Category: 2 Corinthians

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Paper Faces On Parade

Halloween kicks off the holiday season as one big, mascaraed ball. Children, and even adults, dress up pretending to be something or someone they are not. Masks help with the illusion. At our office Halloween Trick or Treating afternoon, we saw the children come in with their many costumes. Some adults did too. My granddaughter dressed up as The Lion Queen, in an outfit my wife made for our daughter. Maverick dressed up as Spider-Man as he climbed the walls. Addi was an adorable Squishmellon. The costumes and the masks help sell the act, hiding the reality for the fantasy.

Mask wearing is expected when we go to a costume party. Mask wearing is common when adulting. Masks tend to protect us from showing our true nature. At a costume party we try to hide our true identity so that inquiring people ask, “Who is behind the mask?” When adulting, mask wearing tends to hide our scars, or our fears, or our darker selves.

Andrew Lloyd Weber understood something about masks. In his proclaimed mask story, the Phantom of the Opera, the main antagonist wears a mask to conceal his scars, but nothing can hide the scars of his broken heart. The chorus, gathered for mascaraed ball, are all in costume, each wearing masks. They confess, singing, “Mascaraed! Paper faces on parade . . . Hide your face, so the world will never find you. Mascaraed! Every face a different shade . . . look around, there’s another mask behind you.”  

Taking their advice, when we look behind us, we notice the masks people wear. We note that the mask of sarcasm hides our bitterness. The mask of humor covers our nervousness. The mask of bravery conceals our fear. The mask of strength camouflages our weakness. The mask of self-righteousness shrouds our shame. The mask of confidence obscures our doubt. The mask of assuredness disguises our timidity. Yes, masks are nothing more than paper faces on parade, so that we can pretend to be something we’re not.

Paul might have known something about these masks since he saw right through them. Instead of embracing the masks, he grew tired of them. Ready to strip the facade from the Corinthians, Paul was exposed them and their authentic identity.

Second Corinthians 13 opens with an ominous promise by Paul. He’s coming to visit them for the third time, but unless they repent and change, this forthcoming visit will hold second coming judgmental overtones. By quoting Deuteronomy 19:15, “Every matter must be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses” (2 Cor. 13:1), the stakes are high and in play. This law was put into place to prevent someone from leveling a false accusation against another. Having someone to corroborate the accusation ensures its legitimacy. Granted, it’s not foolproof, but it does provide a level of protection to the innocent.

With Deuteronomy in play, Paul interprets these so-called “witnesses” as his visits to the Corinthians.

When Paul first went to Corinth and established the church in Acts 18, he may be linking that visit as the first witness. The second visit, which he discusses earlier in the letter (2 Cor. 1:23-2:1) is the second witness. Paul describes that visit as “painful” (2 Cor. 2:1), probably for him. At that time someone(s) humiliated Paul before the church; essentially, they hung him out to dry. They likely mocked him, saying the great apostle Paul left like a dog with his tail between his legs. That said, before being run-out-of-town, Paul warned them that their behavior would have unintended consequences (2 Cor. 13:2). Finally, the third visit is the one to come which he promises in verse 1 and we find its fruition in Acts 20:3.

Pleading, begging, and extending any olive branch will come to an end. Paul has warned them, and unlike a compliant parent, he will not warn them again. He will take decisive action on those who continue to sow strife. They will reap a whirlwind.

Here is where the masks begin to be removed, and the face is exposed for its ugliness. At the end of 2 Corinthians 12, Paul addresses two sets of sins still plaguing the church. Even though Paul addressed them at length in his first letter, those sins are dug into them like sliver under the skin. It will take more than just picking at these to be removed.

The first set of sins are not only relational in nature but are also toxic. Such communal sins will poison the life of the church (or any organization, for that matter), eventually leaving a “Hunger Games” victor. Honestly, what bragging rights would one have? Paul lists them as quarreling, jealousy, outbursts of anger, factions, slander, gossip, arrogance, and disorder (12:20b). No one wants to be part of any organization that is emotionally cannibalistic, constantly devouring each other. No one wants to listen to the thump of the bus running over the latest person who happened to be thrown under it.

The second set of sins are immoral in nature, often linked to idolatry. Paul describes them as impurity, sexual sin, and debauchery. The added line, “in which they have indulged” (12:21), seems to suggest an ongoing problem. In a permissive society, immoral behavior stains the heart, clouds the judgment, and creates a wedge between us and God. Even though society tries to justify immoral behavior, the guilt within the conscience will not be quieted. It will come out, either through repentance or, to sooth oneself, begin attacking others.

