A Day of Change

It has been a day for change.  In some ways, every day is a day of change for no day is like the one we lived yesterday.  But, today was one marked by letting go some stuff, changing some things around, and bringing in the new.  A trip to the furniture store a few days ago brought a sofa home to replace one worn out by nearly fourteen years of sitting and a chest I did not know I needed until I saw it.  In a house as small as the one which stands on the farm, the new is not added without turning loose of the old, or moving some of the old around to new places.  Such has been the day.  It has been a day of change.   

Few of us really like a lot of change in our life, but the truth is that it is as sure as taxes and death.  Change is what happens to us every day.  A saying which has become one of life's mantras is "You never stand in the same river twice."  What is also true is that we never see the same person in the mirror.  Everything including each one of us is constantly changing.  

One of the big changes which takes place in us points to the work of Christ in our heart.  II Corinthians 5:17 says, "If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation, everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new."  When we say "Yes" to Christ there is a work of the Spirit done which brings into being a new person.  But, as a part of the ongoing creation which is never the same today as it was yesterday, or will be tomrrow, we, too, are always changing.  At conception we start the journey Home to the place prepared for us by Christ and as we go along the work of Christ in us is constantly making us into someone new.  

Going Home

When I left the pulpit for the farm nearly fourteen years ago, three cow pairs came to live in the pasture.  For those unfamiliar with cow stuff, a cow pair is a Moma cow with a nursing calf.  While it is best not to name the cows lest the farm become a petting zoo instead of a source of income, some of mine got names put on them.  Those first two calves which came to the farm have been known through the years as Red Cow's Calf and Boss Cow's Friend's Calf.  They are still here.  And while there have been many cows born here and going to market from here, those two have remained.  At least they remained until a short time ago when Red Cow's Calf died in the pasture.     

It was a sad day.  For farmers, the death of an animal is more than just a dollar lost, it is first of all a living creature that is gone.  Jesus told a parable about a shepherd who lost one of a hundred sheep and who searched until it was found.  Even as no good cattle farmer would shrug his shoulders at the loss of one cow, neither would any good shepherd be content with the many when one was gone.  For the one who tends and cares for livestock, each one is important.   

What Jesus wanted His disciples and us to understand is the reality of our individual value. When the lost sheep was found, the shepherd invited his neighbors to rejoice with him. "Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost."  (Luke 15:6)  In those dark moments of life, it may seem that God has taken a vacation, or forsaken us, or maybe, just shrugged His shoulders at what our wandering away has done to us, but such is never the case.  The parable tells us God is never going to be content as long as a single one of us has wandered away from the Home provided by His love and care.  If we are one of those wanderers, maybe it is time to look for our seeking God and return Home with Him.

The Prodigal Me

My recent reading foray into Henri Nouwen's book entitiled, "The Return of the Prodigal Son," has sent me deeper into the parable Jesus told so long ago.  Most of us know it as a parable which speaks about a father's love for a son who went off into a life of waste and debauchery.  It has always created in me an image of the father standing at the gate each evening looking for his lost son and then running to meet him when his form is seen in the distance.  Nouwen's writings about the parable will not allow me to linger at my first impressions.    

While I am not the first to come to such an observation, it surely seems that the parable encapsulates the whole of Biblical story from Genesis to Revelation.  A son born into the midst of the Father's blessings and riches spurns them, loses sight of who he is, and wanders away from where he was born to be.  He returns only to be served, loved, and treated once again as a son conceived and nurtured in the Father's love.   

We are captured by the story because it is our story.  It speaks of our own journey away from claiming who we are as a child of the Creator Father God and our wandering to a place in life where our identity is defined by the things our ego seeks to find.  Seeing the Holy One on the cross is a message to us all that God is not out there somewhere, but is present among us with a seeking and welcoming love wherever and whenever we find ourselves.  We have but to look His way, which is the way of the cross, to see that His arms are open to us and that we are invited to return where we belong.  

The Eternal Light

I am always taken in by moon risings.  As I pulled up to the farm the other night, the orange glow of the moon was pushing through the barren branches of the trees which separate the farm from the nearby cotton field.  Instead of getting out and getting in the house, I pulled the car over to the edge of of the hay field and watched its rise into the waiting night sky.  No matter how many times we behold such a glorious sight, it is always something that brings forth praise to God from our hearts.  

