Author: Jon Partlow

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Endless Generosity

Living in an affluent society does not mean we enjoy an endless reservoir of resources. Such is the disparity of our lives. For example, consider our school system. Evidence of affluence is demonstrated by clean and modern buildings, children are bussed from home and returned at each day’s end, and an assortment of extracurricular activities are provided. In spite of affluence, the lack of an endless reservoir of resources is felt when our children are often forced to share textbooks with limits placed on who gets to take them home each night. The disparity is present when facilities are not always maintained; we find potholes in the parking lots, dated bathrooms, and crowded classroom space. Copy paper is rationed throughout the year, often running dry before year’s end. And then there’s the pay grade of teachers, who are expected to do more and more on less and less pay.

Churches feel the same disparity. Ministries are created with the vision of an “all-you-can-eat” smorgasbord. We see the possibilities, generate the excitement, and believe the new ministry will add strength and vitality to the church. Then reality sets in as they begin placing the resources on the table. Instead of the “all-you-can-eat” buffet, it feels more like the meal prepared by the mother in Jack and the Beanstalk; the one bean is hardly enough resource and nourishment for an entire meal. 

God expects his people to carry out his ministries. Given the available resources, such expectations don’t always seem possible . . . or seem fair. Compared with the job in front of us, we lack the number of people, and those that do volunteer sometimes burn out. We find too few gifts to accomplish the tasks while feeling the financial burden of the job. We know that people are overextended at home, not to mention at work, for them to give their time and energy. With so many demands, we wonder where we will find the resources for ministries.

The Corinthians had committed to a ministry; Paul persuasively convinced them to collect funds as relief-aid for the church in Jerusalem. Palestine was suffering from a severe famine, and many were suffering in an impoverished land. Prayerful and financial support collected and distributed by Gentiles churches for the Jewish church would aid in the recovery, while helping bridge Gentile and Jewish church relationships.

Unfortunately, along the road to completing this ministry, the excitement wavered, the ministry slowed, the interest waned, and they finally stopped collecting the money. Why they were failing in this ministry is multi-faceted. For one, the initial excitement faded as the discipline needed for setting the money aside each week turned from joy to drudgery. The layaway plan became harder and harder to maintain. For another, people stopped talking about the need for the collection as fewer and fewer words were spoken of the ministry. If the church must be reminded of its vision once every three weeks for them to carry out their obligations, then they had all but forgotten about their promise to Paul. Speaking of Paul, the relationship between Corinth and the apostle impacted the ministry. Since Paul originally invited them to participate in collecting the funds for relief aid in Jerusalem (1 Cor. 16:1-4), their relationship experienced a falling out. No doubt, some were withholding their funds because they no longer trusted Paul. 

To combat the fledgling ministry, Paul shifted focus to encourage joyful generosity among the Corinthians, for “God loves a cheerful giver” (2 Cor. 9:7). Drawing the analogy from agriculture, the amount you plant is in direct proportion to the harvest; they needed to sow generously (9:6). If they decide to cut corners with their planting, the result will be seen in their harvest. Generous planting leads to a bumper crop. The result of their generosity was seen in people offering thanksgiving to God (9:11). Our generosity leads to people praising God. Regardless of his words, you can almost hear their skeptical rebuttal, “But Paul, where are we going to get the necessary resources?”

Somewhere along the way, all of us have had to answer that question, whether as individuals, a family, a service organization, or especially a church. We look at what’s on the table, and then wonder how it can be stretched to feed so many. 

By faith we focus, not on what is on the table, but on what God can do with what is on the table. The Israelites wander in the wilderness, a wilderness filled with limited resources. Yet, every morning when they step out of their tents, laying on the ground is a honey tasting wafer provided by God. They fill their baskets in the morning and whatever is leftover at days end is thrown out because God will provide more manna the next morning (Ex. 16:1-36). 

Elijah finds himself in Zeraphath, the heart of Baal’s domain. He’s following God’s Word to seek out a pagan widow. When he finds her and asks for food and water, he learns that she has only enough oil for one last meal. Hearing her dilemma, Elijah promises that God will provide enough oil for herself, her son, and himself. God will provide that oil every day until he sends rain upon the land (1 King. 17:7-16). And he did.

A creditor is about to foreclose on a widow for her late husband’s debt. To recoup his losses, the creditor threatens to sell her sons into slavery, a dehumanizing but common practice. The widow seeks help from Elisha. With barely a drop of olive oil to her name, Elisha tells her to go to her friends and neighbors and collect as many jars as she can find. He stipulates not to collect a few, but as many as possible. Then, behind closed doors, he instructs her, to take the jar that holds the one drop of oil and start filling all the empty jars with the oil until every jar is filled. Then, sell the oil to pay the debt and keep the rest to live on (2 King. 4:1-7).

A small boy’s lunch is insufficient to satisfy the hunger of an adult, or a family. Five cakes of bread and two small fish will fail to feed five thousand hungry people. Andrew was right, “How far will they go among so many?” Well, the obvious answer is, “Not far.” However, Jesus takes the limited resources to provide enough, more than enough food for the people. When the feast was finished and the people were satisfied, twelve baskets full of leftover scraps were collected (Jn. 6:1-13). 

When I grew up, Mom and Dad made deliberate choices that cut into their finances. They raised five kids and sent us to a local Christian school, a cost that ate into their money belt. To cut expenses, we did without a lot of luxuries. Mom was a creative cook who had the knack to stretch a meal.  To make her spaghetti feed seven, she went to the cupboard to see what she could use to pad the sauce. Green beans, black olives, green olives, peas, carrots, and canned tomatoes found their way into the spaghetti sauce. With seven at the table, mom always had more than enough to feed us, and to feed anyone else who happened to have showed up that night. Our table always had room for one or two more. Always. And like Elisha’s widow, the pantry never seemed to empty.

Steve Birley tells of a church comprised of retired members trying to keep their church alive by reaching out to the young. They added ministries and changed their worship style to attract the youth. Disappointingly, the more they worked the less success they experienced. They were attracting members, but the new members were all retired people. Their “graying” church wasn’t getting younger, and worries intensified because they believed that within a generation closing their doors was inevitable. Conversely, their worries dissipated when they realized that God was using them to reach a segment of the community largely ignored by the big, “growing churches” in the area.* What looked like limited resources was actually God providing more than they needed. 

The central nerve of Paul’s thought is found in 2 Corinthians 9:10-11,

Now he who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of your righteousness. You will be made rich in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God.

Paul says that if we trust God’s provisions, then we can join God in this cycle. God provides the resources. In doing so, we’re (expected to be) generous with what he’s shared with us. When we are generous, then God increases our resources so that we can continue being generous. We stop hoarding and start sharing. As someone said, “We build longer tables, not taller walls.” The result is a praise of thanksgiving to God.

The affluent society does not mean endless resources. We could make numerous contrasts between the school system and the church to highlight their differences. But do you know what the real difference between the school system and the church is? It’s not the available resources. The real difference is that when God provides the resources for ministry, he gets the credit. If he wants that credit, don’t you think he’ll provide the resources? Yeah, so do I. 

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

*Steve R. Bierly, Help for the Small-Church Pastor: Unlocking the Potential of Your Congregation (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1995), 67-68.

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Dear John

Dear John letters are break-up letters. Finding traction during World War II, when the most popular male name was John, too many servicemen received such letters from the ones who vowed fidelity to them. The greeting was all the man needed to read before he knew the content of the letter. Instead of being greeted by “My darling,” or “My sweetie,” or whatever nickname was used, the formality of reading “Dear John” was all the man needed to know that what was coming next wasn’t good. With enough letters making the rounds, filling in the plot-holes was an easy step to make. “I was lonely. He was here, when you weren’t. We’re getting married.” Whatever the details are, when the words “Dear John” appear at the front of a letter, the recipient is fixin’ to get dumped.  

Long distance relationships are hard to manage. Distance may allow the heart to grow fonder, but the isolation and loneliness wants companionship to fill the void. My wife and I dated much of our two years while I was attending college in Arkansas and she was working in Middle-Tennessee. We wrote letters to each other, reserving phone calls for the weekends when the rates were their lowest. And for the all the letters we wrote – letters written in the mid-eighties still preserved in boxes in our garage – no temptation arose to write the “Dear John” letter. Dating from afar is hard and tests your metal. Somehow, we came through it.

Today’s use of long-distance relationship is eased because of the affordable access of phone calling, texting, and FaceTime. Though technology helps bridge the gap, nothing can replace holding hands, hugging, gazing into one another’s eyes, and experiencing the gentle kiss. Besides, some conversations must be had in person, and “Dear John” letters should be avoided.

Paul could have written a “Dear John” letter to the Corinthians. He could have. They wanted a break-up. He was absent and accused of breaking a promise to visit them (1:15-17). Gushing over what they believed to be better leadership for the church, they were enamored with perceived success stories like letters of recommendation, oratory skills, and charisma. With Hank Williams playing in the background, they were slow dancing to the song, “Your Cheatin’ Heart.” Paul could have written a “Dear John” letter to the Corinthians. He could have, but he didn’t. Instead, he held out hope for reconciliation.

