A weak week

I can't believe a week has flown by since I last blogged. I am speaking at my church this Sunday, so I assure you I HAVE been up early each morning, studying and writing. But most of it will end up in my sermon... wait... only some of it will end up in my sermon, but I still didn't want to post it here for the one or two people who would have to read it, then hear it again on Sunday.

My daughter!! Oh man! I have never wanted to hop on an airplane and go give her a hug so badly as right now. She hurt her foot - and doesn't even know exactly how she did so - and is having a very hard time walking around the campus. The school she attends is not all that huge by University Standards, but it's no tiny little thing either, so I can imagine her limping around and arriving late to classes and all that. None of which is normally acceptable to her. But it gets better -

She chose a difficult topic for a ten-page research paper, and it has been tough going. She has admitted - and this is the first time I think I have ever heard he say this - that it is real tough taking in all this new data and even beginning to put it down in the form of a ten page paper is about to beat her. That's huge, and I have been praying for her. But then a day or two ago she posted on Facebook that somebody stole her laptop computer. She doesn't have a desktop or a backup computer - so she has to *limp* to the Library and do her work on the school's computers. None of this would be fun for anybody, but she truly had her 'life' on that computer, so I can't tell you how much I want to go to her, hug her, make her smile, and then 'solve' all of this.

But, of course, the most important lessons in life are generally learned outside of the classroom, so we are praying, and staying here.

If you see this Kristen - we love you, and we are praying for you. You WILL own this.

With authority

Mark 1:21 They went to Capernaum, and when the Sabbath came, Jesus went into the synagogue and began to teach. 22 The people were amazed at his teaching, because he taught them as one who had authority, not as the teachers of the law.

I don't know any other way Jesus could teach really. Do you?

Power

Matthew 28
The Great Commission

16 Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. 17 When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. 18 Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. 19 Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20 and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

I don't know which part of this I like the best! When Jesus says, "All authority in heaven and on earth," I get pretty excited. I have enough mental images (thanks Hollywood) of Jesus possessing the power of God - ALL the power of God - that it pretty much makes me realize that even though things rise up against me as I go about making disciples, nothing is going to be stronger than the fact that Jesus goes with me.

Don

I have a customer named Don who stopped by the store to pick up a few supplies the other day. Whenever he comes in it's a little like a scene from "Cheers." He has purchased two spas from us over the years, and we had to use a crane to install one of them. Things like that tend to make a customer memorable, but Don and I have struck up a bit of a friendship over the years on top of things. He will usually set his purchases on the counter and then pull up the stool we keep handy (just for this purpose) and we'll have a chat. Lots of laughter, and sometimes deep things get shared too. But the other day was unique. Don seemed to have something to say.

All throughout the years, Don has been open about the fact that Jesus Christ died to forgive his sins. That's almost exactly how he puts it, and I know it will come up to some extent during our conversation. I always agree, and if we delve into that topic it usually comes couched in a discussion of the different types of churches he grew up in, and how many similarities there are between Lutheran and Episcopalian churches, why Don will gladly refer to them as “pastor, reverend, padre, etc.” but he doesn't like to call the priests 'Father.' And things like that.

This has always been of interest to me, having a Bible College education, and being an observer of various types and denominations of churches. But I never understood what was driving this over and over as the years slipped past. I just assumed it was a point of contact, something we shared in common. That is - until this past visit.

After all the usual pleasantries, and a few smiles and giggles from Don's young daughter (who was only just added to their family as we delivered their second tub years ago and who is just adrable) Don sent her out to the car with their purchases, and then took his seat. To make a long story short, Don mentioned the fact that I had told him, close to ten years ago, that I had been a Pastor but was not any longer.

I have always sought to encourage Don in his faith, and strengthen the bonds of family and even encourage him toward more of a relationship with Jesus and less of a relationship with the church, but apparently I had failed. Because Don, all the time, had a burden for MY relationship with Jesus. When it finally hit me what was behind all of these conversations over all of these years, I had to stop and smile. I looked Don in the eye and told him - “Don, when I told you I had left the ministry, I should have told you that I did not do so because I lost my faith. Quite the opposite – I surrendered my credentials so I could better serve in our local church, which I have done from that day to this.”

The sigh that escaped from him told me all I needed to know. All this time, Don had been trying to tell me about Jesus, and get me back into a relationship with Him. Don was concerned for my eternal soul, and had been trying to help me back to faith! And I was so busy trying to do the same for him, that we had missed like two ships in the night. I was blessed, and smiled for hours about it.

Thanks Don, and thank-you Father God, for people like Don.

Leslie

I was awoken at two am by a car alarm. It seemed to be in my bedroom, but as I came out of sleep and began to focus, it sounded like it was right in front of my house.

I decided to run and look out the window, because our cars get tampered with about every two or three weeks, usually in the small hours of the morning, and I thought perhaps an alarm had caught somebody. Opening the window I saw a light on the wet pavement. Looked light somebody had dropped a flashlight.

I grabbed slippers, glasses, my own flashlight, no jacket, and ran out the front door. As I opened my front door and stepped out I saw my son (who lives very near) was on his front porch. It was the alarm in the car he was borrowing from a friend that had gone off. He had the key fob in his hand and he silenced the alarm. The night grew silent in a second. I heard what sounded like a cell phone with a loud vibrator going off - it was a very still night with just a slight drizzle. Drops were falling from the trees and houses all around. Bzz. Bzz. Bzzz.

I went out towards the street to see if there was anything that could clue us to what had happened, and that's when I saw her.