So, when Paul calls out these sins to the church, then turns around and warns them that he is coming to confront them for demanding proof that Christ is speaking through him (13:3), be assured that these two groups are one and the same. The ones dividing the church and engaging in immorality are likely the ones linking themselves to the so-called Super Apostles and challenging Paul’s authority. The reason for taking on the apostle seems clear enough: he confronted them. He called them out, and they knew it. He stripped away their masks and exposed them for the ugliness they are. With the paper faces exposed, everyone could see that they have been pretending to be something they are not. All their pretensions were gone, and what was left wasn’t very attractive. And when Paul arrives, if they fail to repent, he will take decisive action against them.

Pretending to be something you’re not is detrimental to the health of the believer and the church. At some point you will get exposed and it won’t be good.

One day wolf was on a hill overlooking a flock of sheep. He was hungry. He was also tired, and did not feel up to an all-out assault on the flock, noting the shepherd was watching the flock. He sat on the hill contemplating his situation. To his luck he spotted a sheepskin behind the bushes. How it got there he didn’t know, nor did he care. He just stared at it for a while until he had an idea. “Why not put the sheepskin on me. Then, I’ll infiltrate the flock as one of them. Tonight, I’ll have the choice of the best.” So the wolf began implementing his plan.

He took the sheepskin and began putting it on, like it was a costume. While his front legs went through the front legs of the sheepskin ok, he struggled to get his back legs into the appropriate sheepskin legs. He determined that the sheepskin must have been a size 36 while he wore a 42 long. The head of the sheep covered his head, barely, but it fit like a cheap mask. Needless to say, the skin worked well enough to hide his identity, and if he was lucky, the sheep won’t notice his peculiar look. Let’s face it, sheep are not known as the smartest animals in the pen.

Next, he had to work on his voice. Wolves sound nothing like sheep, and he knew it. He started rehearsing, “Aah-rrrooooooooh.” The wolf coughed and cleared his throat, “No that won’t do at all.” He tried again, “Bah-rrroooooooh.” Once again, the wolf coughed and cleared his throat, “No, that won’t do.” He tried again, thinking, three’s a charm, “Baaa-oooooooh.” It wasn’t perfect, but maybe it was good enough to pass himself off as a sheep.

Sneaking down the hill, the wolf slowly infiltrated the flock of sheep. He tried to act naturally, and while the sheep thought him strange, they gave it no more thought. We know why.

That night the sheep were herded into a pen. The wolf was successfully part of the flock and began salivating at the thought of having lamb chops for dinner. He started feeling out the sheep. “No, this one is too old. No, this one is too cute to eat. Wait!” he thought to himself, “this one is perfect!” As he was about to take his first bite of dinner, he heard behind him a click of a lock, followed by creek of a door opening then closing, ending with another click of a lock. Then he heard the voice of the shepherd, saying, “Boy, don’t veal sound good for dinner tonight?” And as he made his way through the flock, the wolf heard him say, “Nope, this one is too old. Nope, this one is too cute.” At that moment the wolf heard him say, “Yes, this one is perfect.”

Sure, the shepherd was surprised to realize that the sheep he thought he had killed was really a wolf, but not as surprised as the wolf who learned a little too late that pretending to be something you’re not, can be very dangerous in the long run.

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

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Cruciformed

The preacher, speaking to an audience of teenagers, held their attention like he was holding them in the palm of his hand, and he wasn’t letting them go. His dynamic and charismatic message was drawing the young to the cross, while the props on the table helped pave the path to clarify his message. He spoke boldly and convincingly, quoting Jesus, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mt. 16:24).

The items, neatly positioned on the table, were a handful of different crosses which helped move his message forward. Among the varied crosses was an attractive pendant to be worn around the neck. Another was a bookmark to be used while reading. Still, another was a six-foot rugged, heavy cross leaning against the table itself. Each of the crosses had a name attached to it, as if they were made for a specific person. The preacher kept preaching and expounding on the verse, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mt. 16:24).

As if responding to an altar call, motivated individuals stood up to “pick up their cross in order to follow Jesus.” The bookworm asked for his cross and was given the pendant. Disappointed, and refusing to accept his cross, he said, “I don’t wear jewelry, I was hoping for the bookmark.” He returned to his seat. The petite girl jumped up like a cheerleader hoping to be given the pendant only to realize her cross was the six-foot rugged cross. Bewildered, she said, “I can’t carry that thing around school. It’s too big, too bulky, too heavy.” Walking back to her seat, someone overheard her say, “I’d hurt myself.” The lineman on the football team, never balking at a challenge, approached the table hoping for the six-foot rugged cross, only to be given a bookmark. A bookmark. The irony was beyond belief. Without saying a word, he set the bookmark back on the table and returned to his seat. Still, the preacher continued his message, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mt. 16:24).

