Friday, December 7, 2012

The rest of the story


One of my favorite radio personalities was a man named Paul Harvey.  He was from Chicago, and he had a 15-minute daily segment that was syndicated all over the country.  He was a master story teller, and a part of his monologue always included back story to someone who would have been a well-known historical figure. It was always intriguing because he told obscure, but significant parts of their story.  It helped the rest of their life story make sense, and he always ended by saying, “And now you know the rest of the story.” 
                                                                                                             
If you ever heard him, his voice and the unique way he would weave his monologue were unforgettable.  His use of the phrase, “the rest of the story,” has stuck with me over the last 24 hours.  I was having a conversation with a friend yesterday, and we were reflecting on Luke’s narrative.  While we were talking, it dawned on me that I left out a couple of the characters that were included in Luke — one in particular, whose name was Simeon.  I don’t think this story is complete without him.
                                       
Simeon, like Zechariah, was a priest, serving in the temple.   He, like Zechariah, was an aging man, but a man who had received a promise.  Luke tells us that God had made him a promise that would not die without seeing the fulfillment of the prophecy concerning the Messiah.  He worked in the temple, and happened to be there when Mary and Joseph brought Jesus in for his dedication.  Luke says that Simeon felt compelled to enter the temple while Mary and Joseph were there. Coincidence? Doubt it. Chance meeting? More like the fulfillment of a promise made. As the narrative says, the reason he went in at that exact moment was because he was “compelled by the spirit.”   

That’s just the way God is, and I think completes the way Luke tells the Christmas story.  First, we are assured that God hears us.  Second, Luke wants us to know that he finds favor with us.  He then, by including the shepherds, makes sure that we all know, regardless of who we are, that Jesus came for everyone.  And now, through this little “chance” meeting with Simeon and these young parents, a promise made was now kept. 

Luke wants us to know in the midst of everything else he is saying, that our God is one who can be trusted.  Again we are reminded that in the story, God never forgets the person.  In the middle of this story of the arrival of the Messiah, we get this amazing news.  He came to an old man, a young teenager, a group of stinking shepherds, and now a priest. So we can be assured that he hears us, likes us, included us, and can be trusted.  They mattered, and so do we.  Like Paul Harvey would say, “And now we know the rest of the story.”

Text for the week:  Luke 2:22-35
                                                       

Monday, November 19, 2012

Being grateful


Thanksgiving carries a lot or meaning for me.  In my home growing up, it was the day we busted out the Christmas decorations.  It was the first day Christmas music could be played in our house, and we put up the tree and hung the lights.  My dad would get out his Dickens Village, his trains, and our house was transformed every year from 8:00 a.m. – noon Thanksgiving Day.  My dad thought the best way to celebrate Thanksgiving was by beginning our preparation for Christmas. 

It also meant the agony of watching another Lions loss on national TV.  We would quickly follow that by eating away our pain with the traditional turkey and fixings feast — affectionately called “therapeutic eating.”  The afternoon would wrap up with a nap.  Not much has changed over the years for me.  As a matter of fact, nothing has, including the Lions and the nap.

Along the way, though, new traditions have come; shopping at 3:00 a.m. for Black Friday sales, the Ohio State/Michigan game, and transitioning from alternating holidays with our kids and my parents to my kids and their children alternating with us.  

For us around here, it means a break.  This break reminds us to reflect on what we are thankful for.  We have a lot to be thankful for, but today my thoughts have gone to a place in the world currently ravaged by missiles.  It is a place where no one celebrates Thanksgiving, and very few celebrate Christmas.  They aren’t getting a “break” this week.  As a matter of fact, they might be thrown headlong into war.  It is a confusing time for them, and a challenging time for us to think about.  What is it that makes us thankful during times such as these?

I want to say our thankfulness is shaped by the first verse in Chapter 11 of Hebrews, and the four-letter word contained therein; that word is “hope.”  “Hope” is a word we will hear a lot between Thanksgiving and Christmas. It will come at us as we walk through Advent, anticipating the coming of the Christ, “hoping” for a better day.  We long for things that can’t be seen, as Scripture says, with conviction.  We’ve never known a world without war, disaster, hunger, pain, and death, but we long for the day when all that will end.  We know that what is happening in parts of our world isn’t the last word, because we have hope.

