On the way home from church Sunday, I look over and read this:
God bless our troops,
Especially the snipers.
I don't even know where to begin with that, but it strikes me as having an Old Testament mentality. Just something to think about, I know I will.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Crickets
So all of a sudden I realize, it's been a while since I blogged. As a matter of fact, I posted two weeks and since then? Crickets.
In case you're confused, crickets is a popular term for silence in response to something. For example, somebody tells a really bad joke, and everybody just sits and stares ... crickets.
So along this line of thinking, it seems to me that this is the way a lot people see God. I pray, I go to church, etc. but then ... crickets.
And sometimes they're right. But I was also reminded of a "cricket" analogy by Max Lucado in his book, "In the Grip of Grace." He writes of seeing a cricket in church as he was taking communion, then imagines life from the cricket's point of view:
Perhaps the best question is, who does a cricket worship? Does he acknowlege that there was a hand behind the building? Or does he choose to worship the building itself? Or perhaps a place in the building? Does he assume that since he has never seen the builder, there was no builder?
Sometimes all we get is evidence of God in the things he created, but nothing else ... crickets. And sometimes so it goes for long periods of time. But eventually, like the cricket interrupting communion, we suddenly run into the Creator, and he's bigger than anything we've ever seen, sometimes more quiet, too.
Consider the story of Elijah in I Kings 19. Elijah ran for 40 days and 40 nights so he could hole up in a cave. When God asked him what he was doing, he said, "I'm the only one left, and they're trying to kill me, too."
Probably muttering under his breath and shaking his head, God said, "Go stand on the mountain, the presence of the Lord will pass by."
First came a great and powerful win that shattered rocks, but no presence of the Lord ... crickets.
Second came an earthquake, but no presence of the Lord ... crickets.
Third came a fire, but no presence of the Lord ... crickets.
Finally came what the King James Version calls a still, small voice or what the NIV calls a gentle whisper. It was the Lord.
The point is sometimes we're looking for the miraculous, the incredible, unbelievable, earth-shattering response when what we really ought to be listening for is ... crickets.
In case you're confused, crickets is a popular term for silence in response to something. For example, somebody tells a really bad joke, and everybody just sits and stares ... crickets.
So along this line of thinking, it seems to me that this is the way a lot people see God. I pray, I go to church, etc. but then ... crickets.
And sometimes they're right. But I was also reminded of a "cricket" analogy by Max Lucado in his book, "In the Grip of Grace." He writes of seeing a cricket in church as he was taking communion, then imagines life from the cricket's point of view:
Perhaps the best question is, who does a cricket worship? Does he acknowlege that there was a hand behind the building? Or does he choose to worship the building itself? Or perhaps a place in the building? Does he assume that since he has never seen the builder, there was no builder?
Sometimes all we get is evidence of God in the things he created, but nothing else ... crickets. And sometimes so it goes for long periods of time. But eventually, like the cricket interrupting communion, we suddenly run into the Creator, and he's bigger than anything we've ever seen, sometimes more quiet, too.
Consider the story of Elijah in I Kings 19. Elijah ran for 40 days and 40 nights so he could hole up in a cave. When God asked him what he was doing, he said, "I'm the only one left, and they're trying to kill me, too."
Probably muttering under his breath and shaking his head, God said, "Go stand on the mountain, the presence of the Lord will pass by."
The point is sometimes we're looking for the miraculous, the incredible, unbelievable, earth-shattering response when what we really ought to be listening for is ... crickets.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
King of Pop vs. King of Kings
I didn't mean to. It just happened. But I'll admit it now: I watched the Michael Jackson Memorial Service.
And I definitely wasn't going to blog about it. But I guess I've blown that one too.
I watched as people lauded the "King of Pop" for his message of love, his stand against racism, his charitable work and his bravery in the face of criticism. It saddened me.
.jpg/215px-Michael_Jackson_and_President_Bush_2_(cropped).jpg)
I was sad for the misguided talk of God and heaven, for all the nice sentiments sailing wide of the target and for the lost soul of whom they spoke.
In Michael Jackson, I see a man made in the image of God who never saw himself that way, and it is sad. For all his worldly success, Jackson sought security by changing the hue of his skin and the shape of his face -- not to mention owning a chimp, wearing a glove, etc. His lyrics sometimes hinted at a belief in God, but other lyrics as well as actions spoke otherwise. It reminded me of 2 Timothy 3:5, "having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof."
And this applied to many of the people I saw on stage as well. Many professed to believe in a God and a heaven, though many of their own actions, words and music testified differently. It was a sad echo of society at-large, but not an entirely new phenomenon.
Romans 1:21-23: "For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like mortal man and birds and animals and reptiles (might we substitute Grammys and Emmys?)."
But in the end, it was a story told by Michael's brother Marlon that captured me.
He told of entering a record store where he saw a man with long, curly hair, blackened teeth and baggy clothes buying a pile of CDs. He said he walked up behind the man and said, "Michael, what are you doing here?"
Michael replied, "How did you know it was me?"
And Marlon said, "I know you. I know the way you walk, your body language. I'd know you anywhere."
And that's the message of love that God, the King of Kings, was speaking to Michael Jackson for 50 years, and to each one of us who will listen still today: "No matter how you try to disguise yourself, I know you. ... I'd know you anywhere.
"You belong to me."