Following the standard letter writing structure of the first century Graco-Roman world, Paul composes his epistle in the vein of such correspondence. Ancient letters included identification of sender and recipient, a greeting, a thanksgiving or prayer section, the body of the letter, and final greetings. All of which is found in the Pauline epistles.

Paul identifies himself as “. . . an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God” (1:1). While two thousand years of church history has blunted the statement as a no-brainer cast-off, that opening phrase makes a bee-line to the issue at hand. The Corinthians are questioning Paul’s leadership, which would include his calling as an apostle of God. Paul not only states his title and role, but also reinforces that his apostleship and all his so-called “perceived weaknesses” is by the will of God. Paul’s inuendo is that Corinth is not just rejecting Paul, they are rejecting God’s ordained apostle. They are rejecting God and his gospel.

The recipients of the letter are not just those in Corinth but all the saints in Achaia. Known as a regional letter, Paul is addressing a crisis hardly contained in one place, but one that has spread from the city church in Corinth to the entire region.

Some might call on Paul to dump them, to write the “Dear John” letter, to break up with the church – he certainly had just cause. Instead, he writes a love letter. He does so by showing his cards in the greeting section of the letter found in verse 2. He drops two words, typical in most of his writings, in which the subtle and nuanced message and meaning are all but lost in translation and over time.

The first word is grace. In the Graco-Roman world, when someone wrote the greeting to a letter, they used the word charein, which simply means, “hi.” We do the same or something similar in our letters today. We say “hi” or “hello there,” or even more casual, “What’s up?” My high school English teacher was often dramatic in her speech and would address people with a huge smile and boisterous, “Greetings and Salutations!”

Paul, on the other hand, baptized the formal greeting with a pun by substituting charein for charis, which we know is “grace.” So, instead of saying “Hi,” he says, “Grace.” Sounds beautiful, doesn’t it? By wrapping his greeting in grace he is rooting their lives, and this letter, in the love that God has for all of mankind. Everything, in life and in church, is surrounded by God’s infinite grace.

The second word he drops is peace. The Jewish word for peace was shalom and was the standard greeting in writing in everyday conversation. While Paul uses the Greek form in his letters, the rich meaning of shalom is behind the Greek. Offering shalom to someone is offering peace that is beyond the common conflict encountered every day. The peace that Paul, and his fellow Jews, offered was a peace that found its origin in God himself which then flowed over into their lives. When one is at peace with God, one can find peace in any circumstance or relationship.

“Grace and peace” was the normal greeting Paul offered to churches. When Paul wrote letters, he was dealing with a church conflict and the offering of grace and peace at the beginning of the letters he helped lay the foundation for what he hoped to accomplish in the letter itself. Mainly, Paul was leading them through their conflict to find a resolution. For the Corinthians and the church of Achaia, offering grace and peace was Paul’s means to avoid writing the dreaded “Dear John” letter.

For the past couple of years, a comic has circled around social media showing Paul sitting at a table writing a letter. The look of exasperation is all over his face as he writes, “To the church in America . . . I don’t even know where to begin.” The comic appeals to our sense that something is wrong with American churches, even if we can’t agree on the exact nature of the problem. The comic leaves us feeling like this is Paul’s last chance at redeeming the church in America before writing his “Dear John” letter. It does leave one to wonder how the church can be redeemed.

A friend of mine shared a story about a preacher who was pastoring a church. The board wanted to move forward with a building project. They needed new classrooms and an area for fellowship meals and receptions. The preacher opposed the construction, believing instead to focus on building up the people. He was convinced that discipleship should overrule the felt need of a building project. Despite his warning, the board ignored his plea and wanted to move forward with a church-wide vote. They brought the matter to the church and began deliberations. The board outlined their vision, the cost, and more importantly, how they could build most of it themselves, which would save on long term cost. They had the manpower of carpentry, plumbing, and electrical workers to complete the project and keep the costs reasonable. The preacher still opposed the move and made his case that the kind of building needed at their church was spiritual in nature. The church voted against the preacher and for the building project.

If you were the preacher, what would do? You have strong values, beliefs and a sense of what is right and wrong. Your insights are rejected, and your vision for the church is now clouded with a heavy fog has settled that may never lift. What do you do? You write your “Dear John” letter and break up with the church. You explain that if the church will not heed the voice of their pastor, then the church needs to find another voice. Make sure you let them down gently, but you let them down.

On the Saturday morning when that church broke ground on the new addition, the first person at the site was the preacher. He was wearing his work clothes, his tool belt, and gloves. When the members saw him, they marveled at him, wondering, “Why are you here? You were opposed to this building project.”

The preacher, never entertaining the thought of a “Dear John” letter, and in seeking peace and grace amidst the congregation, replied. “I am a member and part of this congregation.” And laying aside his ego, he continued, “I will do everything I can for my church.” It’s no wonder that he stayed at that church for thirty years.

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

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Final Exam

Final Examinations have always been a part of my educational experience. Final Examinations have usually raised my level of anxiety. Usually. Here’s a fun fact: I’ve never been a good test taker, as I’ve often seen multiple choice as nothing more than multiple guess.

In college I had a professor who acknowledged the dilemma of testing students, wondering if tests were the best way to measure a student’s mastery of the subject. To combat the bad press on tests, he called them, “Learning Experiences.” Every week we were to have a “Minor Learning Experience” over assigned reading material. Then, three times throughout the semester, we were to have a “Major Learning Experience” over class material. And then, at the end of the semester, we were to have a “Final Learning Experience.” As much as I appreciated his attempt at rebranding, it still felt like it was nothing more than quizzes, tests, and final exams. So much for relieving my anxiety.

Looking back on those days, the professor was onto something about the nature of exams. The student won’t master the material unless he/she is held accountable for the material. Love em or hate em, testing students forced them to master the material.

Paul offers the Corinthians a shot at “mastering the material” in the form of a final exam. In 2 Corinthains 13:5-7 Paul drops the word “test” four times: “test yourselves” (v. 5), “unless you fail the test” (v. 5), “we have not failed the test” (v. 6), and “we have stood the test” (v. 7). More importantly, Paul leads off with the command to “examine yourselves.” With the end of this letter approaching comes a final exam for the Corinthians. The church will be expected to pass, and despite all their troubles, Paul is optimistic. He holds out hope that they will pass the test (v.6), and I might add, he believes they will pass it with flying colors.

Now Paul is not handing out papers with doctrinal questions jam-packed with fill-in the blank, true or false, multiple choice, and essays. Far from it. This test is all on them. For instance, when Paul tells them to “Examine themselves” and to “test themselves,” the emphasis is on “themselves,” not on “examine” or “test.” Paul is not hovering over them, hoping they fail; he’s not even grading the test. He will lead them, but he will not judge them. Actually, Paul is encouraging them to be introspective in their dealings with him, with each other, and with the gospel. Paul is not judging them but getting them to judge themselves. Using the gospel as a rubric for their lives and their church, he’s asking them to honestly evaluate where they stand. Trust holds this together as Paul hands out the test, to which they take the test, and then they themselves grade the test.

Let’s be honest for a moment. We’re not really good at being introspective, are we? We really don’t want a good look in the mirror because if we did, we’d probably not like what we find. I’d rather talk about someone else’s sin or shortcomings than my own. And if I did probe deep into my soul, I might have to confess and repent of the things we’ve done. And who wants to change?

A friend of mine told me about a report presented to the company where he is employed. A review board came in and performed a quality analysis of product and services rendered. The review board interviewed employees and surveyed customers, then presented the results to the company. While they scored high on their product, they scored embarrassingly low on customer service. The review board warned the company that no matter the quality of the product, if they did not improve their customer service, the company would tank.

As the representative of the review board presented their findings, the company got defensive. They pushed back, denying and questioning their findings. They made excuses. They discarded the advice offered them. My friend told me that the company was acting like deck hands rearranging chairs on the Titanic. He was getting out before it sank.

We’ve seen this before. People never realize how their comments, traits, and idiosyncrasy disrupt their interaction with people. Schools fail to provide a quality education, so people leave the district. Marriages struggle in the day to day, and without special attention, soon spiral out of control. Churches believe they are friendly and evangelistic, representing Jesus to the world, until they are not friendly, un-evangelistic, and whatever Jesus is represented it’s not the one Paul represents. Meanwhile, filters are placed at the front doors new-comers from entering, while the back doors are wide open for members to exit, leaving the rest to wonder they their church is not growing.

Ultimately, because we are blinded to our own slip-ups, shortcomings, and sins, we are not very effective at introspection, the very thing Paul is calling the Corinthians to do.

For just a moment, let’s imagine that Paul is handing out a final exam, and on it has at least three questions. Since these questions are rhetorical, they are intended for the Corinthians to contemplate, to wrestle with, and to probe deeper into their own conscience.