The ancient Celtic saints get a bum rap because they are associated with worshiping the moon.  What they worshiped was the glorious light which they saw and which pointed them to reverence and honor the eternal light.  It was the eternal light set forth in the prologue of John's gospel that they worshipped, not the moon itself.  Actually, when I see that great orange orb rising off the horizon's edge, I could raise my own hands in praise to God,  And, sometimes I even consider dancing in the light of this light which speaks of the eternal light of the Creator God.   

So, if you ride by the farm some moonlit night and see some old man out there with his hands in the air attempting to dance a joyous dance of praise, it might just be me.  I have never been one prone to demonstrative expressions of worship, but if it ever begins to happen, it is most likely to happen under the powerful influence of one of these full moon risings.  This light rising in the heavens is indeed a thing of wonder and awe, but then, what is truly worthy of awe and wonder is that this eternal Light of God shines in us, dwells in us, and makes clear the way unfolding before us.

The Waiting Home

From here to there 

   is not so far,

     about the same

        as there to here,

          but still a ways

for those going.

Both here and there

   are at the ends

      of know not where

        which is what waits

          for those who dare

to walk the way.

  

The way left here

    long time ago,

      long ago enough

        to make unseen

          where here has been

held in the heart.

Here is now there

   and there is there

     where the way goes

       beyond the veil

         which makes unseen

the waiting Home.

And so We Worship

Tonight at a gathering of string musicians who gather informally to play music simply because they enjoy doing it, the banjo player laid aside his instrument and started singing "Peace in the Valley."  In a moment the guitars and fiddle started playing and those of us who were spectators joined in singing.  In the midst of all those "she done me wrong songs," mournful tunes about mountain memories, and ballads we suddenly found ourselves in a moment which felt like a community worship experience befit any church gathering.   I am always amazed how every moment is filled with what can turn into an experience of worship.  

It happened tonight in that music filled room, it happened the other morning at the farm when I stepped out on the front porch and had the freshness of a new day rush over me, and it happened in the afternoon as I became aware of holy presence when I sat with a friend to share some of the struggles of our journeys.   I should not have been surprised as early in the day I had read in "Echo of the Soul,"  J. Philip Newell saying, "The challenge is to practice presence in everything that we do, to bring an inner attentiveness into the busy as well as the quiet times of our lives."  

The mystery is that God is present in our hearts through the power of the abiding Holy Spirit and is also out there in every part of the Creation which surrounds us.  It is no wonder that we find ourselves suddenly overwhelmed with a need to worship.  If we are alive and have eyes to see, we can do naught else.

Chips and Shards

Bryon Herbert Reece was a north Georgia farmer and writer whose work I first read back in my Young Harris College days.  Though not a prolific writer, his words ring true as profound and worth pondering.  When he died in 1958 he left two novels and four books of poetry.  One of my favorite lines which he wrote speaks of his legacy. "From chips and shards in idle times, I made these stories, shaped these rhymes; May they engage some friendly tongue When I am past the reach of song."  For Reece "chips and shards" would enable others to remember him after he was gone.    

All of us will leave some "chips and shards" when we are gone.  Maybe it will not be words as was the case with the poet, but there will be something of us which will cause others to hold our memory close.  Most likely it will not be the stuff we hold in our hands, but the things which have come forth from our hearts to touch the lives of others.  

And, it goes without saying that we want some of the "chips and shards" left from our life to speak of the value of our trust in God and our faith in the atoning act of Jesus on the cross.  A good poem is not always understood completely, but it points toward mystery.  Maybe it will be true that the signs of our faith will leave some unanswered questions, but if they point toward the Mystery which holds our life together, it will be enough.

Nocturnal Fire

The empty canvas, 

     gray and waiting,

        then, the stilling Wind,

           the waning Gibbous, 

             a stand of tall trees, 

the unseen, now seen.

Empty now filled

      by strokes of soft light

         throwing dark shadows,

           revealing in the night

             the glory and wonder,

the Master's Hand.

No longer empty,

      a nocturnal fire,

        ablaze with heaven,

          gray canvas glowing

            but only for souls

with insomnia.

