Is There No End?

I am told, by professing-Christians leaders, that we should pray against the enemies of our president. How can such a thing be? When we call political opponents enemies, we do not speak the language of democracy, we speak the language of totalitarianism.

Christians are called to pray for those in authority, I take that to mean, in our democracy, those in all three branches of constitutional government.  I do not take it to mean that we preach God a sermon in our prayers, nor preach a sermon to others in public prayers, but that we sincerely and genuinely pray for our leaders. (1 Timothy 2:1 – 4).

Chesterton wrote in The Judgement of Dr. Johnson, “I have formed a very clear conception of patriotism. I have generally found it thrust into the foreground by some fellow who has something to hide in the background. I have seen a great deal of patriotism; and I have generally found it the last refuge of the scoundrel.”

I see that a charitable organization that provides disaster relief is being turned into a political propaganda outlet for an evangelistic organization which once was intent on sharing the Gospel of Christ – is there no end to the promiscuity of some professing-Christian leaders?

What does it matter how powerful we are, how rich we are, how militarily secure we are…if we have rejected and desecrated the image of God? What matters it if we win politically (whatever that might mean, I really have no idea) and yet the soul of our nation and the soul of the professing - church is corrupt? Prostitute the Gospel for access to the hallways of power? Now we know what the corrupt priesthood in ancient Judah looked like; now we see why Yahweh sent the Babylonians.

Our Only Possible Salvation on Memorial Day

On Tuesday mornings, after our men’s group, some of the guys meet for breakfast with men from our “brother” group (a few years ago the original group grew to so many men that we morphed into two groups).

From time to time someone will ask me about going to the breakfast; this past week I was asked again and I replied, “Well, I know that politics comes up a lot and I don’t like being in the minority.” Being in the minority can be wearisome. Since most, if not all, of the men who have breakfast together style themselves “Conservatives”, my comment can be taken to mean that I’m a “Liberal”; but I would say (and do) the same thing if the group were Liberal. I want my center of gravity to be Jesus Christ and His Kingdom, I want to live as a citizen of heaven before I live as a citizen of the United States, and assuredly I want to live as a citizen of heaven before I remotely consider identifying with a political party or political agenda.

For years I have been intentional in not using the words “conservative” and “liberal” because I frankly think they are thoughtless, forgive my bluntness. Explain what you believe, explain what you stand for; explain your understanding of what other people believe and stand for – think these things through. The result might be that we grow in our own understanding, that we challenge our own assumptions, that we place ourselves in a position where the Holy Spirit and the Word of God can use us to build bridges to others in order to share Jesus Christ.

Another reason I don’t use the words “liberal” and “conservative” is that I don’t want to build barriers, and I think this is a major communications problem – is my goal to convert a conservative to a liberal or a liberal to a conservative? Or is it to thoughtfully share Jesus Christ? Is it to thoughtfully bridge relational chasms?

I have read articles and books that were making thoughtful points and presenting worthy ideas when the author starting using the words “liberal” and “conservative” – and I’ve  thought, “What will the person who is not a conservative (or liberal) think when he reads this, for all of a sudden a barrier has been thrown up? Now the author is attacking the other “party” and what was once a reasonably-presented argument has now, with the use of polarizing words, become a tribal issue.”

And doesn’t the use of such words, at least for the Christian, dehumanize other people, for how can I know the heart and mind and soul of a person, in some measure, unless I listen and ask questions?

I recently read Edwin Lutzer’s book, The Church in Babylon, it raises a number of important issues and had the potential to be a wake-up call to Christians, but there are places where Lutzer brings out his big brush and talks about “liberals” – what is the point of that? How is that effectively communicating? How is that persuading? I know political and theological folks who consider themselves liberal who have Biblical perspectives on issues that those who consider themselves conservative don’t seem to have, and I know folks who consider themselves conservatives where the reverse is true.

Let’s not forget that Jesus called both Matthew the tax collector and Simon the Zealot.