Hope.  For us who live in the West, hope is easier to think about than it is for others who sit in refugee camps and bomb shelters.  Though this may be the current reality for many, we long for things that have yet to be seen.  So this week as we reflect on all we have to be thankful for, hang the decorations, put up the lights, watch another meaningless Lions game, shop while listening to Michael Buble, let’s also remember those for whom no music is playing, no decorations are going up, no game is being watched (there is mercy somewhere), and no turkey is being eaten. Let us remember those for whom hope seems a long way off.

Text for the week:  Hebrews 11:1

Friday, November 9, 2012

Another way



Not sure you realized it or not, but this week Skye brought us full circle.  Some of you weren’t here during fall 2012, but we spent that semester talking about the story of this amazing father found in Luke 15.  We talked about the two ways expressed in the lives of the two brothers and the fact that we all knew there had to be another way.

Skye brought us back to this story this week, and broke it down for us like this: we either see our lives as lived for God, a life of Christian activism – older brother; or life from God, where we live for what he will give to us – younger brother.  Both leave us feeling empty and longing for something else. We all know deep down inside there is something wrong with the way both brothers in this story are living, but at times it’s difficult to determine what that looks like. 

Thankfully, there is another way. 

This week, Skye put it like this: life with God.  In his thank you tweet to our campus, his stated prayer for us was that God would bless us with Himself.  That leaves us with a decision to make by answering the question, Is that enough? 

I would say, without a change of heart, the only answer to that question is no.  We will never be satisfied with our lives if we continue to see God as an object to be controlled by what we ask for.  Many in our society have limited God to a cosmic Santa Claus, crediting him for good, or blaming him for the bad that comes their way.  When things go wrong, we wonder where he is.  That is what Skye was talking about Wednesday when he said that our lives are not about what we do, but how we see.  I often ask the question, What are you hearing? This week I want to ask, What are you seeing?

How we see shapes what we do.  So we don’t respond to the need in the eastern part of the U.S., then expecting God to look at us as differently or better.  We have to fight off the urge to play the comparison game over the next couple of weeks, and just respond because there is need. We must realize they are like us, undeserving of the hand that has been dealt them, experiencing great need, and so we respond for these reasons — period.  We don’t do this to earn anything from God that we haven’t already received.  We don’t participate in service or ministry as a form of penance. 

Without this new heart that we’ve talked about all semester, what we do is just activism or point tallying.  My prayer for us is that the things that we do come from a heart that is shaped by the One who made us, so we act without expecting anything in return. 

Text for the week:  Luke 15:11-32

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Coming home


I love going home.  There is just something about it.  Mom’s cooking, naps, riding the golf cart, chasing deer, Texas sheet cake, and have I said naps?  Home is full of memories, mostly good ones.  Home is the one place most responsible for who I am.  It was always safe for me, a place where I felt loved and accepted. 

Over this next week, a lot of people will be coming to our campus.  They’ll be coming back to a place where they have eaten, laughed, made friends and taken many naps.   Not to sound too mushy or like I drank the Kool-Aid, but this is a special place for a lot of folks.  In a sense, they’ll be coming home. 

I listened to Stephanie’s message at the sophomore class chapel about the “freshmen mating season,” and the pressure to find the “right” person.  Standing joke aside, this is a place where many have met that “right person.”  But it is so much more than that.

It is a place where many received an education that has led them into their vocation.  They have graduated, or gone on to grad school, preparing them to be teachers, lawyers, doctors, accountants, engineers, physical therapists, counselors, pastors and much more.  It is the place where they not only received an education, but their vocation was shaped by a faith that was deepened through the experiences they had here as well.  They will tell stories about a chapel service, revival, friendship, or a small group — all have played a role in making them into the person God was calling them to be.  For some, this is where they got their feet down spiritually.  For others, this is the place where they owned their faith.  For others, it was a place where they realized that not all life’s questions could be answered, and they are okay with that.  Here is where friendships were made that have lasted a lifetime.  All this at our Alma Mater, Olivet.

