John 19:22 Pilate answered "What I have written, I have written."
Pilate, who earlier asked the Christ "What is Truth?" and then did all he could to stop Christ from being crucified, stood firm on the truth he had discovered. So firm, that he put it in writing, in three languages and publicly displayed it so all could see: JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS.
This made many people upset but Pilate stood firm. If he could have elaborated he might have said "Let the record show and let history record this truth: Here is the King of the Jews".
There is something about the written word. It's permanence. It's transparency. I have always preferred the written word over the spoken word. Every day, it seems, the media has a retraction from a politician, a celebrity or a sports star that what they had said was not what they had said or meant. This is why I believe it takes more courage, more thought to put to paper what could be read by thousands. It is rare a retraction is made for the written word because once it is on paper it might as well be writ in stone.
When I peruse my journals, most that will never see the eyes of others, I am taken back to the foolishness and seriousness of those moments. The schmaltzy teen-age love poems; the paragraphs of hurt and rejection; the elation of that first kiss and the confusion of what I would be doing with the rest of my life. As I have matured, my journals have matured but I still find solace in those written expressions of my life-in-the-moment. I think it is safe to say that of all the things I have carried with me through life it is the written word that has consoled me, inspired me, enlightened me, enraged me and carried me. The written word has been the constant, be it my own words or the words of others.
I am a lover of the binded book. I look warily on the e-book revolution that has taken place. I like the feel of a book in my hands, the antiseptic smell of a book just off the bookstore shelf or the musty odor of a book found at a yard sale. I like walking through an airport and being able to spy what other people are reading. Can't do that with an e-book.
I like walking into a Barnes and Noble to see the vast kingdom of books before me. I like the time it takes to hit all the stacks and try to find the I-never-would-have-thought-to-buy-that-book-unless-I-saw-it book. I find no romance or intrigue in scrolling down a computer screen to pick out a book.
I also desecrate books. I write in them, I underline the thoughts and the passages that strike me. There are very few books in my library that have not been cut by my ink sword. In fact, I have purchased borrowed books when I have become so lost in the words I forgot the book was not mine and marked it as if it were. I like the motion and the familiarity of turning the page and of dog-earing the page when finished for the moment. Can't do that with an e-book.
Trust me, I catch the irony in expressing these thoughts in a paperless blog.
I understand the new technology. I use the new technology. The new technology has made my job easier in preparing sermons, in counseling people, in growing in Christ. Yet, nothing compares to my first preaching Bible that sits in a box in my office. The binding is tore from use and the pages are stained with tears and coffee. Margins are filled with my scrawled observations and God's prodding. Exclamation points and question marks abound after certain passages. The Bible I preach out of now will soon be boxed and soon I will get to break in a new one. I love those old Bibles that chart my growth and history as a Pastor.
I could get the new E-Bible. Many preachers are reading off of I-Pads and I-Phones. It would be convenient. It would be quicker. It would be totally up-to-date and relevant to the congregation. Yet, I think I will stick with the binded Bible.
Whether you are an old nostalgic soul like me or a cutting edge techno-geek we must understand that God understands the power of the written word. If there is one book we must read it would be His Word. E-Bible or Old-musty Bible the Truth of the written word stays the same and continues to impact lives: Christ became one of us, lived like us, died for us, and rose again so that we might have a restored relationship with God. He put it in writing. God has written what He has written. And I am forever thankful for His Written Word.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Fall
Psalm 19:1-3 The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge. There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard."
I am not what you would call an outdoorsman. Any voluntary activity out-of-doors usually includes a golf club or a softball bat. Any activity I am forced to do out-of-doors is with a shovel, a mower or a woodpile.
Fall, though, is my favorite season of the year. If I am going to be outside just to be outside, it will be now, as the smell of wood burning stoves being stoked mix with the fermentation of the leaves that have fallen early. The sun does not burn, but warms and brings light and shadow to the dawn as the fog curls off the lake. The last ray of light is a visual Taps, warning at dusk:
For me, Fall is when I hear the heavens declare the glory of God the loudest. It is the time I am more likely to stop from the activity of the day and just revel in the beauty that is creation. I am more likely to take a walk in the fall, breathe in the morning air in the fall, and meander until it is dark. There is peace, I think, in the Fall. God is nigh.
Too often we overlook the beauty of God's creation and do not hear the declaration of his glory because the day has gotten ahead of us. There are things to do. People to see. Fires to put out. Meetings to attend.