The participants in this scenario reflect a mindset prevalent to today’s market. We love to quote Scriptures about the cross, “. . . pick up your cross and follow me.” We love to sing about the cross, “So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross, till my trophies at last I lay down; I will cling to the old rugged cross, and exchange it someday for a crown.” We wear crosses as jewelry, have tattoos of crosses on our bodies, and place crosses as iconography in our churches. But when it comes to picking up our cross to follow Jesus to Golgotha, we tend to take an alternative path.  

We saw that alternative path three years ago.

Saying the pandemic was hard on people, society, and churches was an understatement. Hospitalizations overstressed and overworked the health care workers. Death tolls from COIVD-19, no matter how you count the cases, were far greater than we care to admit. Businesses, not deemed essential, were closed, cutting into people’s savings accounts. Schools shifted to online studies putting many at-risk children behind their learning and social developmental curve. Churches were forced to meet outdoors or online as well. And when the doors finally opened, social distancing was the new norm. And still today, one of the biggest mysteries was how there came a rush on toilet paper? Yes, the pandemic was hard on everybody, and sometimes it was far more than we could bear.

Like filling in a coloring book, the Pandemic was filled-in with white noise. We not only speculated on the origin of the virus, but also read into why the government was taking steps for the lockdown protocols, masks, and social distancing. We took our cues from the news media, forming our beliefs based on their perspective of reporting. Questions were raised about our rights being violated. Whether the government was conspiring against its people or taking steps to protect its population was always held in tension. What we didn’t hear enough of was passages from Scripture like this one, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mt. 16:24).

We march under the banner of the cross, but sometimes it feels like it’s all talk. We like to read about it in Scripture, sing about it in our hymns, and raise it up as an image in our churches as a heroic moment of triumph. Herein lies the conflict. The cross is not a sign of strength, but a sign of weakness. The cross is not a trophy displaying victory, but a refuse of humiliating defeat. The cross is not an ecstasy of pleasure, but a painful pit of suffering. The cross is not a place of honor, but a place of shame. The cross is not a celebration for winners, but a mockery for losers. The cross is not about success, but it’s all about failure. All of which seems to collide with our current culture consummation and a “conquest at all costs” conviction.

The Corinthians, like us, were enamored with a theology of success, blinding them to the reality of the gospel. They aborded being cruciformed, opting instead to equate the cross with an eloquent speaker whose charisma naturally attracted members. Looking for success, they rejected someone who suffered like Paul, bringing shame on all those who knew him. The form of this gospel, which Paul neither preached nor modeled in his life, was the exact gospel they were endorsing.

Paul was planning to make a visit. He hoped it was to initiate a repented spirit of reconciliation, and to clarify the heart of the gospel. But he had a backup plan, as he was prepared to confront the situation head-on with the power and authority Christ gave him. Thus, he spells out forthrightly, “For to be sure, (Jesus) was crucified in weakness, yet he lives by God’s power. Likewise, we are weak in him, yet by God’s power we will live with him to serve you” (2 Cor. 13:4).

Paul’s words can be spiced into two thoughts. First, the crucifixion was all about weakness, not strength. If Paul wrote those words today he would have underscored them, capitalized them, italicized them, and/or bolded them because this cannot be emphasized enough. Nailing a naked man to a cross for the purpose of insuring the most pain for the longest period, and then mocking and taunting him while he dies, has only one goal: to inflict shame, reproach, and anguish on the individual in the hope of discrediting his strength and character. No one in their right mind looks to a crucified criminal as some hero.

If followers of Christ are going to be shaped by the cross, then we must begin shifting our strategy from winning to losing, from strength to weakness, from honor to shame. Suffering is the new normal standard for people who carry the cross. We don’t demand our rights, as cruciformed followers of Jesus have abdicated our rights. We do not use our influence to manipulate, coerce, or power play a situation to get our way. A cruciformed person has no power. A cruciformed person has no voice. A cruciformed person has no rights. A cruciformed person is no longer concerned with self-preservation.

The second part of Paul’s thought taps into the power of a resurrected person. Paul’s use of power is directed toward the church and how Christ will work through Paul to correct behaviors and rebellion in the church. Such power seems regulated to the apostle, called by Christ himself to a church Paul planted. Such power and its use seem limited in scope. But another power is at play when Paul says, “. . . we will live with him to serve you” (v. 4b). This power is the power to serve. The power to wash feet. The power to put others’ needs and priorities over our own. The power to welcome one into God’s presence. The power to make sure the desires of others are met at the expense of personal preference. The power “to consider other people better than yourself” (Phil. 2:3). The power is to model a cruciformed Christ to the people around us.

If you want to see what this looks like on a daily basis, then look no further than the care we give others through hospice. To quote from our boss, “Hospice is doing the very thing the church should have been doing all along.” We serve. We encourage. We heal. We provide a safety net of support for people facing death, and that is a powerful place to stand.