Question One: Jesus is in who (v. 5b)? The opening question explores both their faith and relationship in Jesus. No doubt the Corinthians will believe they are in the faith and that Jesus Christ lives in them. And they should believe that. Paul is not questioning their salvation or their eternal destiny. Nevertheless, Paul has given them cause to pause, as just a few verses before, he calls them out for a slew of sins still gripping their lives: quarrelling, jealousy, outbursts of anger, factions, slander, gossip, arrogance and disorder, impurity, sexual sin, and debauchery (12:20b-21), a carry-over from 1 Corinthians. Such indictment sounds like the church haven’t just struggled with these sins but have thrown caution to the wind. In abandoning Paul, who kept the guardrails of their faith intact, they rejected a gospel of humility, suffering, reconciliation, generosity, and self-discipline. They opted to follow leaders who manipulated them, shamed them, and, we might say, gaslighted them all while promoting a gospel of success. A definition of success based on the world’s standard and not one defined by the cross.

Once they answer the question about themselves, which they will confess that Christ lives in them, the real struggle is admitting that Christ lives in Paul (v. 6). The domino effect begins as they realize that the one they reject is one whom Christ resides. And herein lies the rub with us as we struggle to answer the question of “Jesus is in who?” It’s easy to say “Christ lives in me, but I don’t believe Christ lives in them.” Sounds a little arrogant, but the lure of drawing the circle of fellowship smaller and smaller eventually leads to a circle that includes only you and me. And I’m not too sure of you.

Question Two: What is truth (v. 8)? Pilot once asked that question of Jesus (Jn. 18:38), and centuries later we struggle to form or articulate an answer. For most of my life the greying of truth has permeated society. Where once we spoke with clarity and precision, much of life today is nuanced. Not all of that is bad. Sometimes the clarity was hateful, judgmental, and even racist. On the other hand, when people cannot agree on right and wrong, problems will arise. We will struggle within our churches, society, and in our courtrooms to determine what is true. What are the ground rules, and whose personal truth are we going to follow? Paul is not wanting to bend truth to his will or his personal narrative, but trusts that when the truth, or the gospel, is revealed, the Corinthians will find him in line with it.

Question Three is a two-part question: “What is the source of Paul’s authority” and “What does he have the authority to do” (v. 10)? Throughout this Corinthian letter, Paul has been defending his apostleship. Opening his letter, Paul declares his apostleship is by the will of God (1:1), and now he is forcing the issue with the Corinthians. Is the claim he’s making true? Was it true when he brought them the gospel, and if so, what happen for him to be stripped of his authority? It’s time for the Corinthians put up or shut up. If they recognize his authority, and Paul is hoping they do, what does he have the authority to do? Whatever punishment Paul has in mind for his next visit, he prefers not to use drastic measures. Paul believes his authority should be used to nurture and strengthen the church, not to divide, demoralize, or to demolish the church. He will discipline, but he will not destroy. He’d rather enjoy the people by edifying the church.

Final exams may be part of our educational system. Some may say they’re a necessary evil as students won’t learn the material until they are made accountable for the material. Paul is administering an exam, though the only thing “final” about it is that it’s at the end of this letter before his third visit. The real challenge is not if they pass or fail. The real challenge is whether or not we can be honestly introspective enough about our own thoughts, motives, and behavior to lead to meaningful change. 

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

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Surviving A Graceless Age

On November 30, 2018 Botham Jean was sitting in his Dallas apartment enjoying a bowl of ice cream when an off duty police officer, Amber Guyger, entered the apartment, firing two fatal shots into the victim’s chest. The incident received national news coverage for numerous reasons. For one, the racial overtones of a white police officer killing an unarmed black man innocently sitting in his living room is disturbingly haunting. For another, the inconsistent testimony of Guyger who said on the one hand that the door was locked and her key didn’t work, but on the other hand said the door was ajar when she entered the apartment. How she mistook his apartment for hers is suspect at best. Then, Guyger was initially charged with only manslaughter until public outcry forced a second investigation leading to murder charges, to which she was eventually convicted in a court of law. And finally, what is to be made of the marijuana found on the counter of the victim’s apartment, and what was the purpose of releasing that detail to the public?

The day Gugyer was sentenced to serve her ten year incarceration, the courtroom and the TV audience witnessed something that left people in shock and awe. Perry Mason, Ben Matlock, and Jack McCoy never dreamed of this unfolding in their TV courtrooms as the world was flipped upside down in a simple moment of time.

Botham’s little brother, Brandt, looked at Guyger and said, “I forgive you.” Not the usual words spoken by a victim and heard in the sentencing phase of a murder trial, but Brandt spoke them nonetheless.

Not stopping at forgiveness, he continued, “I know if you got to God and ask him he will forgive you.” Brandt proceeded, for instead of heaping on more pain and guilt, he said, “I love you and I am not gonna say ‘I hope you rot and die just like my brother did,’ but I presently want the best for you . . . and the best would be to give your life to Christ.” If jaws weren’t dropped to the floor by now, they were when he looked at the judge and asked if he could hug Guyger. And hug they did for over a minute.

I’m not sure the depth of forgiveness is in me, maybe it’s because “my will and my flesh gets weak.”* Brandt’s words and actions were scrutinized, and placed under the microscope. How could he white wash the injustice with forgiveness and a hug? But then again, if he didn’t forgive, we’d begin to wonder, “How can love survive in such a graceless age.”*

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Somebody once said that “God has a thing for runaway lambs.” He’ll leave, even abandon, the ninety-nine to search for the one that is lost, untangling him from thorn bushes, and retrieving him from ditches. With ointment as a balm he will pour onto the wounds to prevent infection and to bring healing. He heals, and through his grace, he forgives. God forgives, “forgiveness, forgivenss, even if (we) don’t love (him) anymore.”*

The church is a place where forgiveness is experienced. The church is a place where we experience mutual forgiveness. We extend forgiveness to those around us. We also receive forgiveness because we ourselves are the runaway lambs.

Corinth was trying to navigate its way through the maze of forgiveness, just like we do. When someone violated and broke social or biblical boundaries, discipline was enacted. When that same person repented, it was time to welcome him back through the cleansing waters of forgiveness. Walking in both discipline and forgiveness is muddy and messy at best.

In 2 Corinthians 2 Paul implores the church to extend grace and forgiveness to a disciplined member who had caused him and the church great harm. The identity of the member is much debated. Clearly, the Corinthians knew who he was and the sin he committed, while Paul’s decision to omit his name may be an act of protective grace. He won’t shame him anymore. We, on the other hand, struggle to figure out who this guy is and what grievous sin he committed.

Some believe he is the immoral man sleeping with his stepmother from 1 Corinthians 5:1-5. It makes for a great repentant “happily ever after” story. A man’s sin is off the rails and to protect the church, Paul tells them to release him to his sin. He repents and Paul encourages the church to welcome him back into the fold. We love that narrative, and I’ve even preached it before. Unfortunately, this story ignores that two years had passed between First and Second Corinthians was written, and a lot can happen between the two letters. A lot did happen between the two letters.

The second option is to allow the immediate context of 2 Corinthians to identify the man. Paul knows this man has caused grief, not only to the whole group (v. 5), but more so to the apostle himself, which sounds far more personal than the situation in 1 Corinthians 5. If Paul had made a trip to Corinth, which he calls “painful” (2:1), and then writes a letter out of “distress, anguish, and tears” (2:4). So, this member was likely the one who led the insurrection, who stood against Paul and numbered himself with the antagonists who infiltrated the church.

Can you imagine a church setting where one is publically embarrassed, humiliated, and shamed while the rest of the church stood by in silence? I can. It’s “group dynamics.” They watched and refused to intervene – likely standing paralyzed by the whole ordeal – while one of their own attacked the apostle who brought them the gospel. If Paul hadn’t baptized them, he was there when they were baptized. Now they were not just rejecting him, but more likely running him out of town. In their own definition of truth and loyalty to Jesus, they discarded the very ambassador of Christ.  

Back in Ephesus, Paul writes a letter, which he reaffirms his love for them. More than that, he outlines in no uncertain terms his expectation of them as a church and representatives of the gospel (2:4, 7:8-13). It worked. They repented and the one who stood against Paul repented too. Like a juicy burger wrapped in bacon, the beauty of the gospel is wrapped in forgiveness. In fact, the need to put a cap on the punishment of the offender as Paul is worried about the long-term effect of punishment (v. 6) is only surpassed by the grace of forgiveness offered by Paul and the church.

A couple of reasons seem to drive Paul’s desire for forgiveness. Personally, Paul wants harmony and healing in the church. He’s not a dictator trying to divide and conquer. He does not want people taking sides, digging in their heels for a power play. His message is, and always has been, reconciliation and hope for a united church.

Secondly, we seek forgiveness because Satan himself seeks to fuel division and resentment in the church (v. 11). Satan abhors reconciliation, either in your church, or with your friends, or in your home, or with your spouse. To thwart his plan, we forgive. To keep him from getting a foothold in our lives, we reconcile. To embrace the love of Christ, we affirm our love for each other. And that gets to the heart of the matter.