Even if we are outside surrounded by the wonder of God's creation we may be pre-occupied with our cell-phone, reflexively grabbing it at any vibration, and grabbing it again when we feel it has not vibrated frequently enough. Even if we have left the cell behind, our mind races and runs to the hours and the days ahead. It is somehow ironic that in the midst of God's beauty we do not heed one of his commands: "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Matthew 6:34
I am going to take a walk, today. I will do my best to clear my head and open my heart to the call of nature singing out the glory of my God. I hope someone has a fire burning and enough leaves are on the ground that will "rustle" as I walk through them. May be in the silence of an Autumn sunset I will allow God to speak to me in that still small voice that has so encouraged me and instructed me in the past.
As I go, this I know, God is nigh.
Psalm 19:1-3 The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge. There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard."
I am not what you would call an outdoorsman. Any voluntary activity out-of-doors usually includes a golf club or a softball bat. Any activity I am forced to do out-of-doors is with a shovel, a mower or a woodpile.
Fall, though, is my favorite season of the year. If I am going to be outside just to be outside, it will be now, as the smell of wood burning stoves being stoked mix with the fermentation of the leaves that have fallen early. The sun does not burn, but warms and brings light and shadow to the dawn as the fog curls off the lake. The last ray of light is a visual Taps, warning at dusk:
"Day is done, gone the sun
From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky
All is well, safely rest
God is nigh.
Fading light dims the sight
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright
From afar, drawing near
Falls the night.
Thanks and praise for our days
Neath the sun, neath the stars, neath the sky
As we go, this we know
God is nigh."
For me, Fall is when I hear the heavens declare the glory of God the loudest. It is the time I am more likely to stop from the activity of the day and just revel in the beauty that is creation. I am more likely to take a walk in the fall, breathe in the morning air in the fall, and meander until it is dark. There is peace, I think, in the Fall. God is nigh.
Too often we overlook the beauty of God's creation and do not hear the declaration of his glory because the day has gotten ahead of us. There are things to do. People to see. Fires to put out. Meetings to attend.
Even if we are outside surrounded by the wonder of God's creation we may be pre-occupied with our cell-phone, reflexively grabbing it at any vibration, and grabbing it again when we feel it has not vibrated frequently enough. Even if we have left the cell behind, our mind races and runs to the hours and the days ahead. It is somehow ironic that in the midst of God's beauty we do not heed one of his commands: "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Matthew 6:34
I am going to take a walk, today. I will do my best to clear my head and open my heart to the call of nature singing out the glory of my God. I hope someone has a fire burning and enough leaves are on the ground that will "rustle" as I walk through them. May be in the silence of an Autumn sunset I will allow God to speak to me in that still small voice that has so encouraged me and instructed me in the past.
As I go, this I know, God is nigh.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Train
Proverbs 22:6- "Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it."
It was the end of July 1995. My wife and I, two kids-Morgan age 7 and Jordan age 4-pulled out of the driveway of our Pastor's home in Portland, Maine headed for Minneapolis, Minnesota to attend North Central University. This was the journey of all journeys as I finally followed through on God's call on my life to enter ministry full-time. I would receive my schooling and return to Maine. That was the plan.
To help on the trip was my Mom and Dad and my oldest brother. We had borrowed another brother's truck, an uncle's trailer, packed up everything we owned, had said our good-byes to our church family, blood family and friends and off we went. By August 2nd 1995 we were moved in to our apartment in Brooklyn Park, Minnesota. By August 5th Mom and Dad were gone and our connection to Maine would be by telephone, the postal service and the fledgling internet.
The decision to make such a life altering move was not simple, nor easy. The full story takes more time than you are willing to read in a blog, but let me say that it could not have been done without Mom and Dad. And I am not just talking about the physical move, but the spiritual move.
Mom and Dad brought me up in church. They instilled in me the routine of faith until I could determine the depth of faith for myself. They were not just Sunday Christians as I witnessed them living out their faith in every way imaginable. They dealt with sickness, disappointment, prosperity, and poverty the same way: with God. I caught them praying for us kids at the house, saw Mom reading her Bible while having a cup of tea at the kitchen table. I marveled at the offering check they would put in the plate every week, even though some weeks the money was tight. I listened to them sing during worship, saw Dad usher and take the offering. Mom and Dad taught Sunday School, served on various boards, helped people in time of need. The lived their faith.
