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(Zechariah 9:9)
I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas. I hope you got everything you wanted. We sure did. Of course, Christmas in Hawaii isn't the Norman Rockwell painting most people picture that Special Day looking like. For one thing, there is no point in wishing for a White Christmas. Unless you live 14,000 feet up on top of Mauna Kea, it isn't going to happen. The best you can do is go to a white sand beach (if you squint it looks sort of like snow). Christmas Day looks basically like every other day in Hawaii. In other words, like summer.
Santa's also a bit different over here. If you grew up on the Mainland, he probably wouldn't meet your expectations. Our Santa Claus leans more towards aloha shirts than the red jacket. He leaves his winter pants at the North Pole and opts for jams. And the black boots are traded in for slippers or just plain bare feet. He is more likely to ride a Harley into town or even surf up to the beach than show up in a sleigh. He wears a lei and "Howzit" figures more prominently in his vocabulary than "Ho, ho ho!" Not exactly most peoples' idea of Saint Nick.
Jesus had pretty much the same effect on the people of Israel. He just wasn't what they had in mind for the Messiah. In fact, He still isn't and they continue to wait for One more to their liking, One who fits their expectations. Even though the prophet Zechariah told them 400 years before Christ's triumphant entry into Jerusalem that their King would be riding a donkey, they had hoped for something more, well, spectacular.
But that's God for you. Oh, He can certainly be spectacular when He wants to be. Just look at the parting of the Red Sea. They talked about that one for years. And naturally they thought He'd do the same with the Messiah; make a big production out of His coming to earth. They expected Him to storm their beloved Jerusalem with an angelic host, or a least a bunch of really tough Marines, and deliver them from their oppressors. Instead He came in riding not just a donkey, but a baby donkey, surrounded by a rag-tag mob of singing peasants with palm branches. Wow.
This would be bad enough, but to make matters worse, He let's Himself be killed. Some conquering Hero! What's He going to do, conquer Jerusalem from the grave? Even His own disciples figured they'd best get back to their day jobs. Boy, talk about a let down!
Of course, having the luxury of hindsight, we can smile. We know He conquered, not just Jerusalem (and Rome), but Hell, death, sickness, fear and sin. He won the ultimate victory. But what if we had been in Jerusalem when He came in riding a donkey? What would we have thought? And had we been among His disciples at His burial, we might have been just as disappointed and discouraged as they were. Even today, knowing what we know, too often we still expect God to do everything our way. We expect our prayers to be answered with neat little Christmas presents tucked under our tree, when the Tree itself is really the Present and the Answer. We open gifts He's given us and think, "This isn't what I had in mind" and sometimes never realize what we are holding in our hands. It just doesn't look right. God doesn't ride a donkey.
I hope you got everything you wanted for Christmas. But maybe you think you didn't. There was this guy in a tiny village outside Jerusalem that owned a little donkey. Nothing special, just another dumb ass. No one had ever even ridden it. But it was just what Jesus needed. Not a gold chariot with eight white horses. A donkey. Fortunately he had one to give. Who would have guessed its first rider would be a King?
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(Micah 5:2)
On the first Christmas Eve, almost 2,000 years ago, a man named Joseph led his very pregnant young wife into the only lodgings available in the dusty little hamlet of Bethlehem: a stable. Surrounded by the sounds and smells of the animals that ringed them in the dim light, the young girl gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Throughout the long sleepless night visitors treaded quietly across the straw-strewn dirt floor to get a glimpse of this little boy. He certainly looked like any other newborn baby. But an angel had told these visitors that this was Someone Special. This Child was born for common shepherds like them, and for all people. He was the Christ, their Messiah.
This inauspicious beginning should have surprised no one, least of all those learned in the Law and the Prophets. Seven hundred years before, the prophet Micah told them this would happen. Bethlehem, barely a speed bump on the road to Jerusalem, would be the birthplace of Messiah. Indeed later, when the wise men asked the scribes where they might find this new King, they instantly referred to Micah's prophecy and said, "Bethlehem". Sadly, none of the scribes felt any need to check this out personally and the wise men went alone to see Jesus. 2,000 years later, not much has changed.
