Taking the Gospel to North Africa and France

As you read the following post you will quickly realize that this is not David A. Quackenbos. It is however, his oldest son, David (or Chad) C. Quackenbos. My father has given me the opportunity to post on his blog today. I hope I can live up to the usual entries.

During my first week of summer in 2009 I went on a weeklong trip to Ecuador. I went on this trip because I was interested in seeing a new culture, eating exquisite foods, and helping out some kids. God had different plans. As the trip went on I saw firsthand the power of God, and by the third night I was completely shaken. The Lord dealt with me over the rest of the trip and since then I have felt the call to become a foreign missionary.

Throughout my senior year of high school, many things changed. I tried to take a more active role as a leader within my youth group. I also kept praying and seeking confirmation from those around me about this calling I felt. Those around me were very supportive and helped me realize that missions is where I need to be. Right now I am a freshman at Liberty University. When I arrived on campus in the fall I was immediately surrounded by a great group of guys. I have been given the amazing privilege of getting to learn from and be discipled by the leadership on the hall while also being able to pour into others through the ministry of being a Prayer Leader. My experience at LU has been one of exciting spiritual growth and maturity (though I still have a long way to go).

Since the summer of 2009 I have looked for more opportunities to go overseas. As I prayed about where to go a few things came to mind. First, I have recently read a few books which have laid the Muslim population of the world on my heart. Second, the only foreign language I know any of is French. I thought, ‘if there were a country (or countries) that was predominantly Muslim and also spoke French that would be perfect’. As I did research the area of North Africa came to mind.

Within the first few weeks here at Liberty there was a meeting held by Light Ministries (the global missions center on campus) in which they told us about all of the trips they are taking this year. Going into the meeting I knew what I was looking for, a trip to either France or North Africa. Sure enough, when I walked into the meeting there was a banner for a trip to North Africa and France. It was an answered prayer.

This trip will be from May 15th to June 2nd of 2011. The first week will be spent in a North African country being exposed to the Muslim culture. This first week will be essential for the rest of the trip. After the first week is over we will travel to southern France to help minister to Muslim, North African immigrants. We will be working with missionaries by distributing literature, helping with a kid’s camp, and prayer walking. I could not be more excited for the opportunity to share the gospel with these people.

I would like to invite you to be a part of the team through prayer and financial support. We have been asked to find at least ten people to commit to pray for the group. Through your prayers I hope to be able to better prepare for the trip both mentally and physically. To make this trip a reality I will need to raise $2700. I hope to be able to pay for much of the trip out of my own pocket. Please pray that God will provide the funds that I am unable to make through the support of friends and family. Thank you very much.

To donate: Go to www.luglobal.com. Click on "Light Ministries College Mission Trips" on the right hand side of the page, then on the next page click on "Donate." Again, the name is David C. Quackenbos. Thank you!

My two sons (part 2)

Matthew’s surgery was a bit of a curveball thrown into our lives last week, and as we brought him home from the hospital last Thursday, we were not sure if we would be able to proceed with our plans to visit my older son at college over the weekend. As it turns out, Matthew felt fine by Friday morning, so we took off that afternoon for Lynchburg, Virginia, to visit Chad at Liberty University for Parent’s Weekend.

First of all, it was a terrific getaway weekend, even though we still had not quite recovered from being awake for forty straight hours during the appendectomy episode, or from falling further behind on all of our work. Nevertheless, it was a perfect fall weekend, which in the mountains of western Virginia means beautiful scenery of the leaves changing all sorts of wonderful colors.

We did the standard stuff on Parent’s Weekend. We walked around the campus, looked at a few of my son’s classrooms, visited his church, and of course, ate a lot of food. We also took a drive up some narrow, steep trails on a mountain right near campus, which I thought was fun, though it freaked out a few others in the car. All in all, it was terrific to see Chad, chat about how he is doing, meet a few of his friends, and talk about his plans for the spring and summer. On this last subject, he is planning to go on a mission trip after the spring semester to North Africa and France.

And, by the way, he has been having the time of his life at college since day one, meeting lots of new friends, leading a prayer group in his dorm, and basically soaking in all of his new-found freedom and independence. In a lot of ways, his experience reminds me a lot of my first semester at college. Even his appearance reminds me of me back then. The only big difference is—and don’t tell him this—is that his grades are a lot better than mine were.

On our drive home from Lynchburg on Sunday I got to thinking. You know, two years ago Chad went on a mission trip to Ecuador. He had a great time (which included eating roasted guinea pig), and when he came home he told us that he felt God might be calling him to be a missionary when he “grew up.” This was exciting news, but at the same time, Barbara and I cautioned him to continue to pray about it and see where the Lord leads. After all, this could have been more of an emotional reaction to the Ecuador trip.

But, in the past two years, he has continued to earnestly grow in his faith. He led a Bible study for the youth group at his church, volunteered to be a prayer group leader when he arrived at college, volunteered to speak to his old youth group a few weeks ago (they were on a retreat up near Lynchburg), and has his eye set on doing another significant mission trip next spring. Looking to the future, his plans right now are to attend seminary after college in order to prepare for the mission field.

As I began to ponder the broad trajectory of his life, it dawned on me that God is really “up to something” in this young man’s life. It has been one of the extreme joys of my life to see Chad grow and develop into an excellent young man, particularly in the way that he lives out his Christian beliefs. And, it will be incredibly exciting to see how God continues to mold him and work in his life in the future.

I suspect by now that you realize what “part 1” and “part 2” of this blog entry have in common. As my family and friends are aware, my life has been busier in the last few years than it has ever been before. The reason is that I have embarked on an “extended career transition” after my twenty years in the Navy, and this has necessitated a very demanding schedule. It is very exhilarating, though, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. However, sometimes I get so caught up in my day-to-day busyness that I don’t take time to appreciate what God is doing in the lives of my sons, nor take the time to thank Him for just how good He is to me. I honestly believe that God is “up to something” significant in the lives of both of my sons. I am as proud as a parent could be of both of them. At the same time, I realize that I don’t deserve such goodness from God, but give Him thanks for what He is doing in the lives of Chad and Matthew, and that I have the privilege of being a part of it.

My two sons (part 1)

Last Wednesday, as my nine-year old son lay on a hospital bed about to go into surgery to remove his appendix, our church’s children’s minister stood at his bedside. She was chatting with him and comforting him in the moments before he would be carted off to that mysterious and unknown place known as the O.R. Before she left, she asked if there was anything she could do for him. Pausing for only a second, Matthew said, “Can you pray for me?”

Having an appendectomy is an unpleasant and scary thing for a young child. First there is the physical pain in the lower right area of the stomach. Then there are the tests in the hospital, including the dreaded contrast dye that must be drunk prior to a CAT scan—not exactly a chocolate milkshake. The child must also endure various shots with needles—again, not a favorite activity. But on top of all this is the fear of having surgery. It became apparent to Matthew early on that he was going to require an operation, and he could not help but overhear some of the conversations between the doctors and his parents regarding incisions, the process of removing the appendix, being put to sleep during the procedure, etc. He was scared.