           

Daily Blessings

Early this morning before the sun was hinting about its arrival, I woke from my slumbering to dance with a poem which seemed eager for the white space of a page.  But, alas, the more we danced, the more illusive it became.  Somehow we never could find that good space between the images in my spirit and the words which came from my head.  So, finally, after much regret, I left my partner for what may or may not be another day.   

It reminded me of my sermon writing days.  There were times when the sermon simply leaped from the keyboard and there were times when the page stayed empty no matter how much energy was directed toward it.  Writing sermons, or poems, is sometimes easy and sometimes impossible. I remember reading from one writer who shared that every one of her before writing moments was filled with a pause of prayer to ask the Creator God to be present in the time of writing which was presenting itself.  

It is such good advice for all of us as we seek to begin whatever work which is before us.  The source of our creativity and the source of our energy is always in the hands of the Father God who made us.  To ask for divine help in the work is a way of recognizing that we do indeed do nothing apart from the blessings He bestows upon us.  

The Reality of Grace

So often at the end of the day, I am amazed at the people God brings into the pathway of the life He has given.  Today at a late lunch in a bistro on the square in a small middle Georgia town, a waitress came to the table with food and a word which brought memories, laughter, and a desire to stop again when passing that way.  One of the things obvious to us all is that each one of us has a story.  If some of the stories we hear and experience were written in a book, we would think that they were entirely fiction when in fact they would be a picture of reality.    

When reading the book of Genesis we read one story after another after another. They are stories connected by a common DNA.  When we read them we might think that someone would learn from the generation before them, but they seem only to learn to do things the same way.  And, as we read deeper into the bigger story written by the nation bearing the familial markings of Abraham, it would seem that they would learn lessons from past experiences about ignoring how the Lord God was calling them to live, but they only seemed to live again what had already been lived.   

As we read their story we are tempted to think they should have learned and done differently and then we look in the mirror.  How many times have we fallen on our knees and asked God to forgive us for something we not only did yesterday, but for which we had already asked forgiveness.  Sometimes we come to God confessing, "Lord, I can't believe I am here asking for forgiveness for this once again, but here I am."  What is good is that God is good, long lasting in patience, and always willing to look at us with a loving and forgiving heart.  Were it not for grace and mercy and a love we cannot understand, He would hear that repeated confession of ours and say, "Forget it. I have heard that a thousand times!"  As the Word says, there is always more grace in the heart of God than there is sin in us.  Thanks be for that reality! 

A Forgotten Ministry

I have watched it happen too many times.  And, what shames me even more than seeing it happen is knowing that I, too, am guilty.  Perhaps, it is one of the first things which I need to confess and repent as I go forward into this Lenten season.  The church has never been a perfect community, but one of its more shameful and tragic blights is its care for its old and sick and dying.  Too many times I have seen them ignored like forgotten and no longer useful parts of the Body of Christ and what I must repent are those moments when I failed to take seriously Acts 20:28 which says, "Keep watch over yourselves and over all the flock, of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers..."    

Maybe getting older and walking a path that has taken me into a darkness never known has made me more sensitive.  What I know is that it deeply disappoints me when I see an older person whose life has been filled with service to Christ and the church being ignored by the church at the end.  If there is any community which should love and care for its own instead of forgetting them, it is surely the church.  Unfortunately, it does not always happen.   

We can chalk it up to church leaders and church people getting too busy doing church things.  We can rationalize by saying something like "out of sight, out of mind."  We can declare our main business to be the one of making disciples. And, we can close our eyes and tell ourselves someone else is surely doing it.  What we need to do is to tell ourselves that it is sinful and that if it is happening to one, then the whole body, including you and me, are accountable.  May God hear our confession, forgive us, and then kick us out the door to care for those in need of the care of Christ which He wants to give through our lives.

Influencing Faith

As I was listening to some old gospel songs this morning, an old memory came back to the front burner of my memory.  When I was seven years old my father died and five years later my mother married again to a Methodist preacher who served the neighborhood church we attended.  One of the things he brought into my life was music.  He had a collection of vinyl records and I found myself captivated by the music which came forth from the turn table.  As I heard "Softly and Tenderly, Jesus is Calling" resounding through the room this morning, I thought about the boy I used to be as he sat listening on the floor in front of the old stereo.    

