Words from WW Blog

“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” (1 Corinthians 4:18)

I loved watching my grand-nephew, Chase Allen, play basketball. He had vision. He could see what hadn’t happened yet, as well as the possibilities of what could happen. He knew when to slow it down and set up the offense that was having a few minutes of chaos, and he knew when his team had the advantage and needed to speed the game up.

Court sense and game understanding. Seeing the not-yet and what such foresight could mean for his team.

In our walk with God, wouldn’t it be great to see what has not yet happened? We have some of that in that we know where our eternal destination will be. We know that the love of God will always be there. We know His presence never disappears.

However, we see what is seen so much that fixing our eyes on what is unseen is like knowing what is in the midst of the morning fog we’re walking into. We see the fog, but not what is positioned within the fog.

In our lives, we see what is the immediate. We see what is on the agenda for the day. We see the person in front of us that we’re talking to, and we hear what they’re saying. However, we fail to see the presence of God in the moment or in the details. We so often fail to see the heart of the person we’re talking to or the innner struggles that are being fought. We are a “see what’s in front of your face” kind of people.

In recent months, I’ve had several of my youth-years friends pass away. Three of them were in the same church youth group I was in. They’re my age! Their passing causes me to pause and consider the eternal matters of this life and the next. I can not see what is to come, and yet I am confident in the promises of the unseen. It isn’t that I am no longer concerned or interested in the events and moments of this life, but rather that I’m investing more of my pondering on the life I will experience in the eternal.

Like my grand-nephew’s basketball court sense, I’m sensing the presence of the Unseen and the “what is to come.”

“Therefore, everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.” (Matthew 7:24-25)

In general, the church has struggled to define its relevance to current culture. It has battled with two questions: Why do we do the things that we do, and why shouldn’t we do what the culture is doing? A subtitled question for the second would be “What are the limits to the push to be culturally relevant?”

In some cases, the drive to be culturally “with it” has resulted in producing churches that have thrown Jesus into the backseat. He’s not even riding shotgun anymore. In other situations, churches have asked the risky question, “Why not try this? Would Jesus be upset by it, or is it just different than what has always been the tradition?”

Jesus’s teaching about the house built on the rock versus the house built on sand brings us, literally, to the foundation of the issue. I mean, “who builds on sand?” is the logical question. In recent years, we’ve seen many crumbling houses built exactly there. Some in sinkholes, others on hillsides where erosion has deemed the structure unsafe to live in. In some of the situations, the “bad” foundation isn’t discovered until later on when it’s too late to change anything.

It makes me wonder if, in the beginning, the sifting sand looked solid? Did the decision to build seem like a great idea, a creative project that was going to connect with those seeking the truth? Did it look rock solid? When did the foundation become more about cultural leanings and less about Christ?

Regarding the church, there is a certain mindset that holds firmly to the idea that rock-hard resistance to the winds of change is the way of the faithful, while others argue that such rigidity eliminates the freedom the gospel brings.

In addition, the church and its members have a habit of trivializing what it means to have a solid faith by putting disqualifiers into the question. Can you be anchored to the Rock and still drink a margarita? Does being Rock-Solid mean that playing the lottery is an indicator of a lack of faith? Can I stay close to Christ and still cuss?

Going back to my opening question, it has been difficult for the church to define its relevance to culture, and also what being set free by the gospel means and what it looks like.

The vitalness of being anchored to the Rock is evident in the cultural antagonisms that pull in various directions. “WWJD”- what would Jesus do gets verbalized in vastly different ways by different people and groups. What is a sign of waywardness to one group is a sign of devotion to another. Changing the world for Christ will always meet resistance from those who want the world to change in another way. It seems that Christ-followers too often have to battle against culture and other Christians. In reading the epistles of the New Testament, the struggle was evident back then as well. Pressures from those outside and tensions and warped beliefs from some of those on the inside made for lengthy letter correspondence. Of course, that was the early church in various locations and hostile cultures. They were communities of believes trying to figure faith out.

I’m not sure what our excuses are. Staying close to Jesus always seems to attract sand and wind.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” (John 3:16)

I was scrolling through a Google Search looking for information on Artificial Intelligence and the gospel. My scroll kept scrolling…and scrolling…and scrolling. Some of the articles and/or posts were hysteria and paranoia gone crazy. Christians have a way of taking new technology and turning it into an indication that the end times are just around the corner. Or, making the jump to how culture is making the church worldly. (Think back to the worship wars of the 80s and drum sets on the sanctuary platform causing a few deacons’ meetings to go late into the night!)

