Author: Jon Partlow

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Politics, Religion and the Great Pumpkin

Some people have a vision for leadership. Some people seem to be born for politics. Other people are thrust into the spot-light because their sister drives the political machine. Linus Van Pelt entered the political arena because his sister talked him into running for school president. 

After Linus made Charlie Brown his running mate, he began campaigning. He promised that under his administration he would do away with Kindergarten “Cap & Gown” graduations and sixth grade parties. He vowed wage increases for custodians, teachers, and administrators. Most importantly, he guaranteed that any dog wandering onto the playground would be welcomed with open arms; yea, he solidified Snoopy’s vote with that one. 

Leading up to the final speech, Linus was climbing in the polls, even if Lucy was strong-arming the voters; victory was all but assured. Nothing was going to stop him from claiming the race, that is, until he felt compelled to witness to the crowd about the Great Pumpkin. Suddenly, like a train derailment, the momentum came to a screeching halt. Snoopy’s commentary was on target, “If you’re going to hope to get elected, don’t mention the ‘Great Pumpkin.’” 

The mixture of religion and politics is always combustible, if not toxic. When the church looks to flawed men and government to move its agenda forward, truth is the first casualty. Right behind truth is integrity, which its corporate identity is sacrificed for the political cause. It seems that the agenda must be defended by the Christian community at all costs; the “at all cost” part is particularly disturbing. For what end will the church go to protect and to project its own agenda? Who will the church be willing to endorse as a candidate in the pursuit of its own cause? 

The Scriptures of the first century were far from neutral on the relationship between God’s Kingdom and Man’s Kingdom. First, we never find Jesus, nor the Apostles, campaigning for a civic leader or a government official. The Jewish and Roman government became the means by which Jesus, Peter, and Paul were executed. Jesus taught that the government deserves its fair share of taxes (Mk. 12:13-17), and both Paul and Peter called us to “submit” to rulers and the government (Rom. 13:1-7; 1 Pet. 2:13-17), as opposed to “support” a candidate. Nowhere does Scripture teach Christians to embrace national loyalty. In fact our primary loyalty to the Kingdom of God must take precedent over any loyalties to earthly kingdoms (Phil. 4:20-21). 

Secondly, by the time John writes Revelation, the situation with the Roman government had changed. The dominate image running through its pages is a slaughtered lamb (Rev. 5:6), which seems appropriate. The church was facing persecution (Rev. 2:3, 10, 13), some of which arose from the Jewish sector, but most originated from Rome. Since Jesus was crucified by the Roman Empire, he, through John’s revelation, appears to call Rome to accountability by way of a lamb (Rev. 18). As my friend, Greg Stevenson, said, “Revelation was written, in part, to those who felt a little too comfortable with the Roman government” (see his book, A Slaughtered Lamb). If he’s right, those advocating a national Christian faith may need to take another look at John’s Apocalypse.    

Politics does nothing to unite brothers and sisters, but continues to provide another wedge, or a means to sow seeds of distrust among the saints. Denominational loyalties have been successful at creating division instead of unity, as when Charlie Brown and Linus argued over Santa Claus verses the Great Pumpkin. Charlie Brown summed it up best, “We’re obviously separated over denominational loyalties.” All the arguing over candidates creates more division in an already divided nation. And if the nation is divided, can the church rooted in the nation ever find unity? Can we unite in spite of the politics forcing us to divide? It’s why David Lipscomb emerged as a pacifist; he wept over good Christian men killing each other in the name of God during the Civil War. I’m witnessing the same thing today, only instead of guns it’s with words and the battlefield is social media. 