But Micah does much more than just pinpoint the birthplace of the Messiah. While revealing the humanity of Jesus, he also confirms His deity: Whose goings forth are from of old, from everlasting. "Everlasting" here literally means the days of eternity. He has always been. If we read further in the prophecy, Micah again confirms this fully Man/fully God theme: And He shall stand ... in the majesty of the name of the Lord His God (Micah 5:4).
That's what we need to keep in mind this Christmas, who Jesus really is, and why He came. We need to realize that as wonderful as His birth is to us, it's what He did 33 short years later that counts the most. Had He not taken that final step for us, had He chosen not to go to the Cross, the manger would be picturesque, but irrelevant. And make no mistake, He did have a choice.
Right now, because of that choice, Jesus the Christ sits at the right hand of the Father. His name saves us. His prayers intercede for us. His Spirit lives in us. His power flows through us. His love guides us. His life instructs us. His Word enlightens us. His angels watch over us. His Blood redeems us. He is called Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father and the Prince of Peace. And yet He still calls us His friends.
So as we open Christmas cards portraying the Baby Jesus lying the manger, as we drive by quaint Nativity scenes showing the infant Lord sleeping peacefully on the hay, as we sing "Silent Night" and "O, Little Town of Bethlehem" and celebrate the joyous birth of our Savior, let's not lose sight of one very important fact: He grew up.
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(Psalm 127:2)
If you have trouble sleeping, it would be a good idea to take this verse from Psalm 127, write it on a little card, and place it next to your bed. You might also put one in the medicine cabinet next to your (unnecessary) sleeping pills just to remind yourself that God really would like for you to have a good night's sleep. In fact, He's promising you just that. But there's something we have to do first: stop worrying.
This verse, from a psalm written by King Solomon, paints a vivid picture of a world-class worrier. This poor guy can't get a decent night's rest because he's so wound up. You can imagine him tossing and turning, jumping out of bed, pacing the floor and chewing his nails. He's taken the first big step to becoming a mental, emotional and even a physical wreck. This will eventually produce irritability, confusion, forgetfulness, a decrease in productivity and less and less party invitations.
Maybe you think I'm being an alarmist. A little worrying never hurt anybody. Well let's take a look at a couple key words in today's verse.
The first one that caught my attention is the word vain. It is the Hebrew word shav. One of it's meanings is useless and that would certainly work very well in this context. But if you dig a little deeper, there's a far more serious implication. The word shav comes from shoah, which means devastation, as by a tempest or storm. It is not just useless to worry, it's devastating.
The second word I examined is sorrows. This is the Hebrew word 'etseb which basically is a pang of mind or body. But again there's more. If we take this word back to it's root, 'atsab, we find the meaning to carve or fabricate worry, pain or anger. In other words, creative negativity. Also interesting is that both words, shav and 'etseb contain the underlying implication of idolatry, something God Almighty has historically been less than thrilled with.
So let's look at what we have if we put this all together: It is devastating for you to rise up early, to sit up late, worshipping your own created negativity; He would rather give those He loves a good night's sleep.
Erudite Bible scholars might quibble with my translation, but there's no way around it, worry is simply wrong. It shows a complete lack of faith in God's ability (and willingness) to be our Source and our Protector (He likes this as much as idolatry). We can never worry Him into action. Only faith get's Him moving on our behalf. Of course Jesus put this whole message much more eloquently and to the point than I could ever hope to in Matthew 6:25-34. This also makes excellent bedtime reading.
So tonight when you climb into bed, if anything (big or small) is worrying you, try this: Say, Lord, I've got some things on my mind. They're really worrying me. I know You don't want that because Your Word says so. I trust You. You've promised me sleep. I'm going to give these problems to You to hold onto for the next 8 hours. They're in Your hands now. If I want them back in the morning, I'll ask for them. Thanks, Father and goodnight.
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(John 10:10)
As human beings, we have a tendency to try to make sense out of tragic situations. We want to know why people are needlessly killed, why good people die. As a result of this desire, and to comfort grieving survivors, we often say things that, while they sound nice, just aren't true.