↓ The preacher kept moving his message forward, coming back to his key verse, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mt. 16:24). Soon, the bookworm student came forward in repentance and said, “If I am to deny myself, I’ll carry the cross Jesus assigned to me,” and he reached for the cross pendant, and returned to his seat. The preacher continued preaching until the petite girl step forward and meekly said, “I want to follow Jesus under his terms, not mine. I’ll take the big, rugged cross even if it does hurt me.” She grabbed the cross and dragged it to her seat. The preacher kept preaching when the big brawny football player spoke up, “If he could die on the cross, I can carry a bookmark cross in my science book or my Bible.” Picking up his cross, he sat back down.

A cruciformed life is shaped by the cross, embracing the same shame, weakness, and selflessness Jesus embraced. At the heart of cruciform is Matthew 16:24, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Mt. 16:24).

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

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I Want to See Jesus

They were Greeks, standing outside of God’s promises. While drawn to the monotheism and the disciplined life offered by the Jews, they refused full commitment to Judaism. They were like New York City depression era children peering through the window of the luxury lifestyle and were satisfied with being outsiders. They were satisfied until Jesus showed up, and suddenly their spiritual hunger pains ached. Drawn to the teacher, but keeping their distance, they approached Philip with their request. “Sir, we would like to see Jesus” (Jn. 12:21).

If you listen carefully, those words have been reverberating throughout time, “We would like to see Jesus.” We can hear Zacchaeus utter them as he climbs the Sycamore tree just to get a glimpse of him passing by, “I just want to see Jesus” (Lk. 19:1-10). We can hear the so-called “sinful woman” whisper those words as she risks public shame by breaking social protocol to reach him, crying, “I just want to see Jesus” (Lk. 7:36-50). We can hear Thomas, so sure of himself as he disclosed his own fear of disappointment. “I’ll believe,” he says, “but first, I just want to see Jesus” (Jn. 20:25). And while John’s words are written so that we may trust his testimony, sometimes it feels like salt on an open wound. He says, “We heard him speak, we shook his hand and hugged him, we saw and gazed upon him” (1 Jn. 1:1). I read those same words and my hearts sinks because if I’m honest, I want so desperately to see him, too.

Something within us wants to see Jesus. As the song says, “Open the eyes of my heart, Lord, I want to see Jesus,” But something keeps me blinded to him. For some, like a child who sees their parent at the end of the day, they see him and run into his loving embrace. For others the wounds are so deep and painful to the touch, we long for the only means of healing possible. Still others are skeptical that he is full of grace and mercy, or that he is risen, or that he even lived to begin with, so we need his blessed assurance. All the while our greatest fear is that meeting him might not meet our expectations, and that in our hope it will only disappoint.

By the time Paul comes to 2 Corinthians 5:21 he is showing us a picture of Jesus, not the one we might want, but the picture of Jesus we need to see. In a church where their relationship with the apostle is estranged and tension is still present, Paul calls them to reconciliation. To hold the church together, they must stop the inward fighting and begin “reaching across the aisle.” More importantly, they must remove the fence they built to keep Paul out, and instead build a bridge or a larger table to invite Paul in. And in all this they must begin aligning themselves with God by assuming the role of an ambassador who actively participates in reconciliation. The motivation for reconciling is found in verse 21.

“God made him, who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”

The perfect and pure, holy and hallowed, set apart and sinlessness of Jesus is well documented in Scripture. From John who calls out, “Look, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” (Jn 1:29), to Peter who applies Isaiah proclamation to Jesus, “He committed no sin, and no deceit was found in his mouth” (1 Pet. 2:22; Is. 53:9), and to the Hebrews writer who claims, “. . . he was tempted in every way, just as we are, yet without sin” (Heb. 4:15), Scripture reinforces the perfection and sinlessness of Jesus. While he walked on this earth as a human, Jesus did so without the baggage we carry. He walked alone without sin, without guilt, without shame, without hatred, without lust, and without deceit. They never accompanied him. The dark places that encroach our hearts did not touch his heart. While Jesus was just like us, he was nothing like us.

Paul makes two statements in verse 21 that are deeper and richer than we can explore at this time. First, with God taking the initiative, he made Jesus who was without sin to be sin. Allow that image of those words to wash over you for a moment. Whether Paul is talking of the incarnation, when Jesus steps into humanity to endure all our sinfulness, or he’s talking about bearing the sins of the world on the cross, I do not know. It may be both.