I grew up with a high appreciation for our nation, and my parents taught me to respect the Flag and the President. I admire the Founding Fathers and their courage to sign the Declaration of Independence. I love the 4th of July with the fireworks, patriotic music and cookouts. As a senior in high school, I represented the United States in a cross country meet in Taiwan, and wearing the red singlet with white lettering that said “U.S.A.” on it was the closest I ever came to my dream of running for the United States in the Olympics. As a BSA Scout leader at various levels, I could not be more proud that my two sons are Eagle Scouts. I’ve stood for the National Anthem and knelt at the cross. But if I have to choose between either standing before the flag or kneeling before the cross, the choice is clear. I choose the cross. 

I fear that the Church has blurred the lines between two kingdoms: Kingdom of God and the Kingdom of Men (i.e. any government or government organization). We’ve trusted the State to make laws based on our faith, and to have the integrity to live by those laws. We’ve believed the government to speak for and on behalf of the Church, and to protect the rights of Christians everywhere. We’ve assumed that a faith-based government will produce and support a faith-based society. We’ve denied or minimized times when America has acted in ways that have shamed Christians and the Christian faith, while the ungodliness of elected officials continues without being held into account. More so, we’ve failed to comprehend how a philosophical shift has taken place in our society that longer asks what it means for the Bible to guide our paths. 

In the TV special, “You’re Not Elected, Charlie Brown,” based on the 1964 comic strip, Linus wins the election because his opponent cast the last and deciding vote. He does so for Linus. In his opinion Linus was the better man. If only, given our current political environment, we could see those who disagreed with us as the better men/women.                      

bonum dolar!
(i.e., Good Grief!)

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CHURCH: Rediscovering a Place of Joy

The year was 1975, and my family was finishing a week-long visit with our very best friends on the Oregon Coast. Mike and Dan were my age, and with my brother we had many adventures on a pond, loaded with drift wood, located across the street from their house. We called it “The Frog Pond,” but it smelled a lot worse than dead frogs (rumors had it that someone hid bodies in that place, but we never saw them).  I remember our instructions before we headed across the street, “Don’t get wet in the pond.” Since boys will be boys, we spent most of our time at the “pond” drying our clothes before coming home, as if our moms couldn’t smell the odor.  Just remembering those moments brings a smile across my face. 

On this particular visit, we were returning from our vacation on a Sunday afternoon.  Mark, the two-year-old younger brother came down with a fever, and his parents decided to keep him home from church. I remember how Mark’s reaction reminded me of someone breaking the favorite toy. His heart broke and the tears welled up as he said, “I want to go to church.” The Tillamook Church of Christ boasted of 30 members on Sunday morning. They didn’t have a children’s program, and I’m not even sure who the preacher was. Regardless, little Mark wanted to be at church, and missing that Sunday night broke his heart. 

His teary face burned a lasting image into my brain, and even now looking back, I’m led into wonder; only a child-like faith can be broken for missing church. 

Most church-going Americans appear to have lost the joy in assembling with the saints. A poles-apart perception of church maybe at play with similar results.  While some see church as work, others see it as duty.  While some claim it’s boring, others believe it’s reverent. While some find the hour-long service almost too painful to endure, others have convinced themselves that that is what church is all
about. Both groups miss the mark, and Psalm 122:1 is an ideal never realized, “I rejoiced with those who said to me, ‘Let’s go to the house or the Lord.’” Just because I’ve chosen a profession which places me in the middle of church, doesn’t mean the joy comes any easier; sometimes it’s almost harder. However, recently, I’ve reflected on our assembly time and have rediscovered how church is a place of joy. 

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever a person, either comes to Jesus for the first time or comes to Jesus again for the first time. Even more joy is discovered when I’ve played some role in moving that person closer to Jesus.   

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever the assembly singing sounds like the singing we’ll experience in heaven. On those Sundays, we can almost see the pearly gates and hear the chorus of angels. Speaking of which, when I hear the voice of a child singing at the top of her lungs, goose bumps break out all over me. 

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever a member shakes my hand at the door and says, “Your sermon encouraged me,” or “Your sermon spoke to something in my life that I need to change.”