Throughout our long evening and even longer day at the hospital (two hospitals, as a matter of fact—he had to be transferred to the local children’s hospital for the surgery), one thing that I noticed is that prayer was at the forefront of Matthew’s thoughts. Before asking the children’s minister to pray for him, he had asked his mother and me the same thing throughout our time at the hospitals. To me, Matthew’s initiative in taking his fears to the Lord in prayer indicates a spiritual awareness and sincerity beyond that of a typical nine-year old.

Let me put it this way. We all face crises in life. It’s sort of where “the rubber meets the road,” in our Christian walk, so to speak. It is during these times when, if you are a Christian, you must ask yourself, “Is all this stuff I believe about God really true? Or do I simply pay lip service to it?” You see, it’s possible—and sometimes even easy—to go to church every week, study the Bible, memorize Scripture, give to the poor, sing in the choir, and do a hundred other “Christian” things, but not really believe in Him at the very core of your soul. Is there really a God who made this whole universe? Was there really a man named Jesus who lived, and died, and rose from the dead about two thousand years ago? Is there really such a thing as a “Holy Spirit” who lives inside of me? When things are going well, it is easy to answer “Yes, of course.” But when crises arise, we are given the opportunity to put into practice our stated beliefs. It’s like the difference between, on the one hand, understanding how a parachute works, and, on the other hand, jumping out of a plane with one strapped to your back. Jumping out of the plane shows that you really believe it.

Matthew made it through this routine surgery fine, and bounced back rather quickly, as most children do. And as I have reflected on this episode over the past few days, I have felt excitement, encouragement, and exhilaration over what I witnessed in my young son. Matthew is a Christian, and does a whole bunch of appropriate “Christian stuff”: Sunday School, Bible Drill, prayer before meals and bedtime, etc. But, in the face of fear, he realized that all this “stuff” points to what is really true. It’s not just a bunch of good works that he is obligated to do.

In addition, I wholeheartedly believe that God is “up to something” very significant in this young boy’s life. Since his birth (details in “My Story” portion of this blog), I have seen God’s hand on him at many times and in many ways. Seeing his childlike faith-in-action during his appendectomy is just one more incident where I see a very special, God-honoring life taking shape. It will be one of the immense joys of my life to see what is in store.

National Day of Prayer, 1776 style

Does prayer work?

On this National Day of Prayer in the United States, I think this is a very important and legitimate question to ponder. Because, if prayer works, we should not only be praying today, but every day. And not just “praying,” but PRAYING—on our knees, with enthusiasm, and with a sense of sincere humility and bold expectation. But if prayer doesn’t work, well, quite frankly, why bother? We all might as well go do something more productive.

It probably comes as no surprise to you to know that I think that prayer works. But let me explain this a little further. I believe that prayer works in two ways.

First, when we think of prayer “working,” we often think of God answering our requests in some miraculous way, such as a friend being healed from cancer. Requests like this are often, whether we say it this way or not, couched as desiring God to change His mind, or to change the course of current events. And this sort of answer to prayer does happen, both in biblical times and today.

But equally, if not more important, is the fact that prayer ought to change us. Prayer isn’t just our magic genie in a bottle, used to ask God for a new house, a new pool, or even the healing of a loved one. Rather, it is a mechanism by which we learn to submit to God’s authority over us, to humble ourselves, to realize our sinfulness, to beseech His forgiveness, and to set our minds on appropriate desires. As Jesus said as He prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane prior to His crucifixion, “Not my will, but yours.”

On this National Day of Prayer, 2010, I’d like to share an example from our history that I believe reveals both aspects of prayer described above.

In March of 1776, the Second Continental Congress, meeting in Philadelphia, was getting nervous. They faced one of those “what-have-we-gotten-ourselves-into” moments. Many were realizing that there was no turning back in our rebellion against England. Blood had already been shed at Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill. And many were saying it was time to declare our independence—a bold step that would no doubt invite significant British retaliation.

So on March 16, the Congress announced a National Day of Prayer. Here is an excerpt from the declaration:

The Congress therefore, considering the warlike preparations of the British Ministry to subvert our invaluable rights and privileges, and to reduce us by fire and sword, by the savages of the wilderness and our own domestics, to the most abject and ignominious bondage: Desirous, at the same time, to have people of all ranks and degrees, duly impressed with a solemn sense of God’s superintending providence, and of their duty devoutly to rely in all their lawful enterprises of his aid and direction–do earnestly recommend, that Friday, the seventeenth day of May next, be observed by the said Colonies as a day of Humiliation, Fasting, and Prayer; that we may with united hearts confess and bewail our manifold sins and transgressions, and by a sincere, repentance and amendment of life, appease his righteous displeasure and through the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ, obtain his pardon and forgiveness; humbly imploring his assistance to frustrate the cruel purposes of our unnatural enemies; and by inclining their hearts to justice and benevolence, prevent the further effusion of kindred blood.

What jumps out at me here is that this isn’t just a call for a “magic genie” prayer, as in, “God, please help us to beat those mean Redcoats.” Yes, that is part of it. But do you notice the emphasis on acknowledging and submitting to God’s authority? Do you see the clear call to use this day to change the minds of the American people, not just God’s mind (i.e. “repentance and amendment of life”)? Do you get the sense that this wasn’t just a call to say a nice little prayer next to a comfortable fireplace while enjoying tea and crumpets? It certainly wasn’t! The people were called to fast, to bewail, to humiliate themselves before God. This is prayer with a capital “P.” This is praying with gusto!

Now, notice that the declaration set May 17th as the National Day of Prayer. This was to give time to disseminate the news about the upcoming day. In fact, George Washington had the decree read to his troops, who were stationed at Brooklyn bracing for a British attack. On May 17th, he and his troops participated in this national day of humiliation, fasting, and prayer. And if anybody was in need of God’s providential intervention (i.e. the first way that prayer works, that I described above), it was Washington and his troops. Would God protect them in the coming days?

Fast-forward three months.

By August, 1776, circumstances were dire. The colonies had declared their independence in July, and England was not about to stand for it. The British, with the help of vicious Hessian mercenaries, had embarked on a massive invasion of New York City. They had landed on the southern tip of Brooklyn, and chased the American army all the way to the northern tip of the island, Brooklyn Heights. Along the way, they had mercilessly mowed down the Americans. Many Hessians shot the Americans in the back and killed them as they retreated.

By the end of August, Washington found himself trapped at Brooklyn Heights. In front of him, the British and Hessians were about to overrun what was left of his army. Behind him was the East River, and as he began to ferry his remaining troops over to Manhattan, the British fleet was sailing in to cut off his only escape route. Many Americans today don’t realize it, but at Brooklyn Heights, Washington was a hair’s breadth from being captured and forced to surrender his entire army. The American Revolution would have been over practically before it started.

But something unbelievable happened. Out of nowhere, an unexpected torrential rainstorm hit New York City, temporarily bogging down the British and Hessian advance. Then, an unusually thick fog set in over the East River. Because of this, the British fleet was unable to sail up the river to close the noose on Washington. By the dark of night, Washington feverishly shuttled his troops across to Manhattan. Finally, Washington himself stepped onto the ferry for the final trip. He and his troops had miraculously escaped, and lived to fight another day.