I have seen a lot of this with the recent shooting deaths of the students in Paducah. Here were a bunch of good kids simply getting together for some morning prayers when they were senselessly gunned down. Nobody, Christian or otherwise, could be anything but saddened at the loss of young lives and the ironic setting in which the crime took place. Immediately the usual questions began to be asked. And as usual, the wrong answers began to flood the airwaves. I saw this especially in the funeral carried on CNN. Unfortunately the wrong answers were coming from men who should know better. It's their job to have the right ones.
First of all, let me say that nobody has all the answers, except God Himself. There are going to be times in even the most faith-filled Christian's life when something happens that just makes no sense at all. This is when you simply have to trust God and hold on tight. Like it or not, this is faith. He will get you through it. But there are some things we know for sure and we should not waver from these truths.
One: Grief, no matter how valid, how real, is not to become a lifestyle. To tell someone that their sense of loss, pain and sadness cannot (and never will be) abated is simply unbiblical. Yes, you will cry. Yes, you will miss your loved one. What kind of person would you be if you didn't? But to tell them that they are left with a gigantic, unfillable hole in their life that will never go away, that there is no cure for this pain, is to condemn them to a lifetime of grief. You may as well tell them that their life is over, too. This is simply not what God wants for any of us. He promised to carry even our grief. He promised to heal even our broken hearts. We can, and must, go on. If they're born-again, we will see them again. That's a promise.
Two: People never have, don't now, and never will become angels when they die. Angels are created beings, not dead humans. This may seem like a small thing, but it isn't. Angels are very real and very powerful. They do God's bidding. They respond to His Word, even when it comes out of our mouths. We don't worship them, pray to them or even seek them out, but they are there for us. And none of them was ever your grandmother or mine.
Three: God is not a murderer, as our verse for today clearly points out. The thief is and that thief is Satan. God did not kill these children. He didn't inspire some disturbed teenager to be His trigger man and bring grief and sadness to dozens of families just so He could have these kids in heaven. He, and heaven, can wait. Please give Him more credit than that. The fact is that we have a very real enemy. He thinks he won a round here. He didn't. Those kids are with God, enjoying a happiness we don't even have a word for, a happiness he hasn't forgotten (he used to live there, you know). Don't give him even a partial victory by blaming God for his horrible deeds.
This tragedy reminded me of Bill Cosby. I always thought he was a pretty funny guy. Growing up, I listened to his albums, most of which were about his childhood. His love of children was obvious. Over the years, I also understood him to be a tough business man and one not particularly interested in Christianity. His lifestyle was not what we (always perfect) Christians would call saintly. Still, when his only son was murdered for no apparent reason, I felt terribly sorry for him and I figured he would sort of disappear. How could he still be funny? But he surprised me. We saw his grief. Real overwhelming, heartbreaking grief. But we also saw him continue to be Bill Cosby. He got on with his life. And then he did one more thing that really surprised me. When asked in an interview why God had taken his son, he replied that God didn't take his son. The Lord doesn't do things like that. The enemy did.
Satan just can't win.
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(Psalm 119:49)
In preparing this week's message, I did some research to determine the authorship of Psalm 119. I looked at several Bibles and studied many different notations and summaries, but could not find the answer. I came to the conclusion, however, that this is David's writing and I will proceed with this supposition. If I am wrong about this, please feel free to email me and apply the rod of correction.
When he was quite young, David received a word from God, delivered by the prophet Nathan, that kept him going through his most difficult times. He was told that his house and kingdom would never fail and that his son would sit on his throne. This throne would last for eternity (2 Samuel 7:12-16). For many long years, this must have seemed like pure fantasy, as Saul chased David all over the country, trying his best to insure that David didn't have a chair to sit on, let alone a throne. But time after time, when facing death, David remembered this promise. It gave him hope. More, it caused him to hope. And he was not too shy to remind God Himself that He had made this promise. He lived for (and expected) it's fulfillment.