As I grew to have kids of my own I began to realize that the above verse is not just about the rote of Scripture, prayers and creeds. It was not just about the obligation of attending church services. Every time my Mom let me put the offering in the offering plate she was training me to be generous to God. Every time Mom and Dad went out of their way to pick someone else for church they were teaching me to serve others. Every time I caught them praying and reading the Bible they were re-enforcing the importance of such disciplines. All along, intentional or not, they were training me on the way I should go with God.
The choice to serve God, of course, has been mine. The choice to heed God's call to be a minister has been mine, as well. Yet I had role models in my parents that whatever I should choose to do, it is possible and always better to do it with God.
I cringe, as a Pastor, when someone tells me that they were so burned by the church when they were young that they would not force God or church on their kids. Instead, they will let their children make that decision on their own as they get older. I understand the sentiment and the abuses of the church in the past, but by not giving our kids a faith foundation or a model of what a healthy relationship with God and the church looks like, we are training them that life is lived without God. I am not sure that is anyone's intent.
Training anyone in anything takes modeling. If we do not model the life of faith to our kids, what are we modeling?
As I write this I am sitting in a Panera Bread in Green Bay, Wisconsin. My wife and I have just moved our daughter and our soon-to-be son-in-law from Minneapolis for them to begin their ministry as youth and worship pastors at Central Church. We borrowed someone's truck and someone's trailer, packed it up and made the trip to Packer land.
When they expressed thanks, I said to my daughter "Don't you remember when Gramma and Grampa and Uncle Kent helped us move out here? I am just doing what they did. And with pleasure."
I hope my daughter and son will be able to write the words I have written about my parents, some day. I hope they caught me praying, reading the Bible and serving others. I hope and pray that I have trained them as my parents trained me, not just with words but with actions.
The fact my daughter has entered the "family business" is not proof I have trained her well. How she lives her life and makes her decisions with God as her foundation is. I am doubly blessed, with parents that followed God's command to train me, and with children who took to that training I learned from Mom and Dad. Thank you, God.
It was the end of July 1995. My wife and I, two kids-Morgan age 7 and Jordan age 4-pulled out of the driveway of our Pastor's home in Portland, Maine headed for Minneapolis, Minnesota to attend North Central University. This was the journey of all journeys as I finally followed through on God's call on my life to enter ministry full-time. I would receive my schooling and return to Maine. That was the plan.
To help on the trip was my Mom and Dad and my oldest brother. We had borrowed another brother's truck, an uncle's trailer, packed up everything we owned, had said our good-byes to our church family, blood family and friends and off we went. By August 2nd 1995 we were moved in to our apartment in Brooklyn Park, Minnesota. By August 5th Mom and Dad were gone and our connection to Maine would be by telephone, the postal service and the fledgling internet.
The decision to make such a life altering move was not simple, nor easy. The full story takes more time than you are willing to read in a blog, but let me say that it could not have been done without Mom and Dad. And I am not just talking about the physical move, but the spiritual move.
Mom and Dad brought me up in church. They instilled in me the routine of faith until I could determine the depth of faith for myself. They were not just Sunday Christians as I witnessed them living out their faith in every way imaginable. They dealt with sickness, disappointment, prosperity, and poverty the same way: with God. I caught them praying for us kids at the house, saw Mom reading her Bible while having a cup of tea at the kitchen table. I marveled at the offering check they would put in the plate every week, even though some weeks the money was tight. I listened to them sing during worship, saw Dad usher and take the offering. Mom and Dad taught Sunday School, served on various boards, helped people in time of need. The lived their faith.
As I grew to have kids of my own I began to realize that the above verse is not just about the rote of Scripture, prayers and creeds. It was not just about the obligation of attending church services. Every time my Mom let me put the offering in the offering plate she was training me to be generous to God. Every time Mom and Dad went out of their way to pick someone else for church they were teaching me to serve others. Every time I caught them praying and reading the Bible they were re-enforcing the importance of such disciplines. All along, intentional or not, they were training me on the way I should go with God.
The choice to serve God, of course, has been mine. The choice to heed God's call to be a minister has been mine, as well. Yet I had role models in my parents that whatever I should choose to do, it is possible and always better to do it with God.
I cringe, as a Pastor, when someone tells me that they were so burned by the church when they were young that they would not force God or church on their kids. Instead, they will let their children make that decision on their own as they get older. I understand the sentiment and the abuses of the church in the past, but by not giving our kids a faith foundation or a model of what a healthy relationship with God and the church looks like, we are training them that life is lived without God. I am not sure that is anyone's intent.