If we are followers of Jesus Christ, no broad brush is our salvation, and no civil religion is our salvation; Jesus Christ and only Jesus Christ should be both our testimony and our salvation. Our overcoming can only be by the blood of the Lamb and the Word of our testimony (Rev. 12:11). A simplistic nationalism, a confusion of the Gospel with our nation, an ignorance of our nation’s historical sins and our present sins, and a framing of life in political and economic terms, without those terms being informed by the Gospel, is toxic to our life in Christ and our testimony.

If the Word of God is informing our view of economics, politics, education, business, standard of living, entertainment, sports, healthcare, immigration, foreign policy; in other words, if the Word of God and the Cross of Jesus Christ are at the center of our lives, and if we are submitted to the Cross and God’s Word, and if Jesus Christ is our first love…then I think I can safely say that we will nearly always find that God’s Way is not our (naturalistic) way, and that God’s interests do not align with our own selfish interests, and that  it will cost us to follow Jesus Christ in obedience in all of these areas of life – we will seldom, if ever, find ourselves in either the majority or even in a significant minority.

Of course, and I do not write this tritely, if we are with Christ then we are in God’s majority; that should be sufficient for us. To quote Saint Athanasius, “Do not say that the world is against Athanasius, say that Athanasius is against the world.”

The only hope for our country, or any country, is Jesus Christ. This means that God’s People live as citizens of His Kingdom before they live as citizens of any earthly nation or identify themselves with any earthly political perspective. It means that God’s People live as a distinct minority so that they, by God’s grace, might be salt and light in the midst of insanity. It means that we are willing to suffer for Christ and others. It means that we are not known as conservatives or liberals or moderates…but rather as followers of Jesus Christ.

“Then he [Abraham] said, ‘Oh may the Lord not be angry, and I shall speak only this once; suppose ten are found there?’ And He [the Lord] said, ‘I will not destroy it on account of the ten.’”

An Arm on the Shoulder

I’ve been reading Gerhard E. Frost’s “The Color of Night”. It contains 86 short reflections on Job. I was introduced to Frost through a volume of devotions that Vickie and I read, “Spiritual Classics”, edited by Paul Ofstedal, Augsburg Press. Spiritual Classics has an interesting format; you spend fourteen days with writers as diverse as Augustine, P.T. Forsyth, Kierkegaard, Flannery O’Connor, C.S. Lewis, and George MacDonald. There were a couple of authors that we tried and couldn’t read for one reason or another, and there was one author that we didn’t try for theological reasons; but hey, as long as you know that the fish has bones (and this fish had just a few bones) have a go at it! All in all I’m glad we finally read the book in our devotions – I’d had the volume for years but never read it.

Here are some of Frost’s comments in The Color of Night on Job 16:1 – 5; first the passage and then Frost’s comments:

Then Job answered, “I have heard many such things; sorry comforters are you all.  Is there no limit to windy words? Or what plagues you that you answer? I too could speak like you, If I were in your place. I could compose words against you and shake my head at you. I could strengthen you with my mouth, and the solace of my lips could lessen your pain.” (NASB)

“Why does Job feel so cheated? Why this outburst of indignation? Probably because his friends have persisted in answering questions of the heart with arguments of the mind, forgetting that it is futile to argue with feelings, since “the heart has reasons which reason does not know.” Perhaps he feels their talk has been too cheap, requiring nothing of them  and giving nothing to him, for they have substituted debate for acts of love.

“No one ever thinks his way out of despair. He must be rescued by the ‘event’ of love. Explanations usually drive a despairing person into lostness or prove to be untrue by pretending to be complete.

“An arm on the shoulder, the gentle pressure of a warm and loving hand, a nod, a look, a smile, a kiss, sometimes a tear – these often provide all the language that one can endure. In these acts our words become flesh, and without these ‘events’ we cannot sense the caring love of God.” (Italics mine).

Who can we touch today?