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever a toddler pretends that I’m Darth Vader and chases me around the fellowship hall with his “light saber,” or I’m coloring pictures with elementary children while we talk about important stuff like their favorite book, movie, or food, or when a five-year-old rushes into my arms for a hug, only to hear him say, “Hey Preacher. You’re Fired!” 

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever we’re led in prayer, and the person praying almost sounds as if he knows God personally. 

I’ve discovered church as a place of joy whenever my “adopted” granddaughter chooses to sit with Cile and me during the worship as she pulls my reading glasses out of my shirt pocket so she can wear them.

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever the teenagers gravitate to my family, as if we’re the “in crowd,” or when older members share with me from their lives as if I’m as respectable as they are.  

While I can’t say I’ve ever been as heartbroken for missing the assembly as little Mark was, I can say I’m looking for more joy nuggets in our assemblies. Those nuggets, sometimes more valuable than the worship time itself, tend to do more to fuel my passion for ministry and for the assembly. When that happens Psalm 122 can link arms with Nehemiah 8:10 and be just as true, “The joy of the Lord is my strength.”

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

Posted on

CHURCH: Rediscovering A Place of Joy

The year was 1975, and my family was finishing a week-long visit with our very best friends on the Oregon Coast. Mike and Dan were my age, and with my brother we had many adventures on a pond, loaded with drift wood, located across the street from their house. We called it “The Frog Pond,” but it smelled a lot worse than dead frogs (rumors had it that someone hid bodies in that place, but we never saw them).  I remember our instructions before we headed across the street, “Don’t get wet in the pond.” Since boys will be boys, we spent most of our time at the “pond” drying our clothes before coming home, as if our moms couldn’t smell the odor.  Just remembering those moments brings a smile across my face. 

On this particular visit, we were returning from our vacation on a Sunday afternoon.  Mark, the two-year-old younger brother came down with a fever, and his parents decided to keep him home from church. I remember how Mark’s reaction reminded me of someone breaking the favorite toy. His heart broke and the tears welled up as he said, “I want to go to church.” The Tillamook Church of Christ boasted of 30 members on Sunday morning. They didn’t have a children’s program, and I’m not even sure who the preacher was. Regardless, little Mark wanted to be at church, and missing that Sunday night broke his heart. 

His teary face burned a lasting image into my brain, and even now looking back, I’m led into wonder; only a child-like faith can be broken for missing church. 

Most church-going Americans appear to have lost the joy in assembling with the saints. A poles-apart perception of church maybe at play with similar results.  While some see church as work, others see it as duty.  While some claim it’s boring, others believe it’s reverent. While some find the hour-long service almost too painful to endure, others have convinced themselves that that is what church is all
about. Both groups miss the mark, and Psalm 122:1 is an ideal never realized, “I rejoiced with those who said to me, ‘Let’s go to the house or the Lord.’” Just because I’ve chosen a profession which places me in the middle of church, doesn’t mean the joy comes any easier; sometimes it’s almost harder. However, recently, I’ve reflected on our assembly time and have rediscovered how church is a place of joy. 

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever a person, either comes to Jesus for the first time or comes to Jesus again for the first time. Even more joy is discovered when I’ve played some role in moving that person closer to Jesus.    

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever the assembly singing sounds like the singing we’ll experience in heaven. On those Sundays, we can almost see the pearly gates and hear the chorus of angels. Speaking of which, when I hear the voice of a child singing at the top of her lungs, goose bumps break out all over me. 

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever a member shakes my hand at the door and says, “Your sermon encouraged me,” or “Your sermon spoke to something in my life that I need to change.”

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever a toddler pretends that I’m Darth Vader and chases me around the fellowship hall with his “light saber,” or I’m coloring pictures with elementary children while we talk about important stuff like their favorite book, movie, or food, or when a five-year-old rushes into my arms for a hug, only to hear him say, “Hey Preacher. You’re Fired!” 

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever we’re led in prayer, and the person praying almost sounds as if he knows God personally. 

