The other morning my five-year-old daughter asked me if we could listen to the sunrise. She wanted to look for the sun to rise—specifically to see if it had spikes on it like in the cartoons. We watched while the sky turned from black to grey to light blue. Then she told me to listen to the sunrise. She wasn’t listening to the celestial object move across the sky. We listened to birds begin their songs. We listened to the nearby dogs and cats begin to explore in the early daylight. We listened to the wind rustle through the trees. We listened to the events of the sunrise.
I am amazed by the small things that we seem to miss when the big things go on around us. Now that it is spring time there is much to consider in this realm. Spring thunderstorms roll through our area and we all talk about the rain. But we don’t often notice the new life on the trees or the flowers of the fields that follow such rains. We may notice the days getting longer, but we don’t look for the new life that the extra hours of sun bring. When I do take time to notice such things I often wonder how I missed them before.
The Bible tells an interesting story about Jesus on the Sunday before the crucifixion. One week before Jesus rose from the dead, He rode into town on a humble donkey colt. His followers shouted his praises as He rode down into the Kidron Valley and up the opposite hill into Jerusalem. Some real self-righteous thinking religious leaders told Jesus to silence His followers. He told them He couldn’t. If they stopped praising what God was doing, then the very rocks would cry out. What if we stopped thanking God for what He has done in our midst? The stories of the Bible and history tell us that God always has a witness to speak on His behalf. As I “hear” the things of creation lift up praise to God, I wonder how loudly they would cry out if we stopped? Will we let the rocks take our rightful place?
This Sunday let's engage in a conversation about those silent stones.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
We want to see Jesus
If someone asked you to show them Jesus, what would you say? What would the picture look like? How would you do it? Maybe a picture from a children’s Bible—you know the smiling Jesus who pats little kids on the head. Maybe the morose Jesus in the coffee table Bible who looks all somber and serious.
The book of John tells us about some people who were not yet followers of Jesus who came to Philip—one of Jesus closest followers. They told Philip that they wanted to see Jesus. So Philip goes to the master and tells him that he has some people who want to see him. John doesn’t tell us if Jesus invites them in or if he goes out to see them. But what he does tell us is important. Jesus responses with some vivid language on what he would do to show himself to the world. He talks about how a seed is planted. In order for it bring life, it must die. This, he says is why he came—to die to bring life.
Do you want to see Jesus? What are the things we must die to in order follow him? What is the life Jesus is trying to bring to us? We’ll talk about these things and more this Sunday. Would you join me as we go to see Jesus?
The book of John tells us about some people who were not yet followers of Jesus who came to Philip—one of Jesus closest followers. They told Philip that they wanted to see Jesus. So Philip goes to the master and tells him that he has some people who want to see him. John doesn’t tell us if Jesus invites them in or if he goes out to see them. But what he does tell us is important. Jesus responses with some vivid language on what he would do to show himself to the world. He talks about how a seed is planted. In order for it bring life, it must die. This, he says is why he came—to die to bring life.
Do you want to see Jesus? What are the things we must die to in order follow him? What is the life Jesus is trying to bring to us? We’ll talk about these things and more this Sunday. Would you join me as we go to see Jesus?
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Retracing the Story--An Unequal Exchange
When I was around 10 years old or so we lived in a great neighborhood with many kids. We always had plenty of kids for a football game, complex bicycle stunt shows, or the latest club we had schemed up that week. Our street sloped up a hill and at the top of the hill was Mr. Barber’s yard. He had about 5 acres of neatly mown lawn. All the neighborhood kids were welcome to play in his yard. It was the center of all our childhood devices. Next to the open land was a small stand of woods. There we made forts and defended our neighborhood from imaginary raiders—as soon as school was out, of course.
My friend Pete’s parents were remodeling parts of their house and his dad gave us the old medicine cabinet, sink base cabinet and other cool things for a new fort in the woods. We took great pride in hauling all that stuff down the hill. We had a great fort. It was the envy of any group of kids in the whole town. After just a few short weeks, our fort was destroyed and defaced. Someone had broken all of our things and written horrible things on them. We were crushed.
In my anger I rallied the “gang” against John. John didn’t live on our street. He lived a few houses down on a connecting street. He was something of an outsider in the tight-knit group of our street. Obviously, in my warped logic, John was to blame because he wasn’t in our group right now. He must have been mad about it and destroyed our beloved fort.
John’s dad confronted me on his behalf about my accusations. I was stunned. My bluff had been called and my baseless claims were exposed. I apologized to John, but I had done damage that I don’t think I was ever undone.
Looking back, blaming John really didn’t make any sense, it was just convenient. Our little woods backed up to the fence of the Middle School. It is quite possible that someone from the school saw our hideaway and did the damage. But I wanted someone to blame—and John was nearby. The other neighborhood kids jumped on the bandwagon of blame. John was an unequal exchange—the scapegoat for crimes he didn’t commit.