So for hundreds this next week, coming back to our campus is like coming home.  You will see them at the basketball game, football game, the Gaither Concert, in the planetarium, eating, laughing, in the Quad, telling stories reminiscing about their days as a student, wondering where the time has gone.  Just like some of you.

So this week, remember: They’re not just invading our space, they’re coming home.

Friday, October 19, 2012

Tomorrow begins today


I’m sitting in my office, on a blustery Friday morning, watching the freshmen pile into College Church for one of the convocations for Freshman Connections.  They are literally coming from all over our campus, headed to the same place.  This scene happens around here all the time — students scattering all over our campus, going to class, eating, napping, playing, practicing and yes, even studying.  The campus buzzes with life.

As I’m watching 700 people moving to the same place, my mind has wandered to the events of this week.  I’ve found myself wondering, How many of us will leave this place, scattering all over the world in short-term missions trips?  We’ve been asking and wondering about the ways that God might be asking us to give our lives away.  Some have made light of the fact that when using that phrase, calling ourselves to short-term missions isn’t really equal to “giving your life away,” is it?  That’s a great question.

I listened to Wayne share in a class yesterday about discerning the will of God.  How do we know what God is asking us to do?  For a man who has spent 40+ years of his life ministering and raising support for the children of Calcutta, has anyone besides me wondered how he got there?  Well, he answered that question very directly yesterday, and what he said might surprise some of you.  He looked at the students in that class, and he said, “You get to where God wants you to be, by doing what you’re supposed to do today, as best as you can do it.”  Don’t worry about tomorrow, just look at where you are currently, and live for God today, right where you are.

That answer reminded another question asked of Tony Campolo, a speaker we had last fall, who, like Wayne, is a great storyteller.  At one point during a Q & A, a student stood up and said he felt like he was wasting his time and money here.  He just wanted to go now, doing the things Tony and Wayne talked with us about.  Tony looked at him and begged him not to.  He told him he is privileged to be at a university like ours, and that he should get everything out of the opportunity as he can.  Study, ask questions, drive your professor nuts.  He then reassured us all by saying that what you are doing today is never wasted; it is always preparing you for what’s next.

So, how do you give your life away?  We can say it doesn’t happen by going somewhere on spring break or over the summer.  But if I’m hearing them right, and understand the words of Jesus, the One who shapes how we walk, we give our life away one day at a time.  It’s about today, not tomorrow.  It’s about doing it here, not over there.  So, what are we waiting for?

Text for the week:  Matthew 6:25-35

Friday, October 12, 2012

The signs of the seasons


During fall break, I had the chance to travel to northern Michigan.  If you’ve ever been there this time of year, you know the colors are amazing.  I never get over seeing the yellow poplars, red oaks, and orange maples.  Sometimes the combination is breathtaking.  When the sun hits the trees with all their color this time of year, it makes me glad I live in this part of the country.  But I know this season of the year signals a sign of things to come.

Fall is an indicator that winter is just around the corner.  The days shorten, the leaves will eventually turn brown and fall to the ground, and the white stuff won’t be far behind.  Not trying to depress anyone, it’s just the reality we live in. 

One nice thing about the seasons is that you know each season only lasts for a time.  With every season we are reminded that something new is around the corner.  As beautiful as fall is, winter is not far behind.  And as cold and barren as winter is, spring and new life will soon follow.  Spring will be followed by summer, and then we get to do this all over again.  Seasons are signs of what is to come.

When we talk about seasons, we talk about things like color, snow, anticipated warmth, rain and new growth.  They also indicate holidays, vacations and breaks.  But we also talk about the passing of time, contrasts and even grace.  We see evidence of grace, and God, in seasons.  Just as seasons pass, we can know that there is more of God for us (See “Stay tuned, there’s more to come”), and also know that what is happening to us right now isn’t all there is. 