You know the rest of the story. The British regrouped and chased Washington through Manhattan. By the end of 1776, Washington ended up in Pennsylvania, on the banks of the Delaware River, where he pulled off a stunning surprise victory at Trenton. Then there was Princeton, Brandywine Valley, the bitter winter at Valley Forge, Monmouth, and yes, eventually, Yorktown. The army that was nearly destroyed at Brooklyn Heights survived, and in the end, we won our independence. A nation was born.

I have read several accounts of the Battle of Brooklyn Heights, written by esteemed historians. I find it very interesting that when discussing the rainstorm and the dense fog, they use phrases like “fate intervened” or “there was a serendipitous downpour.” Some even use the word “providential” with a small “p.” In other words, Washington was the beneficiary of good fortune, or luck.

But here’s my explanation of it. On May 17th, 1776, American colonists prayed. American colonists fasted. America bewailed its sins and begged forgiveness through the mediation of Jesus Christ. America humiliated itself before God. And three months later, in late August of 1776, God sent a storm and a dense fog over Brooklyn Heights, at exactly the right time. It was no coincidence. It was not luck. God reached down and saved America.

That’s what I think, anyway. I think that prayer works.

The Helping Hand Mission

Do you ever wonder how it is that some childhood memories are rather fuzzy, while others remain quite vivid, even after thirty or forty years?

If you were to ask me to name one birthday or Christmas present that I received between the ages of six and fifteen, I couldn’t do it. I know that I got gifts. I just don’t remember what they were. Oh, I’m sure there was a football and some clothes, etc., but nothing jumps out. I can’t say “I’ll never forget that on my tenth birthday, I got such and such . . .”

On the other hand, to this day I have very strong recollections of the Helping Hand Mission. The Helping Hand Mission was a mission in a somewhat dangerous section of center city Philadelphia that I visited as a boy. I was about nine or ten years old at the time (circa 1975/1976). A group from our church would go to the mission once a month on a Saturday night to lead a worship service for homeless people, then provide them with sandwiches and coffee afterwards. My father would take my older sister and me on these trips.

What makes my memories of the mission so vivid is that they are multi-sensory. I remember the sights of the mission—the poor and homeless who would wander in. Some of them were mentally unstable, and would simply sit there and mumble softly to themselves the whole time. Others simply looked poor, dirty, destitute, helpless—nothing like what I was used to in my hometown in the suburbs.

I remember the sounds of the mission. I can remember the short walk from the car to the front door of the mission, often hearing police sirens nearby. But most of all, I can remember an enormous German shepherd behind a fence right outside of the mission. The dog, which was as big as me, would leap toward the fence, insanely barking, only a few feet from my face. It scared me to death.

I remember the smell of the mission. The mission was filled with a strong, grungy odor that was very displeasing. I recall wishing that I could hold my breath for an hour or so, but I knew that was not possible. I had to endure it. I also remember thinking how those who lived and worked there had to put up with that smell all the time.

And I remember the feel of the mission. I remember standing in line after the service, handing out food to the people, shaking their hands. A lot of these hands were old, dirty, even shriveled and misshapen. As a nine year old, I remember thinking that it felt kind of creepy, but I also was touched that many of them were so truly thankful that we were feeding them.

What I have come to realize as an adult is that what we did at the Helping Hand Mission was what true Christian charity is all about. We did not wait for the poor and dispossessed to stumble into our church some Sunday. We went to them. And we didn’t go just to hand out sandwiches, as important as that is. The Helping Hand Mission was there to meet physical needs, yes, but it was there to address spiritual illnesses as well, which is ultimately more important. Sometimes it was hard to tell if some of the people there were hearing the gospel as it was being proclaimed. But the church was being faithful in doing what it was called to do—going out into the world and preaching the Word.

My memories of the Helping Hand Mission have also caused me to think about what memories my children will have when they grow up. In all likelihood, they will not remember what presents they got on their birthdays. But have they had any experiences outside of our antiseptic suburbia that will be ingrained in them and impact their thinking to the degree that I have been affected by the Helping Hand Mission? I can’t say that my trips to the mission were “fun,” but I can say, in reflection, that they were helpful, both for the poor people there and for myself.

(By the way, out of curiosity I just did a quick search on the internet. The Helping Hand Mission, which was founded in 1905, is still up and operating in downtown Philadelphia, with the same goal that it has had for over a hundred years now. I found one photo of the mission, but it appears to be a personal photo taken by a professional athlete who was involved in that ministry, so I won't post it here.)

Does it really matter who said “Yes”? Well, yes and no.

“Whoever acknowledges me before men, I will also acknowledge him before my Father in heaven. But whoever disowns me before men, I will also disown him before my Father in heaven.” Matthew 10:32-33

This is the time of year when we recognize the anniversaries of a lot of violent, tragic events. The Virginia Tech shootings happened on April 16, 2007. The Waco siege ended in the burning down of the Branch Davidian compound on April 19, 1993. The Oklahoma City bombing took place two years later on the same day. And on April 20, 1999, at Columbine High School in Colorado, two high school students went on a shooting rampage, killing twelve students and one teacher as well as injuring several others before taking their own lives.

One of the better-known stories to emerge from the Columbine massacre is the story of Cassie Bernall. In the aftermath of the shootings, witnesses in the high school library stated that one of the gunmen pointed a gun at Ms. Bernall and asked her if she believed in God. She said “Yes,” and was immediately shot and killed.

As you might imagine, this little vignette launched a stream of inspirational tribute amongst evangelical Christians. She had died a martyr’s death, showing courage under the most dire of circumstances not to deny her Lord. Christian recording artists released tribute songs to Cassie Bernall. Her story was incorporated into many a Christian youth group meeting, and spurred other teens on to a deeper commitment to God. And Bernall’s mother wrote a book entitled She Said Yes, which chronicled young Cassie’s deliverance from a dangerously rebellious lifestyle as a younger teen.

But a few months after the Columbine event, as the dust began to settle and more details began to emerge, controversy arose. Based on the recollections of all witnesses in the library, and their relative locations in the room, it was determined that the original interchange between the killer and Ms. Bernall may not have been accurate. It seems that the gunman’s question “Do you believe in God?” and the answer “Yes” actually took place with another student, Valeen Schnurr. And, Ms. Schnurr was spared after her affirmative response.

Sadly, this set off a heated argument between supporters and detractors of evangelical Christianity. Detractors accused evangelicals as having jumped the gun on the Cassie Bernall story, and as having continued to perpetuate their version of the story to foster anti-atheist sentiment (the killers were purportedly motivated by their atheism). They further said that while we all ought to be sensitive to the families involved in the tragedy, we must also accept the truth of what transpired on April 20, 1999. Some supporters countered by insisting that the investigation was incorrect, and that Ms. Bernall really was the one who made the now-famous confession.

So what really happened? It seems that somebody stood up and acknowledged her belief in God “at the point of a gun” on that fateful day. But was it Cassie Bernall or Valeen Schnurr? This is a question that has intrigued me over the years, because I, like many Christians, have been greatly touched by the “She said ‘Yes’” incident.

I have done a small bit of reading and research on this, and although it appears now that it was Valeen Schnurr who actually had this famous exchange with the gunman, I am in no position to make any definitive, final judgments. I simply don’t know all the facts. But I do have a few thoughts.