All of us had to walk into patients’ homes that are nasty. The odor and stench are unbearable, as it absorbs into our clothing and into our noses. We can taste the nauseating foulness. Keeping the residents at arm’s length, we do everything we can to finish the visit and get out of their home. That’s not what Jesus did. No. He came and sat with us in our filth. Without becoming a sinner, he embraced us in our sin, refusing to keep us at arm’s length. He loved us despite our filth, and maybe even because of our filth, our failures, and our fears; it certainly wasn’t because of our great faith. Remember the indictment, whispered snarly under their breaths, “He eats with the sinners” (Lk. 15:1).

This leads to the second statement which is “. . . in him, we become the righteousness of God.” God now views us through the prism of Jesus which is how reconciliation is achieved in us and through us. The righteousness of God can either be imputative, in that God reaches down and declares us righteous, or its transformative, where God works through us to shape and mold our character to look like him. And like before, why not both imputative and transformative? He makes us righteous so that we become more righteous.

So Paul might describe it like this: the sinless one becomes sin-laden, so that in him the sinful may be viewed sinless; or the guiltless become guilty, so that in him the guilty may be viewed guiltless; or the righteous become lawless so that in him the lawless may be viewed as righteous; or the one with honor becomes shame so that in him those who are shamed may be viewed with honor.

What is left is a simple prayer, “Open the eyes of my heart Lord, I want to see Jesus.”

As a child, I had my fair share of spankings. I wasn’t a bad child who rebelled against his parents, but sometimes my behavior needed a course correction. Mom and Dad tried keeping me and my siblings on the straight and narrow. On this particular day, my hometown had experienced a good amount of rain and large mudpuddles were present, especially at school. Before we left that morning, mom told my brother, my sister, and me that we were not to get wet at school. Since I was in elementary school, I guess I interpreted her command to be limited to school hours. Mom was the librarian and often stayed till 4:30 or later, so with nothing better to do after hours, I played outside. I played in the mudpuddle. I got soaked playing in the mudpuddle.

Mom said nothing on the way home, but I’m pretty sure she was reaching a boiling point. She called me to the kitchen where she expressed her displeasure at my behavior. Then, with the belt in hand, she invited me to her lap.

To say I deserved the punishment is unquestionable. Looking back on that moment, I’ve wondered if there was not a better way to handle the moment.

The story is told of a family with a delinquent son who always pushed the boundaries of his parents. One of his favorite episodes was to be late for dinner. Sitting at the table with the entire family was a core value for the patriarch of the family. The son, though, thought differently. He hated the formality and viewed his time with his parents and siblings as an encroachment on his own time. His passive aggressive behavior kicked in so that being late to dinner was his means of thumbing his nose to his parents.

At wits end, the father looked at his son and said, “The next time you’re late to supper, you will sit here with an empty plate and watch the rest of us eat dinner. Then, you will go to bed without supper.”

It didn’t take long for the son to rebel. The next night, he showed up late like he was calling his father’s bluff. With everyone in their seats, the father looked at his son and reinforced the punishment rule. He will watch them eat their dinner.

The father led the family in prayer.

Following the prayer, the family began serving themselves the food, except for the son who sat and watched the others pile on the delicious food. Once everyone was served, the father took his plate full of food and stood up. He walked over to his son and, while he removed his son’s empty plate, he set his own plate before the son. With his son’s plate in hand, he returned to his seat where he watched his family eat dinner.

The similarities of these stories are linked to a son who stands in defiance to his parents. The contrast between the two stories is how the parent chooses to exact punishment on the child. While the corporal punishment debate is not in play here, one of these scenarios looks more like Jesus than the other. And if you can see the difference, then maybe, maybe, you can say you’ve seen Jesus.

“Open the eyes of my heart Lord, I want to see Jesus” . . . “God made him, who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”

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

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You Say Hello, I Say Goodbye

My father’s final attendance at church began like any other Sunday morning, given that my father’s health was failing at the time. Mom dropped him off at the side door of the church building before she parked the car. Making her way back to the side door, she would find my dad sitting in their pew waiting for her arrival. Except, on this particular Sunday my dad was not sitting in their pew. Concerned, but not worried, mom sat down believing he would show up sooner or later. Why not? They’d been married for 47 years, he wasn’t bolting now. Sure enough, as services began, Dad found his way back to mom and sat down next to her. Curious, she asked him, “Where were you?” He replied, “I was just going around to say, ‘hello’ to people.”

He was just saying, “Hello.”

Paul uses two contrasting metaphors for our bodies in 2 Corinthains 5:1-4, one of which captures my father’s health. On this side of eternity he describes our current bodies as if they were tents (v. 1). Since my sons are Eagle Scouts, I’m kinda familiar with tents. They are remarkably sturdy and weather resistant. They break the wind and they keep rain, ice, or snow off of the camper. Thus, the outdoorsman can safely shelter in times of storms, giving  him or her the chance to stay warm and dry.