The cycle of life we go through can be filled with growth and change, ups and downs, good and bad, and pain and sorrow.  These can be seen as, and I’ve heard them called, seasons of life.  You most certainly are in one right now.  We can be assured that the God we serve doesn’t call us to a life that stagnates and dies out, but calls us to one that is vibrant, alive, and always hopeful for what’s next. 

So as you walk across our campus over the next couple of weeks, and see the color that will come and go, let it serve as a reminder that just as the seasons signal that something new is about to happen, we can hope for the same.

Text for the week:  Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Friday, October 5, 2012

New hearts, not dead parts


Do you remember Silas, the character from the movie and book, The Da Vinci Code? In this story, he practices what is called corporal mortification. It is a practice that can take on many forms such as fasting or denial of pleasure, done as a form discipline, or paying penance for ones sins.  In Silas’ case, he practiced this in extreme forms, physically abusing himself, as an expression of submission and discipline.

This is taken from the writings of Paul when he says things like:  “I beat my body into submission,” or “If you live according to the flesh you will die,” or the call to “honor God with our bodies.” There has always been a call in the Church to live a disciplined life throughout history. It isn’t too unlike what we do during the Lenten season — giving up something that helps remind us and participate in the suffering of Christ, but when taken literally can lead to places where Silas found himself. We often find ourselves in bondage to the very things we are trying to find freedom from. 

Thankfully, we know Christ has made the provision for us, and we receive it, underserving, but recipients anyway. When you read passages like the following, it’s not difficult to see how those seeking to look more like Christ could revel in bloody stumps and blinded eyes. 

“If you want to live a morally pure life, here’s what you have to do:  You have to blind your right eye the moment you catch it in a lustful leer.  You have to choose to live one-eyed or else be dumped on a moral trash pile. And you have to chop off your right hand the moment you notice it raised threateningly.  Better a bloody stump than your entire being discarded for good in the dump…And don’t say what you don’t mean…In making your speech sound more religious, it becomes less true.”  Matthew 5:29-30, 33, 34 (MSG)

It could almost become a marker for those who are “serious” about their following in the way of Jesus, and one that puts the rest of us in our place.  It’s why Jesus said their displays when fasting and praying are empty. 

Do we really think as we read these passages that cutting off a hand or poking out an eye can get us to these places?  We don’t have to question whether the call is serious because of the provocative tone he uses, but God’s desire for us is that this become a natural outflow of the heart — a heart that has been changed by the one who created it in the first place.  So we can live without an eye or a hand, but our heart can remain as corrupt as ever.  I don’t think Jesus is near as concerned about killing parts, as much as he is at renewing hearts. It’s because He knows if we get the heart right; the “parts” will follow. 

“You’re familiar with the command to the ancients, ‘Do not murder.’  I’m telling you that anyone who is so much as angry with a brother or sister is guilty of murder.  You know the next commandment pretty well, too:  ‘Don’t go to bed with another’s spouse.’  But don’t think you’ve preserved your virtue simply by staying out of bed.  Your heart can be corrupted by lust even quicker than your body. And don’t say anything you don’t mean.  And here’s another saying that deserves a second look:  ‘Eye for eye, tooth for tooth.’  Is that going to get us anywhere?  You’re familiar with the old written law, ‘Love your friend,’ and its unwritten companion, ‘Hate your enemy.’  I’m challenging that.  I’m telling you to love your enemies.” Matthew 5:21, 27, 33a, 38, & 43 (MSG)

Thursday, September 27, 2012

I like new


I, like many of you, have watched the craze come and go related to the iPhone 5. I have friends who ordered theirs online one minute after midnight on September 14 so they would be the first to receive them on September 21. They started tracking them on Monday, locating their phones, even able to identify to the minute their arrivals at their homes. And here I sit in my office, feeling less than sufficient looking at my now-outdated iPhone  4s.

I’m no different than the next guy — I like new stuff.  There’s something about the smell of a new car, the look of a new sweater, the feel of a new pair of shoes, and yes, even the newest iPhone. There is always something new out there. Because we live in a consumerist society, it’s often about bigger and better, or smaller and faster. I’m not sure that’s the only reason we like to buy things new, though. I’m wondering if we have a bent toward what’s new for another reason.