And, I also heard a word of gratitude coming up from within me for this man who first started shaping my faith journey with music that has stayed in my heart for a lifetime.  Each of us has such people in our life.  Some of them are still with us, but unfortunately, too many of us will have to look heavenward for their image.  I know I would not have had the ministry of forty years or the life sustaining faith that I have had without his constant and steadying influence.   

I am grateful and I am hopeful that somehow Christ has been allowed to grip my life to the point that my children and grandchildren and, perhaps, even a small circle of friends will remember me as a person of influencing faith, too.  As believers this may be our greatest hope.  We may leave our children our stuff which they may keep for awhile as memorabilia, but hopefully the faith in us will abide in them for a lifetime and even into eternity.  

Created to be Connected

We have become such a scattered people.  Few of us live in the place where we were born, the place where our parents reared us, and the place where we went to school and church.  There was a time when the young leaving the nest stayed close by to look out after the old birds, but no more.  We have become a people scattered from Timbuktu and some other far away place.  This means that folks today are more prone to live out their lives in some place other than places walked by parents and grandparents and other family members.    

And in addition to the loss of familial ties, we have lost connections with friends.  The people who were important to us at earlier periods of our life also moved to places far from where we knew them.  Some of the people regarded as my life long friends now live in Virginia, Missouri, North Carolina, and Texas.  There are others who live in some of the places I have lived over the years of my life, but I woke up today thinking about how disconnected I am to people who have been and still are important to me.  It seems ironic and strange that in an era where there is so much connectivity that we would sense such disconnection.  From the beginning the Word tells us that we were not only created by the Creator, but that we were created and put into a community where we are known and loved.   

The farther we get from our connection to our Creator, the farther we get from understanding the importance of being connected to others, and the farther we get from being connected to a community, the more difficult life becomes. We need one another.  The effort required to really affirm the important people connections in our life is worth whatever it might take.  It is one of the things which gives us life.

Midst the Mud and Manure

It was one of those bright sunny days about which songs are written.  What made it such a delight was not just the sunshine, but the fact that the sunshine had come after two days of an almost five inch rain.  I knew that the pasture might be boggy as I drove the tractor in among the cows with their big bale of hay.  But, after fifteen years and getting bogged down, I knew what areas to avoid.  Everything went as planned.  The hay bale was dropped on the ground and I got off the tractor to roll the big round hay ring over the waiting hay bale.  It was then that it happened.   As I was standing up the hay ring to roll it to the hay bale, I lost control of it and about the same time my foot got caught in some wet hay piled up.  Down I went.  

Fortunately, the hay ring missed me when it came down.  I ended up falling in wet hay that had been soaked by that five inch rain.  I ended up falling in the wet mud caused by the rain and cattle hooves.  But, mostly I ended up falling and rolling in enough cow manure that folks in the next county could have smelled me.   As I have thought about my unplanned landing, and I must confess to doing too much thinking about the most unlikely things, it occurred to me that life is messy.  We may think we have it all under control and then you end up laying in cow manure.  

Trust me, there are worse things which can happen and they do.   But, you know, if God sees the birds of the air and cares for them, (Matthew 6:26), then He surely saw me struggling to get my feet under me in the midst of the mud and manure of the cow pasture, and most assuredly He sees and cares for us when we are fighting to get on our feet in some of the life and death struggles which are a part of the world we live.  

Ash Wednesday

Ash Wednesday does not lend itself to a frivilous spirit.  Maybe the night before is all about pancakes and laughter and fellowship around the table, but there is nothing about the moment of the ashes which brings a smile.  I used to wonder why people would go to a service so unlike any other offered by the church.  Ash Wednesday provides a word which speaks of mortality and death.  It speaks a word which tells us that all our trivial pursuits are trivial pursuits.   

And it is one thing to hear those word, "Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return," one time as is the case with each one who comes for the imposition of the ashes and it is another thing to officiate at such a service and say those words a hundred times or more to a hundred or more people.  Some of them are near death and will not likely make it to another moment of the ashes.  Some are young with hopes for a thousand years.  And some bring babies in their arms and hold up the child to receive the ashes and the words.  It is not a frivilous moment.  It is a somber moment.    

