Thank You Lord

A number of years ago, while I was the preacher at First Christian Church in Tyrone, I went up to what was then called Georgia Baptist Hospital (now Atlanta Medical Center) to visit with and have prayer with a faithful member of our church who was dying much too early with that insidious thing we call cancer. She was a church choir member and several people from the choir and her family were there. She wanted to have a prayer circle before I left, so we all joined hands and went around the circle with short prayers for healing. She was the last one and started singing, “Thank you Lord saving my soul, thank you Lord for making me whole.” We all joined in with her.

A few days later she left this world and became more “whole” than we can fully appreciate in this world, but a wholeness for which our faith points us to at every turn. Yet our faith cannot be understood merely as hope for such a future, because, as Howard Marshall says so well about the book of Acts, Luke tells us of “a church primarily engaged in mission and facing human opposition.” (Theology of the New Testament, page 204)

To be clear – I am thankful for a faith that points me toward that day when the Lord shall reappear in glory and all of creation is renewed and restored to its God-intended purpose at creation. I find N.T. Wright’s word for what that might be like – transphysicality – to be more than merely intriguing. (Surprised by Hope, page 44, but also 148ff) But I really can’t take the New Testament seriously and think that “dying and going to heaven” as we say,  is all there is to being Christian.

My “wholeness” is already operating, though not yet all that it will one day be. I’m thankful for the simple vocabulary with which 1 John 3:2 expresses this: “Beloved, now children of God we are! Though not yet has what we shall be been made manifest. We know that when He appears, like Him we shall be – because we shall see Him just as He is.” My hope is rooted in the “not yet.” My faith is expressed in the “now.”

All of that to say, there is so much to be thankful for as Thanksgiving Day approaches on the cultural calendar of the world in which I live.

• ·         I’m thankful for the good sense to realize that the person I looked at in the mirror is not worthy to do the things he gets to do every day, but by the grace of God I do them.

• ·       I’m thankful for the gift of being born to good parents and siblings and extended family and that my parents, among other things, raised me in a world where faith in Christ was the norm, but an inquisitive mind was not looked upon as lacking in faith.

• ·         I’m thankful for the good sense to follow the idea that “smart boys marry up” and I did and that along with that, I gained another family of faith that has enriched my life.

• ·         I’m thankful that together Vicki and I have two wonderful children and a son-in-law. We both love all three dearly. The fact that the three of them love us makes life worth living in more ways that I can count.

• ·         I’m thankful that I’ve never felt compelled to allow any political idea or party – regardless of which persuasion – to create a paradigm in which I understand the Christian gospel. Somehow God has taught me that it actually is the other way around – the gospel creates the paradigm.

• ·         I’m thankful that I’ve never thought the gospel calls me to retreat and withdrawal, and that Jesus’ words in John 20 – “as the Father has sent me, so send I you” – were spoken over my life as well as the apostles in the room who first heard them.

• ·         I’m thankful for colleagues whose intellectual integrity and faith have blessed me for many, many years.

• ·         I’m thankful for students who allow me influence in their own journeys of faith like so many people for whom I’m still thankful did when I was their age.

• ·         I’m thankful for so many friends – many of them former students – who still think I have something to say.

• ·         I’m thankful for Grace: A Community of Faith and the fact that I get to be a part of their ministry to the world around us.

• ·         I’m thankful for Woodland Christian Camp and Retreat Center – a kingdom outpost that truly gets that God is “the creator of the world and everything in it” (Acts 17) and allows that to shape ministry.

• ·         I’m thankful that despite the frustration I experience with so much of “the world” around me – none of that is the reason for my hope and that allows my hope to remain strong.

• ·         I’m thankful that I was brought up on a farm and the idea of “playing in the dirt” still rings true in my heart and mind as an important part of what it means to be an authentic human.

• ·         I’m thankful for God’s wonderful creatures – though not quite human, some of them continue to remind me of the majesty of His creative genius every single day.

• ·         I’m thankful for books – so many incredible thinkers have helped shaped my thinking though I’ve never met them except in their books.

• ·         I’m thankful for Point University - how in the world did I deserve 40 years and counting of opportunity at such an important kingdom outpost?

To borrow words from Hebrews, “and what more shall I say? For time would fail me . . .” (11:32) 

A list like this – much too short to reflect reality – reminds me that “making me whole” is so much more than just whatever happens when the Lord reappears in glory. Not to discount that in any way, but to take Luke’s lead in Acts as a reminder that “engaged in mission and facing human opposition” is what the gospel calls us to do – already, until the Lord comes in glory, a not yet fulfilled promise. 