Somewhere around 1988 Don Henley of the Eagles and JD Souther were drawn together by a similar pain. Both men were engaged to be married. Both men discovered their fiancés were cheating on them. Both men carried the scars of their breakup with them, trying to get their heads wrapped around the betrayal.

About that time Mike Campbell, from the band Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, wrote music he believed Don Henley might collaborate with him to add lyrics to the music. Henley agreed and called Souther for further collaboration. They sat down together to begin to write. They allowed the song to begin the healing process for their soul, and along the way they got to the heart of the matter, they got to the heart of the gospel.

“I’ve been tryin’ to get down to the Heart of the Matter ● But my will gets weak ● And my thoughts seem to scatter ● But I think it’s about forgiveness ● Forgiveness ● Even if, even if you don’t love me anymore.”

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

* Don Henley and JD Souther, The Heart of the Matter, 1989.

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Out of the Bubble

There once was a village nestled under a great mountain with a bluff overlooking the town. The villagers lived a modest life in their agrarian setting. They farmed and bartered goods among themselves with very little contact with the rest of the world. Occasionally, visitors and peddlers ventured their way which always drew crowds as new faces and voices provided variety to their lives, and news of the outside world.

One day a stranger came to the village and spoke about holiness and purity. He warned the villagers to avoid wealth, but to live modestly. He cautioned about hording possessions, instead, be generous and to share with those in need. He counseled them to treat people fairly, not to exploit, manipulate, or to create transactional relationships. More so, he advised them to protect their heart, for out of the heart comes the worst of evil desires. A number of the villagers gravitated to his teachings, and before he left the village, they swore an oath of obedience to the things he taught.

The teacher’s followers regularly met to discuss his teachings and to encourage each other to remain pure and holy. But they were worried about other villagers who either rejected the teacher or failed to embrace him. They fretted of being tarnished by those who were not following the teacher. In time the villagers moved away from the village believing the separation was vital to remaining pure and holy. But as time passed they witnessed the influence of the village as they still had to trade goods and interact with them. So they relocated their village far up in the great mountain on the bluff. Finally, they were away from the villagers and their influences. But they could still see the village below, and feared some might want to return to the village. Meeting together, they decided to encase their community’s presence by constructing a huge bubble protecting them – some might say isolating them – from the outside world, as they no longer could see or hear anything but themselves. They began the process of building the bubble and sealing themselves inside so no one could leave or have contact with the outside world.

Years passed. Those nestled in the village below looked up at the bubble on the bluff and wondered what had become of the separatists. One day a group decided to go investigate and to see what had become of their fellow-villagers in the bubble. Without finding a natural entrance, they broke in only to discover that everyone had died. Upon further investigation, they realized that the villagers failed to install a proper ventilation system, and tragically, everyone in the bubble had suffocated.

As people who are called to walk in holiness, we often struggle to engage the world for fear of being contaminated by the ungodly. The temptation to withdraw to a protective bubble is real.

I was a teenager when my mom provided an illustration to warn my sister and me of the danger of ill-chosen friends. She took a glass of pure fresh water and dropped a little dirt in it, and began to stir. Suddenly, we witnessed the fresh water morph into dirty, undrinkable water. No matter how much clear water mom added to the glass, it only diluted the dirty water, never sanitizing, purifying or cleansing the water.

Her point was that some of the people we engaged with will taint or dirty our souls, and nothing on our part can purify what has been tainted. We needed to be careful of who we connect our lives to. The irony, of coursel, is that the vast majority of kids we encountered were connected to church as we attended three times a week and were enrolled at a private Christian school. We kinda lived in a bubble, leaving one to ponder, if you can’t trust your Christian friends, who can you trust?

Paul was quite explicit when he told the Corinthians, “Do not be yoked with unbelievers” in 2 Corinthians 6:14. The strong and forceful language draws from the Mosaic Law (Dt. 22:10). One may yoke two donkeys together or two oxen together, but they were never to yoke a donkey with an oxen. The pure size and strength of the oxen would drag the poor donkey into the dirt and kill him, unintentionally, but unmercifully. Paul is saying that believers yoked with unbelievers lacks equality, and someone will end up getting hurt. Really hurt.

This particular section in 2 Corinthians has two unique characteristics. First, it’s held together by Paul’s pleas of reconciliation. On the front end, he claims he has opened his heart to the Corinthians (6:11-12). On the back end, he has been honest and open with them (7:2). Now he implores them to open their hearts to him (stated in 6:13 and repeated in 7:2). But in order to do so the Corinthians must come clean, breaking the yoke they’ve made with “unbelievers.” They must break the yoke of idolatry before they can be yoked once again to the gospel, and to Paul.

Herein lies the second unique characteristic of this passage. Paul asks five rhetorical questions in verses 14-16, constructed in a way that he expects the negative answer.

● “What do righteousness and wickedness have in common” (v. 14b)? Not anything.
● “What fellowship can light have with darkness” (v. 14c)? None.
● “What harmony is there between Christ and Belial” (v. 15a)? Only dissonance.
● “What does a believer have in common with an unbeliever” (v. 15b)? Zilch.
● “What agreement is there between the temple of God and idols” (v. 16a)? Nothing. Absolutely, nothing.

Clearly the answer Paul is seeking to each of these questions is “No.” Thus, his command “not to be yoked with unbelievers” means that the pagan temple is no setting fit for those who are themselves the temple of God.

The Corinthians struggled with idolatry, so much so that Paul spent three chapters in his first letter addressing the issue (1 Cor. 8-10). It’s clear that they have yet to break free from the grips of the temple worship of Aphrodite, Apollo, and Poseidon, a participation in total contrast to the gospel of Jesus. So in order for the church re-forge their bond to Paul, they must break their bonds to idolatry.

Herein lies an important truth. Paul is not telling them to separate from all society, but a segment of society that is rooted in idolatry, a very false reality of the divine, driven by power, manipulation, money, and sex. Yoke is a strong word of identification. From the context, they must break the yoke that ties them to such a false reality of life since they are yoked to Jesus.

If we were to expose the idolatrous environment today where we are unequally yoked, we might delve into individualism at the expense of community, or the desire for transactional relationships, or presuming that wealth is a sign of God’s blessing and that poverty is a sign of God’s rejection , or gravitating toward celebrity charismatic leaders who lack character, or the animalistic sexual identity mainstreamed since the 1960’s, or the cult-like church culture where probing questions are a threat to the control-driven leadership. Paul might tell us to separate ourselves from these environments, but he does not tell us to separate ourselves from the world.

I once preached a sermon where I used the glasses of water with dirt as an illustration of sin. I created the tension of being pure and holy people while absorbing the sinful stains of society. I hit this message hard, saying that the world will contaminate what God has made holy, and when that happens, I didn’t know what we could do to rectify it. I allowed the moment of hopelessness to sink in and unsettle the church.

With proper prep work and instructions, my middle-school son broke the silence and spoke up. “I know what to do, Dad.” He took the glass filled with dirty water and left the sanctuary only to return with the glass filled with clear, pure water. I asked him what he did, and he said, “I washed the cup clean.” He washed it clean, something God has done and continues to do for us too. God washes us clean.

In 1976 John Travolta starred in a movie about a boy who was born with Immune Deficiency Syndrome. Travolta’s character, Todd, could not live without some form of air filtration system. A simple cold might turn into irreparable pneumonia and kill him. Thus, Todd lived his entire life in a sterilized environment where his living quarters were protected by sanitized tarp, or a plastic bubble.

The good news is that Todd grows up and gets to live a life. The bad news is obvious, is being caged up in a plastic bubble really living? Of course not. So by the time he reaches his teenage years, Todd looks for a way to escape his sterile environment so that he is no longer the boy in the plastic bubble.

God never calls for us to pull away from the world, to isolate ourselves from the influences of the world, or to build a bubble of protection. No, we are to engage the world, society, and people on a regular basis in all of its sins and filth. Yes, it can be challenging. Yes, it can be scary. But what’s the alternative? We cannot engage the world if we’re living inside of a bubble.

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

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That Kind of Rejection

The situation in Corinth had turned from simple turmoil into something toxic. The church had rejected Paul, much like Israel rejected the prophets of old. The difference here may be nuanced as the apostle had planted the church in Corinth. He wasn’t a traveling salesman peddling wares and convincing people they needed to buy something they didn’t need. No, he invested both physically and emotionally into the very lives of the Corinthians (6:11-12). He saw their relationship as a parent to a child, like a parent who is “all in” on their children. He opened his heart to them, and they not only refused to reciprocate (6:12), but they flat out rejected him.

Something was brewing in Corinth and its odor was rank. The pot was starting to boil and what was spilling over was spoiled. While we don’t know the details, we know the results. Corinth discarded Paul and his leadership like an old worn-out shoe, hurting him, and forcing him to leave. They were like the prodigal son to their father, saying, “I wish you were dead!” Sadly, they stood in a historically long line of God’s people, both in the past and in their future, rejecting the Word sent to them.