Training anyone in anything takes modeling. If we do not model the life of faith to our kids, what are we modeling?
As I write this I am sitting in a Panera Bread in Green Bay, Wisconsin. My wife and I have just moved our daughter and our soon-to-be son-in-law from Minneapolis for them to begin their ministry as youth and worship pastors at Central Church. We borrowed someone's truck and someone's trailer, packed it up and made the trip to Packer land.
When they expressed thanks, I said to my daughter "Don't you remember when Gramma and Grampa and Uncle Kent helped us move out here? I am just doing what they did. And with pleasure."
I hope my daughter and son will be able to write the words I have written about my parents, some day. I hope they caught me praying, reading the Bible and serving others. I hope and pray that I have trained them as my parents trained me, not just with words but with actions.
The fact my daughter has entered the "family business" is not proof I have trained her well. How she lives her life and makes her decisions with God as her foundation is. I am doubly blessed, with parents that followed God's command to train me, and with children who took to that training I learned from Mom and Dad. Thank you, God.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Rest
Mark 6:31
New International Version 1984 (NIV1984)
31 Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”
As I basked in the beautiful Minnesota weather that has settled between the heat of Summer and the Cool of early Autumn, my heart, my eyes and ears were attuned to the havoc Irene was causing on the East Coast. One of the quotes that stuck in my mind was this "Irene may not be a big one, but she is a mean one." And that proved to be true as stories of death and destruction came pouring in along with the wind and the rain.
Having grown up on the East Coast I have experienced the forces of the hurricane. For Minnesotans the only comparison can be an oncoming blizzard or cold snap. Like a hurricane, Minnesotans usually have sufficient warning and time to prepare for the pending onslaught from nature. And prepare we do. But at some point, preparing is done and all we can do is wait out whatever is coming our way. We stop. We rest. We wait.
In general, I do not like to stop, rest, or wait. It is bred in the American culture to always be moving, to be always taking action. If we are standing still, a popular motivational saying goes, then we are going backwards. We feel guilty, even in the midst of great pain and trial and obstacles if we do not continue to fight whatever battle has been sent our way.
But at some point, after preparing for the oncoming storm clouds of life, we must stop. We must rest. We must wait.
We must not overlook this important instruction that is vital to our survival. Go find a quiet place to rest, hunker down with Christ until the storm passes over.
Many times Scripture tells us to "wait". Other times, Scripture exhorts us to "stand firm". Sometimes that is all we can do, and we need not feel guilty about it.
I do not predispose knowing what any of you may be going through as I write this piece. But I do know that if you are slugging it out, putting your head into the wind and trying to move forward, or lashing out at the darkness of whatever it is that besets you, may be it would be better to rest. To wait. To stand firm.
Because once the storm is over we will need our strength to recover, to move forward and to help others who may have gone through the storm as well.As I basked in the beautiful Minnesota weather that has settled between the heat of Summer and the Cool of early Autumn, my heart, my eyes and ears were attuned to the havoc Irene was causing on the East Coast. One of the quotes that stuck in my mind was this "Irene may not be a big one, but she is a mean one." And that proved to be true as stories of death and destruction came pouring in along with the wind and the rain.
Having grown up on the East Coast I have experienced the forces of the hurricane. For Minnesotans the only comparison can be an oncoming blizzard or cold snap. Like a hurricane, Minnesotans usually have sufficient warning and time to prepare for the pending onslaught from nature. And prepare we do. But at some point, preparing is done and all we can do is wait out whatever is coming our way. We stop. We rest. We wait.
In general, I do not like to stop, rest, or wait. It is bred in the American culture to always be moving, to be always taking action. If we are standing still, a popular motivational saying goes, then we are going backwards. We feel guilty, even in the midst of great pain and trial and obstacles if we do not continue to fight whatever battle has been sent our way.
But at some point, after preparing for the oncoming storm clouds of life, we must stop. We must rest. We must wait.
We must not overlook this important instruction that is vital to our survival. Go find a quiet place to rest, hunker down with Christ until the storm passes over.
Many times Scripture tells us to "wait". Other times, Scripture exhorts us to "stand firm". Sometimes that is all we can do, and we need not feel guilty about it.
I do not predispose knowing what any of you may be going through as I write this piece. But I do know that if you are slugging it out, putting your head into the wind and trying to move forward, or lashing out at the darkness of whatever it is that besets you, may be it would be better to rest. To wait. To stand firm.