Happy Thanksgiving! Make a list. I promise it will do you good.

Ten Were Bad and Two Were Good

I was sitting in the old Westside Chapel on the East Point campus of Point University when I heard words that have haunted me since they were uttered. It was an informal presentation followed by Q&A, not a regular chapel service. The speakers, whose names I won’t use and whose place of ministry I won’t identify, are serving God in a very difficult part of the world. Its difficulty is born out of a combination of religion, politics, and an anti-western spirit that when combined, create challenges for people like my friends who were speaking.

Here’s what they said: “Don’t pray for our safety. Pray for our courage.” The whole time I had been listening to them I had been thinking about how unsafe it must be to live there, much less be a witness to Christ in that part of the world. I was wondering what it would be like to daily face the reality of a call from God to ministry in a place like the place to which they sense a call to be witnesses for Christ. And they have been doing that for nearly their entire adult, married life.

Courage over safety. Could this be what Paul had in mind when he said, “It is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be put to shame in any way, but that by my speaking with all boldness, Christ will be exalted now as always in my body, whether by life or by death”? (Philippians 1:20) He is writing those words from a Roman jail. My friends aren’t in jail, but they do live and serve in a place where it can be risky to be a follower of Jesus. They want me to pray that they will have courage “to speak with all boldness” about the Jesus who redeemed them and called them to mission.

After reviewing a litany of people who “by faith” served God, the writer of Hebrews reminds his readers of the vast “unnamed” people of faith “of whom the world was not worthy” (11:38) who nevertheless courageously served God. He reminds them “Consider him who endured such hostility against himself from sinners, so that you may not grow weary or lose heart.” (12:3) That sounds an awful lot like allowing courage to trump safety.

How many times have I sung that old fashioned camp song: “Twelve men went to spy in Canaan; ten were bad and two were good”? Ten preferred safety, two preferred courage. (Numbers 13, 14) The simple fact that Joshua and Caleb – “two were good” – made it to the land God had promised Israel would make one think He prefers that we seek after courage more than safety.

Courage and stupidity, of course, are not the same things. Courage – at least from a faith point of view – has to do with sensing direction from God, trusting God, and moving forward. Blindly moving forward as a bull in a china shop out of our own egocentric view of life is not courage, but often is stupidity.

The current concern about Syrian refugees is a great place to put our courage to the test. Perhaps it would be a bit on the stupid side to pretend as though there are no potential pitfalls when it comes to allowing Syrian refugees into the United States. By this morning, governors of over half the states had declared they wouldn’t be that stupid. If Facebook posts are any indication, lots of people calling themselves Christians have gone into “Amen apoplexy” in their agreement with these governors.

Where’s the courage? What if God – exodus God that He seems to be – has decided that since we haven’t gone to Syria very effectively with the gospel, He will bring some Syrians to us? I don’t say that in the sense that I think God caused the evil that is going on there just to bring a few Syrians our way, but simply to ask if it might be possible that one of the ways God can bring “good” into this very bad situation is to expose Syrian people to the love of Christ found in Christian communities all over the United States? 

What if Jesus is really serious about all that Matthew 25 stuff? You know the “stuff” where He says, “Just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.” (25:45) And all that “stuff” we did not do was “stuff” like feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, welcoming a stranger, clothing the naked, and visiting the sick and imprisoned. That sounds like an action plan for how followers of Jesus ought to be responding to the refugee crisis created by evil people in Syria.

But for that to happen, courage has to trump safety.

All of this makes me wish Paul had not said “Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.” (Romans 15:7) What I know for absolute certainty is that I don’t deserve the welcome I have received from Christ. His willingness to place courage over safety, however, has made that welcome a reality. He calls me to courage over safety.

None of this is about politics in the sense of which party is right. To dismiss it on those grounds is a sure sign of our preference for safety over courage. The gospel is about bringing the good news of Jesus into every corner of the world – even the corners that somehow may be next door to us.

I don’t want a Syrian terrorist living next door to me while planning to blow up some soft target in the United States. That should be a concern for the federal government. But neither do I want to be so overwhelmed with the remote reality of that happening that I miss out on what God might be able to do with these oppressed and outcast people who could come our way. When insistence on safety makes us afraid and not courageous, we tend to make poor decisions.

Leadership is about being courageous more than it is always seeking the safe way out.

My friends in Westside Chapel are leaders – because they believe that courage trumps safety.

May God increase their tribe among us.