Rejected. No one likes to be rejected. A manuscript is submitted to a publisher only to be returned with a thank you, but no thank you note. Rejected. An application is filled out and an interview is set, only for the position to be offered to someone else. Rejected. A boy gets the nerve to ask the girl out on a date, only for her to turn him down. Rejected. A mother cooks a dinner and sets it before her family who won’t eat what she prepared for them. Rejected. No one likes to be rejected, but we cannot stop the inevitable.

When we are rejected, we often turn inward and feel the rejection is our fault. We did something wrong. Like an armchair quarterback, we analyze with 20/20 vision, believing that somehow we now have clarity. So analyzing our actions, we should have spoken when we should have kept silent, or kept silent when we should have spoken. We came across too strong when we were too soft, or we were too soft enough when we should have been stronger. It’s enough to drive someone crazy. We accept blame and kick ourselves in the process, all the while our egos and self-esteem take the hit.

In the movie, Back to the Future, Marty McFly is encouraged by his girlfriend, Jennifer, to submit a tape of his band to a record company. Hs response is immediate defeat, “I just don’t think I can take that kind of rejection.” Jennifer thought the demo was good, real good. What is more is Deja vu moment when Marty McFly travels back thirty years in time and meets his father, George, who repeats the very same line to Marty who is trying to convince him to ask Loraine out for a date. “I just don’t think I can take that kind of rejection.” No doubt, Marty and George speak for many of us when our confidence is shaken. 

A not-so fun fact is that we have been preconditioned for rejection. Studies have shown that by the age of five a child knows his/her value, or said another way, the child’s self-esteem is already defined. Before the child enters school, he/she already knows, not only if they are loved, but how much they are loved. They then carry that awareness through school and into adulthood. Each step of the way, each victory and each defeat they face reinforces either the acceptance or rejection model.

My sister is adopted. Mom and dad brought her home when she was five days old. Fourteen months my younger, we were like twins as we ventured through school together. We have many fond memories from being classmates, to athletes, to church, and to graduation. I wouldn’t trade my sister for anything and cherish the memories and relationship we have today. But it wasn’t always easy for my sister. Hovering over a good home and godly parents is the reality that her birth mother gave her up for adoption. Whatever the reason, and it’s a powerful story beyond this scope of today’s message, dark clouds of rejection always hovered over my sister.

Rejection is a part of life.

We live with rejection because we have so many choices. If you don’t like this church, go to the next church down the street. If you don’t like chicken, then you can have the other chicken, pork. And if you don’t want pork, you can have steak. If you find you’re not in good hands with the insurance company then maybe another will be like a good neighbor. If you don’t like country music, then you can listen to rock. The moment we choose is the moment we accept something but reject another. Even if we just prefer one to the other, a level of rejection exists.

We live with rejection because people refuse to work on themselves. When something is wrong on the inside but is often ignored or denied, then that energy must find its focus elsewhere. A married couple who have very little in common with each other, and the slightest disagreement quickly escalates, find a common enemy to focus their negative attention. It becomes their rally-cry to avoid the work needed to save their marriage. Sometimes the target is a leader. Very often it’s the church leader or pastor. So they reject the pastor and focus their attention on him to save their marriage while ignoring the very pieces falling apart in their own lives.

We live with rejection because of the level of narcissism that permeates throughout society. Narcissism is the “Me Generation” on steroids. People, who believe the world revolves around themselves, have always existed. It’s just that today it seems that more and more narcissist have a platform through social media and the freedom to demand attention or to have their own way. No longer concerned about community or others, and lacking compassion, the narcissistic tendencies demand everything be done their way with no room for compromise. When we encounter a person or people who only think of themselves, they will quickly find a way to reject you.

We live with rejection because some people are not ready for a new idea or even to hear the truth. We step into a patient’s home to talk about end of life experiences, and they’re in denial. Believing they will get better and recover, funeral arrangements are left undecided. Once the subject is broached, offense is taken at the thought of dealing with eminent death. So we slowly work with them, building trust, and walking with them so that when the day comes the patient and family are ready and accepting of death.

Our hospice ministry is to enter the homes and lives of the individuals we are called to serve. Sometimes the patient and family are eager to embrace our guidance and instructions for care. Other times, we find ourselves and help rejected by the very ones trusting us. We offer to bathe our patients who refuse our care. We offer to provide medication to numb the pain or to heal a wound, but they refuse to take the medication. We offer spiritual care, but the patient refuses to allow Spiritual Care into their homes, and when they do, they fail to tell their story truthfully to us. A worse-case scenario is that the person entering the home is rejected and even blamed for the patient’s problems. And we walk away with Marty McFly running through our heads, “I just don’t think I can take that kind of rejection.”

When Paul was rejected by his Corinthian church, he disclosed his heart, and in the process maybe offered us a way to work through rejection. First, he temporarily distanced himself from the church, refusing to make another “painful visit” (2:1). Paul wasn’t running away and being passive-aggressive. Instead, he was allowing the dust to settle before engaging with the church. Secondly, while Paul did write a letter them, he refused to write out of anger, but instead he wrote out of shedding many tears (2:4). Paul was hurting, and rightly so. Being rejected hurts and often causes deep wounds. Sometimes we need a good cry, and Paul seemed to embrace those tears. Thirdly, Paul refused to pull the “authority card” on the Corinthians (1:24). Refusing to rely on his position, rather, he pointed to his disposition, a Spirit of brokenness that had come through many tears. In fact, Paul responded to the Corinthians like the father in Luke 15. He absorbed the rage and rejection without retaliation. Granted, later on Paul promises to bring discipline if attitudes and behavior will not change (13:2-3). For now, the apostle is allowing the temper-tantrum of the church to run its course. He does so, finally, because he holds out hope that the church will reaffirm their love for him (2:3).

No one wants to experience rejection, but rejection is one thread woven through the fabric of reality. And like you, Marty McFly’s quote keeps running through my head, “I just don’t think I can take that kind of rejection.” When we are rejected by friends, family, or patients, just remember we do not stand alone because even the great Apostle Paul was rejected.

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

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Assigning Intent to Behavior

Stephen M.R. Covey makes an insightful statement about human nature. “We tend to judge ourselves by our intent; we tend to judge others by their behavior.”* The tendency is to create two standards by which we operate: how we view ourselves versus how we view other people. We give ourselves the grace for our actions, but refuse that same grace to others. In doing so, we view ourselves through the mercy of God’s eyes, but often view others through condemnation of Judgement Day. The result is that we often paint ourselves with beautiful colors while painting others in something blah.

Covey is right, “We tend to judge ourselves by our intent; we tend to judge others by their behavior.”

On a return trip from vacation Covey’s parents, Stephen and Sandra Covey, were exhausted after a day of snowmobiling. Stephen was sleeping in the back seat while Sandra was driving, until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She pulled over on a highway cutting through the vast plains of Idaho and woke her husband up so he could drive. In the process of trading places, Stephen drove off leaving his wife on the side of the road, standing in the cold air and wind.

Here is where we start reading between the lines. We know he drove off and left her behind, but so far we don’t know the why. At first, Sandra believed her husband was joking and thinking he would come back to get her. She did know something of his character. A witness to the event called the highway patrol telling them that a man had abandoned his wife on the highway. Note the word, “abandoned.” When the officer arrived, he questioned Sandra, probing for any domestic violence in their relationship, until he realized that her husband was the author and speaker of Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. He changed his tone. Once the officer was able to make contact with Stephen, Stephen denied the accusation, believing his wife was with him in the back seat of the car. Once his “truth” was exposed, he was shocked that he left her behind, saying, “I didn’t mean to leave her.”  

We live within the tension between “intent” and “behavior.” Sandra, based on what she knew about her husband, thought he was joking as he pulled out to leave her on the side of the road. At first she thought it was a joke. The concerned citizen who witnessed Stephen leave his wife on the side of the road, assumed that they had had a fight and that he had abandoned her. He thought Covey was a dead-beat husband. The officer, based on the phone dispatch information, concluded that he was walking into a domestic violence situation, only to discover a totally different scenario once realizing who was involved. Stephen Covey himself denied his wife was left behind as he defended his actions, maintaining she was still in the car. Once the truth was known, Stephen played the “intent” card: “I didn’t mean to drive off leaving her on the side of the highway.” A very true statement, he did not intend to leave her on the side of the highway.

“We tend to judge ourselves by our intent; we tend to judge others by their behavior.”

I once attended a seminar on listening skills. Attendees learned to become better listeners as the director led them to develop multiple skills. It’s one thing to hear something, but it’s something totally different to peel back the layers in order to comprehend what people are saying. Those skills were not only keys to understanding people, but also deployed to help defuse volatile situations.

One of the skills was to distinguish between intent and behavior. When something happens, it is so easy to interpret behavior through the eyes of intent, especially when you lack all the necessary information. For instance, someone cuts in line, but you don’t know the intent, all you have is the behavior. Cutting in line is behavior. Why the person cut in line is intent, something we cannot know until further investigation is completed. Did the person know where the line was and inadvertently moved toward the front? (Confession time: I’ve done that at Kroger’s.) Is the person a natural cheater? Did someone save a spot in line for them? Is the person disoriented? Is the person mean spirited? Identifying behavior is easy, while the difficulty is to peg the intent. It doesn’t stop us from trying, though, does it?

