy and gave him a double-fishhook to his face which split the man's lips down the center and an ambulance needed to come. Whisking my friend out of the bar so he wouldn't get arrested, he laughed what he did off with joyful glee saying, "Did you see what I did to that guy?" I said nothing. I said nothing...to my ever living shame, I did nothing! (3) MY ANGER: I don't know how to say this, but deep in my chest was a reservoir of anger I couldn't quench. I felt like the whole world was against me. It was also at this time I put out 50 job applications for different advertising positions in Chicago getting turned down by them all. I would cynically attribute this to my race and gender, I would say to myself, "our society hates white males and that is why I am not getting one good look?" I was going to actually write a book titled, "Meanderings of an Angry White Guy," but I decided not to because I was also lazy. I would rather stew on the couch watching Rambo than get up and do something. Anger has a way of making you useless. So my brother convinced me to look to the Bible for answers. I laughed at him, I actually laughed. But for some reason I began to read it. Three passages hit me like a ton of bricks, just listen to them in context: TITUS 3:3-5 - "At one time we too were foolish, disobedient, deceived and enslaved by all kinds of passions and pleasures. We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another. But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy." Foolish, deceived and hating. Wow, that was me, that was me!! 1 PETER 4:2-5 - "As a result, they do not live the rest of their earthly lives for evil human desires, but rather for the will of God. For you have spent enough time in the past doing what pagans choose to do—living in debauchery, lust, drunkenness, orgies, carousing and detestable idolatry. They are surprised that you do not join them in their reckless, wild living, and they heap abuse on you. But they will have to give account to him who is ready to judge the living and the dead." Did you read that? That was my life down to the very small detail, "they are suprised you do not join them." That is all my friends wanted, someone to join them. Someone to buy another round. Someone to get mad at the world with. We were zombies eating the spoiled meat of sinful pleasure. REVELATION 3:16 - "So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth." Seriously? Would God do that? Would God judge a nice kid from Bay Village like that? Because I was the epitome of luke-warm. Not having the guts to confront my foolish friends, laughing at dumb jokes, clapping for Tom Petty as he swayed on stage under a drunken stupor. I was a cow prepared for the slaughter. This is where my journey begins. Stay tuned for Part 2: "Religion Wasn't Cuttin' It!" When you come, bring the cloak that I left with Carpus at Troas, also the books, and above all the parchments. 2 Timothy 4:13 Ahhh, reading! It has been a very good year, visiting old and new friends that live on the pages of baby-skin soft paper nestled between two protective hardcovers. Reading for me is life giving and it stretches the soul - - and this year has been no exception. A couple of years ago I decided to suggest a list of books on my blog for my readers to consider that I believe every Christian should read. A number of people reported back that they actually went out and got those books and are grateful for it. Well this year I wanted to list some more books that have really sparked my interest and excited my mind this past year. I will list my top ten in order from what touched me the most. I hope this will excite reading in you. Bon Appetit! NUMBER ONE: "Pentecost Today?: The Biblical Basis for Understanding Revival." This summer I was given this book to read on vacation. To be honest, the cover looked quite boring and I really didn't want to read it. But I was assured that once I got into it I wouldn't be able to put it down. And so on a hot morning sitting near a pool, I started to read. . . and kept reading. . . and kept reading. I finished the book in three days! I love this book because it deals with things every sincere Christian wonders: (1) How can you know if the Holy Spirit is really effecting your life? (2) How do you know if there is a true revival happening in your church? (3) How do you get more of God? This book is a necessary read for all Christians! NUMBER TWO: "Fools Talk." This is an incredible read! Why does it seem so hard to witness to people about Jesus? Because, as this book teaches, most people are disbelieving in a God that doesn't even exist. So our task is to first help people understand who God actually is and then live lives that attract people to him. Evangelism is more about being compelling than it is winning an argument. Are you compelling? If not, this book will help! NUMBER THREE: "The Green Letters." Here is an old classic that I went back to after almost 20 years to reread. I forgot how deep the truth was in here. The Green Letters is meant to make you think and wrestle with how a person really connects with God. It moves past all the religious fluff and gets straight to the meat. How do you know if you are accepted by God? This book will clearly help you understand it! NUMBER FOUR: "A Peculiar Glory." This book is about the book, the Bible. Do you really know the Bible? Why do we even have the Bible, where did we get it, how do we know that it is truly the very word of God? A Peculiar Glory is a desperate answer to the massive Biblical ignorance of our times. People no longer know what they once knew about the Bible. As a pastor it is clear, the Bible is the most forgotten book that is a bestseller. This book will help fill the ignorance gap. NUMBER FIVE: "A Scandalous Freedom." Do you want to read a dangerous book? Well this is it! It is dangerous because people are scared of freedom, they want someone to tell them what to do all the time. And Christianity is primarilly about being set free - - Christ wants you to follow him alone. But it is easier to follow people, thier rules, traditions, opinions, customs and demands. Jesus says to stop it, and this book will help you to stop it! NUMBER SIX: "Is God a Moral Monster?" Does the Old Testament give you difficulties? Especially the parts that talk about wiping out whole races of people? Or the laws for slavery? Or how some men were polygamous or had concubines? Crazy stuff, I know. So how do you make sense of it? And is the God of the Old Testament different than the God of the New? This book is a necessary read for those who want to give answers to