It is also a sacred moment.  It is a moment when the church speaks a word no one else dare speak.  It is a moment when the church gives a visible reminder to us all that life is fragile, short, and not to be taken for granted.  And the good thing about the message being given on Ash Wednesday is that it is given in the context of Resurrection Sunday.  On Ash Wednesday we hear the Word which tells us we are going to die, but to look ahead is to see Easter Sunday on the horizon with its message telling us that because He (Jesus) lives, we shall live also.  I need to hear both reminders.  Maybe others do as well.

Enough!

I am weary of all the killing.  I am tired of people dying needlessly.  It continues to sicken me that children are suffering because the grown ups in their world cannot get along and choose to kill one another.  I am fed up with children becoming orphans at the end of the day.  Surely, there is someone out there with the power to do so who can say "Enough is enough!" so that the innocents can go back to living without fear of not being here tomorrow.  I no longer am interested in hearing political pundits speak the rhetoric of war and violence instead of the language of the heart.     

I suppose I will just have to live with this anguish which overwhelms me as I read of hundreds being killed today, or thousands yesterday, or just one a few hours ago.  War does not seem to be going out of style.  Violence taking the lives of others in streets and schools does not seem to be going away.  And children are still dying before they get a chance to breathe.  I am told some things have been with us since Cain and Abel, Isaac and Ishmael, Jesus and Pilate.  Maybe it is so.  Maybe killing is like poverty.  It is not going away.  At least, it does not seem to be going away in my lifetime.     

Jesus lived in a violent society controlled by power despots.  In the midst of it, He kept talking about and demonstrating love.  It was only when He carried that love to a cross that those who knew Him best started getting it.  Politicians are not going to save us.  Neither is the church.  Both the politicans and the church have too much invested to risk losing what is held too tightly.  Does that leave us with a collective voice filled with fed up and loving individuals who are willing to say. "Enough is enough!" And will that be enough to make a difference?  Is the love of which Jesus spoke really that powerful?  I fear we will never know.

Kindness

There are things about my life that make me think I might be getting older.  It is not the expected things like moving a little slower, or going to the doctor so often we are on a first name basis, or getting the senior discount for a cup of coffee.  Instead, what makes me feel older more often is the way younger people stop and wait for me to arrive at a door they are holding open for me.  It is a kind of kindness and respect for older folks which I thought had disappeared.  I am still capable of opening my own doors, but am grateful that kindness is still present in our young.   

Of course, regardless of our age, we can all be kind to one another.  Interestingly enough, it is listed in the fruit of the Spirit passage in the letter the Apostle Paul wrote to the church at Galatia.  (Galatians 5:23)  I Corinthians 13 tells us that love is kind.  In Colossians 3:12 the Word says, "As God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness..."   There can be no doubt that God intends for us to be kind to one another.  

It is good to see evidence that it has taken root in our young as well as something which still lingers in those of us who are lingering around in our older years.    Kindness goes a long way in making the world a better place.  It goes a long way in affirming value and worth to one another.  It sends an entirely diffferent message from the hurried motorist who sits on the horn from behind us simply because we are not moving at a speed deemed fast enough.  I enjoy being kind to others.  I am blessed by their smiles.  And, I am always grateful for kindness offered my way.  It blesses me and I hope it blesses the one who offers it to me.

A Hard Journey

Today was a day for sharing with a friend whose mother died a few days ago.  She was a year on the other side of ninety years of age and her son and my friend was her principal caregiver as she lived out her days at home. Anyone who has ever walked in the shoes of a caregiver for an extended period of time knows something of how he feels tonight.  I pray for him tonight as he walks into a new beginning in his life.  I pray, too,  for a friend of my sister who is even older as he walks in what appears to be the last days of his life here among us.    

What we know as we move away from such moments is that life goes on, but knowing does not make it any easier.  A few days ago here at the farm I spent a lot of time picking up fallen pecan limbs which had broken during recent winds.  I remember getting an area cleaned of limbs and thinking how good it looked.  Today the same area was clutterd with new limbs.  More work was on the ground waiting.  The newly fallen limbs littering up the ground made me aware there is always more to do with this thing called living.   