Remember, “We tend to judge ourselves by our intent; we tend to judge others by their behavior.”

In my early days of ministry I worked with teenagers. A document of mine was somewhere on the secretary’s desk, a document I needed. I called the secretary who told me that it was on her desk, and just look for it. I did, and as I was looking through her desk someone walked into the office. We small talked as I continued to search. He said nothing, at least to me. Instead, he went to the church board and leveled a complaint accusing me of pilfering through the secretary’s desk. I was going through her desk, but I was looking for my document that I needed, not to mention, I had her permission. The gentleman, and the board who questioned me, noted my behavior and assigned intent to my behavior. I was falsely accused of unlawfully searching the secretary’s desk. Right or wrong has little bearing. It’s common practice to assign intent to behavior.

“We tend to judge ourselves by our intent; we tend to judge others by their behavior.”

 The apostle Paul was a victim of negative intent being assigned to his behavior. At the end of 1 Corinthians he promised to visit Corinth in the near future. Writing from Ephesus, he says that he planned to go to Macedonia first and then to Corinth, even hoping to stay for a while (1 Cor. 16:5). But something happened. Plans changed and then unraveled. Paul then saw an opportunity where he could make two visits to Corinth instead of one (2 Cor. 1:15-16). Banking on his relationship with the Corinthians, he altered his plans, believing that they would understand.

Instead, his credibility took a hit. Granted, the outside influences seized on the moment and exploited Paul against the Corinthians. They took his cancelled plans and read into it a negative connotation.

They made him out to be a liar, untrustworthy with either their trust or with the gospel. I can hear their slanderous argument, “If Paul was going to lie about his travel plans, what else would he lie about?” To make matters worse, Paul did take an emergency trip to Corinth which exasperated the situation and caused great pain, both to the church and to himself personally. Essentially, Paul was run out of town on a rail (2 Cor. 2:1).

Pushed into a corner, Paul had to defend his actions of changing his plans. Yes, he believed two visits were better than one. But now his character and calling were called into question. So Paul laid out his defense in two ways. First, he defended his reason to change plans. He was not flippant in his itinerary when he says, “When I planned this, did I do it lightly? Or do I make my plans in a worldly manner, so that in the same breath I say, ‘Yes, yes’ and ‘No, no’?” (1:17). Paul gave great thought to making his plans. But for all the careful details attended to, even the apostle cannot control all that life throws at you. His schedule had to be altered and he hoped the Corinthians might understand. They didn’t, but he still hoped they would.

Secondly, he defended his credibility. The Corinthians’ needed to know that they can trust Paul’s word, both in the promises he makes and in the message he preaches (1:18). Paul links his credibility with God who makes good on his promises. Since God follows through with his promises, Paul will do the same. As Paul described, God’s promises are always “Yes,” and never “No.” The Corinthians can trust Paul’s word – both promises and message – because Paul’s credibility is like a straight arrow headed to the center of the target.

On a side note, linking himself to God’s character is a tall order. Not enough preachers have the credibility to back up the talk with the walk. Paul did. Much of 2 Corinthians is an apologetic to Paul’s character.

With Paul placed in a relational bind with this church community, he could have put up walls, become defensive, or even tried gas-lighting the Corinthians. He didn’t. Instead, he clarified his change of plans and rooted his character in God. Maybe, just maybe, because “we tend to judge ourselves by our intent; we tend to judge others by their behavior.”

Jesus talks about being as wise as serpents and innocent as doves. I’ve grappled with what that means for most of my adult life. I do know that when we sit in our IDG (Inner Disciplinary Group) meetings we struggle to assess patients and their caregivers often questionable, if not erratic, behavior. In those cases we cannot afford to be blind as lives and legality are at stake. We must be wise as serpents since we step into potential intent-moments on the patient or their family because we are dealing with potent medications and Federal liabilities. On the other hand, in our relationships with each other it’s so easy to judge people by their actions, but to excuse our own behavior by focusing on intent. Therein lies the struggle as “we tend to judge ourselves by our intent; we tend to judge others by their behavior.”

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

*Stephen M.R. Covey, The Speed of Trust: The One Thing That Changes Everything (2006).

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The Goodness of Generosity

When my daughter was two-years-old, my brother and his family came to our home for the weekend. With their daughters being three and one, it may have been the first big cousin get-together for the children. We spent the weekend navigating or refereeing the toddler “mine” phase of life. Since the time was spent at our house, my daughter’s toys were in play. If my niece was holding a toy, my daughter instinctively felt threatened and ripped the doll out of her hands, crying out, “Mine!” Like throwing a red flag on the play, Cile and I quickly intervened and gently reminded our daughter, “You share.” As if we hit the rewind button, this scenario repeated itself throughout the weekend until Sunday afternoon when my daughter grabbed the doll out of my niece’s hands to cry out, “Mine!” However, before either my wife or I could intervene, my niece grabbed the doll back out of her hands and said, “You share!”

Not long ago history repeated itself as the same song was sung to a different verse. This time friends were gathered at my daughter’s house where they were eating dinner. My daughter had made a homemade pizza. My four-year-old granddaughter loves mushrooms, and loves mushrooms on her pizza. She made it known to everyone at the table that she was sharing her mushrooms, as she reached over and took a mushroom off her “adopted uncle’s” pizza. When it was time for my granddaughter to share her mushrooms with him, she responded emphatically, “Mine!”

Something within us has a generous heart. Something within us wants to hoard our generosity, or at least restrict it, even tie it down so that it doesn’t go to everyone.

Generosity is a beautiful action motivated by the Spirit. When Paul lists the Fruit of the Spirit, he places generosity in the back third of the fruit. I can hear your mind processing, “Wait,” as you run through the list from Galatians 5:22-23, “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.” You’re thinking, “I don’t remember generosity being part of the Fruit of the Spirit.” Well, because it’s often lost in translation, the meaning behind goodness is actually generosity. Someone who is generous is someone who demonstrates goodness.

Generosity comes in all forms. People can be generous with their time. It’s one thing to spend a moment with someone, but it’s quite another to put everything aside to devote and focus on a person. We are all bound by our work devices and required to spend thirty minutes with our patients. Sure, some patients’ needs can be met within thirty minutes. Other patients’ needs take longer. When that happens, we put the device aside and talk to the patient. We engage them, and worry about documentation later.

People can be generous with their compliments, encouragment, and praise. “You’re doing a good job,” “Thank you for helping out,” “I’m glad you’re part of the team,” or “I like your style.” Compliments can go a long way in boosting morale, both individually and corporately. How many success stories have been shared because a teacher believed in a student and baptized the student in confidence, washing away the self-doubt. If it takes seven positives words to compensate one negative word, then positive messaging needs to be intentional. Since most people are battling hidden issues or demons, being generous with compliments can help bring healing.

When most people think of generosity, they think financial generosity. Churches, charities, schools, and any fundraising adventures are dependent on the generosity of its donners. How much generosity is offered determines how much can be accomplished. On a personal note I’ve witnessed much generosity from our hospice workers in their interaction with the patients, from Christmas gifts, to cups of coffee or milk shakes, to the Special Days events, and spending far more than the required thirty minutes with patients. Our coworkers are generous people.  

Paul was banking on the generosity of the Corinthians to help bring relief aid to the believers living in Judea who were doing all they could to survive a famine. When he brought the situation before the church, they were not only eager to help with the funds, but they were the first to volunteer (2 Cor. 8:10). Unfortunately, things didn’t unfold like Paul had hoped. Their excitement waned about the time their trust in Paul was fading. We know what happened. A group moved in to undermine Paul’s credibility. They challenged his authority and questioned his leadership. While they were suspect of Paul’s motive in this collection for the saints, they themselves were financially milking the Corinthians. Now that the relationship was on the mend, Paul tried jumpstarting the collection again.

Without resorting to guilt and shame, Paul toes the line of manipulation by describing the churches in Macedonia. The churches in that region, most notably Philippi and Thessalonica, were impoverished. Unlike Corinth and the providence of Achaia who claimed a bustling Metropolis and significant trade to fuel their economy, Macedonia faired less. And yet, their generous hearts made up for their lack of funds. Paul understood their financial situation, and yet they volunteered to give. More so, they enthusiastically wanted in on the ministry to help those in Judea. The contrast is almost too obvious to note. The wealthier churches struggling with their relationship to the apostle puts the squeeze on generosity, while the poorer churches with a strong relationship to the apostle opens the floodgates of their generosity. Or, the church boasting of the visual display of the Spirit in their lives, prevented the Spirit to move them toward generosity, while the church embracing humility allowed the Spirit to guide them in all things generously.

It is here that Paul makes a powerfully loaded statement, a statement that sums up the gospel.

For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich (8:9).