Read and Read Again

"Read, and read again, and do not despair of help to understand something of the will and mind of God, though you think they are fast locked up from you. Neither trouble your heads though you have not commentaries and expositions; pray and read, and read and pray...There is nothing that so abides with us as what we receive from God...Things that we receive at God's hand come to us as things from the minting-house, though old in themselves, yet new to us. Old truths are always new to us, if they come to us with the smell of heaven upon them."

John Bunyan

"But when He, the Spirit of truth, comes, He will guide you into all the truth; for He will not speak on His own initiative, but whatever He hears, He will speak; and He will disclose to you what is to come. He will glorify Me, for He will take of Mine and will disclose it unto you. All things that the Father has are Mine; therefore I said that He takes of Mine and will disclose it to you.

John 14:13 - 15. 

How is our reading and praying?

How is our praying and reading? 

Should this not be like breathing? Should not God's Word be the air we breathe? Should we not inhale and exhale it as naturally as breathing? 

What Shall I Say? By: Gerhard Emanuel Frost

What Shall I Say?

By: Gerhard Emanuel Frost

What shall I say when they come,

my sister, my brother in distress,

I who am mortal, and so fallible too?

Shall I say

“Take a trip to the Grand Tetons,

stop by their snow-fed streams,

drink like a breast-fed babe

and try to taste God”?

Or,

“Hold a puppy in your lap

and stroke its silken ears”?

No, not these footnotes,

grace-filled as they may be.

I’ll invite them to the

Headline – the Name:

“Jesus-Emmanuel (God with us)!

Whisper it, shout it, pray it.

Yes, cry it, cry out against it,

you must, but test it,

taste it, experience how true it is,

how tough and how tender.

Yes, come to him!”

That’s what I’ll say.

Frost comments about this poem:

“We can find no answers to our most tormenting questions. We know so little about life or death. But we have a refuge in Emmanuel. And we can share this haven with our friends.

“We walk as children in a dark and strange room. We can’t see our way around the corners or the obstacles, but we sense a presence. God’s hand holds ours, and he has confided in us. He has told us his intimate everyday name – Emmanuel.”

Lina and Darby

It’s hard to imagine a closer pair of dogs than Lina and Darby. Darby was our shepherd-Lab mix that went to Narnia a little over ten years ago. While Lina and Lily had their own special relationship, Lina and Darby were something else – most always together, and when together often touching.

First it was Chris Ann (Cocker Spaniel) by herself; then Mitzi (likely a border collie mix, about six months old) was rescued from the streets of Richmond by Vickie – so then it was Chris and Mitz. Then Darby was part of a litter rescued by a co-worker of Vickie’s; so then it was Chris, Mitzi, and Darby. Then Chris went to Narnia – and Darby really missed her, looked all over for her. Chris was the older dog and Darby was the puppy.

Years later Mitzi went to Narnia and then it was just Darby. Frankly Darby didn’t appear to miss Mitzi very much; Mitz could be temperamental, but I chalk that up to her troubled puppyhood on the streets of Richmond. Mitz and Darby were with us when we moved to the Boston area, then to the Berkshires, and then back to Chesterfield. They could be buddies and have fun, and they were great at chasing squirrels…but I admit that Mitz could be grouchy at times…a nip here, a nip there…the fruit of a troubled existence on city streets no doubt.

Darby was by herself for a couple of years, I had a tough time getting over the loss of Mitzi…she was my puppy. She didn’t have much use for women, but she liked men; she really liked Vickie’s Dad; in her old age she came to tolerate Vickie, maybe even appreciate her at times.

When we first brought Lina home we let her down on the grass in our fenced backyard, then we let Darby out on the deck to see her new sister – oh my! Darby took one look at Lina and let out a bark that was probably picked up on a seismograph out in Colorado. Poor Lina ran into a corner of the wooden fence with her face toward the fence; “If I can’t see that big thing then maybe that big thing can’t see me.”

Not a good start to a relationship.

Her First Bark

Lina was a quiet puppy, in fact, she didn’t bark for about six months. Then one evening we were in our family room, Lina lay on the hearth rug in front of the fireplace…all was quiet and then Lina barked – she startled us and she startled herself, she was quite surprised. She looked around as if to say, “What was that?”