I pray for my friend who must find his way and for a family in another state who is facing the same journey.  New beginnings after personal loss are never easy.  Each person's journey into what God has laid out ahead of us is theirs and theirs alone to walk.  Having walked that road a piece, I wish I could take my friend up the way where the way out of the darkness might be clearer, but it is his journey to take and not mine.  I can and will pray for him.  We all know folks who are at different points on this journey and knowing them is surely God's way of calling us to pray for them.

Passion and Porridge

In 1980 after nine years of serving country and small town ministries, I moved to the urban world where I spent the next 30 plus years.  The differences are obvious, but the changes which took place in my spirit were much more subtle.  The move from rural to urban took me to larger congregations, larger salaries, and to the more competitive world which really does exist within the church.  Without really being conscious of how acclimation to a different work environment affected my spirit, I started running the race that immersed me deeper in the noise and busyness.    

It was only when I left the pulpit for the farm in retirement that I realized how much I had missed the silence, the solitude, and the different pace.  When I see folks lost in their nine to five world, I often wish I could pick them up, transport them to the world of silence and solitude for a couple of weeks, but, alas, it is no more possible now for them than it was for me back then.  It is not that the work is bad, but that we get out of balance.  

What we do and what we accomplish becomes more important than who we are.  It becomes more important than being with the people who share life with us.  Feeding and caring for our body is important, but it is also important to feed and care for our soul.  God created us to be passionate about who He created us to be.  It is too easy to sell the passion within us for a bowl of porridge which in the end makes us sick to our stomach.

There, but Not Yet

 I arrived yesterday

    from where I used to be

      to where I am today

         on my journey to where

           tomorrow's road will go

on the way to "know not where."

I leave again tomorrow

     going that way over there

       even tho' mostly unsure

         where here becomes over there

           and the road truly ends,

but Spirit knows, so I go.

I will arise, but to wait

     for the blowing Wind to blow,

       as it pushes me along

         I will go and when no more

           I will stop and then know

for that moment I am there.

The Old Rugged Cross

I grew up singing "The Old Rugged Cross,"  "Nothing but the Blood," and numerous other songs which pointed toward the cross upon which Christ died.  Sermons preached back then were direct as we were told that forgiveness for sin came to us because of the cross.  Of course, that was a day when preachers preached about sin and those who heard those sermons were invited to kneel at an altar to seek forgiveness.  Unfortunately, we live in a culture where the meaning of sin has been watered down and the cross has largely disappeared as a focus for our spiritual life.   

When John the Baptist saw Jesus he immediately told those who were his disciples, "Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world."  (John 1:29)  The image of the lamb being a sacrificial animal in Hebrew culture was not lost or ignored by those who walked the road with him.  It was clear to this ancient man of God that Jesus was that Lamb and that His sacrifice would have the power to handle the sin problem of humankind.  The cross has always been a stumbling block for some, but for others it is the power of God at work in the human heart. (I Corinthians 1:18-25)   

In my mind are memories of many moments of kneeling at altars and experiencing a sense of kneeling before the cross.  The cross upon which Jesus died was not a sanitized piece of jewelry, but a place where Rome executed rebels and criminals.  It was a place of enduring pain and inevitable death.  Jesus allowed Himself to be taken to the cross so that His sacrifice would serve as an act of atonement for all of us and our sins.  The cross is God's response to the loneliness of the heart which is created by our choosing separation from God instead of oneness with Him.

God's Love

The Word says each of us are wonderfully made. It tells us we were known by our Creator before anyone saw our form.  This divine Word reminds us we are special in the eyes of God.  This should not be surprising to us as the first chapter of Genesis speaks of the way each one of us bears the imprint of the hand of God as well as the essence of His being.  Add to this the event of the cross which reveals a love for each one of us that is beyond understanding.  God not only chose to share the human experience through the presence of the Son of God, but also allowed His death on the cross to take care of the way our sin separated us from Him.  

There are times when it seems that our life does not matter to God, that He has forgotten us, or that we have done such terrible things that He will never look our way again.  Love does not work that way.  There is no hurt our children can inflict upon us that would cause us to cease loving them.  There is nothing they might say or do which will make us push them away.   One of the most basic truths of the universe is that we are loved by God.  