First, the truth matters. The account of a modern day Christian martyr is a very powerful story, but I also believe it is wrong to pass off a story as true if it is not. In this case, three options exist: either Ms. Bernall said it, Ms. Schnurr said it, or it is truly undetermined (I am assuming that they both did not say it). If it is either of the last two, we—evangelicals included—should acknowledge it.

Second, I have come to believe that, in a sense, it doesn’t matter who said “Yes.” Don’t get me wrong here. As I said, I fully believe that the truth matters. What I’m saying here, though, is that whoever it was that said “Yes” is not the main story! To me, the main story is this—

Cassie Bernall was a young girl who was saved from a sinful life by placing her faith in Jesus Christ. Whether or not she had that specific conversation on that specific day, she is now in the presence of God for all eternity. Death has no power over her because she placed her faith in what Jesus Christ did some two thousand years ago. Sometimes as Christians we don’t find ourselves thinking or talking in these terms, but this is truly what we believe.

There is another part to the main story, however. That is, Valeen Schnurr, though her life was spared, apparently acknowledged God in an extreme situation. She survived that day, but did she know this when she was answering the gunman’s question? I think we would have to say that she did not.

I often have wondered what I would do if I ever had a gun pointed at me—literally—and was asked if I believe in God. My most sincere intention is that I would say, unhesitatingly, “Yes.” Maybe I would be shot and killed. Maybe I would be spared. But in the end, that’s not what matters. What ultimately matters is whether I am willing to acknowledge, in any situation, that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is Lord.

Easter reflections, part 3

When I was a boy I attended a small Methodist church a few minutes from our home in Pennsylvania. I can remember attending a Good Friday service one year. I was probably seven or eight years old. People looked somber. The atmosphere was sad and very quiet. The pastor talked about Jesus’ suffering and dying. Although I was just a little boy, I had a basic understanding of what was transpiring. However, what I remember thinking to myself over and over that day was, “Why do we call this Good Friday? What’s so good about it?”

Well, I suppose it doesn’t take too much thought to make sense of it. What’s good about it is not the excruciating suffering that Jesus endured, but rather that He did it for us, in our place, for the salvation of all who believe in Him. I think 2 Corinthians 5:21 sums it up really well: “God made Him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.” So as contradictory as it might seem, Good Friday is a somber day, yet a good day for those who believe in Christ Jesus.

When I reflect on Easter, I tend to go right to the end of each of the four gospels. After all, that is where the Passion story is recorded. But as the above-quoted verse reveals, the Passion story, and the interpretation thereof, appears all throughout Scripture. In fact, I’d like to sign off today by merely re-printing a passage that, when I think about it, ought to be required reading for all of us on Good Friday. It is Isaiah 53. To me, what is so absolutely stunning about this chapter of the Bible is that it was written about 700 years before Jesus lived, yet it depicts a man who:

(a) Was rejected and despised by men, and suffered and died;
(b) Had himself done nothing wrong;
(c) Died for our transgressions, because we are all sinners;
(d) Although dead, would somehow live again;
(e) Would be given some exalted position by God; and
(f) Will make intercession on our behalf so that we can be justified

Sounds a lot like the gospel, doesn’t it? Is it any wonder that Isaiah is sometimes referred to as “the fifth gospel?”

Here’s wishing you all a very Happy Easter.

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Isaiah 53

1 Who has believed our message and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?

2 He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground. He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.

3 He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

4 Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted.

5 But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.

6 We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

7 He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.

8 By oppression and judgment he was taken away. And who can speak of his descendants? For he was cut off from the land of the living; for the transgression of my people he was stricken.

9 He was assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death, though he had done no violence, nor was any deceit in his mouth.

10 Yet it was the Lord's will to crush him and cause him to suffer, and though the Lord makes his life a guilt offering, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the Lord will prosper in his hand.

11 After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life and be satisfied; by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many, and he will bear their iniquities.

12 Therefore I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong, because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.

Easter reflections, part 2

Why is it that the Christmas season lasts for a month, but the Easter season lasts only for a week or two at most? As I opined in my last blog entry, isn’t Easter the more significant holiday? Isn’t the death and resurrection of Jesus the most important event in Christianity, even in world history?

I was therefore ready to rant that the Easter season ought to be beefed up to reflect its relative importance. Let’s expand the focus on Easter as it approaches, maybe emphasize it for three or four weeks. Let’s make a bigger deal out of Palm Sunday. Let’s press for a national holiday coincident with Easter (I’ve always wondered why, with all of the holidays we have, and with all of the reasons for them, we do not have a national holiday on Good Friday or Easter Monday).

But as I progressed down this mental path, two significant roadblocks presented themselves. Maybe they are both obvious. The first is that, in our culture, an expansion of the Easter season would only mean an expansion of “commercial Easter”—more time for the Easter Bunny to appear at the mall, more time for Easter egg hunts, more time to sell chocolate eggs and bunnies in their pastel-colored wrappers, and more time to invent new traditions that have nothing to do with the death and resurrection of our Savior.

The second roadblock to the need to expand Easter is more significant, in my estimation. If you go to church at least semi-regularly, you have no doubt heard the reason before. That is, as Christians, the whole reason we worship on Sundays in the first place is to remember the resurrection of Jesus. We are to be celebrating Easter every week!

All four gospel accounts say that Jesus’ resurrection happened on the first day of the week (the day after the Sabbath). Later, during the time of the early church, Christians began the practice of meeting together on the first day of the week to commemorate the resurrection. This came to be known as “the Lord’s Day.” In 1 Corinthians 16:2, Paul gives instructions as to what the believers in Corinth should do on the “first day of the week,” implying that they gathered together on that day. In Revelation 1:10, John’s vision is given to him on “the Lord’s Day.” This practice of Christians gathering for worship on “the first day of the week” or “the Lord’s Day” is also found in other writings of the first and second century, and obviously continues to today.

The commercialization of Easter, like that of Christmas, is silly and is certainly deserving of light-hearted chiding. (For instance, how do you explain the association of the Easter bunny, who is a rabbit, with eggs? I don’t get it.) But I’m thankful that instead of meandering off on that tangent, I was instead reminded of how all of us ought to be viewing worship services each and every Sunday. It is the Lord’s Day, and we go to church every Sunday to celebrate Easter—the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Easter reflections, part 1

Yesterday was Palm Sunday, and the Easter season is upon us. It comes and goes pretty quickly, doesn’t it? Whereas in December, when we spend about a month gearing up for and celebrating Christmas (the birth of the Savior, or at least that’s what we’re supposed to be celebrating), Easter time is comparatively short. What’s more, Easter coincides with Spring Break at school and the NCAA basketball tournament, so perhaps it is easy to get distracted.

But when you think about it, from a Christian perspective, Easter is the most important holiday of the year. The birth of Jesus—that is, the incarnation of God Himself into human form—is remarkable and certainly warrants its due at Christmas, but Easter marks the event that in a sense defines Christianity itself. Without too much exaggeration, the resurrection of Jesus can be called the single most significant event in history, in that it validates the claims, teachings, and predictions of Jesus. Chief among these claims is that He is God’s Son, and that eternal life rests in us believing in Him.