Today when we read passages in Scripture like this, we have a habit of assigning them to history. We see this as the way God used to do things. He doesn't talk much anymore because He's already said all that He needs to say. We tend to respond with raised eyebrows and more than a little doubt when someone claims to have had a word from God. Most of us would be deeply concerned for someone if they actually ordered their life and made their plans according to this so-called "word". They're bound to be disappointed. Or worse.
I find this strange. Even though I don't consider myself a Bible scholar, I can read. And in my reading and re-reading of this Bible I can find no place where God says, "Okay everybody, new rules. I've changed. I'm through talking! Now get busy!" Again, feel free to correct me if you find evidence to the contrary.
This leads me to the startling conclusion that God still talks.
He does this as He always did: in many ways, and it isn't always dramatic. Sometimes He uses people (often ordinary ones) to give us a word. Sometimes dreams or visions. He may speak right to us, Spirit to spirit. At other times He may make a pertinent verse of Scripture jump off the page and smack us right upside the head (rhema) at just the right time. He can do it however He wants to. He's God. How He does it is irrelevant. What we do with this word isn't.
David used the word God gave him for strength, courage and hope. It gave him an insight into his destiny. God speaks to us as individuals for the same reason: to correct us, to encourage us, to direct our paths and to keep our hope alive. Just the perfect Father talking to His kids, the way a father should.
If you feel that God has spoken to you, believe it. Let this word comfort you and encourage you. If you are concerned that you may be mistaken, apply this test: Does the word you received line up with Scripture? Does it honor and glorify the lordship of Jesus Christ? Does it produce the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23)? If it's not from God it will fail this test miserably.
"But I haven't heard anything!"
There is a well known organization called SETI (Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence) that has spent millions of dollars setting up gigantic receivers designed to listen to the heavens. These high tech installations are manned around the clock by serious no-nonsense scientific-types hoping to intercept a stray transmission from space that will prove that there really is someone out there. Now I believe that I could save them a whole lot of time and money. Of course there's Someone out there! But I will give them this: they are listening.
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(Psalm 103: 4b)
Yes, we're still looking at Psalm 103. This is of course a verse from God's famous "benefits package" (verses 2-5), outlined by the forerunner of all renaissance men, King David.
For some reason, the importance of this verse always seems to get lost in the obvious tangible benefits (or blessings) of the other verses. Maybe being crowned with lovingkindness and tender mercies isn't as glamorous as forgiveness, healing, redemption from destruction, having all one's needs met and youth renewed. Okay, it definitely isn't. We all get excited when someone stands up at church and gives a healing testimony or describes how an impossible need was met miraculously in the eleventh hour. We would be thrilled to hear how someone escaped certain destruction or found the inexplainable peace of forgiveness. Everybody gets a big charge out of renewed strength and vitality. But when was the last time you heard someone report, "The Lord just crowned me with lovingkindness and tender mercies and I'm so excited I can't stand it!"? Me neither.
I think, however, we might be more thrilled with this, even find ourselves praying for it, if we understood it a little better.
The first thing to do is to get past two antiquated phrases: lovingkindness (that's a word?) and tender mercies (a movie title). Simply put, these mean (tah-dah) kindness and mercy, or compassion (more modern). I had hoped to dig up something really eye-popping in my concordance, but that's about it.
That word crowns, however, is a different story. This is where it gets interesting. Here we find the Hebrew word atar which obviously means to place a crown on someone's head but also can convey the idea of encircling (for attack or protection). Now it's starting to sound like something that could do a person some tangible good. Being encircled or surrounded by God's kindness and compassion could only help.
But why get complicated? We're talking about a crown, made of kindness and compassion, being placed on our terribly ordinary human heads by God Himself. That in itself is pretty remarkable, that Almighty God would crown us. But the most remarkable part is that although we get to wear it, and it helps us, it really isn't for us. It's for everybody else.
See, God enjoys blessing His people, but He likes to get a lot of mileage out of it. He wants other people, inside and outside of His family, to see us getting blessed. We're His advertising. He wants people to notice how well He takes care of His kids. He wants them to see Him in all He does for us. He wants them to see the blessing, not the one getting blessed.