Everything is based on the grace of Jesus, from salvation to the ministries performed by the church to the generosity of people. Grace. Through this grace Jesus was rich but became poor. Most likely referencing to his pre-incarnation state with God or as God, Jesus had it all. In terms of wealth, he had everything beginning with the cattle on a thousand hills. Yet he gave it up. He generously relinquished his grip on power, position, and prosperity to embrace poverty. Such a move captures his incarnation where he stripped himself of his divine nature and became human. As a mortal Jesus identified, not with the wealthy, but with the impoverished, even claiming that he did not have a place to sleep at night.

Likely himself dependent on the generosity of others, Jesus freely gave. When he fed the 5000, was there really a need for twelve baskets full afterward, unless Jesus is generous with bread. When he healed the sick, did he really have to expend all of his healing power when whole cities brought their sick to him, unless Jesus is generous with healing. And when he forgave sins, was there a need to forgive as much as he did or does, unless Jesus is generous with forgiveness. The greatest display of Christ’s generosity may very well be salvation, both in the suffering and the gracious giving of his Holy Spirit. The generosity of Jesus motivates us to be just as generous as he.

Fred Craddock compares salvation to finances. He locks into the human nature of doing one big thing, as opposed to thousands of little things on a daily basis. We’d rather pick up our cross one time, than to think about picking it up today, then pick it back up tomorrow, then the next day, and so on and so on. He says we come to God and write out a million dollar check, going out in a whirlwind, and say, “This is for following you.” Believing our responsibility is over and we no longer are bothered by God again, God takes our check and goes to the bank. There he cashes the million dollars into quarters. He brings the change to us and says, “Now, spend the rest of your life giving this money away.” And the glorious whirlwind is replaced by the mundane, small acts of kindness. You sit and listen to a patient’s story, again, and to their pain, or to their loneliness. You just spent a quarter. You bring a milkshake to a patient. You just burned a whole fifty cents. You stop by the store to pick up groceries for a patient. That cost you seventy-five cents. You make a generous donation to relief aid for Judea, that’s a dollar, maybe. And when we make those deposits, one quarter at a time, it all starts to add up.

As my daughter grew and matured, she left behind the “mine” phase of her life. Entering middle school, two things happened simultaneously which held no correlation between the two. One, her growth rate ceased until eight grade where it picked up again. For three years, we did not need to buy her clothes, at least because she outgrew them. Secondly, her hair grew at an enormous rate. She was my little Crystal Gayle with brownish-blond hair. While my memory details are fuzzy, during this time we discovered Locks of Love, where people donate their hair so wigs can be made for cancer patients, particularly children. Four times in four years she volunteered to cut twelve inches from her hair to donate, highlighting the old VeggieTales motto, “If you have enough to care, you have enough to share.” It seemed she always had enough to share.

We think in terms of the bottom line, the bare minimum. God thinks in terms of generosity, because that is the standard God uses himself. Maybe that is why God is always so good.

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

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Beyond Retribution

The 1980 Mount St. Helens eruption was like filling a diet Coke bottle with Mentos. The combustion was massive, explosive, and destructive. The blast radius destroyed everything within ten miles and its damage reached some 230 miles away. The North Fork Toutle River, flooded by the melted ice and mudslides, wiped out everything in its path, and I mean everything. Trees were stripped bare and logs that filled the Toutle River looked like toothpicks on the TV screen. While fifty-seven people died, the death toll could have been worse. A lot worse. I remember a respected adult commenting on the event, believing God used the eruption to punish America for its moral sins.

Who could forget the images of the people stranded inside the Superdome in 2005 as residents sheltered to wait-out the Katrina Hurricane. Stories, emerging from their sheltering, were sickening and too gruesome to recount here. The massive hurricane made landfall as a category 5 and caused over 100 billion dollars’ worth of damage, leaving some to believe that New Orleans might never recover. Eighteen hundred people, who were unable to evacuate the city, died in the storm. Religious pundits pounced on the news with some saying that the storm was retribution by God for the city’s sinful behavior, while others believed it was punishment for the United States’ preemptive strike against Iraq.

On the precipice of COVID anxiety levels were rising. No one knew what might happen or how deadly the virus was going to be. We knew China was under lockdown and were building hospitals. What we didn’t know was what America was going to do with the crisis. The answer came soon enough as loose lockdown requirements were coming into play. If businesses were not deemed necessary, they closed. Schools educated students via Zoom. Churches were asked to find alternatives to meeting in person. Some offered services outdoors while other went online. While the death toll is debated – whatever that number was or is – what is true is that far too many people died by COVID. In the early days of the virus, finger pointing emerged as to its cause, including America’s permissive abortion laws, persistent ungodly behavior, and sports along with entertainment being far more important to people than God was. Many, at least by those sharing posts on social media, claimed that the virus was God’s means of punishing America.

The official term for God enlisting punishment on people for their sins is called Retribution Theology. Simply, you sin and God punishes you, and that theme recapitulates throughout Scripture. Adam and Eve eat the forbidden fruit, and are expelled from the Garden of Eden. The earth is corrupted, so God hits the reboot button through a flood. Sodom and Gomorrah were wicked cities that God destroys with fire. Nadab and Abihu offer strange fire while Uzzah touches the untouchable Ark of the Covenant; all three are struck down. David commits adultery, and then uses murder to cover up his deed, so the baby’s life is forfeited. Israel is exiled to Babylon for breaking, no obliterating, the Covenant with God. So a clear line exists with Retribution Theology: if you sin, God punishes you.

One of the problems with Retribution Theology, which still has its claws in our perception of God even today, is that it limits God to a box of anger and revenge. We have a “he’s out to get us” mentality, as if we are in the hands of an angry God. 

We’re not. God is far more gracious than given credit, and his use of retribution is far more nuanced than we’re willing to admit. A man is born blind, and the disciples ask Jesus who committed the sin that the man be born blind, he or his parents (Jn. 9:1-2). The disciples were working out of a Retribution Theology. “Neither,” was Jesus’ response, as he was not working from such a perspective. The man was born blind so that God may show his grace to him.

Job and his three friends all operated out of Retribution Theology, though from different angles. Job’s friends believed Job had sinned and was being punished by God for his sin. They used guilt to shame him into confession and repentance. Job, on the other hand, argued that he had not sinned and did not deserve this punishment or suffering. While all four’s assessment was wrong, Job’s friends were forced to beg Job’s forgiveness because they felt free to condemn and point their fingers at Job. Job’s suffering had nothing to do with sin, any sin.

Job’s friends demonstrate the biggest flaw in the way Retribution Theology is deployed. Everyone else is blamed for the disaster, disease, or distress but not ourselves. In the end they get what they deserve, and somehow we are more righteous than they. The fifty-seven deserved to die from Mt. St. Helens, but somehow I didn’t deserve to die? The some 1800 casualties deserved to die from Katrina, but I was worthy to escape even the storm itself? The million or more deaths from COVID came to people who deserved such fate, but apparently I was deemed worthy to only have a mild case after the vaccine was in play?

This really is not what we believe, is it? If not, what is another way to understand such a painful crisis?

The prophet Agabus stood before the church in Antioch and foretold that the entire region would suffer a severe famine (Act. 11:27-30). Palestine, like most of the world, was an agricultural based society, and much of their economy was drawn from the crops. A famine could be as economically devastating as our Stock Market crashing today. I can hear the gasps from the crowd as Agabus shared his disturbing and sober vision.

Luke does not tell us why the region faced the drought. Making absolutely no connection between God’s will and the famine, Luke remains silent on the reason. Unlike the days of Elijah, Scripture explicitly says God brought famine to the land as he was going one-on-one with the fertility god, Baal. But in Acts 11 Luke says nothing. Luke is quiet on the reason for the famine. This famine was headed their way, and the reason, if there was one, was almost irrelevant.

What happens next is nothing short of beautiful. Agabus refused to point fingers or lay blame. The church pundits refused to get up before the church and start listing the varied sins that had been committed, either by the church or by the Jews who rejected Jesus. Instead, harkening back to Acts 2:42, “The disciples (in Antioch), each according to his ability, decided to provide help for the brothers living in Judea” (Act. 11:29). They acted by offering help to those who were going to need help. Instead of finger pointing, they raised their hands to volunteer. And do you know who was among them? Better call Saul, as we know him as the Apostle Paul (11:30).

When Paul went through Asia-Minor and spoke with the churches he had planted, he initiated a relief aid for the saints in Jerusalem and Judea. That region was going to be hit hard and he was hoping that those who could, would step up to aid their brothers and sisters. Paul organized no concert venue or showcased top preachers, charging people an admission to the event. Instead, he challenged the Gentile churches to collect funds out of their own generosity to send to the Jewish churches. Paul trusted their generosity. Paul believed his churches would come through for him.

At least two results emerge from the gift collected for the saints. First, they will help alleviate people’s suffering. As Paul tells the Corinthians, “This service you are providing is . . . supplying the needs to God’s people . . .” (2 Cor. 9:12). Their gift will help bring healing to the hurting, herbage to the hungry, and hope for their homes. They get to have a hand in redeeming something horrific. Maybe one of the most God-like quality we can embrace is to be generous in helping others who are suffering, especially if we forgo any finger pointing. Such thinking harkens the reader back to 1 Corinthians 1:3-4 where God comforts people so that they can share that comfort with others.