I’ve discovered church as a place of joy whenever my “adopted” granddaughter chooses to sit with Cile and me during the worship as she pulls my reading glasses out of my shirt pocket so she can wear them.

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever the teenagers gravitate to my family, as if we’re the “in crowd,” or when older members share with me from their lives as if I’m as respectable as they are.  

While I can’t say I’ve ever been as heartbroken for missing the assembly as little Mark was, I can say I’m looking for more joy nuggets in our assemblies. Those nuggets, sometimes more valuable than the worship time itself, tend to do more to fuel my passion for ministry and for the assembly. When that happens Psalm 122 can link arms with Nehemiah 8:10 and be just as true, “The joy of the Lord is my strength.”

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

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A Gathering Place

It was a simple wall, located somewhere in Charlie Brown’s neighborhood. Children gravitated to the wall, including – but by no means limited to – Charlie Brown and Linus Van Pelt. It was their gathering place. Here they entertained new ideas, contemplated life’s questions, and reflected on the days’ events. One time after an embarrassing Halloween debacle, Charlie Brown lamented the number of rocks he received during “tricks or treating,” while Linus cried out why the Great Pumpkin did a “no-show” in his pumpkin patch. 

Gathering Walls are not only common places, but are needed in society. In many small towns, court house squares often serve as a natural gathering place where people come to jump start their mornings. Sometimes a local diner, serving hot coffee, attracts customers who sip their Joe while exchanging ideas. I have a friend who regularly heads down to his local gun shop, where sometimes “unlike minds” load, unload and reload ideas with each other.  

During the ancient days of the Bible, the local gathering place was the city gates. Here, important business transactions took place, “lower” courts were convened, disputes were heard, and public announcements were posted or proclaimed. The elders of the town, those deemed wise because of age and experience, met to help negotiate conflict with neighbors. News in other towns and regions were learned as travelers entered the city. It’s no wonder that wisdom is personified as sitting at the gates (Prov. 1:21). When the angels of God entered Sodom, they were greeted by Lot at the gates where he offered them a place to eat and sleep for the night (Gen. 19:1-2). When Boaz wanted to secure the “levirate marriage” to Ruth, he conducted his business transaction at the town gate, where he met with elders of the town and the nearest kin to secure his future bride (Ruth 4:1-2). In the Persian city of Susa, men plotted to kill King Xerxes, only to be thwarted by Mordacai’s decisive action against them. They hatched their plan at the city gate (Esther 2:21-23). When Jesus said that “the gates of Hades would not overcome the church” (Mt. 16:18), he may spoke words of encouragement for the church will endure and thrive despite all the forces opposed to Christ, including Satan himself. 

A gathering place. Ideas are exchanged. Business transactions are completed. Politics are ironed out. Struggles are shared. Disputes are heard. Conspiracies are hatched, and more importantly, exposed. 

In our fast paced world, filled with electronic devices, which tends to isolate people from each other, we’re missing places to gather; those places have now been taken over by social media. Twitter, limited to 140 characters, doesn’t lend itself very well to concepts that need exposition. How do you reduce complicated issues to one paragraph? FaceBook, by far the most common social media outlet to share ideas (family pictures, funny memes, prayer concerns), has its weaknesses as well. Memes probably carry far more weight than exposition. Sharing ideas or taking stances on controversial issues tend to alienate, by creating arguments instead of dialogue. The level of distrust and lack of civility quickly elevates “discussions” into full-blown (hateful) arguments. I’ve left a couple of groups because the conversation turned so hateful, and I’ve unfollowed people for similar reasons. 

Maybe the problem with social media is that we’re no longer looking at people face to face?  The words we type are so easy to express when we don’t know the person we’re talking too. It seems that the more anonymity exists, the greater chance for escalating arguments and judgmental accusations. I may know you or value the relationship, but I certainly don’t know the person who’s a friend to you; I’m certainly not invested with any real reason to maintain a relationship. My cause or agenda becomes more of a priority than the person, or the place to express and share ideas. 