Trust me, if you walk into a room wearing a crown, the crown is the first thing anyone will notice. The next day they won't remember what shoes you were wearing. They won't remember your cologne. All they will remember is that you had a crown on your head. If you don't believe me, try this: walk into the grocery store wearing a crown and count how many people stare at your feet.
This is why God chose to crown us with lovingkindness and tender mercies as opposed to fashioning it into some kind of spiritual underwear. He wants it to be seen. It's the first thing He wants people to see when they look at us, kindness and compassion. His kindness and compassion. The only problem is, He didn't weld the crown to our heads. We have to remember to wear it. Some of us have to remember where we hid it. I know mine's around here somewhere. I saw it just the other day.
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(Psalm 103: 2-3)
What I want to reinforce today is the 3rd verse: who forgives all your iniquities, who heals all your diseases. If you read this weekly message with any regularity, you know that the word all never escapes my attention. And there it is again. Twice. I like this word because it settles things for me. When God says He forgives all my iniquities, I assume He does. There just doesn't seem to be any theological wiggle room here.
Indeed, I always find that I have plenty of company when I share this belief on forgiveness. Christians believe in a forgiving God, regardless of denomination. Protestants do and so do Catholics. So convinced of this are we that we think nothing of urging people we don't even know to believe it, too. It doesn't matter what they've done wrong. We have humongous meetings where individuals are encouraged to repent and be forgiven (it's that easy) and they do so, often thousands at a time. Billy Graham does this with remarkable results. So do the Promise Keepers. Thousands of men at a time will ask God for forgiveness and actually believe they have received that precious gift. No problem. And they have received it.
In other words, very few Christians have a problem with who forgives all your iniquities but the same cannot be said for the next line, who heals all your diseases. I find this odd. It seems to me to be just as clear and concise a statement as the previous line. The same God said it, almost in the same breath. He demonstrated the truth of it just as vigorously throughout scripture as He did forgiveness. But if you actually believe that healing is to be expected as certainly as forgiveness you are seen by most Christians to be, at the very least, weird.
Since people have always thought I was weird anyway this doesn't really bother me (much). I am happy that I believe this verse. I take it literally. I linger on the word all when I meditate on it. To my simple mind it means exactly what it says: God heals all my diseases. Big ones and little ones. Life threatening and just plain annoying. Treatable and untreatable. God cares about my health and happiness. Nothing is too insignificant or trivial to warrant His attention. He's proven this to me time and again, in my life and the lives of those around me. For example, here's an email I received from my mom a couple days ago:
I told you that the x-ray the hygienist took at my periodontist had a dark spot on one of my molars. He looked at it, too, when he got back in the country from delivering a paper at some international convention, and said I needed a root canal, to make an appointment with my endodontist. Saw him this morning, they took 2 X-rays and banged around on the tooth and he proclaimed it perfectly sound, no discoloration at all on the X-ray! Praise the Lord healing, again!
See, God cares about the little things, too. He heals all our diseases, if we'll believe. She could have settled for a root canal. She would have survived it. She's been through worse. However, she believed for healing instead and missed out on all that fun. But unless you think God only does minor surgery, look at the last line of her email where she praises God for healing her again. This is a reference to her miraculous healing from cancer, a big thing.
Forgiveness is wonderful. So is being alive (and well). I look forward to the day when a million men can assemble in the Washington mall and raise their hands for healing as confidently as they do for forgiveness. I look forward to a time when our Christian leaders will believe all the promises of God and act on them, without doubt, debate or apology, when believing in a all-healing God doesn't relegate one to the outer fringes of Christianity. And I look especially forward to, for the first time in my life, not being weird.
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(Psalm 119:105)
When I say rustic, I do not mean quaint. A better word would be primitive. We had no running water. We depended on rain to fill our water tanks. This was all we had to drink, cook, and bathe with. During a particularly bad dry spell this precious resource was used for drinking and cooking exclusively. Thankfully our houses were open-air. Of course we had no plumbing, either. To visit a little room with real porcelain fixtures became something of a luxury. A hot shower was almost a religious experience.
We were also without the benefits of electricity, so when the sun went down, it got dark. Real dark. There were no street lights, no porch lights, not even a glow of city lights in the distance. On a moonless night you literally couldn't see your own hand in front of your face. And under the heavy jungle canopy even a bright moon had little effect. This was the blackest black I had ever seen, pitch black being a couple shades lighter.