A sweet memory.

Holding and Carrying Lina

How long ago was it that she tore her first ACL (more properly her cruciate)? Four years? Three years? Then a year or so later she tore her second one. Both in her back legs, both partial tares.

Lina had a pretty good recovery from the first tare, but the second one was pronounced and from that point we had to really limit her activity. Not that she couldn’t go on yard patrol, but it was better for her not to go on yard patrol in early afternoon when the “mail Lady” delivered mail, for the mail Lady is very much a dog person and she comes bearing treats and kind words for puppies – no puppy can walk to the mail Lady, for the mail Lady deserves a run and happy barks.

The second tare was pretty bad, and after agonizing over surgery we opted for laser treatments and acupuncture and were quite pleased and thankful for the results.

Up until the second tare, which happened when Lina was going down the stairs from our first floor to the basement to be with Vickie, Lina could go up and down stairs, but from that point on I carried her. (We also had a ramp built from our deck to the yard).

This meant that every morning and every night I carried her down and up the stairs to and from the second floor which is where Lily and Lina slept on their dog beds in our room. It also meant that if the ramp was icy that I carried Lina down and up our front porch steps; or if we had a tornado warning I carried her down into the basement and back up. Because Lina was a “long dog” (a Basset and Beagle mix – favoring the Basset side of her lineage) and also a chunky monkey, she was a bit unwieldy to carry – making it a challenge for Vickie to do the porch and impossible for her to carry Lina from floor to floor.

I never got tired of carrying Lina, I never wearied of holding her. When Lina was a puppy and we picked her up from friends in Louisa county to bring her home, Vickie drove the car and I held Lina on my lap.

When it was time for Lina’s last car ride, I carried her to the car and placed her on her bed in the back of our SUV. I carried her into the vet’s office and held her on my lap in the waiting room. I carried her into the examining room and got down on the floor with her. When the vet’s assistant asked me if I wanted a chair I said, “No”.

I needed to be on the floor with her, holding her as best I could…along with Vickie…until….

I miss holding her close to me…

Her Collar

Our dog’s collars have been part of their identity. This goes beyond a dog license or a medallion indicating rabies vaccination; it is the one piece of attire that they weren’t born with, the item that is bestowed upon them by their human parents, their Mom and Dad.

          When we remove collars to replace a dog license or vaccination tag there is a look of anxiety, a sense of the uncomfortable that does not abate until the collar is once again where it belongs, on our beloved pet.

          “We need to remember to bring her collar with us when we leave,” I said to Vickie as we sat in the waiting room. I thought it best to verbalize this important matter, lest when overwhelmed with emotion we forget – though I don’t know how we would forget such a thing.

          We would not remove her collar until she was gone, until she had breathed her last, until her precious heart ceased beating. We wanted her to know that she was ours until that last breath, that she was loved, that she will always be loved.

          A last kiss. Another “We love you.” A last stroke of her head.

          I gently removed her collar.

Lina

I open my eyes, it is still dark. My heart aches. I have to get up, it is Sunday and they expect me at church. If I don’t show up they’ll notice I’m not there – after all, I’m the pastor.

I don’t want to descend the stairs from our bedroom to the first floor; I know how empty it will be. Lily and Lina have been sleeping downstairs for quite a while now, rather than in the bedroom with us. Last night, for the first time in months, Lily slept on her foam bed in the bedroom.

The first floor is quiet, still, not a sound. No tail thumping the floor in anticipation of seeing “Daddy”.

I can’t help it, I expect to see her; knowing she isn’t there I still expect to see her.

What is this mystery that binds a man or a woman to a pet, and a pet to a woman or a man? What is this mystery that gives us so much joy and companionship, and so much sorrow?

Emptiness; the hallway is empty, the living room is empty, the family room where she would normally be in the morning is empty. Empty but not empty for I still see her, I feel her, I think I hear her – there she is at her water bowl in the kitchen, there is that tail wagging as she looks up to me.