Maybe we need a gathering wall, a place to engage with one another. A place to go and discuss what is on our hearts.  A place where we can share our hurts and pains. A place to iron out our differences. A place to express new ideas and insights into difficult issues. A place where we can speak, and a place where we can listen. And maybe on an occasion, a place where we can pray. Maybe it’s a place where hugs are free, handshakes are made, and we can look at each other face-to-face. 

Then again, maybe that Gathering Place is called Church. 

bonum dolar!
(i.e. Good Grief!)

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Parenting from the Pew

Watching your children sleeping, seeing their faces light up when they open Christmas presents, and being the recipient of their unconditional love only touches the hem of joy a parent experiences. Cleaning up after a sick child, teaching them boundaries and correcting behavior tends to elevate the stress and the blood pressure in a parent’s life. Where we’d like to say that church attendance falls under the first category, the truth is it manages to fall under the latter category. 

The worship service promises an uplifting experience; the saved are gathered, they commune at the Supper, songs fill the building with hope, and friends call each other “brother” and “sister.” Still, we rarely check our problems and struggles at the door. The burdens from the work-week are carried over into church. The loved one is still sick. COVID hovers over everything like a black cloud. The family arguments do not magically dissolve in the parking-lot. And children will challenge parental authority, even at church (e.g., try explaining to a two or three-year-old why they cannot have the “cracker” mommy and daddy are eating). Thus, the promise of an uplifting experience often dissipates into a frustrating, painful hour. 

All of us as parents have experienced such frustrations. They seem to begin before leaving home as we try to feed, dress, and get the children ready for church; no doubt, the new outfit will have a spill on it before walking out the door. The worship hour seems ill-spent as the time is consumed keeping the children silent, still, and satisfied. Walking through the church doors is often filled with discouraging thoughts, wondering what was accomplished. And who experiences a meaningful time at the Lord’s Supper while trying to keep the children calm and subdued? 

Sometimes we need to be reminded of the good we’re doing as parents. Perspective can help us view the situation differently or at least positively. But offering advice is like the young minister without children preaching a sermon entitled The 10 Commandments for Parenting. When he and his wife started a family, he changed the sermon to The 10 Suggestions for Parenting. And when his children reached the teenage years, he threw the sermon into the trash. Raising children is hard work with plenty of setbacks. With no manual in hand, easy answers do not exist.

Find peace in God’s grace. Few children will be the twelve year-old Jesus lost in Jerusalem only to be found at the temple. Actually most will push for their own identity while pressing the boundaries parents have set. It’s normal. Remember, if God were the “parent” for Adam and Eve, even he struggled to keep his “children” in line. So we continue shaping and molding their character by pointing them to Jesus.

Connect the dots between church and home. What happens at church needs further teaching, discussion and reinforcement at home. Both what they studied in Bible class and what the preacher talked about in the sermon are easy points of spiritual engagement, even for children. Parents and children praying together with reading or sharing a Bible story creates a spiritual bond. Frame life’s teaching moments as living for God, much like in Deuteronomy 6:7-9. Possibly the two worst approaches are parents saying nothing about God or church in the home, and the parents who say disparaging words in front of the children about church. Both are spiritual killers.

Children spot the hypocrisy. It doesn’t take long for them to see how much or how little Christ means to their parents. A child was once sitting next to his father during the sermon, having an epiphany, turned to him and said, “Hey Dad! He’s talking about you.” All parents have that moment. The child spots the inconsistency and innocently draws attention to the parents’ flaw. The real question is, what happens next?

“People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.’’ (Mk. 10:13-14)

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

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Facing Our Enemies

While Lucy was hardly a fan of Snoopy, the beagle only had two enemies; one was real and the other played out in his imagination. The first one was the cat next door. During the fifty years Schulz penned the comic, we never saw this phantom menace. We only saw the results of his aggressive attack on Snoopy – a chunk of his dog house, missing in the final frame with the remaining section in the shape of a cat’s claw. 