I have determined this Easter to read and contemplate the Passion narratives in the Bible. When I have done this in the past, one thing that has always struck me is that the story contains details that I think we sometimes overlook. At least I do. Maybe I’m reading so fast that I mentally skip over phrases or sentences that are packed with significance. One example is the simple sentence “Then Pilate took Jesus and had Him flogged” (John 19:1). This snippet appears in the other gospel accounts as well. I’ll tell you, there have been times when I have been three or four verses down the road when I stopped and said to myself, “Whoa, wait a second. Did that just say that Jesus was flogged?” Without getting into all the gory details, flogging was an intensely brutal practice. By flying right by this short verse, I think we can miss the significance of how much Jesus suffered on our behalf.

Here’s another example of what I mean. It appears in the last part of John 19:15, which says:

“Shall I crucify your king?” Pilate asked.
“We have no king but Caesar,” the chief priests answered.

Again, in the past I have blown right by this verse without giving it too much thought. But as I contemplate it now, I find the reply of the chief priests to be shocking. The chief priests were the Jewish religious leaders of the day. And remember, they were trying to kill Jesus because of blasphemy—Jesus was claiming to be a king, claiming to have the rights and qualities of God. In other words, in the eyes of the chief priests, Jesus was claiming equality with Yahweh, the Creator God of Israel from the Old Testament. That God was the true king. Yet what did the chief priests say to Pontius Pilate? They said, “We have no king but Caesar.”

Let me express it this way. One might have expected the chief priests to say something like, “You know, this guy is claiming to be God, and as you are aware, Mr. Pilate, our ancient Scriptures tell us that the God of Israel is the one true God, the one we are supposed to love with all of our heart, soul, mind, and strength. God is our king, not this guy.” But instead they denied their God altogether, and swore allegiance to Caesar. Caesar! The unclean, Gentile, secular overlord of captive Israel! Wow. Now, I am aware that the Jewish leadership had in many ways strayed from their responsibilities of being the guardians of the Jewish belief in Yahweh. Yet when I ponder the chief priests’ cold, public denial of their God, and enthusiastic declaration of allegiance to Caesar, I find it shocking.

Much is made of the story of Peter’s denial of Jesus during the Passion story, and rightly so. Much can be learned from it. But much can be learned from the chief priests as well. You see, the chief priests were supposed to be the “guardians of the truth,” the ones pointing others to God, but instead they had devolved largely into advocates of rote tradition and religious rules. In doing so, they had actually fallen far away from God, as witnessed by their response to Pontius Pilate. Men who purportedly viewed God as the only king actually said, “We have no king but Caesar.”

Can harboring such an attitude happen to Christians today? Sadly, I believe it can and does. One of my prayers this Easter season is that I would not slip into habits of practicing religious rules and traditions, but rather that I would understand, acknowledge, and proclaim who God really is—and what He did by sending His own Son to earth. His Son, King Jesus.

I’m a real “why guy,” and here’s why

Do you remember the movie “I Spy,” starring Owen Wilson and Eddie Murphy? It came out about seven years ago. Wilson plays a spy on a special mission in Europe, trying to recover a stolen stealth aircraft. Murphy, playing a professional boxer (the middleweight champion, in fact) is asked to go under cover and stage a fight in Budapest in order to help catch the bad guys. It’s all done in the name of national security.

There is a scene in the movie where Wilson’s character is trying to convince the tentative boxer-turned-spy (Murphy) that the President was right in asking him to be a part of such a dangerous mission. Wilson inspires Murphy by telling him, “You know what you are? You are a ‘why not’ guy, not a ‘why guy.’” He explains that a “why guy” is always asking why, always asking permission. A “why guy” can never make a decision. A “why guy” is always afraid that he is going to get in trouble. As a result, “why guys” are not very assertive or brave, and ultimately do not lead very adventurous or satisfying lives.

This is not so for a “why not” guy like Murphy. A “why not” guy isn’t afraid to take a risk, roll the dice, live on the edge. A “why not” guy doesn’t have to feel bound by the rules. He goes for the gusto. He lives an exciting life. When faced with the question of whether or not to embark on a questionable venture, he tells himself, “Why not?”

On many occasions I have found myself pondering this particular interchange from this particular movie. The reason for this is that I have always considered myself a “why guy,” and this scene certainly paints “why guys” in an unflattering light. What brought the issue to my mind most recently is my previous blog entry concerning pet peeves. If you recall, I told you that I am the type of person who tends to have a lot of pet peeves. I’m not always proud of it, but I do. Sometimes I actually get a bit peeved that I have so many peeves. Maddening.

I got to thinking, why do I have so many pet peeves? I believe that when it comes right down to it, the main reason is because I am a “why guy.” I always find myself asking “Why?” (like asking why I have so many pet peeves . . .) I find myself contemplating why people do the things they do, say the things they say, and act the way they act. Deep down inside, I am curious as to why people are the way they are, especially when I observe how often people (and I include myself) don’t behave in ways that make sense.

If you read my blog, you know that the “why” question is part of my shtick. Why, in the 21st century, do we still say “Bless you” when someone sneezes? Why do we have all sorts of new knowledge these days, like the Southern Ocean and the fourth state of matter? Why do we feel the need to comment when we walk past someone carrying donuts?

Yes, being a “why guy” can drive me crazy sometimes. And I admit it has its dangers. It has the potential to impede timely decision-making. It has the potential to come across as whining, complaining, or being judgmental. And it certainly isn’t sexy, at least in the eyes of the world. How does a “why guy” take the bull by the horns, go for the gusto, etc., etc.?

Here’s my response: Despite the potential pitfalls, of which I am quite aware, being a “why guy” goes right to the very core of my personal life philosophy—a philosophy governed by my Christian faith. You see, I believe that the ultimate reason we are here on earth is to worship God and give glory to Him . . . in everything that we do. Everything. And if that’s the case, I need to approach every situation, from the most significant aspects of my life down to the minutest detail, with that in mind. Thus, in every situation, I should ask the question “Why?”—as in, does this make sense in the context of my lifelong goal to please and glorify God in all things? If it doesn’t make sense, then I am, in a very real sense, wasting my time. It might look like I’m sucking the marrow out of life, throwing caution to the wind, living on the edge, or however you want to express it, but in reality I’m just wasting time. And our days here on earth are too short to be wasting any time. I ask “why” precisely because I don’t want to waste time, but rather, I want every moment to be filled with the excitement that comes from living with a purpose. That is the path to "living with gusto,” as our culture puts it.

Thus I disagree with the “why not” approach, even though it seems so attractive. Some of the reasons not to be a “why not” guy are obvious. A “why not” guy is less concerned (or not concerned at all) with the morality and ethics associated with his actions, or the consequences of his choices, or how an action might hurt someone else. But my biggest objection to the “why not” guy is that although he appears to be living life to the fullest, he is actually wasting time by not considering how his decisions connect to the overall purpose of his life. For me, it is clear that that purpose is properly derived from a relationship with God.

As I pursue what God has called me to do, particularly in the area of my profession, I feel an immense freedom, vitality, and satisfaction. And, one of the reasons for this, I believe, is because I have sincerely tried to ask the question “Why?” Why do I do, think, and act the way I do in every situation, and is it directed to the end of glorifying God?