And just like other things, like “The Cannabis Church” (Yes, it’s real…or was real! Far out, dude!), there become extremist elements that seek to stretch the elasticity of the body of believers. It’s our way of trying to look relevant or hip.

AI is a conundrum for believers and the church. It has its advantages and helps, but some folk are confusing it with the real thing. It reminds me of when Carol and I went with friends to an Elvis Impersonator concert a couple of years ago. From our balcony seats, it seemed like Elvis had risen from the dead and was gyrating on the stage in his white sequined pantsuit. Elderly women would stroll up to the edge of the stage in order to put a string of beads or a scarf around his neck and kiss him on his cheek. I had to remind myself that Elvis had died back in 1977.

A new app, Text With Jesus, was recently featured on NBC’s TODAY SHOW. Text With Jesus allows a person to ask Jesus questions and receive His response. Whereas, I use a website called “Biblegateway.com” to find the location of a verse, as well as how that verse is worded in different translations and paraphrases, Text With Jesus sometimes gives direct quotes that Jesus says in one or more of the gospels, but also what Jesus MIGHT say.

The fear (There is always fear!) is that some will use the app as a replacement for the Real Jesus. It’s a fear, with some merit, that the church had about streaming worship services. Would some folk stay at home and watch, still in their pajamas and slippers, instead of being in the REAL sanctuary? COVID forced the issue, making the point that people could still be part of the church without actually being seen.

So…now we have access to a Jesus with artificial intelligence. Will he help or hinder? Will the gospel take on a warped form, or become more relevant to some people trying to figure out their relationship with God? Just as the sanctuary drum set behind a protective shield did not signal the arrival of the prophetic end times, I’m confident that AI (with a Jesus voice) will not be an indication of the dawning of a religious Terminator with a Schwarzenegger accent.

“They (Paul and Silas) went through the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the word in Asia.” (Acts 16:6)

One of the hardest situations to figure out is when to know you’re done versus when to keep going; when it’s time to pull to the side versus when to puish forward. My generation has been more about pushing forward than quitting. We hate that word “quitting.” It resonates to us with immaturity, irresponsibility, and a lack of effort.

I’m generalizing here, but the younger generation seems comfortable with moving on when they feel like it, no matter the cost it has on the lives of others. Not showing up for work is not seen as irresponsible, but rather “I just don’t feel like working today!”

I know…I know, that’s a bit brutal to write, but from my experience it’s closer to the norm.

I came to that crossroads myself this past week. I had been working in a long-term substitute teaching position at the middle school where I’ve coached basketball for the past twenty-five years. This teaching position was scheduled to continue until the Christmas break. The teacher is on maternity leave. My assignment started earlier than it was supposed to because of some concerns about the teacher’s pregnancy. I had spent some time in the classroom before that, observing. Translated that means, figuring out who the suspects were in each class and becoming familiar with the class curriculum.

Three weeks into the assignment I was feeling the effects of the long hours I was having to put in, and the frustration that a few of the students were igniting within me. I had done long-term positions before, two of them resulting in me teaching the whole school year. It energized me. I looked forward to seeing my students on Mondays. However, this time things were different…and I knew it was time. Sometimes God says “yes”, sometimes “no”, and sometimes “not yet.”

Five weeks into my assignment I sensed that the Holy Spirit was nudging me to give it up. I forewarned the assistant principal that I was considering the possibility, and at six weeks, I told her I was stepping to the side. She was disappointed because she knew my history of working and relating well to the students.

Sometimes a person needs to discern when he is grinding versus being grounded. I was grinding myself into the dust to the point that my wife was getting worried. When God closes one door, the Christ follower needs to be cognizant of another open that might suddenly open. Or maybe the Holy Spirit is saying that it’s time for a brief rest, a stepping away before being asked to step up.

I’ve always been intrigued by the verse in Acts 16, where the Holy Spirit forbade Paul and Silas to speak the word in Asia, and the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them to go into Bithynia. It wasn’t the end of their journey; it was just a redirection that, shortly after, resulted in Lydia’s conversion during their visit to Philippi.

Rest is not the norm for me, although in my thirty-six years of pastoring the Sunday afternoon nap was a gift from God. I’m more comfortable with the words “redirection” and “pause.”

So I’m pausing, like the pause button on my background piano music right now as I write this. It’s only for a few moments before the melody begins again.