There is no shame in resting, waiting and standing firm. Christ said to "Go rest" so go rest. It's OK.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Whatever you do...
Colossians 3:23-24 Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.
Steve Jobs resigned yesterday. It was the headline on the front page of the Minneapolis Star-Tribune and maybe it was for your newspaper as well (if any of you are still reading newspapers). Reports of sadness in the industry and accolades for an impact on all of society across the world have poured in. His infrequent appearances have been called "cult-like" and a simple announcement by Jobs about Apple and its next product would send the markets up or down depending on the tone of said announcement.
As I sit and write from my MacBook Pro, I realize the impact Jobs has had on the way I do things. Multiply that by millions and you get the idea. And though Jobs cannot take all the credit, he can take credit for being the visionary that has put all of this at our hands. It is not Jobs' skill at engineering or his leadership ability that will be missed the most but his ability to visualize, communicate that vision and then make that vision a reality. Steve Jobs gave his company something to shoot for and, more often than not, they hit the target.
This morning there are millions of people as well who are having an impact on this society. They will not receive headlines or accolades on a world wide level. They may not even receive a simple thank you. They are young and old. Men and women. Some possess great skill and others are more challenged. You will meet these people on the street, in the store, at your workplace. And you, yourself, may be one of these world changers that take the Scripture at the top of this page to heart.
We are followers of Christ who sincerely do all that we do as if we are doing it for Christ himself. The vision Paul puts before us is of a people that will do the best job possible, to the highest quality available, not for personal gain or accolades, but just for the fact that we are doing it for Christ. The goal is quality all across the board, at all levels of life.
Whatever we do, Paul says, do it for the Master. So I strive to be the best husband I can be to please Christ. If I can do that, my wife receives the greatest benefit. If I Pastor to please Christ then my congregation and community receive the greatest benefit. Our employers will receive great benefit if we work the assembly line, teach our students, fix the cars as if we are serving Christ.
A better society does not come out of serving ourselves but, as Paul says, doing all things as service to Christ. Our society may reward us for this or not. Paychecks or a thank you or recognition may be forthcoming, or not. And though the Bible promises us an inheritance for such actions, that is still not the motivating factor we should have in doing the best in all we do. We do all things, from the majestic to the mundane, to please Christ.
Try it and see how your family and friends will benefit, your employer will benefit, your community will benefit and how you will benefit. Visualize serving Christ in all things, communicate that vision to yourself and, then, make it happen. It will change the world.
Steve Jobs resigned yesterday. It was the headline on the front page of the Minneapolis Star-Tribune and maybe it was for your newspaper as well (if any of you are still reading newspapers). Reports of sadness in the industry and accolades for an impact on all of society across the world have poured in. His infrequent appearances have been called "cult-like" and a simple announcement by Jobs about Apple and its next product would send the markets up or down depending on the tone of said announcement.
As I sit and write from my MacBook Pro, I realize the impact Jobs has had on the way I do things. Multiply that by millions and you get the idea. And though Jobs cannot take all the credit, he can take credit for being the visionary that has put all of this at our hands. It is not Jobs' skill at engineering or his leadership ability that will be missed the most but his ability to visualize, communicate that vision and then make that vision a reality. Steve Jobs gave his company something to shoot for and, more often than not, they hit the target.
This morning there are millions of people as well who are having an impact on this society. They will not receive headlines or accolades on a world wide level. They may not even receive a simple thank you. They are young and old. Men and women. Some possess great skill and others are more challenged. You will meet these people on the street, in the store, at your workplace. And you, yourself, may be one of these world changers that take the Scripture at the top of this page to heart.
We are followers of Christ who sincerely do all that we do as if we are doing it for Christ himself. The vision Paul puts before us is of a people that will do the best job possible, to the highest quality available, not for personal gain or accolades, but just for the fact that we are doing it for Christ. The goal is quality all across the board, at all levels of life.
Whatever we do, Paul says, do it for the Master. So I strive to be the best husband I can be to please Christ. If I can do that, my wife receives the greatest benefit. If I Pastor to please Christ then my congregation and community receive the greatest benefit. Our employers will receive great benefit if we work the assembly line, teach our students, fix the cars as if we are serving Christ.
A better society does not come out of serving ourselves but, as Paul says, doing all things as service to Christ. Our society may reward us for this or not. Paychecks or a thank you or recognition may be forthcoming, or not. And though the Bible promises us an inheritance for such actions, that is still not the motivating factor we should have in doing the best in all we do. We do all things, from the majestic to the mundane, to please Christ.