We are not just loved, but loved in a way that is beyond understanding.  God will never leave us.  He will never turn us loose.  He will never cease seeking ways to bridge the chasm we have created with our sin.  The proof of this is finally seen in that moment of utter darkness on a cross long centuries ago.  The cross is more than a piece of jewelry, but a clear sign of God's love for us.  

Old Books

I have been reading a book written by William Gurnall.  It is entitled "The Christian in Complete Armor."  Do not fret if you do not recognize the title or the author.  Gurnall was a 17th century Puritan who served a single church in England for thirty-five years.  His book was actually a three volume work and the merits of his work is indicated by the fact that it went through six editions before he died in 1679. Everything about his life has passed away except the book he wrote.  Somehow one volume of the three showed up in my library and I have been discovering a remarkable writing from long ago.  It is so easy for us to fill up our shelves with the trendy books written yesterday and when we see a book from another century, we put it on the irrelevant shelf.   

It is a shame old books are regarded as books of no value.  One of the things discovered in these dusty volumes from the past, it is that they often have a relevancy for the church of today and our own personal faith journey.  The language may be different and require a little head scratching, but the linguistic digging is often worth the work.    

When my clergy grandfather died long decades ago, I was privileged to go through his books.  I found authors from another generation I did not know, but I carried them with me into my own unfolding ministry.  They enriched my preaching and opened doors to different ways of thinking. I am grateful for the legacy of libraries shared with me and grateful for the way they have enhanced my ministry.  

Reckoned as Righteous

God does not require perfection in performance from us.  If such were the case Abraham never would have made it to the Faith Hall of Fame.  When we read his story, we see a man who is constantly stumbling as he follows the leading of the Lord.  Despite all those times when he took matters into his own hands instead of trusting in the Lord, the Word says about him, "And he believed the Lord; and the Lord reckoned him as righteous." (Genesis 15:6)   

Centuries after Abraham walked with God, John Wesley, the father of Methodism, would preach a doctrine of Christian perfection.  It was then as it is now greatly misunderstood. Wesley was not teaching about being perfect in our outward behavior, but instead, living as one who sought such heart purity that life was directed solely by the perfect love of God.  As the Word reminds us, God looks not on outward appearance, but on the heart.    

It was according to what was in his heart that Abraham was reckoned as righteous.  It was the same for Wesley and it is the same for us.  I always remember a small child from years ago who climbed on the kitchen counter, put his dirty feet in the dishwater, and reached into the sink to wash the dishes for his sick mother.  His act was imperfect, but his intentions and his love was pure.  So, it can be with all of us who seek to be counted as righteous by God.  

Surprised!

When Abraham and Sarah were well past the child bearing age, Sarah tells her husband she is going to have a child.  The Scripture speaks of the moment with the words, "The Lord dealt with Sarah as He had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as He had promised.  Sarah conceived and bore Abraham a son in his old age..."  (Genesis 21:1-2)  God certainly seems to take great delight in doing the unexpected, in bringing surprises into our lives, and in keeping His promises without fail.  And, of course, in the case of Abraham and Sarah, it is obvious that God is not bound by the calendar we hold so dear.  

Many times we end up taking the route of Abraham.  We know what God has promised.  We wait for Him to act and then when too much time passes, we find ourselves taking matters in our own hands.  We do not wait on God very easily.  When Abraham and Sarah had their son, Isaac, there was no doubt it was a work of God for those two were not just old, but they were very old.  It would seem that sometimes God acts the way He does to show us that He is the One who is doing what He promised to do.   

All of us know about the surprising work of God in our lives.  Maybe it is not something like having a child late in life, but when we look back over the span of the years, we surely can see God doing what seemed impossible at the moment.  Anyone who cannot look back and realize that God has given far more to us than we ever expected or deserved needs to put on a different pair of glasses.  His blessings are not only numerous each day, but they are often more than just a little surprising.      

Two Voices

When I was a would be Michael Jordan on the basketball court of Wheeler County High School, our coach constantly told us we should only be listening to his voice during the game.  As far as he was concerned we could ignore the encouraging voice of our parents in the stands.  We could ignore those chants of the cheerleaders telling those of us on the court we could do anything.  As far as the coach was concerned we should be listening for his voice and no other voice.   