New isn’t just about iPhones, shoes and sweaters. It’s also about do-overs.  It’s about fresh starts.  For instance, I wish my Cleveland Browns could have a do-over this year. I’m writing this Thursday morning, nervous about tonight’s game at M & T Bank Stadium against the Ravens. You already know the outcome of that game if you’re reading this. At the same time, though, I’m also wishing we could go back to that first game against Philly; I’m wondering what could have happened if Weeden hadn’t thrown four interceptions, and we started the season with a win instead of a loss.  How could our season look different if that were possible? Of course, you know it’s not, so I continue to worry about tonight.

I think you know me well enough to know that when I talk about do-overs, I’m not talking about the Browns, as good as that would be.  I’m talking about a God that seeks us out, wanting us to know Him completely. We know He desires what is best for us.  And for some, that means we get a do-over.  He wants to redeem; He wants to restore; He wants to bring our lives back into balance; He wants to make us new.

I don’t need to settle for the experience of purchasing a sweater or pair of kicks to find out what it means to have something new. There is so much that is artificial in that. God desires so much more for us. He wants to meet the longing in us for fresh, clean and new in other ways than just getting the newest “thing,” whatever it may be. 

So yes, I like new stuff. But that is best defined by a God who makes beautiful things even out of us.

“’Look, look, God has moved into the neighborhood, making his home with men and women!  They’re his people, he’s their God.  He’ll wipe every tear from their eyes.  Death is gone for good – tears gone, crying gone, pain gone – all the first order of things gone.’  The Enthroned continued, ‘Look!  I am making everything new.  Write it all down – each word dependable and accurate.’”  Revelation 21:3-5 (MSG)

Friday, September 21, 2012

Stay tuned, there's more to come


“I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have made it.  But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me.  Friends, don’t get me wrong:  By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward – to Jesus.  I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back.”  Philippians 3:12-14 (MSG)

I was reminded this week of a conversation I had with my dad as a teenager.  It came by way of another conversation I had with a student after chapel on Wednesday.  He was sharing with me about his disillusionment, frustration, and even anger toward some of what the church is about.  Everything he was sharing with me, I had felt as well.  The questions he was asking, and concerns he had, were good and valid.  And then I remembered this:

I was, or at least I think I was, a typical church kid.  In my tradition, that translated into going to the altar two to three times a month.  I was always concerned about making sure I was doing everything the right way, and felt like the sermon was aimed at me, so I’d snot all over the altar several times a month.  That’s not a bad thing, but as I grew older and more mature — I mean I was 15 now — I sensed a weariness and frustration that was leaving me feeling like I was losing ground, not gaining. 

One particular Sunday night on my way home from another “snotting,” I remember asking my dad, “When will this end?”  I wanted to know how long this discontentment of feeling that I would never measure up would continue?  This certainly would not be a persistent pattern my whole life.  I haven’t been able to forget his answer to that question as he looked at me and said, “Never.”

Never? Not exactly what I was expecting to hear.  He went on to explain that he hoped I would never get to the place where I felt like I’ve finally “arrived,” because we never do.  “There is always more that God has for you, Mark. Never forget that!”  That’s not exactly what I was looking for, but the wisdom in that short conversation continues to shape me to this day.  I can’t shake that answer; God is never done with me. 

You should be very grateful for that; I know my family is.  But I can’t tell you how much that has helped me over the years.  This week, as Scott shared that he is a prisoner of hope, I think I’m there with him because of that one-word answer riding home with my dad on a Sunday night some 35 years ago — never. 

Because of that one-word answer, I remain hopeful knowing this isn’t all there is.  I’m hopeful because I know I don’t have to remain where I am.  I’m hopeful because I know God is always doing new things — in me, in you, and in His Church. If God isn’t willing to leave us where we are, that is good for us and the Church because we are the Church. 
Eugene Peterson writes it this way, calling what we’re describing as, “our long obedience in the same direction.”  As we make this “journey,” reflecting on all that God has said to us this week in revival, we can remain hopeful that, “The God who started this great work in us would keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears.  So stay tuned, there’s more to come.