My only trip to Washington DC was with my son’s Boy Scout Troop. We toured the Smithsonian, the Marine Museum, the Air and Space Museum, the Capital Building, all the memorials, and even took in a Orioles baseball game. Truly, it was a life-changing experience as we were in awe of the city. The adventure was cost effective for a family of five, but there was a hitch. We had to camp in tents. While Jonathan shared a tent with other Boy Scouts, Cile, Taylor, Matthew and I shared a family tent. Like visiting Camelot, it only rained at night. On one of those nights it was a deluge. We felt the water rushing under the tent, and with all the rain, a bubble appeared above our heads. It grew. It grew larger. It grew dangerously large. Fearing it was about to burst, I pushed the bubble back up forcing the water to flood over the tent like a waterfall. But here’s the thing. We stayed dry and safe the entire night. We were safe from the storm.

Tents are far from indestructible. I’ve seen tents blown over by strong winds because they were not secure to the ground. Rods break and fabric is susceptible to mold or tearing. Falling limbs can become a widow-maker. No, tents are far from being indestructible, but they do serve a purpose and are appropriate for temporary shelter.

Paul’s metaphor is that our bodies are like tents. Sure, they are durable and incredibly resistant, but they do not last forever. Like my dad’s health, eventually they wear out. Our bodies are healthy until they are not, as they are susceptible to disease and sickness, broken bones, failing eyesight and hearing loss, hang nails, slivers, and stubbed toes. Pushing harder, faster, and farther, athletes at their prime are poetry in motion. Athletes past their prime are painful to watch. Youth is often beauty at its best, while aging is a hard process to endure. One of my patients has a large picture of him and his bride hanging in his room. He was so handsome, and she was strikingly beautiful. Their future together was filled with hope and anticipation. But the key word is “was,” since she has passed, and he, left with his frail and tired body, only has her memories to hold onto.

The world we step into every day is the world of the tent, managing the storms of life. No where can we see this clearer than through hospice care where we are with the family as the patient’s body – their tent – fails them.

Paul, though, offers hope. While he acknowledges “that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed,” he pivots to capture that side of eternity by saying, “we have a building from God, an eternal home in heaven, not built by human hands” (v. 1). Something about the life to come is described as a building. A big strong building that will not fall, or decay over time due to damage by the elements, or to a big bad wolf trying to blow it over.

I have a friend whose job it is to build and then destroy buildings. Actually, he’s an architect who is responsible for building scale model buildings that are resistant to wind, rain, and earthquakes. He will be given the specs for a building, and it is his responsibility to design a building that is within certain parameters. Once he has designed the model building, he hands the designs to contractors who build the building. When the project is completed, he is invited to attend its test at a wind tunnel. They throw all the elements at the building to see if it can withstand the rain, wind, and earthquakes. Success, and they celebrate. Failure, and it’s back to the drawing board.

God promises in the life to come that our bodies will be strong and durable as a building, a building designed and erected by God himself. Pleasure and euphoria will replace pain and suffering. Strength will supersede weakness. Enduring health will conquer disease. Wounds and scars will be healed. Eternal calmness and peacefulness will overshadow our PTSD. Guilt and shame will vanish as God will wipe away every tear.

It might be worth noting that in the resurrected body of Jesus, his scars were still present. In fact they were his personal identification, especially for Thomas who had questions and doubts (Jn. 20:27). While I don’t know what to make of Jesus’ scars and Paul’s words, there may be room for both in that the sores that are present no longer cause pain. The blemishes which are evident on the skin no longer hurt. The wound was completely healed, though the scars remained. I believe that thought in and of itself brings much hope to the life that comes.

Rooted in all of this is the promise highlighted by Paul with a banking analogy. God has given us his Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing that the building promised will be completed (v. 5; Eph. 1:13-14). If you own a home, chances are two realities are at work. First, you don’t actually own the home, the bank does. Monthly payments are made so that somewhere down the road you will be out of debt and own the home. Secondly, you had to make a down payment on the home. Unless you were able to pay cash for the home, you had to scrape up five to twenty percent of the price of the home to secure the loan. The deposit told the lending company you were serious about owning the home, and helped guarantee that you will make good on your promise to buy the home.

With the deposit of the Holy Spirit, God is promising that he will make good on that whatever death and decay we experience in the here and now, which will be swallowed up by life in the then and there. That little bit of God in you guarantees the indestructible building. That’s the hope we hold onto, even when we hold onto for dear life. That hope is based on God’s promise, and God is always good to his promise. Always.