You can safely assume that because I am not perfect, I mess up every day in this regard. But, as a result of this life philosophy, I am convinced that I am not wasting a lot of time in my life, and that my life has meaning and purpose. I’m not a super spy. I’m not Jack Bauer. But this “why guy” has a passion in life and a fire to do what God has called him to do. And I’ll tell you, nary a day goes by where I don’t feel the rush of exhilaration one gets after riding a roller coaster.

A helpful insight from C. S. Lewis

“Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.” -- Psalm 90:2

If you believe in God, you probably believe in the idea that He is eternal. That is, one of His attributes, or qualities, is that He has always existed. He has no beginning and no ending. He exists, in a sense, outside of time as we know it. He is infinite.

But, how often have you really stopped to think about the profundity of this assertion? In our culture, we are familiar with statements such as “The universe is 4.6 billion years old, and began with the Big Bang,” or “A nuclear exchange between the United States and the Soviet Union during the Cold War would have brought the world to an end.” Regardless of the factuality of these statements, the idea that God is eternal goes way beyond this. That is, if God is truly infinite and eternal, then 4.6 billion years isn’t even a drop in the bucket with regard to how long God has existed.

Sometimes my head starts to hurt--quite literally--when I try to get my arms around this idea. Our difficulty, of course, lies in the fact that we human beings cannot comprehend infinity, nor can we comprehend the notion that God exists outside of our “time-space continuum,” so to speak.

In his book Mere Christianity, the great C. S. Lewis provided an example that, while not perfect, helps us to understand how God can be thought of as eternal or existing outside of time.

Lewis asks us to imagine a novelist and a character in his novel, “Mary.” Imagine a scene in the novel where Mary is sitting on the sofa reading. Then there is a knock on the door. Mary gets up and answers the door. Now, as the novelist is writing, he could put down his pencil at the point where there is a knock on the door, go do something else for three hours, then come back and write that Mary answers the door.

The point Lewis is trying to make is that in Mary’s “world,” absolutely no time has elapsed between the knock on the door and her getting up to answer it. But in our world, three hours have elapsed. The world of the novelist exists “outside of time” with respect to Mary’s world. Mary can “live her entire life,” if you will, and not be affected one bit by the timing of our world (consider, for instance, that the novelist could write the book in three days, or thirty years). In a sense, the novelist is “eternal” in comparison to Mary.

Now, as I said (and as Lewis would have undoubtedly admitted), this example should not be taken too far. First of all, obviously, we know that the novelist is not eternal in the way God is. The novelist is a human being like us. Second, Lewis is not suggesting that God interrupts the natural flow of events in our lives with three-hour breaks. And third, in this example, Mary has no way of really knowing the novelist. He is not revealed to her in any way. But in our case, God has revealed Himself to us in the form of the Bible. The Bible is where we can find out who God is, what He is like (His nature and attributes), and how we can know Him.

Despite these caveats, Lewis’ example has been very helpful to me in sorting out the idea that God is eternal and exists “outside of time” to us. My head still hurts when I think about it too much, but maybe just a little less now.

In closing, I’d say that one area where this example has helped me in a practical sense is the way I think about my future. Like many Christians, I am concerned about following “God’s will” for my life. I want to make God-honoring decisions with respect to my family, church, career, etc. These decisions can be gut-wrenching at times. But Lewis’ example of the novelist and Mary, teamed with the biblical teaching of God as the “I AM” has led me to contemplate what theologians call the “eternal now.” That is, God not only knows my future, He is already there. He is eternally present.

Do you follow what I am saying? God IS two hundred years ago. God IS the day I was born. God IS today. And God IS next week, next month, and next year. He is there. Don’t get me wrong, I am in no way saying that I am merely an automaton with no measure of free will. I believe God has given us that. What I’m saying is that when I face difficult decisions and uncertainties in life—some of which will affect me and my family in very profound ways—I feel an overwhelming sense of comfort, stability, and most of all thankfulness to know that God IS.

What do you know?

I left off the other day posing the question of whether bees eat honey, or if they merely make honey. The question was prompted by the James Taylor lyric, “How sweet it is to be loved by you . . . just like honey to the bee, babe.” I said that perhaps the lyric should be, “just like honey to the human.”

My sister, a budding bee-keeper, informed me that bees indeed eat honey in addition to making it. Thus it would appear that the lyric is okay. But in order to be fully satisfied in my mind, I have to ask one more question. Sure, bees eat honey. But do they think that honey is sweet? For if bees consider honey to be sweet, then the lyric of the song is totally appropriate—your love for me is so sweet, it’s “just like honey to the bee, babe.” But if bees don’t think honey is sweet, well, then the lyric just doesn’t work.

Now, here is where I transition from silliness to serious thoughts.

How can we ever know if bees think that honey is sweet? They can’t speak to us to confirm it. They have no other ways of direct communication. I’m going to suggest that we can’t know for sure if bees think honey is sweet. But I admit I’m not a scientist, nor a bee-ologist. I suppose it’s possible to run some scientific experiments, or make some inferences based on human or bee behavior, that could help us answer this question. But ultimately, we can’t get inside a little bee-brain and know for sure whether the bee thinks that honey is sweet.

Regardless of the answer to the bee/honey question, contemplating this idea led me to another thought, and admittedly, it is not original. That is, despite our high level of technology and advanced scientific know-how, there are some things that just can’t be known by way of science. The bee/honey situation is a silly instance, but let me give you another, more serious example of what I mean.

Suppose I were to ask: How did the universe come into existence? Many, perhaps most, might answer that a few billion years ago there was a “big bang” that set in motion the natural forces and processes that started the universe. I would then ask: Okay, well, what caused the big bang? And one might come up with an explanation. But I would then ask: Well, what caused that? And so on, and so on.

You see, scientific theories such as the big bang, evolution, etc., may or may not be true, but one thing they can’t do is allow us to know how it all started. We can always go back one more step in “history” and ask how that event occurred. (All this, by the way, is basically one of Thomas Aquinas’ arguments for the existence of God, which he postulated back in the 13th century. God is the “first mover.”)

Obviously, science can be very useful. I tend to be a fan of science, especially when I have a bad headache and need to pop a few Tylenol, or whenever the use of a combustible engine makes my life easier. But it has its limits. There are some things that we just can’t know through science.

As you know from reading my blog, I am a Christian. I believe in God. I believe that God created the universe. It probably wouldn’t surprise you to know that in my life, I have spoken to people who do not believe in God, and feel that the idea of a supernatural creator is a fairy tale, or a crutch for intellectual laziness, or not in keeping with established scientific “facts.” But when I think about what honey tastes like to the bee, or what caused the alleged big bang, or the mysteries of the nonmaterial parts of a human being (like the soul), I come to the conclusion that science can give only limited answers. To me, it makes just as much sense, if not more, to think that there is a Creator who made the universe and governs and preserves it, than to think that a big bang just happened one day for no apparent reason.

Of course, if one believes in a God who created and sustains the universe, then there is another inescapable and sometimes uncomfortable question: If there is such a God, how should I relate to Him?

To improve, or not to improve, part 3

Let me start today by asking you a question. Why do you love your spouse? Let me share two possible answers that I could give.

First answer: I love my wife because when I get home from work, she cooks dinner—and she is a great cook. She does all of my laundry. She runs the kids here and there, does all of the grocery shopping, and keeps track of everybody’s schedule. Oh, and she cleans the house.