Try it and see how your family and friends will benefit, your employer will benefit, your community will benefit and how you will benefit. Visualize serving Christ in all things, communicate that vision to yourself and, then, make it happen. It will change the world.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Vacation Edition: Stones
Joshua 4:1-7
New International Version 1984 (NIV1984)
Joshua 4
1 When the whole nation had finished crossing the Jordan, the LORD said to Joshua, 2 “Choose twelve men from among the people, one from each tribe, 3 and tell them to take up twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan from right where the priests stood and to carry them over with you and put them down at the place where you stay tonight.”
4 So Joshua called together the twelve men he had appointed from the Israelites, one from each tribe, 5 and said to them, “Go over before the ark of the LORD your God into the middle of the Jordan. Each of you is to take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the Israelites, 6 to serve as a sign among you. In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ 7 tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the LORD. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.”
When we had first moved to Minnesota in 1995 our stated goal was to take a vacation every two years back home to Maine. That is a tradition we kept to until the last four or five years as both sets of our parents continue to age anddeal with various health issues. Now we come home every summer and one week of the winter Patty heads to her parents and I to mine.
Every year we go home we always think it is the last year the kids will come home with us. Yet this year was more of the same. Morgan, recent graduate from college, recently licensed as a minister with the Assemblies of God, and recently engaged, wanted to bring her fiancee, Levi, home to meet the family and to see the sights. Jordan, entering his final year of college, brought his girlfriend, Abby, home for the same reason. (Let me say before going further my children have chosen well).
There is something about going back home and every year we hit the same places: the beach, the mountain, Queechee Gorge, the golf courses, Martell's Ice Cream, Two Lights and on and on. We never get bored when coming home.
This year we all attended service at Emmanuel Assembly of God in Portland. Emmanuel Assembly holds a special place in my heart for it is there that God dealt with my me and persuaded me to enter the ministry full-time. It is also there that God gave Patty and I Pastor Ken and Beth Wilcox who invested in us, helped us grow in our faith and prepared us for what lie ahead in ministry. My "pastor template" is fashioned after the care, compassion and sense of duty Pastor Wilcox displayed in front of me. It is no mistake that I still call him Pastor because, in many ways, he still remains so.
We head back to Emmanuel Assembly every year not just to visit old friends. In all honesty, not many of the people we fellowshiped with from 1990-1995 are still there. Many have passed away, many have moved on to other churches. But I can go to Emmanuel Assembly of God and go to the spot at the altar I had knelt one Sunday night and I finally gave in to God's call on my life.
The passage from Joshua is important because God instructed Joshua to put up a reminder of God's goodness and faithfulness and provision in getting to the Promised Land. This pile of stones was not to be placed there for that generation but for the future generations who would see the stones and ask "What is that?" And the response would be the wonderful story of God leading them out of Egypt.
All of us have stones in our life that we can take our children, our grandchildren, our friends to see. It may be a picture, it may be a place, it may be a building but it will be a reminder of when God was faithful to us and a reminder that he will be faithful again. It will also instill in the future generation the truth that if God spoke to Dad, provided for Dad, healed Dad then God will be there to do the same for them.
This is why it was important to bring Levi and Abby to Emmanuel Assembly, for it is there it all started. If Emmanuel Assembly never happened, we would never have moved to Minnesota and Morgan would have never met Levi and Jordan never would have met Abby.
Thank God for the stones that bring back not just the memory of his faithfulness but the hope of who He still is.
New International Version 1984 (NIV1984)
Joshua 4
1 When the whole nation had finished crossing the Jordan, the LORD said to Joshua, 2 “Choose twelve men from among the people, one from each tribe, 3 and tell them to take up twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan from right where the priests stood and to carry them over with you and put them down at the place where you stay tonight.”
4 So Joshua called together the twelve men he had appointed from the Israelites, one from each tribe, 5 and said to them, “Go over before the ark of the LORD your God into the middle of the Jordan. Each of you is to take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the Israelites, 6 to serve as a sign among you. In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ 7 tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the LORD. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.”
When we had first moved to Minnesota in 1995 our stated goal was to take a vacation every two years back home to Maine. That is a tradition we kept to until the last four or five years as both sets of our parents continue to age anddeal with various health issues. Now we come home every summer and one week of the winter Patty heads to her parents and I to mine.