My father’s health was failing, but it had been a long battle. He was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver in the mid-nineties, likely caused by NASH. Likely, because at the time the doctors did not understand how someone who never drank or smoked could be diagnosed with such a liver condition. Dad’s struggle was real as he made multiple hospital visits, some of which we believed at the time he wasn’t coming home. He survived. In 1997 he underwent a successful liver transplant in which afterward, he thrived. He had felt better than he ever had. Spiritually, his faith deepened. He began speaking with bold hope in God. People noticed something different about him. My home congregation noticed it too and asked him to serve as one of their shepherds. For five years he helped lead this church.

Then cancer struck his pancreas. He was given six months to live. He made it to four the month marker. During which, his faith never wavered. His body gave out, but his hope in the life to come with the promised indestructible body never vanished. The storm of cancer had the upper hand on his tent, and he was ready for a building that was immune to cancer.

My father’s final attendance at church began like any other Sunday morning, given that my father’s health was failing at the time. Mom dropped him off at the side door of the church building before she parked the car. Making her way back to the side door, she would find my dad sitting in their pew waiting for her arrival. Except, on this particular Sunday my dad was not sitting in their pew. Concerned, but not worried, mom sat down believing he would show up sooner or later. Why not? They’d been married for 47 years, he wasn’t bolting now. Sure enough, as services began, Dad found his way back to mom and sat down next to her. Curious, she asked him, “Where were you?” He replied, “I was just going around to say, ‘hello’ to people.”

He was just saying, “Hello.”

After my dad had passed, mom and I talked about this moment from church. She acknowledged that dad was not telling people “hello.” He not only knew that this was his last Sunday with his church family, he also held out hope in the resurrection. He wasn’t telling them, “hello,” he was telling them, “goodbye.”

He was telling them, “goodbye.”

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

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A Wolf in the Fold

There once was an old, wise Cherokee chief who shared his great wisdom with the tribal children. As they sat around him, the warrior informed the children about a battle that rages on inside of people. “The battle,” he said, “was between two wolves living inside all of us.”

One of the wolves is evil. It growls with anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

The other is good. It is filled with joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.”

“These wolves,” he said, “are constantly at battle within us and at each other.”

The children, astonished at the depiction described to them, asked the chief, “Which wolf wins?”

It’s a good question. Which wolf will win out?

Every one of us faces that same battle and struggle within ourselves on a regular basis. Each one of us must ask the question, “Which wolf will master the other wolf?” It’s the struggle between right and wrong. It’s the struggle between good and evil. It’s the struggle of our integrity. We feel its tension. We’re pulled apart. Who “we want to be” versus “what we act like” is always in the balance.

The Corinthians appeared to be enamored with a leadership who lacked quality control. On the outside, like most leadership candidates, they checked all the boxes: charisma, excellent oratory skills, they carried letters of recommendation (somebody endorsed these guys), and were the right pedigree (they were Jews). But underneath the veneer, something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong. A wolf was in the fold.

Striking at the heart of one’s integrity, Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 4:2, “. . . we have renounced secret and shameful ways; we do not use deception, nor do we distort the word of God.” The “we” in this verse clearly speaks of Paul, Timothy, and Titus, who were actively engaging this church. That said, the “we” could also be a means to draw the Corinthians into this delicate conversation. “We” don’t do this, even though the Corinthians were very much guilty of the very character Paul opposes.

The verse in question contains three statements worthy of being fleshed out, at least for a little bit. Two of these are stated in a negative form while the third is stated in a positive form.

The first statement is expressed in the negative form when he says, “we have renounced secret and shameful ways.” Below the surface of our actions lie our motives, why we do what we do. Answering that question is crucial, as those actions are either pure and innocent or they are dark and deadly. They can be somewhere in between. Those dark and deadly motives can look good and are often white-washed, maybe dressed up in religious piety, but eventually they come to light and it’s never good. Motives must remain above board and relationships must never be tarnished by underhanded means. And please note the strong word of “renouncing secret and shameful ways.” Paul is not saying, “we try not to” or “we attempt to avoid” those “secret and shameful ways.” On the contrary, we renounce them. We reject them. We repudiate them. We relinquish them. Those “secret and shameful ways” have absolutely nothing in common with the gospel or anyone representing the gospel of Christ.

The second statement is also expressed in the negative form as Paul says, “. . . we do not use deception, nor do we distort the word of God.” Paul may be harking back to 2:17 where he drops the image of a peddler selling wares. While there is nothing wrong with someone whose occupation is a peddler, the stereotype of a person selling something you don’t need, which doesn’t work, to pocket money is at the forefront of his thoughts. We are not selling the gospel to a market filled with consumers who buy the product today and then list it on eBay tomorrow, though sadly, it’s a common mindset for today’s Americans to understand the gospel.