Second answer: I love my wife because she has integrity. She is honest, kind, and truly caring. She loves the Lord very much and sets a positive Christian example for our sons. She is extremely loving, understanding, and forgiving of my many faults. Also, she is very pretty. She is beautiful, both “on the inside and the outside.”

Hopefully you can identify the key difference between the two answers (both of which are true), but I’ll say it anyway. The first answer focuses on what my wife does for me, while the second answer focuses on her virtues or attributes—who she is.

I finished Part 2 of this mini-series by asking how and why a church, or an individual Christian, can and should improve in its/his/her spiritual growth. I’m not going to focus too much on the question of why . . . perhaps I’ll take that up in some future blog entry. Suffice it to say for now that the Bible teaches that we should be growing and maturing in our Christian faith (see Hebrews 5:12 and 2 Peter 3:18 for starters). Instead, I want to focus for a few minutes on the question of how we can and should improve in our Christian lives.

Now, if you’ve read my profile, or my personal story (series of blog entries starting last September), you know that I have a passion for studying and teaching the Bible. So it should be no surprise that my answer to how Christians should improve in their spiritual growth is by studying the Bible. If you want to know who God is, study the Book that tells us all about Him, right? However, there is an important caveat here. You see, there are different approaches that one can take in learning about God by studying the Bible. And two of these approaches parallel the question I asked above.

On the one hand, we can look at all of the wonderful stuff God did for people in the Bible, and apply that to ourselves. I call this the “magic genie” approach. God is our magic genie in a bottle who is there to do a lot of stuff for me (or our church). God is the one who gives me a house, and a car, and a job. God is the one who makes me feel better when I’m sick, or helps my son to get good grades so he can get into a good college. Some of these things are no doubt sincere desires and worthy to be taken before God in prayer. But do you see how it all centers around what God does for me?

On the other hand, we can get to know God more and more intimately by studying what the Bible says about His attributes—who He is. God is holy. He is perfect. He is our creator and sustainer. He is just. He is angry. He is jealous. He is eternal. He is omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient. He is triune.

Do you see how the second approach can lead to a much more substantial and vibrant Christian life? The more we find out about God, the more we want to learn. And the more we learn about Him, the more we love Him. And the more we love Him, the more we want to serve Him. And the more we serve Him, the more glory He receives and the more mature we become as Christians.

And before you know it, the church—individual Christians and the corporate body—is experiencing unbounded spiritual growth. In other words, Little Grove Church is no longer the same today as it was five years ago. To bring my story full circle, you will recall me saying back in Part 1 that my 5k and 10k running times did not improve because I didn’t do the things necessary to experience improvement. Studying the Bible with an eye toward learning more intimately who God is will cause a church to experience spiritual growth and improvement.

In my view, the best way to achieve this is by teaching Christian theology and doctrine. This probably sounds boring to most people. After all, churches are flooded these days with “Bible studies” about parenting, divorce recovery, financial management, you name it. And don’t get me wrong. I think some of these types of studies are legitimate and even necessary. But again, they ultimately focus on what God can do for me, not who God is.

The study of theology and doctrine starts with the question, “Who is God?”, and moves on from there. It introduces, or reintroduces a person to God and sets him or her on the path to knowing and loving Him more and more intimately for who He is. It’s by no means the only answer to the question of how a church can experience spiritual growth and improvement, but it sure is a huge step in the right direction.

To improve, or not to improve, part 2

There is a church in Little Grove, Tennessee, that to most outside observers is a pretty robust, active church. The church has been around for a few decades and most people in the community have heard of the church and its pastor. It has several hundred members. It has a sixty person choir, a praise band, a sizeable youth group, several Sunday School classes, and lots of programs for the children. Oh, and lest we forget, Little Grove Church has “fellowship”—which is code for a seemingly endless stream of events involving the consumption of much food.

Now, is there anything wrong with what is going on at Little Grove church? Maybe yes, maybe no. You see, the thing is, if we were to look at things there five years ago, we would give a very similar description of the church and its ministries. Its membership has not substantially changed since 2005. Neither has the size of the choir or youth group or most Sunday School classes. But looking at the situation in terms of numbers is merely an exercise in bean counting. What is of greater concern is whether the spiritual atmosphere at Little Grove has improved at all in the past five years. Sadly, at Little Grove, and at many churches in America, one year goes by . . . three years go by . . . five years go by . . . and there is often not a lot of discernable spiritual growth or improvement. Why is this?

Well, I think that some of the reasons are similar to those I mentioned last time pertaining to my lack of improvement in running 5k and 10k races. You will recall that I made three observations about myself. First, I have periodic surges in enthusiasm that quickly wane. Second, running just isn’t a high enough priority in my life. And third, the training that I do is inadequate to achieve results that would show marked improvement.

Little Grove Church has periodic surges of enthusiasm. Every summer they have “revival week.” Every so often they have campaigns to invite more people into the choir, or give more in the offering plate. But these initiatives rarely result in lasting or continual improvement.

Also, at Little Grove, though it’s tough to admit, many don’t hold church life and spiritual growth as a real priority in life. Many of the kids have AAU baseball tournaments on Sundays, others stay home from church to work on house projects they didn’t get done on Saturday. And during the week, people are involved in numerous activities—many of them very worthy endeavors—that preclude hard study of the Bible or developing more intimate relationships with other believers. Other priorities tend to crowd out the time that it would take to make great strides in spiritual growth.

In short, like my 5k and 10k races, Little Grove Church does much of the same stuff year after year, and gets the same results. My question is, is this how a church should be? Should a church be content to be the same today as it was five years ago? And by extension, should a Christian be content to be the same today is he or she was five years ago?

As you might guess, my conviction is that of all people, Christians—those who have a real, personal relationship with the God of this entire universe—should not be stagnant in their spiritual growth. This is not to say that there are not hills and valleys in one’s spiritual journey, or times of exponential growth as opposed to relative plateaus. But in general, I think that Christians—individually and corporately as the church—ought to be actively, discernably improving. I should not be the same Christian that I was five years ago. And Little Grove Church should not be the same church that it was five years ago.

At this point, some additional legitimate questions can be raised, such as why I think that these assertions about Christian living are true, and how best to implement them in one’s life (and the life of a church). I will take up these questions and finish up this mini-series in Part 3.

To improve, or not to improve, part 1

Over the past few years, I have run in about a half a dozen races. I do about one or two a year. Most have been 5k runs, and one was a 10k (the Richmond Monument 10k, a very fun experience). I was a runner and wrestler in high school, but after that, my days as an athlete were over. So any running I do now is merely for trying to keep in shape, and to have fun (if you want to read some interesting stories about a real-life amateur athlete, check out http://jimsoccernut.blogspot.com).

One thing I’ve noticed in the races that I’ve run is that my results have not really improved. It’s not a big deal to me, except for the brief period of time at the very end of the race, and for a few weeks thereafter. It is during those times when I think to myself, “I can run faster than this. I can improve my time. Next time I’m going to train harder, and longer. I’ll eat better. I may never reach my high school times, but I’m sure I can shave several minutes off of what I’m doing now.”

But alas, no improvement. Why not? Well, allow me to be brutally honest.