This week I begin a series of sermons on “Retracing the Story” of Jesus. We begin with “An Unequal Exchange.” In my story, John didn’t bear the punishment of the crime, but we sure tried. Jesus did bear the punishment—for crimes he didn’t commit. Would you retrace the story with me? You see I want to tell John I’m sorry—and I don’t want to make such an exchange again. But I hear the crowds in Jerusalem shouting, “Punish Him! Punish Him!” And the answer is, “But he didn’t do anything.” The crowd shouts only louder, “Punish Him!” And the innocent is exchanged…and equality is mocked.
My friend Pete’s parents were remodeling parts of their house and his dad gave us the old medicine cabinet, sink base cabinet and other cool things for a new fort in the woods. We took great pride in hauling all that stuff down the hill. We had a great fort. It was the envy of any group of kids in the whole town. After just a few short weeks, our fort was destroyed and defaced. Someone had broken all of our things and written horrible things on them. We were crushed.
In my anger I rallied the “gang” against John. John didn’t live on our street. He lived a few houses down on a connecting street. He was something of an outsider in the tight-knit group of our street. Obviously, in my warped logic, John was to blame because he wasn’t in our group right now. He must have been mad about it and destroyed our beloved fort.
John’s dad confronted me on his behalf about my accusations. I was stunned. My bluff had been called and my baseless claims were exposed. I apologized to John, but I had done damage that I don’t think I was ever undone.
Looking back, blaming John really didn’t make any sense, it was just convenient. Our little woods backed up to the fence of the Middle School. It is quite possible that someone from the school saw our hideaway and did the damage. But I wanted someone to blame—and John was nearby. The other neighborhood kids jumped on the bandwagon of blame. John was an unequal exchange—the scapegoat for crimes he didn’t commit.
This week I begin a series of sermons on “Retracing the Story” of Jesus. We begin with “An Unequal Exchange.” In my story, John didn’t bear the punishment of the crime, but we sure tried. Jesus did bear the punishment—for crimes he didn’t commit. Would you retrace the story with me? You see I want to tell John I’m sorry—and I don’t want to make such an exchange again. But I hear the crowds in Jerusalem shouting, “Punish Him! Punish Him!” And the answer is, “But he didn’t do anything.” The crowd shouts only louder, “Punish Him!” And the innocent is exchanged…and equality is mocked.
Friday, March 06, 2009
We're going to make it
I am working on a message this week about operating in God’s economy. God’s economy doesn’t work like our economy. In our economy, we can only operate on the things we see. We try to make forecasts and predictions. Everything has to make sense even before we can begin.
Not so with God’s economy. In God’s economy, we act in faith. We act with the long term in mind. We act with the interest of others in mind first. When we operate in that economy those around us are enriched. We are too are enriched—far beyond what we could ever hope or imagine.
So in the week that I’m preparing this, the stock market tanks 300+ points twice, GM says it probably won’t make it, and AIG is still looking for billions of dollars. It looks like the economy around us is falling apart before our very eyes. I have to admit that sometimes those little nagging doubts creep in my head too. “You’re preparing this message, and the visible evidence seems otherwise. Do you really believe what you’re trying to say?” That’s how it went in my head—over and over again.
The other day, a couple of friends and I were relating stories of our grandparents’ generation. We told stories of the Great Depression. How our grandparents did the best they could with what they had. They learned to use the blessings they had been given—from the simple to the profound. They knew how to rely on their sense of how to grow a garden, to rely on each other as a family, to be frugal, to remember our ultimate source of our blessings in God. And this light bulb went off in my head. It sent those shadows of doubt away. It was, quite simply, “We’re going to make it.” I’ve heard that before and I’ve said it before. But it was a truth that drove down even deeper. We’re going to make it. We aren’t the first to face tough times. We aren’t the first ones to feel uncertainty. And more importantly, we aren’t alone. God is with us.
So I pray this week that I’ll remember how to operate in God’s economy. May I act in faith, to act with the long term in mind, to act with the interest of others first. May I not get caught up in what the numbers on a TV screen say as they float around screaming “experts.” May I look to the One who is far more than I can ever hope or imagine. May I always answer those creeping doubts with this simple truth: “We’re going to make it.”
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Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Silent Stones
The other morning my five-year-old daughter asked me if we could listen to the sunrise. She wanted to look for the sun to rise—specifically to see if it had spikes on it like in the cartoons. We watched while the sky turned from black to grey to light blue. Then she told me to listen to the sunrise. She wasn’t listening to the celestial object move across the sky. We listened to birds begin their songs. We listened to the nearby dogs and cats begin to explore in the early daylight. We listened to the wind rustle through the trees. We listened to the events of the sunrise.