Secondly, and one might say, more importantly, God will get praised through their generosity. Paul references God’s glory four times in verses 12-15. While people are hurting, the church comes in to serve, help, and minister to the people, and all the time those same people praise God for the graciousness of others.  We help alleviate pain and suffering while God gets praised. Not a bad combination if you ask me.

When we engage our patients, do we resort to Retribution Theology in ministering either as nurses, aids, social workers, volunteers, or spiritual care coordinators? Of course not. Such perspective is cold, callused, uncaring, and is devoid of compassion. Instead we act to bring healing, and a Gilead-like balm for their wounded-ness, not more pain and suffering. Remember that Job’s three friends approach did not fare well at the end of Job’s story.

In the movie Apollo 13 the three astronauts aboard the doomed capsule tried getting their heads wrapped around the failed mission to the moon. Between the moment the system failed and their reentry, no one knew why the spaceship was failing. Fingers were quick to point. Jim Lovell, portrayed by Tom Hanks, put a stop to the blame game saying, “Look, we’re not doing this, gentlemen. We are not gonna do this. We’re not gonna go bouncing off the walls for ten minutes because we’ll just end up right back here with the same problems!” Well said, as Retribution Theology spends too much time finger pointing and laying blame instead of working the problem. Luke never told us why the famine hit, but he told us what the church did. They contributed to the needs of others.

Finally, I’ll leave you with the quote from Fred Rogers who addressed the news’ constant preoccupation with traumatizing stories. Mr. Rogers said, “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’” Good advice. Look for the helpers, or better yet, be one of the helpers and leave the blaming to someone who has a better handle and perspective on the situation. That person is God.

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

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Leveling the Playing Field

My brother, David, is three years my elder. My namesake was the best friend to King David, as our names were to define our relationship. And growing up, it did. Like the biblical David and Jonathan in the Bible, my brother and I shared much of our lives. We inhabited the same bedroom, even sleeping on bunk beds for a while. We collected baseball cards. We climbed the cherry tree in our backyard. We delivered papers together on our matching Schwinn Heavy-Duty bicycles. An open game of Monopoly was set up as we kept a continuous game moving forward. (On a side note, I never beat him, but I always owned Park Place and Boardwalk, the only property I wanted to own, which may explain why I never beat him.) We played baseball, basketball, and whiffle ball. Playing basketball in the backyard is where David figured out how to level the playing field.

The patio in our backyard was a perfect spot for either one-on-one or two-on-two basketball. The uniqueness of the court was the patio roof, which was some eleven to twelve feet high, allowing the backboard to be securely snugged between the porch roof and the patio ceiling. It also meant shooting outside shots took a lot of skill, because we had no room for an arch. On the plus side, the rim was just over eight feet which made for some good slam dunks when we were teens. David, on the other hand, being older and bigger than me, simply backed me down under the hoop for an easy hook shot or layup.

We loved playing together, but David had the upper hand. He took complete advantage of his size, and rightly so. But let’s be honest, neither one of us had a fun time, especially me. So he develop a game in order to level the playing field. The rules were simple. The score is tied with twenty-four seconds left in the game. We have a five second shot clock. David was in charge of keeping the “game clock,” and I was in charge of the “shot clock.” After every dead ball, he reiterated how much time was left in “the game.” Amazingly, his idea worked. He didn’t have time to back me down as he had to put up a quick shot. I, on the other hand, had a fighting chance to score. If my memory serves me right, we generally split the series, making his idea a success. The playing field was leveled.

As much as we want to believe that everyone stands on equal footing to succeed at life, the truth is far from reality. The playing field is hardly level. Some people have an easier time navigating life than others, the reasons are varied and often complex. For instance, while I have been blessed with a lifelong foundation of academic studies – I attended private, strong academic schools – I struggled with my grades. If I was in school today, they would diagnose me with ADHD, instead of just telling me to work harder. “Work harder” was my advice on academic success. Growing up my reading, reading-comprehension, math skills, and recall were always behind the curve. Even today, as much as I love to read, I’m still far slower than most people who hold the same passion. I found myself muddling through school while my classmates thrived. Academics were far from a level playing field, at least for me.

Those who teach will confirm that so many factors come into play which determine the success children have at school. Home life is one of those factors. A child returning home to parents who are engaged, helpful, and encouraging their children to learn have an advantage over a child going home to parents disengaged, absent, or talks despairingly about the school, teacher, or learning in general. Never mind how poverty, race, or the impact of the opioid crisis has had on family life and its link to our educational system. No, the playing field is anything but level.

A few years ago I listened to a speaker share his experience visiting an inmate at a state penitentiary. As he drove through the poorer section of the city in route to the penitentiary, he noticed an old abandoned school, boarded up. Driving further, he saw another school fallen into disarray. Before reaching his destination he discovered a third school facing the same deterioration. He inquired about their status only to be told that the three schools could no longer be funded so they were consolidated. “Oh, did they build a new school?” he probed with hope. “No,” he was told, “they were now meeting in the one school building that was still deemed habitable.” No future plans were made to build a new school, as the county lacked the funds. Soon, their car turned toward the prison. He described it as a brand new, state-of-the-art, multi-million dollar facility with all the bells and whistles appropriately. The correlation and causation were intertwined. No funds were available to invest in education, but plenty of funds to incarcerate uneducated people suffering from a broken system and uneven playing field.

The inequality experience reaches beyond education. Statistics bear out that males make more money than females, while performing the same job. Minorities make even less money when comparing them to those who make up the majority. We saw this over the past few years. As we endured COVID it became clear that everyone was facing the same storm, but not everyone was in the same boat. The playing field is anything but level.

Paul was very aware that the playing field in Palestine was un-evened. Back in Acts 11 a prophet named Agabus foretold that a severe famine was striking the region with devastating effects (Act. 11:27-28). While Luke tells us little of the famine or its impact on the region, information on Paul’s response to the famine is clear. Paul refused to turn the suffering into a judgmental sentencing by God through sermons. Instead he solicited help. Every church throughout Asia-Minor was asked to participate. He appealed to them to collect financial aid as relief to send to those distressed under the devastation.

Paul’s move to collect funds for the churches in and around Jerusalem served two purposes. First, Paul hoped the gesture by the Asia-Minor churches might help bridge the racial gap between the Jew and Gentile believers. Churches in Asia-Minor were predominantly Gentile in nature. Churches in Jerusalem and the surrounding vicinity were, as expected, comprised of Jewish Christians. The Jews had a built-in suspect of Gentile Christians because they ignore key doctrinal issues dear to the heart of the Jews. They rejected circumcision, refused to celebrate holy days like Passover, and ate unclean foods like pork. Paul very likely believed that Gentile churches, collecting funds to help their brothers and sisters in Christ whom they have never met but felt the estrangement, might bring the two groups together. Might. While we don’t know how well the collection helped bridge the gap, it’s not hard not to imagine that the gift helped move the needle some.

Secondly, Paul explicitly says that the collected gift was a means to financially level the playing field. Drawing from the Exodus story, the Israelites woke up every morning to find the ground covered with the wafer God had provided. All they had to do was go out to pick up what their family needed. Quoting from Exodus, Paul notes, “Those who collected much did not have too much, and those who collected little did not have too little” (Ex. 16:18; 2 Cor. 8:15). God provided equality as everybody had as much as they needed.  

Like today, the first century society was comprised of the “haves” and “have-nots.” Balancing the scales among the believers means that the “haves” share with the “have-nots,” so that those who have, can share with those who do not have, in order that all will have some (2 Cor. 8:13). The goal is equality. By being people who are willing to share, we act as a buffer between us and society, a society that wants to keep the playing field disproportionally un-leveled so that those in power can keep their position of power. In our generosity, we help seek equality among the people we encounter.

And the beauty of such generosity is like bread upon the water. Somehow, what is cast upon the water always tends to come back. Always.

I once saw a video of homeless people engaging each other, almost like it was a study in human interaction. A man, pretending to be homeless, approached a number of business people having lunch. The actor tried telling his sad story and how hungry he was only to be turned away by each individual. Later, the actor struck up a conversation with a homeless man, sharing his sad mock story. He casually dropped the detail that he had not eating in four days and was very hungry. They parted ways and he went down the street to sit in a corner to wait out time. Not long afterward, a man arrived with a pizza for the elderly homeless man. Granted, the homeless man was not panhandling, but just sitting looking disheveled. The homeless man graciously, and with great gratitude, thanked the man for the pizza. Then he stood up and walked down the street to find the man pretending to be homeless. He sat next to the man and shared his meal, and not only with him, but with the other homeless as well. In his own little way, that homeless man was leveling the playing field, at least for the moment.

What my twelve-year old brother realized was that life is not fair, but instead of being satisfied with the unfair moment, he stepped in to create a sense of fairness. He brought equity where there was parody. He balanced the terms so that equality was established. It’s what Paul was hoping by collecting aid to send to the believers in Jerusalem during their deadly famine. And when we walk into patient’s homes, we do the same thing.

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