Every year we go home we always think it is the last year the kids will come home with us. Yet this year was more of the same. Morgan, recent graduate from college, recently licensed as a minister with the Assemblies of God, and recently engaged, wanted to bring her fiancee, Levi, home to meet the family and to see the sights. Jordan, entering his final year of college, brought his girlfriend, Abby, home for the same reason. (Let me say before going further my children have chosen well).
There is something about going back home and every year we hit the same places: the beach, the mountain, Queechee Gorge, the golf courses, Martell's Ice Cream, Two Lights and on and on. We never get bored when coming home.
This year we all attended service at Emmanuel Assembly of God in Portland. Emmanuel Assembly holds a special place in my heart for it is there that God dealt with my me and persuaded me to enter the ministry full-time. It is also there that God gave Patty and I Pastor Ken and Beth Wilcox who invested in us, helped us grow in our faith and prepared us for what lie ahead in ministry. My "pastor template" is fashioned after the care, compassion and sense of duty Pastor Wilcox displayed in front of me. It is no mistake that I still call him Pastor because, in many ways, he still remains so.
We head back to Emmanuel Assembly every year not just to visit old friends. In all honesty, not many of the people we fellowshiped with from 1990-1995 are still there. Many have passed away, many have moved on to other churches. But I can go to Emmanuel Assembly of God and go to the spot at the altar I had knelt one Sunday night and I finally gave in to God's call on my life.
The passage from Joshua is important because God instructed Joshua to put up a reminder of God's goodness and faithfulness and provision in getting to the Promised Land. This pile of stones was not to be placed there for that generation but for the future generations who would see the stones and ask "What is that?" And the response would be the wonderful story of God leading them out of Egypt.
All of us have stones in our life that we can take our children, our grandchildren, our friends to see. It may be a picture, it may be a place, it may be a building but it will be a reminder of when God was faithful to us and a reminder that he will be faithful again. It will also instill in the future generation the truth that if God spoke to Dad, provided for Dad, healed Dad then God will be there to do the same for them.
This is why it was important to bring Levi and Abby to Emmanuel Assembly, for it is there it all started. If Emmanuel Assembly never happened, we would never have moved to Minnesota and Morgan would have never met Levi and Jordan never would have met Abby.
Thank God for the stones that bring back not just the memory of his faithfulness but the hope of who He still is.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Vacation Edition: Re-writing History
John 8:31-33 "To the Jews that believed him, Jesus said, "If you hold to my teaching, you really are my disciples. Then you will know the truth and the truth will set you free." They answered him, "We are Abraham's descendants and have never been slaves of anyone. How can you say that we shall be set free?
As I sit in the Appalachian Trail Cafe in downtown Millinocket, my vacation has officially started. I have treated myself to a helping of chopped tots and onions, a cup of coffee, and the buzz and murmur that is the hometown diner. And with it come memories.
I love my hometown, as any other person does. The memories are as strong as the coffee, but like a good cup of coffee does from time to time, memories can give me heartburn and keep me up at night. Not all the memories of growing up in the Magic City are magical yet they are part of my heritage, a part of my past, a part of the legacy I pass on to my kids.
It is interesting looking back on my youth. Most of the memories that keep me up at night are now seen through adult eyes and with adult sensibilities. I realize now the moments when I was a jerk, the people I hurt, and the true motives behind some of my actions as a youth. Some of them are particularly cringe-inducing. If one of my kids had acted like I did growing up, I would have slapped them into the next week.
We all have memories we would change if we could.Yet, mingled with those memories are the things that I would never change. The memories that keep me up at night for a good reason. The ones that bring a smile and a laugh and pride in accomplishment.
Good, bad or indifferent my history plays a key role in what I pass onto my kids. My legacy includes both the good and bad memories and the lessons learned from both. To re-write my history to ignore the more painful parts would diminish what I have become today. To ignore the moments I was less than perfect or to explain away certain actions because of "youth" would dishonor God and the place he has brought me thus far.
Christ's famous "...and the truth shall set you free" is spoken in the above passage. But the reaction of those listening is what catches my imagination. They are re-writing their past. "We are Abraham's descendants and have never been slaves of anyone!" is a statement both true and untrue at the same time.
Though it is likely this particularly group of men listening to Christ have never been slaves to anyone (though they find themselves under Roman rule) they changed the perspective when they bring up their heritage. Their people certainly were slaves to the Egyptians. And the story of God's provision and escape at that time has carried the Hebrew nation through thick and thin. To forget that particular past, no matter how painful, means to forget where God stepped in and that is a dangerous thing.