I am amazed by the small things that we seem to miss when the big things go on around us. Now that it is spring time there is much to consider in this realm. Spring thunderstorms roll through our area and we all talk about the rain. But we don’t often notice the new life on the trees or the flowers of the fields that follow such rains. We may notice the days getting longer, but we don’t look for the new life that the extra hours of sun bring. When I do take time to notice such things I often wonder how I missed them before.
The Bible tells an interesting story about Jesus on the Sunday before the crucifixion. One week before Jesus rose from the dead, He rode into town on a humble donkey colt. His followers shouted his praises as He rode down into the Kidron Valley and up the opposite hill into Jerusalem. Some real self-righteous thinking religious leaders told Jesus to silence His followers. He told them He couldn’t. If they stopped praising what God was doing, then the very rocks would cry out. What if we stopped thanking God for what He has done in our midst? The stories of the Bible and history tell us that God always has a witness to speak on His behalf. As I “hear” the things of creation lift up praise to God, I wonder how loudly they would cry out if we stopped? Will we let the rocks take our rightful place?
This Sunday let's engage in a conversation about those silent stones.
I am amazed by the small things that we seem to miss when the big things go on around us. Now that it is spring time there is much to consider in this realm. Spring thunderstorms roll through our area and we all talk about the rain. But we don’t often notice the new life on the trees or the flowers of the fields that follow such rains. We may notice the days getting longer, but we don’t look for the new life that the extra hours of sun bring. When I do take time to notice such things I often wonder how I missed them before.
The Bible tells an interesting story about Jesus on the Sunday before the crucifixion. One week before Jesus rose from the dead, He rode into town on a humble donkey colt. His followers shouted his praises as He rode down into the Kidron Valley and up the opposite hill into Jerusalem. Some real self-righteous thinking religious leaders told Jesus to silence His followers. He told them He couldn’t. If they stopped praising what God was doing, then the very rocks would cry out. What if we stopped thanking God for what He has done in our midst? The stories of the Bible and history tell us that God always has a witness to speak on His behalf. As I “hear” the things of creation lift up praise to God, I wonder how loudly they would cry out if we stopped? Will we let the rocks take our rightful place?
This Sunday let's engage in a conversation about those silent stones.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
We want to see Jesus
If someone asked you to show them Jesus, what would you say? What would the picture look like? How would you do it? Maybe a picture from a children’s Bible—you know the smiling Jesus who pats little kids on the head. Maybe the morose Jesus in the coffee table Bible who looks all somber and serious.
The book of John tells us about some people who were not yet followers of Jesus who came to Philip—one of Jesus closest followers. They told Philip that they wanted to see Jesus. So Philip goes to the master and tells him that he has some people who want to see him. John doesn’t tell us if Jesus invites them in or if he goes out to see them. But what he does tell us is important. Jesus responses with some vivid language on what he would do to show himself to the world. He talks about how a seed is planted. In order for it bring life, it must die. This, he says is why he came—to die to bring life.
Do you want to see Jesus? What are the things we must die to in order follow him? What is the life Jesus is trying to bring to us? We’ll talk about these things and more this Sunday. Would you join me as we go to see Jesus?
The book of John tells us about some people who were not yet followers of Jesus who came to Philip—one of Jesus closest followers. They told Philip that they wanted to see Jesus. So Philip goes to the master and tells him that he has some people who want to see him. John doesn’t tell us if Jesus invites them in or if he goes out to see them. But what he does tell us is important. Jesus responses with some vivid language on what he would do to show himself to the world. He talks about how a seed is planted. In order for it bring life, it must die. This, he says is why he came—to die to bring life.
Do you want to see Jesus? What are the things we must die to in order follow him? What is the life Jesus is trying to bring to us? We’ll talk about these things and more this Sunday. Would you join me as we go to see Jesus?
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Retracing the Story--An Unequal Exchange
When I was around 10 years old or so we lived in a great neighborhood with many kids. We always had plenty of kids for a football game, complex bicycle stunt shows, or the latest club we had schemed up that week. Our street sloped up a hill and at the top of the hill was Mr. Barber’s yard. He had about 5 acres of neatly mown lawn. All the neighborhood kids were welcome to play in his yard. It was the center of all our childhood devices. Next to the open land was a small stand of woods. There we made forts and defended our neighborhood from imaginary raiders—as soon as school was out, of course.
My friend Pete’s parents were remodeling parts of their house and his dad gave us the old medicine cabinet, sink base cabinet and other cool things for a new fort in the woods. We took great pride in hauling all that stuff down the hill. We had a great fort. It was the envy of any group of kids in the whole town. After just a few short weeks, our fort was destroyed and defaced. Someone had broken all of our things and written horrible things on them. We were crushed.
In my anger I rallied the “gang” against John. John didn’t live on our street. He lived a few houses down on a connecting street. He was something of an outsider in the tight-knit group of our street. Obviously, in my warped logic, John was to blame because he wasn’t in our group right now. He must have been mad about it and destroyed our beloved fort.