First of all, the initial surge of enthusiasm and increased dedication always wanes. On a few occasions, after a 5k race, I have continued “training” at an elevated level for a few weeks, but my eagerness fades away, usually after two or three weeks. If I could continue that increased level of effort, and continue building over time, there is no doubt in my mind that my performance in races would improve markedly.

Second, and related to the first (and remaining brutally honest), I don’t improve because improvement in my running times just isn’t a high enough priority in my life. And in the final analysis, I’m okay with that. Earlier in my adult life, I wanted to run a marathon someday. But now I’ve revised that goal, and I can honestly say that my goal is never to run one (very achievable, wouldn’t you say?). There are things in my life—family, teaching, church, studies, etc.—that tend to crowd out the time that it would take for me to make great strides in my running.

Third, if I take an honest look at the “training” that I do, it’s pretty underwhelming. I hit the treadmill at work twice a week. More than that is untenable with my current schedule. And while I try to watch what I eat, I’m not nearly as careful as I ought to be. I still indulge in lots of food that a “runner” should not eat, including way too much restaurant meals.

So, here’s the bottom line. I think I could improve my race results if I really wanted to—if I really put my mind to it. But I don’t do the things necessary to improve. Year after year, I run a race, have temporary good intentions, increase my dedication a little bit, and then slowly slip back to where I started. Running does not take a high enough priority in my life to do otherwise.

As a result, year after year, I get the same results.

Now, at this point you might be asking, “Dave, why are you telling us all this about your running? Surely you must be using this as an example to drive to some larger point, right?”

Well, if you asked this, you would be right. I’ll elaborate in “Part 2,” and end today’s entry with a “to be continued . . .”

Ecclesionomy vs. Ephesians, part 2

Herb Brooks, the coach of the 1980 “Miracle on Ice” USA Olympic hockey team, was known for his motivational and sometimes off-the-wall quotes. One of my favorites is when he would tell his team, “You think you can win on talent alone? Gentlemen, you don’t have enough talent to win on talent alone.”

In part 1 of “Ecclesionomy vs. Ephesians,” (Dec. 28th blog entry), I took up the issue of faith vs. works in Christianity. This was a follow-up to a previous (silly) blog where I quoted from the book of “Ecclesionomy” and discussed whether children need to do good works in order to receive presents from Santa Claus, or if they merely need to believe (have faith) in him.

In part 1, I posed the question: If salvation, or going to heaven, is based on good works, then how many good works does it take? Ten per day for the rest of your life? More than the next guy? Remember that the Bible describes God as divine, holy, and perfect—and His standard for us is holiness and perfection. This puts us in a bit of a bind, since the Bible also says that we humans are not perfect (i.e. we are all sinners). If I may paraphrase Herb Brooks: You think you can get to heaven by good works? Ladies and Gentlemen, you can’t do enough good works to make it to heaven on good works.

As discussed, Ephesians 2:8-10 (among other biblical passages) gives us the answer. Verses 8 and 9 say, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.” We are saved by accepting the free gift of God’s grace, and we do so by placing our faith in God. “Faith in God” means believing that God sent His Son, Jesus, to the earth to live a perfect life, pay the penalty for our sins by dying on a cross, and being raised again to life.

That’s all well and good, you might say. But based on that, it sounds like a person can profess to have “faith,” accepting this gift of “grace,” then simply go back to the sofa, eat chips, drink soda, watch reality TV, and never do a good deed for the rest of his or her life. What is the role of good works? Certainly part of Christianity is living a good, moral life, right?

This is where Ephesians 2:10 comes in. It says, “For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” There are three key points here.

First, we are all a special creation of God, His “workmanship.” Thus He has established a relationship with humankind.

Second, we are created anew in Christ Jesus when we place our faith in Him as described previously. Notice that we “do good works” as a result of this experience, not as a prerequisite to earn it.

And third, this is God’s will. God has actually “prepared in advance” for us to do good works.

So, the Christian does good works as a loving response to the loving gift of God’s grace, not as a means to earn God’s favor. We don’t act “well behaved” all year in order to receive “presents.” Rather, we do good deeds because as Christians, we are in effect a brand new person—a “new creation” (see 2 Corinthians 5:17), doing the good works that God has prepared for us to do.

Obviously, this discussion only scratches the surface of the “faith vs. works” question. We could continue all day and look at many other important passages in the Bible, such as the second chapter of James, and as I mentioned, the fifth chapter of 2 Corinthians.

But let me finish by saying this. I think you will agree that there are many religions out there today that have at their root the idea that people have to earn their salvation—that they somehow have to appease or please their deity whom they may or may not know. Folks, that is not the gospel of the Christian faith. If you are trying to earn salvation through good works, you will never, ever get there. Christianity maintains that a person is saved by the grace of a God who we can know, because He created us and has established a relationship with us. What we must do is place our faith in Him.

Ecclesionomy vs. Ephesians, part 1

If you’ve been reading my blog, you’ve noticed that before Christmas I had a little fun with something I called “Fractured Christmas Bible studies.” One of these studies focused on whether children need to do good works in order to get presents from Santa Claus, or if they merely need to believe, or have faith, in him.

I’d like to elaborate on this idea a little (with all joking aside), because this raises the real-world question of whether one needs to do good works in order to get to heaven, or merely believe (have faith) in Jesus. One of the best biblical passages on this matter is Ephesians 2:8-10, so I will use that as a basis for my discussion, with an assist from other sections of the Bible.

Ephesians 2:8-10

8 For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—

9 not by works, so that no one can boast.

10 For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

Verse 8 makes it clear that a person is saved by grace. Saved means that a person is forgiven of his sins, given a new status as a child of God, and will spend eternity with Him after he dies. Grace means that this salvation is unearned, in that there is nothing a person can do in terms of human effort to receive it. As verse 8 says, this grace is “the gift of God.”

Verse 9 makes the point even more clearly. Salvation is not by works. Let me put it this way. If God really is a divine, perfect being, and your salvation depended on doing good works, then how many good works would it take to get to heaven? A million? Ten per day for the rest of your life? How could we even define the requirement for good deeds, knowing that God is the perfect, almighty creator of the universe? In my view, this defines the human predicament. There is no way any of us can do enough good works to satisfy a perfect God.

So if we can’t earn our way into heaven through human effort, then how do we get there? Let’s go back to verse 8 for a second. It is through faith. Faith means placing our trust, or believing, in God. What’s more, the verses preceding these in Ephesians 2 (as well as many other Bible passages, such as 1 Corinthians 15:1-8 and Romans 10:9) make it clear that “saving” faith in God involves believing that His Son, Jesus, died on a cross and was subsequently raised from the dead.

Salvation, then, does not come by doing good works, but by placing one’s faith in God by believing in Jesus Christ—that is, believing that Jesus was God made flesh (what we celebrate at Christmas), that He lived a perfect life, died in our place though He was totally innocent of any wrongdoing, and was raised to life again, defeating death.

But this might logically raise a very important question in one’s mind. If a person is saved by faith alone, what then is the role of “good works?” Certainly, a Christian is supposed to live a good life, right? He’s not supposed to live in an immoral, unethical, selfish, or evil way. I will elaborate on this question in an upcoming blog entry.