The other enemy was the World War I Flying Ace’s nemesis, the Red Baron. Whenever the Ace was sent on patrol, he inevitably crossed paths with the Baron, and the fighting ensued. They both had missions, and they’re both roadblocks to clearing the skies of the enemy. In every meeting, the fighting was intense; machine guns fired at rapid speed. In every meeting, the Ace’s Sopwith Camel was flacked with bullets, and the Ace was usually shot down behind enemy lines. 

I’m not sure what to make of Snoopy’s antagonists. Concerning the cat, Snoopy usually egged on the conflict by making ridiculing remarks to his neighbor. He pays a price for it in the damage to his home. Concerning the Red Baron, while he was historically a real and successful German fighter pilot in WWI, he is only as real as Snoopy’s imagination. If the Ace had actually shot down the Baron, who would he fight the next time he went on patrol? So it’s easier to take a hit, keep the Baron alive, and feed his anger towards him. 

Isn’t that true with anyone you consider your enemy? Let’s keep the fuel of fire against them burning as long as we can, because we’re defining our strengths against their shortcomings. Let’s dehumanize our enemy because it makes it easier to hate them. Like in war, let’s draw clear battle-lines and assume our position is always right and their position is always wrong, and let’s bring God into the arena where we assume he takes our side. 

Maybe that’s what makes Jesus’ words so radical. While the Israelites thought the command from Leviticus 19:18, “Love your neighbor,” justified hating one’s enemy, Jesus clarified the command. Hatred, and the feeding of hate, was never justified. In fact, he sets the bar even higher by commanding us to “love our enemies” (Mt. 5:44a), and if that’s not hard enough, he adds, “pray for those who persecute you” (Mt. 5:44b). Where the world calls for an “eye for eye” mentality (Mt. 5:38 quoting Ex. 21:23 & Lev. 24:20, which was a statement made for judges and courts to rule fairly, not for permission to taken the law into one’s hands), Jesus calls for compassion. In this way we’re facing our enemy. 

Jesus’ call crosses every line we’ve drawn in the sand, or every barrier we’ve erected to keep us divided. Where “facing our enemy” used to mean squaring off to fight, he redefines it through the service of loving and praying for our enemies. How do we defuse the racial tension? By “facing our enemies” with love and prayer. How do we bridge the anger between the social economic chasms? By “facing our enemies” with love and prayer. How do we respond to those who have hurt us with malicious intent? By “facing our enemies” with love and prayer. 

This kind of life demands faith. Faith leading to kindness and gentleness prevails in a world filled with destruction and retaliation. This kind of faith trusts God with the future, and does not make him choose a side. This kind of faith allows us to face our enemy with all courageousness, as God’s Spirit begins to work in us and through us to his glory. 

On the night before Israel was to begin the conquest of Canaan, the purist vision of a Holy War, Joshua encounters a man with a drawn sword. When Joshua confronts the man, asking which side he was on, the angelic being answered, “Neither, but as commander of the army of the Lord I have now come” (Josh. 6:13b-14). In a clear moment where God was granting victory to Israel to destroy Jericho, they’re reminded that just because they will win this battle, doesn’t mean God cared nothing for the people of Jericho. A big difference exists between God granting a victory over people, and God’s choosing a side in the battle. 

One of my favorite Christmas songs as a child was by The Royal Guardsmen, and the song arose out of the famous World War I Christmas truce of 1914. In the song, Snoopy faces off with the Red Baron, and in the dog-fight, Snoopy loses. The Red Baron forces him to land behind enemy lines, where, instead of being taken prisoner, or worse, the Baron pops champagne and celebrates Christmas with his enemy. Ironically, it’s not our hero schooling us on how to face our enemies, but it’s the enemy showing us how to love one another. 

bonum dolar!
(i.e., Good Grief!)