This was, of course, not a problem in our shack. We had candles and lanterns if we wanted to read or see what in the world was crawling up my leg. It was when we had to return home in the dark that it became somewhat scary. Often we would go way up the mountain in the afternoon to visit a friend and return home at night. For some reason, we never did remember to bring a flashlight with us. Okay, we were stupid. But anyway, we still had to get home. We did this by feeling our way barefooted in the blackness down the jagged, rocky path and holding our hands out in front of us to ward off branches and other things less friendly. Falling was a common occurrence, as was restubbing bloody toes. So was getting lost. If you fell or got off the path you could become so disoriented that you might not get home until morning. I was lost fifty feet from my home once for more than an hour in the dark, stumbling blind and terrified, until someone heard my call for help and came with a flashlight and rescued me. I was exhausted, bruised, scratched and more than a little unnerved. I was also very, very thankful to get home. My little shack never seemed so welcoming and comfortable.
Ridiculously transparent allegory, to be sure. So why do so many of us still stumble around in the darkness of our lives when it simply doesn't have to be that way? God gave us His Word so we could see where we are and where we're going. His Word illuminates not just the ground at our feet but lights the path as well. He never intended for us to be lost in the dark, groping our way along, stumbling and falling over everything in our path. He gave us a really good light. Of course, it's up to you. You don't have to use it. Myself, I won't risk it. I still stub my toes walking to the bathroom at night, which by the way, is now a real indoor one (with a shower).
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(Titus 3:2)
I guess we can if we assume Paul was just yacking. After all, he was talking to a bunch of Cretans. Even their own great poet, Epimenides, said, "Cretans are always liars, evil beasts, lazy gluttons (Titus 1:12). But while Paul agrees that this is definitely the reputation they enjoy, he is careful not to call them lying, evil pigs himself. This would be a good habit to cultivate.
And here's the reason: For we ourselves were also once foolish, disobedient, deceived, serving various lusts and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful and hating one another (Titus 3:3). In other words, we were just as bad (or worse). Personally, I doubt that lying, evil pig would adequately define my pre-Christ existence. I think Paul would feel the same about his.
Two particular phrases in our verse for today caught my attention: no one and all men. That pretty much covers those we can't speak evil of and those we have to be peaceable, gentle and humble towards. It covers people we don't like, people we disagree with and people who are just plain awful. It even covers those who govern us, whether we voted for them or not. That would include leaders of other nations.
To be sure of this, I looked up the word Paul used for all in my Strong's Concordance. It is the Greek word pas. It really does mean all. I thought maybe it meant all Christians. I am sorry to report that this is not the case and apparently we have to be Christlike to everyone. Bummer.
It gets worse. In 1st Timothy 2:1-3, we are instructed to pray for, intercede and offer thanks for all men, kings and all who are in authority. And wouldn't you know it, Paul uses that same darn Greek word for all again! So not only do we have to be Christlike to people not on our Christmas card list, we have to spend time on our knees storming the gates of Heaven on their behalf.
As tough as this is to do, there is an upside to it all. If we continue reading in Titus we see that this behavior is good and profitable to us (Titus 3:8). And if we read one more sentence in 1st Timothy we discover that these prayers we offer for others will allow us to lead a quiet and peaceable life. That would be nice. Plus, it makes Jesus very happy with us, and that can't be bad either (1 Tim. 2:3).
This is a big 'what if', but worth thinking about anyway. What if we all prayed for President Clinton everyday instead of dumping on him, his wife and his administration. He might become the greatest president we've ever had (God is a God of miracles, right?). What if we prayed and interceded for people as various as Saddam Hussein and Madonna. It just might work. God changed the hearts of a couple of Hussein's distant (and much more powerful) relatives and did wonderful things with those men (Nebuchadnezzar and Cyrus). And what if Madonna's next CD was devoted to her new-found life in Christ. I bet some people would listen to it. Maybe even your kids.
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HAVE FAITH IN GOD!
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