And I definitely wasn't going to blog about it. But I guess I've blown that one too.
I watched as people lauded the "King of Pop" for his message of love, his stand against racism, his charitable work and his bravery in the face of criticism. It saddened me.
I was sad for the misguided talk of God and heaven, for all the nice sentiments sailing wide of the target and for the lost soul of whom they spoke.
In Michael Jackson, I see a man made in the image of God who never saw himself that way, and it is sad. For all his worldly success, Jackson sought security by changing the hue of his skin and the shape of his face -- not to mention owning a chimp, wearing a glove, etc. His lyrics sometimes hinted at a belief in God, but other lyrics as well as actions spoke otherwise. It reminded me of 2 Timothy 3:5, "having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof."
And this applied to many of the people I saw on stage as well. Many professed to believe in a God and a heaven, though many of their own actions, words and music testified differently. It was a sad echo of society at-large, but not an entirely new phenomenon.
Romans 1:21-23: "For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like mortal man and birds and animals and reptiles (might we substitute Grammys and Emmys?)."
But in the end, it was a story told by Michael's brother Marlon that captured me.
He told of entering a record store where he saw a man with long, curly hair, blackened teeth and baggy clothes buying a pile of CDs. He said he walked up behind the man and said, "Michael, what are you doing here?"
Michael replied, "How did you know it was me?"
And Marlon said, "I know you. I know the way you walk, your body language. I'd know you anywhere."
And that's the message of love that God, the King of Kings, was speaking to Michael Jackson for 50 years, and to each one of us who will listen still today: "No matter how you try to disguise yourself, I know you. ... I'd know you anywhere.
"You belong to me."
Huh?
From the "Huh?" files:
A Christian outreach organization recently received a letter from a church saying that their support was being cut by 50 percent.
In the attached bulletin, it said, "The pastor and his wife, along with 20 other couples, are going to play a golf tournament in the Bahamas, please pray for them."
Now that's good stewardship!
A Christian outreach organization recently received a letter from a church saying that their support was being cut by 50 percent.
In the attached bulletin, it said, "The pastor and his wife, along with 20 other couples, are going to play a golf tournament in the Bahamas, please pray for them."
Now that's good stewardship!
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Proof is in the ...?
It's funny. Not funny haha, more like funny hmmm.
I can watch an entire movie, and when it's over, there's often just one scene that stands out in my memory. Strictly speaking for myself, and not the general lemming-like moviegoer, those scenes are almost never things going ka-blooie. It's those simple, earnest exchanges that stick.
In a scene I was watching tonight, the exchange went something like this, give or take a few words:
MAN: You keep saying, 'Give me proof that you love me.' And I do. Where's your proof that you love me?
WOMAN: All I have is me, that's your proof.
MAN: Proof is not what you say, it's what you do.
Next thing I knew, a couple of Bible passages sprang to mind.
First, James 2:17-18: "In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.
But someone will say, 'You have faith; I have deeds.' Show me your faith without deeds, and I will show you my faith by what I do."
Second, it reminds of the exchange between the resurrected Christ and Peter in John 21:15-17: "When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, 'Simon son of John, do you truly love me more than these?'
'Yes, Lord,' he said, 'you know that I love you.'
Jesus said, 'Feed my lambs.'
Again Jesus said, 'Simon son of John, do you truly love me?'
He answered, 'Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.'
Jesus said, 'Take care of my sheep.'
The third time he said to him, 'Simon son of John, do you love me?'
Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, 'Do you love me?'
He said, 'Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.'
Jesus said, 'Feed my sheep.' "
How many times has God shown us proof of his love, and how much clearer could it be than the cross?
But when it comes to our love in return, the proof is much harder to find. As Jesus pointed out to Peter, and James pointed out to the early church, the proof is in the doing. Not the actual salvation mind you, just the proof.
I can watch an entire movie, and when it's over, there's often just one scene that stands out in my memory. Strictly speaking for myself, and not the general lemming-like moviegoer, those scenes are almost never things going ka-blooie. It's those simple, earnest exchanges that stick.
In a scene I was watching tonight, the exchange went something like this, give or take a few words:
MAN: You keep saying, 'Give me proof that you love me.' And I do. Where's your proof that you love me?
WOMAN: All I have is me, that's your proof.
MAN: Proof is not what you say, it's what you do.
Next thing I knew, a couple of Bible passages sprang to mind.
First, James 2:17-18: "In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.
But someone will say, 'You have faith; I have deeds.' Show me your faith without deeds, and I will show you my faith by what I do."
Second, it reminds of the exchange between the resurrected Christ and Peter in John 21:15-17: "When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, 'Simon son of John, do you truly love me more than these?'
'Yes, Lord,' he said, 'you know that I love you.'
Jesus said, 'Feed my lambs.'
Again Jesus said, 'Simon son of John, do you truly love me?'
He answered, 'Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.'
Jesus said, 'Take care of my sheep.'
The third time he said to him, 'Simon son of John, do you love me?'
Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, 'Do you love me?'
He said, 'Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.'
Jesus said, 'Feed my sheep.' "
How many times has God shown us proof of his love, and how much clearer could it be than the cross?
But when it comes to our love in return, the proof is much harder to find. As Jesus pointed out to Peter, and James pointed out to the early church, the proof is in the doing. Not the actual salvation mind you, just the proof.
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