Somewhere along the line these group of men lost the correlation of the God of their past with the God of their present. To forget they were slaves at one time and God set them free means they have forgotten the God that set people free be it from tyranny or sin. The Hebrew nation could have been long forgotten if not for God's intervention.
To re-write our history, no matter how painful the history might be, means we may write out God in the process. When we wipe God from our past it means we do not pass on to our children the God who has changed us, set us free and intervened in the worse moments of our life. To re-write our past means we re-write God to being only an icon in a stained-glass window or a bed-time story on par with the Easter Bunny or Good Night, Moon.
To re-write our history means our children do not see the God who is active in all parts of our lives. To tell the story that God saved me, delivered me, or changed me means, at one point, I needed saving, delivering and changing. And though those things may be painful to dredge up, it is also a testimony of a great God who is there not just when things are going well, but is there, ready to free me in my times of slavery.
I can think of no better legacy to pass on than what God has done for me in my past. Faithful in my past, God has proven faithful in my present and will prove faithful in my future.
I encourage you to embrace your past in full, even the painful parts, and look back on it with adult eyes and sensibilities. If we do so we will see how God has changed us, where God has intervened for us, and has shaped us to be who we are in Him.
As I sit in the Appalachian Trail Cafe in downtown Millinocket, my vacation has officially started. I have treated myself to a helping of chopped tots and onions, a cup of coffee, and the buzz and murmur that is the hometown diner. And with it come memories.
I love my hometown, as any other person does. The memories are as strong as the coffee, but like a good cup of coffee does from time to time, memories can give me heartburn and keep me up at night. Not all the memories of growing up in the Magic City are magical yet they are part of my heritage, a part of my past, a part of the legacy I pass on to my kids.
It is interesting looking back on my youth. Most of the memories that keep me up at night are now seen through adult eyes and with adult sensibilities. I realize now the moments when I was a jerk, the people I hurt, and the true motives behind some of my actions as a youth. Some of them are particularly cringe-inducing. If one of my kids had acted like I did growing up, I would have slapped them into the next week.
We all have memories we would change if we could.Yet, mingled with those memories are the things that I would never change. The memories that keep me up at night for a good reason. The ones that bring a smile and a laugh and pride in accomplishment.
Good, bad or indifferent my history plays a key role in what I pass onto my kids. My legacy includes both the good and bad memories and the lessons learned from both. To re-write my history to ignore the more painful parts would diminish what I have become today. To ignore the moments I was less than perfect or to explain away certain actions because of "youth" would dishonor God and the place he has brought me thus far.
Christ's famous "...and the truth shall set you free" is spoken in the above passage. But the reaction of those listening is what catches my imagination. They are re-writing their past. "We are Abraham's descendants and have never been slaves of anyone!" is a statement both true and untrue at the same time.
Though it is likely this particularly group of men listening to Christ have never been slaves to anyone (though they find themselves under Roman rule) they changed the perspective when they bring up their heritage. Their people certainly were slaves to the Egyptians. And the story of God's provision and escape at that time has carried the Hebrew nation through thick and thin. To forget that particular past, no matter how painful, means to forget where God stepped in and that is a dangerous thing.
Somewhere along the line these group of men lost the correlation of the God of their past with the God of their present. To forget they were slaves at one time and God set them free means they have forgotten the God that set people free be it from tyranny or sin. The Hebrew nation could have been long forgotten if not for God's intervention.
To re-write our history, no matter how painful the history might be, means we may write out God in the process. When we wipe God from our past it means we do not pass on to our children the God who has changed us, set us free and intervened in the worse moments of our life. To re-write our past means we re-write God to being only an icon in a stained-glass window or a bed-time story on par with the Easter Bunny or Good Night, Moon.
To re-write our history means our children do not see the God who is active in all parts of our lives. To tell the story that God saved me, delivered me, or changed me means, at one point, I needed saving, delivering and changing. And though those things may be painful to dredge up, it is also a testimony of a great God who is there not just when things are going well, but is there, ready to free me in my times of slavery.
I can think of no better legacy to pass on than what God has done for me in my past. Faithful in my past, God has proven faithful in my present and will prove faithful in my future.
I encourage you to embrace your past in full, even the painful parts, and look back on it with adult eyes and sensibilities. If we do so we will see how God has changed us, where God has intervened for us, and has shaped us to be who we are in Him.
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