A small, pale face looked out from under the hood of a sweatshirt. A thin, very white face, not looking at all alive, eyes closed as if in peaceful repose, faced almost to the pavement, and bounced the light of my flashlight back at me like a finely polished statue. I wasn't sure she was even still with us. She was on her side, still astride a shiny blue bicycle. No blood, the bike looked intact. The light was coming from a headlight on the handlebars.

As I turned to Stephen we both said, "There's somebody there!" with that adrenaline-induced urgency that hits so suddenly when something like this sinks in to your brain. Stephen stepped back and asked my daughter in law to make the call, and it was so still I could hear her end of the conversation.

I moved in slowly. Keep in mind that I was still of a mind that we may be looking at somebody who had been trying to break into our cars. Funny how that thought took so long to go away. I heard moaning, and compassion took over in my head. She was coming around. The first understandable word out of her mouth was, "what happened?"

"You took a fall. The pavement is wet and slippery and you fell."
"Am I ok?"
"You bumped your head pretty good, I think," I said, as my flashlight lit up a growing bump on the right side of her forehead. It was growing fast, very fast. She tried to open her eyes and I moved the flashlight away.
"Jesus," she announced in a very shaky, soft voice, and I at once thought that I should have been praying for her instead of looking for clues of a break-in.

I have heard many people use the name of Jesus in ways that don't glorify Him, but she seemed to be sincerely calling out to Him, so I assured here that Jesus would help her, that He may have, in fact, already protected her. I instinctively reached out my hand and held hers. She gripped it tight. I said the name of Jesus a few times as I soothed her, and told her help was on the way.

The bump on her head had a tiny cut on it, not really bleeding, which showed no sign of road rash. Our street has a very long hill to it which tends to get bike riders and skaters up to amazing speeds. If she had come down on the pavement face first at speed, she would have laid open a good bit of skin deeply. Her hood may have protected her, or perhaps she ran into the back of the car, nobody will likely know, as we began to realize: she asked what happened again.

And again.

And again.

No memory of the incident. Her name was Leslie ___________, and she lived 'downtown,' and she wanted to know where her purse was. She began to talk a little more, in a soft voice. She added her other hand to mine, and as I asked her if she knew what had happened, she began to give me facts, as if she was trying to grapple with a foggy situation. She volunteered that she was thirty eight, and she wanted to know (again) what had happened.

Short-term memory loss. It was becoming obvious.

My answers got shorter - finally reduced to, "you fell and bumped your head." That would satisfy for only a moment before she would try to move, I would comfort her and tell her she should lay still, and she would ask again.

The police showed up first. They asked her a question or two, I pointed out the now-huge bump on her head and they seemed to understand in an instant that she was not going to be a good source of information. My son began to talk in detail to one of the officers from the second car which drove up right behind the first, and Leslie asked about her purse, tried to look around, and seemed to relax as I told her help was here.

The paramedics arrived and just a second later the ambulance. I told Leslie I was going to let go now, and she said, "don't leave." I told her I was going to be nearby, but the EMT wanted to look her over. I pointed out her purse to them, and they stepped in and took over. She had memory of some events leading up to her being out on her bicycle at two-am, but no memory of what happened.

We walked into the house as the police cars pulled away, one of them with Leslie's blue Schwinn in the trunk, then the big fire truck started up it's diesel engine and rattled away up the street. The ambulance left just a few minutes later, and we stood on the porch looking out at the empty street.

In seconds, something had happened which brought a young women into contact with us. Was she trying to take from us? Nothing pointed to that in any way. More likely, she just got going down our street and the slippery pavement took it's toll. No damage was visible in the beams of our flashlights as we went over the car. What happened?

We may never know.

But the name of Jesus proved it's worth one more time.

Valentines Day

I was reading in Leviticus 16 this morning. It is filled with tons of fine detail about the Day of Atonement. There are amazing preparations before the High Priest is ready to go (fearfully) into the 'Holy of Holies,' or the very presence of God.

I was impacted by the fact that if some little thing was awry, the entire nation might not have their sins atoned. The priest could be pulled out, dead, killed by the amazing presence of God.

And then I realized - we now have the right to come boldly into the presence of God. We have become a nation of priests, and the veil of separation has been torn apart. We can go into the presence of God without the fear of instant death.

It gave me pause. I simply said, "Good morning God - " and I realized that not only CAN we enjoy time in God's presence, He wants to enjoy time with His creation. He loves me and invites me into His presence.

What changed? Everything. Jesus' death provided a perfect, one-time sacrifice, which closed the gap, opened the Holy of Holies, paid the price, etc.

The detail of the High Priest's preparation for entering into the Holy of Holies once each year is nothing in comparison to the detail of the preparations made for Jesus to come as a baby, grow to be a man, and then die on a cross. The lineage of Jesus' family, the faithfulness of his human parents, every single little detail was arranged, and the prophets even laid them out for us centuries before.

God truly does love you - Happy Valentines day!

Pour out our best, for Him

Matthew 26Jesus Anointed at Bethany

6 While Jesus was in Bethany in the home of Simon the Leper, 7 a woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, which she poured on his head as he was reclining at the table.

8 When the disciples saw this, they were indignant. “Why this waste?” they asked. 9 “This perfume could have been sold at a high price and the money given to the poor.”

10 Aware of this, Jesus said to them, “Why are you bothering this woman? She has done a beautiful thing to me. 11 The poor you will always have with you,[a] but you will not always have me. 12 When she poured this perfume on my body, she did it to prepare me for burial. 13 Truly I tell you, wherever this gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.”