“But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8)

Driving down the road close to our house, I noticed two signs in close proximity to one another (just in case you missed the first one) advertising “Junk Removal.” A phone number was positioned below the two bold-printed words. Removing junk is big business these days.

My wife knows. She has started advertising in our neighborhood chatter group about specific items we no longer need and are free for the taking. You see, there’s Junk, but there’s also Quality Reusable Junk. Truth be told, I recently participated in the Quality Reusable Junk initiative by gifting several boxes of books to our region’s American Baptist Church association to be sent to India, where a new seminary is being established. I parted with some quality theological works that I probably haven’t turned the pages of since I graduated from seminary in 1979. My wife assured me that there were a few other boxes that could have been filled. I stopped too soon. I just couldn’t part with Hans Kung’s memoirs or Latourette’s fourteen-hundred page “A History of Christianity.”

Our junk defines us, which means we are well-defined. We accumulate but rarely do a cleansing. Carol reminds me to delete text messages and voice messages that clog my cell phone like a high cholesterol artery. Sometimes when we’re on a road trip of at least an hour, she goes through emails and asks me the question, “Delete or keep” for each one of them. I’m embarassed to even say how many emails are still bunched together. Let’s just say I could have four volumes of Latourette.

I’m not good at simplifying my life. Most of us aren’t. We pile on or say “What if…” We’re like that at church, also. Recently, our church regional organization gave grants to churches who would use the money for a rollaway dumpster. Our church filled that sucker! Then we realized that a few things that had been given the “Come to Jesus” moment were carried back into the church by someone or someones who thought certain items were too historic to toss. ADVICE: Put a lock on that dumpster.

We’re too often like Christianized “Talmud-ites”! We must precisely define spiritual truth in such detail that the truth becomes lost at the bottom. Perhaps followers of Jesus need a few junk removers as well to take some of the trash off our simple gospel. John 3:16 gets footnoted with “But…” and “However…” If a person cannot believe that it comes down to the grace of God, and love of God, and the atoning natire of Jesus, he/she will be overwhelmed by the accumulating mess.

Perhaps it would be beneficial for us to pray about the junk in our lives that obscures our view of Jesus. Meanwhile, I’m going to receive some personal grace and hold off on Latourette. The book puts a dent in my lap whenever I sit down with it.

 “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked. They replied, “Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory.”

 “You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said. “Can you drink the cup I drink or be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with?” (Mark 10:36-38)

It’s intriguing how the seemingly insignificant things we say have a way of standing out more in our minds than the most profound, wise words of great insight. Like when I tried to impress my sixth-grade friend by calling a fifth-grade teacher “an old bag” as she was leaving school on a Friday afternoon. Not long after that I was experiencing an intense heat on a certain part of my body thanks to our principal, a man named Shirley Morton (“Don’t call me Shirley. Yes, Mr. Morton!”) Even though that was almost sixty years ago, I remember the scene, the iron fence that bordered the school playground, and Mr. Morton’s powerful swing, probably made even more painful by the fact that it happened after school on a Friday afternoon.

Our dumb words said or done become like Jeopardy categories in our mind: “I’ll take Dumb Things Said To Girls for $100.” Or, “Let me try Idiotic Pranks Gone Awry for $200.”

Quite frankly, Jesus had a bookload of dumb things said to him. Instead of “Dad Jokes,” they could be called “Dumb Jokes.”

For instance, how about Martha, whining to Jesus about her sister, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself. Tell her, then, to help me.” (Luke 10:40) I’ve known a few church people who have berated others for what doing the work that only they thought was important.

Or there’s James and John, on a mission to impress the Son of God and asking Jesus, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” Their words came after a Samaritan village did not welcome Jesus. Jesus rebuked them for their words. What must it have felt like to be rebuked by Jesus after saying something that you thought was a good suggestion, and then came to figure out that it was a dumb idea?

The Pharisees and teachers of the law always seemed to have been chomping on chewable dumb tablets. It seems that the only people who are not listed in the dumb book are children and most of the people that Jesus healed, many of them social outcasts.

So I realize that my tendency to “dumb down my words” puts me in a vast company of others. I keep searching my mind for something wise-worthy, but I keep coming up empty. As a result, I keep going to scripture and finding a verse that needs to be underlined or words said by Eugene Peterson or Philip Yancey that resonate in a sweet way like strawberry preserves on a hot homemade biscuit.

On the positive, whenever I get a little too uppity, I remember one of the dumb things I said in the past seven decades, and it humbles me back to reality. And, boy howdy, there’s a lot of material there to be humbled by!