It is too bad someone did not give Abram such advice.  In the 15th chapter of Genesis we hear the voice of God telling a complaining Abram, "I am your shield; your reward shall be very great."  (Genesis 15:1)  The Lord God then took him outside, pointed toward the stars, and said to this man who was worried about not having a son born to him, "...count the stars, if you are able to count them...so shall your descendants be."  (Genesis 15:5)  And finally the Lord opened a vision to Abram that enabled him to see a vast land which would belong to his descendants. With all of this in his ears and in his eyes, he goes into his tent where a nagging wife tells him to take her slave girl and have a child by her so that she and Abram will be childless no more.  

So, here is this man who has been overwhelmed with the voice of the Lord suddenly hearing the differing voice of his wife.  What does he do?  The Word says, "And Abram listened to the voice of Sarai."  (Genesis 16:2)  In the Garden Adam made the mistake of listening to the voice of a woman instead of the voice of the Lord and Abram now is ready to rush into the same sin.  But, let us not be too quick to judge.  We, too, have heard the compromising voices of expediency, personal desires, and getting even instead of the voice of the Lord and like, Abram, we heard those voices and forgot about the voice of the Lord.

The Place of Mercy

When Abram pressed on past the plan of God, he found himself in a passel of trouble.  With a famine in the land to which God had brought him, Abram decided he should move on to the other side of the fence to a land called Egypt.  "Now there was a famine in the land.  So Abram went down to Egypt."  (Genesis 12:10)  As it usually does, one wrong led to another wrong and the second in some ways was worse than the first.  Out of fear for his own life, he told his wife, Sarai, to say she was not his wife, but his sister.  And in such a manner she was taken into Pharoah's house.  And her husband slept safely in his own tent!  

It is always best to stay inside the plan of God.  When Adam was caught with the forbidden fruit, he took another step away from God's plan by trying to shift the blame for his actions to another.  David's desire for Bathsheba finally took him to the place of killing her husband.  Holding prejudice in their hearts made James and John ready to call down fire upon a village of Samaritans. Whenever we venture outside of the plan of God, we venture into a land where the very plan of God for us is put at risk.  

Fortunately for Abram and each one of us, there is a greater desire for mercy than judgment in the heart of God.  As we continue reading the story of Abram, we come to those Words which speak of God's mercy, "He (Abram) journeyed...to the place where his tent had been at the beginning...to the place where he had made an altar at the first and there Abram called on the name of the Lord."  (Genesis 13:3-4)   When Abram chose a way other than the way of the Lord, he was by the mercy of God led back to the place of beginning, the place of faith, the place of living once again inside the plan of God.  May the journey take each of us to such a place.    

The Detour from Faith

It does indeed seem strange that the call of God was still ringing in the ears of Abram when he arrived in Egypt.  When the Lord first spoke to this son of Terah, He said, "Go...to the land that I will show you."  (Genesis 12:1)  With hindsight which has stretched over the generations we know Abram was to find his home in the land of Canaan.  And Abram did arrive in that place (Genesis 12:5), but he did not stay.  Dreams of living in Canaan had been in his mind a long time since Abram's father had also set out to go, but did not make it. (Genesis 11:31)    

The Word records the journey and hardly had he gotten his tent stakes in the ground of Canaan before we find him in Egypt. (Genesis 12:10)  While it is true the Lord did not say in the beginning where He was going to take Abram, it has always seemed that Egypt was not really the place.  Canaan was to be his home so it seems that the man who would be known for his faith in God took matters in his own hands with his detour into Egypt.  It was an easy decision to make.  There was a famine in Canaan, he had family and flocks to feed, and the grass was greener across the Nile.   The failure in faith seen in Abram is often a personal failure which remains unseen.  

There have been times when we have lived as one who wanted to be faithful and trusting in God, but who also lived with a Plan B when God's plan did not seem to be working.  When God did not appear to be providing Abram's needs, he took things in his own hands and went to Egypt.  Too many times we have walked the same road.  We make many decisions justifying them as expedient and practical just in case God is not able to provide what we need, or in some cases what we want.