the snarky agnostic or cock-sure athiest. You need to read this book! NUMBER SEVEN: "Adverse Possession." Do you like to be scared? And do you think it is possible to be scared by a Christian book? Well it is possible and this is the book for you! I suggest you turn off the lights in your house, open the door to the basement, and light a candle to read this book - - it will bring it more alive! Rarely will you find a horror book that brings glory to Jesus. This book is a great read about a regular family that encounters a very unwelcome guest into thier home. Read it if you have the guts! NUMBER EIGHT: "Tell No Man." I love this book! I put it on my list because I am drawn to it. I have read it four times and each time it brings me into a mindset that I find very rare; the main character tries to live his life as if the Bible is actually true. Sounds like a very unique idea, doesn't it? But this book shows what a person would look like if they actually were bold enough to be bold about Jesus, or courageous enought to be courageous with people about Jesus. The writing is also very different, and it has a way of getting into the wrinkles of your mind. NUMBER NINE: "On Writing by Stephen King." I was given this book by some good friends and they said if you ever aspire to write, this book is a great help. I didn't want to read it at first because I am not sure what a pop-horror writer knows about real writing...you know, like the kind I want to produce (I am so vain!). Well Stephen King knows alot! His advice is brilliant, and his experience is second to none. Do you want to write? Read this! NUMBER TEN: "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire." Yes, I am suggesting you read a wicked, witchcraft laced novel about a young wizard named Harry Potter. Before you judge me, I was loaned this book by a fellow minister. One day I came to the office and found this book leaning against my door. I picked it up and started reading. I was enthralled by J. K. Rowling's writing and world of wizarding that she created. And guess what, after I finished, I didn't renounce Christ! BONUS FEATURE: "2185: We are Big Sis." This is a new dsytopian novel like you never read before! This book is written by a fabulous new writer, Tina Semanas, and she is brave enough to tackle the brave new world of feminist domination. Will the world be better with women ruling? Will it be kinder? Or is depravity just as real in the heart of the female as it is in the male? Read this series to find out! Hope this jump starts some new reading adventures! I find that reading is a chance to explore the minds of people you rarely come across in a normal day. People who actually think and wonder. There is sorry few of them around these days!
(Further reflections from yesterday's sermon on Titus 2:11-14) But they did not believe the women, because their words seemed to them like nonsense. Luke 24:11 One of God’s greatest delights is to irritate and baffle the proud. 1 Corinthians 1:27 says that “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise…for the foolishness of God is wiser than men.” He likes to appeal to non-sense to bring us to our senses. He does this so the person who is a “know it all” and think they are always “the smartest person in the room” will never come to know the truth. The doorway to truth forces everyone to stoop. There is something extremely beautiful to God in our bewilderment. The more I think about it, bewilderment is the surest sign that I have abandoned the security of my own brilliance and I am choosing to rest completely on the heart of God. Another word for that is faith. The truest sign I love someone is when I believe their word even if they sound completely crazy. I believe them because I know them. “Hey Mary, you will give birth to a Son.” Now that is crazy - - especially when she was a virgin. But Mary said, “Let it be to me according to your word.” In some ways faith begins with reason and logic, even 1 Peter 3:15 says, “ But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.” God does first appeal to us through thinking, logic and reason - - evidence is given for the purpose of bringing us closer. But reason can only go so far, it is like a well-worn path through a dense forest that ultimately leads to a steep cliff where I am then asked to jump. “I have to jump? But I can’t see the bottom?” “Trust me!” God says with his knowing, playful, secret smile. This world is always a mixture of reason and foolishness - - but it seems to me that all the life altering things, the wonderful things, are responses to foolishness. I will name a few:
I was at another funeral this past weekend, I have been to too many of late, and trying to enter into the reality of a life beyond the grave is always bewildering…it makes no sense. Living forever? Really? But it sure makes more sense than telling someone death is nothing more than 6 feet of dirt. Decomposition is the logical answer. But that answer is not enough, the heart cries, “That CAN'T BE all we are living for? So love means nothing?” But it is a reasonable answer, and reason leaves us empty. This past weekend I was preaching on God’s love toward us, and I am completely convinced, when you fully understand what the cross means, you won’t believe it. God’s grace is meant to baffle the mind. Have you ever been baffled by God? I want to start a new teaching in the church called a Theology of Bewilderment: It occurs when your deepest darkness of self and your knowledge of failure comes face to face with God’s love for you. You really were that bad, God's love for you really is that good! It makes no sense, and when you understand the foolishness of it, it breaks you! God captures you, forever. Charles Wesley explains bewilderment perfectly in the song And Can it Be: Long my imprisoned spirit lay Fast bound in sin and nature's night; Thine eye diffused a quick'ning ray, I woke, the dungeon flamed with light; My chains fell off, my heart was free; I rose, went forth and followed Thee. Amazing love! how can it be That Thou, my God, should die for me! Some of you have never been bewildered. Maybe that is why your faith is so dry, and you are so cranky and so tired. You have gotten use to salvation. It has become like an old shoe - - your redemption causes you to yawn. And maybe that is curse of the second generation Christian, you have lost bewilderment. You have never really wondered. Christianity is more of a logical belief than a foolish jump. My suggestion, quit being so logical and jump. It is the only way to live! |
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