John’s dad confronted me on his behalf about my accusations. I was stunned. My bluff had been called and my baseless claims were exposed. I apologized to John, but I had done damage that I don’t think I was ever undone.
Looking back, blaming John really didn’t make any sense, it was just convenient. Our little woods backed up to the fence of the Middle School. It is quite possible that someone from the school saw our hideaway and did the damage. But I wanted someone to blame—and John was nearby. The other neighborhood kids jumped on the bandwagon of blame. John was an unequal exchange—the scapegoat for crimes he didn’t commit.
This week I begin a series of sermons on “Retracing the Story” of Jesus. We begin with “An Unequal Exchange.” In my story, John didn’t bear the punishment of the crime, but we sure tried. Jesus did bear the punishment—for crimes he didn’t commit. Would you retrace the story with me? You see I want to tell John I’m sorry—and I don’t want to make such an exchange again. But I hear the crowds in Jerusalem shouting, “Punish Him! Punish Him!” And the answer is, “But he didn’t do anything.” The crowd shouts only louder, “Punish Him!” And the innocent is exchanged…and equality is mocked.
My friend Pete’s parents were remodeling parts of their house and his dad gave us the old medicine cabinet, sink base cabinet and other cool things for a new fort in the woods. We took great pride in hauling all that stuff down the hill. We had a great fort. It was the envy of any group of kids in the whole town. After just a few short weeks, our fort was destroyed and defaced. Someone had broken all of our things and written horrible things on them. We were crushed.
In my anger I rallied the “gang” against John. John didn’t live on our street. He lived a few houses down on a connecting street. He was something of an outsider in the tight-knit group of our street. Obviously, in my warped logic, John was to blame because he wasn’t in our group right now. He must have been mad about it and destroyed our beloved fort.
John’s dad confronted me on his behalf about my accusations. I was stunned. My bluff had been called and my baseless claims were exposed. I apologized to John, but I had done damage that I don’t think I was ever undone.
Looking back, blaming John really didn’t make any sense, it was just convenient. Our little woods backed up to the fence of the Middle School. It is quite possible that someone from the school saw our hideaway and did the damage. But I wanted someone to blame—and John was nearby. The other neighborhood kids jumped on the bandwagon of blame. John was an unequal exchange—the scapegoat for crimes he didn’t commit.
This week I begin a series of sermons on “Retracing the Story” of Jesus. We begin with “An Unequal Exchange.” In my story, John didn’t bear the punishment of the crime, but we sure tried. Jesus did bear the punishment—for crimes he didn’t commit. Would you retrace the story with me? You see I want to tell John I’m sorry—and I don’t want to make such an exchange again. But I hear the crowds in Jerusalem shouting, “Punish Him! Punish Him!” And the answer is, “But he didn’t do anything.” The crowd shouts only louder, “Punish Him!” And the innocent is exchanged…and equality is mocked.
Friday, March 06, 2009
We're going to make it
I am working on a message this week about operating in God’s economy. God’s economy doesn’t work like our economy. In our economy, we can only operate on the things we see. We try to make forecasts and predictions. Everything has to make sense even before we can begin.
Not so with God’s economy. In God’s economy, we act in faith. We act with the long term in mind. We act with the interest of others in mind first. When we operate in that economy those around us are enriched. We are too are enriched—far beyond what we could ever hope or imagine.
So in the week that I’m preparing this, the stock market tanks 300+ points twice, GM says it probably won’t make it, and AIG is still looking for billions of dollars. It looks like the economy around us is falling apart before our very eyes. I have to admit that sometimes those little nagging doubts creep in my head too. “You’re preparing this message, and the visible evidence seems otherwise. Do you really believe what you’re trying to say?” That’s how it went in my head—over and over again.
The other day, a couple of friends and I were relating stories of our grandparents’ generation. We told stories of the Great Depression. How our grandparents did the best they could with what they had. They learned to use the blessings they had been given—from the simple to the profound. They knew how to rely on their sense of how to grow a garden, to rely on each other as a family, to be frugal, to remember our ultimate source of our blessings in God. And this light bulb went off in my head. It sent those shadows of doubt away. It was, quite simply, “We’re going to make it.” I’ve heard that before and I’ve said it before. But it was a truth that drove down even deeper. We’re going to make it. We aren’t the first to face tough times. We aren’t the first ones to feel uncertainty. And more importantly, we aren’t alone. God is with us.
So I pray this week that I’ll remember how to operate in God’s economy. May I act in faith, to act with the long term in mind, to act with the interest of others first. May I not get caught up in what the numbers on a TV screen say as they float around screaming “experts.” May I look to the One who is far more than I can ever hope or imagine. May I always answer those creeping doubts with this simple truth: “We’re going to make it.”
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