Respect for God’s word is a motif running through Scripture. The truth is we can bend Scripture to fit our beliefs, repackage it to sell, or worse – we can weaponize Scripture to attack people we disagree with or even hate. We can justify almost any action by quoting a verse or two, and history is replete of people who have committed atrocities in the guise of following God. One does not have to go far back into history to ask how the German Church supported a regime that villainized, deported, and eventually executed six million Jews. Any verse or passage can be perverted to support any vile action of man. Thus, with the Bible opened before us, are we going to submit to its words and allow it to shape our lives, or are we going to manipulate it and the people we address to say what we want it to say? Oh, and by the way, we’ve not even begun question how fear-mongering is used to get people to buy fire insurance, or to control behavior, or to secure power, instead of focusing on God’s desire for fellowship with us.

The third statement is expressed in the positive form as Paul continues, “. . . we commend ourselves to every man’s conscience in the sight of God.” Paul is inviting personal scrutiny as his life is an open book. He has nothing to hide. He believes, and is hopeful, that once the Corinthians pull back the layers, they will finally acknowledge his apostolic integrity. By the way, Paul is not self-promoting himself by dropping the phrase, “commending ourselves.” As he will say a couple of verses later, “We do not preach ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord” (4:5a).

One of the issues facing the church, its ministers, its leadership, and its members is the level of integrity, or I should clarify, the absence of any level of integrity found within the church. We’ve lacked transparency while demanding others to come clean. We’ve lied to, manipulated, and abused people who trusted in a Jesus of compassion, mercy, and grace. Instead of pointing to God’s favor, we’ve finger-pointed guilt and shame, failing to see the three fingers pointing back at us. And where Jesus has refused to throw stones, we’ve been quick to the draw. Instead of fueling a quiet confidence, we have instilled a fire of fear. All because there is a ravenous and raging wolf taking control over our lives.

If we were to take a good look in the mirror and check our own integrity, what might we find? As we interact with our patients and with each other, what are we like? If two wolves are battling each other for supremacy, who is winning?

Do we make promises to our patients that we know we cannot keep?  In part, do we make these promises because we have a quota we have to reach, so we’ll promise the moon to get them to sign up? Do we make visit promises to patients knowing our schedule won’t sustain those visiting, or that we’ll push them off to someone else? At its core is our integrity.

We all have favorite patients, it’s human nature. Some people we connect to easier and deeper than others. It’s normal. Generally, we’ll provide the best service to those people. Do we provide quality services to those patients just because we like them better, or because they are friends? Even worse, are we providing services to a patient in hopes of something reciprocal? Or this, do we shortchange the more difficult patients because they are difficult, or their context is more difficult to manage?

Ultimately, the issue at hand is integrity, who we are not only in the public eye but behind the scenes when no one is looking. And within us is an animalistic, constant struggle between our honesty and dishonesty. The question remains, who will win out?

There once was an old, wise Cherokee chief who shared his great wisdom with the tribal children. As they sat around him, the warrior informed the children about a battle that rages on inside of people. “The battle,” he said, “was between two wolves living inside all of us.”

One of the wolves is evil. It growls with anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

The other is good. It is filled with joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.”

“These wolves,” he said, “are constantly at battle within us and at each other.”

The children, astonished at the depiction described to them, asked the chief, “Which wolf wins?”

The chief looked at the children and said, “The one we feed. The one we feed.”

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

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God’s Got This!

They come to me with sage advice,
               Believing their words originate from some holy paradise,
They try to calm my fears,
               While comforting me through my tears;
And what they say sounds rich and deep,
               But ultimately, it comes off really cheap.
I know they mean well, and they try,
               But when they leave me, I just want to cry.
There is no hate, there is no malice,
               There’s just religious piety wrapped in something very callous.
Their words of hope ring loud and clear,
                but quickly fade and disappear.
And all I want to do is hiss,
                 When I hear them say, “God’s got this!”

Paul endured a lot of pain,
                 His apostleship was defined by such a bane.
When God appeared on the Damascus Road,
                The Light of his presence around him glowed.
Through the blindness Paul endured,
                  And this was plain that God assured;
Paul’s life was only going to get rougher,
                 Now that he was told how much he must suffer.
And suffer now did Paul experience,
                 As if something descended on him that was mysterious.
For everywhere that Paul did travel,
                 It felt just like his life might unravel.
And never once in his own abyss,
                 Did he ever say, “God’s got this!”

To the Corinthians he wrote a letter,
                 Maybe hoping for something better;
Since the church was taking steps to silence Paul with a muzzle,
                 Finding Paul’s painful experience quite a puzzle.
They believed that God works through the strong, the brave, and the bold,
                 So discarding Paul and his ministry was just calculated and cold.
Paul, they said, was rarely eloquent or smooth with his words,
                 Sounding more like one of those ear piecing birds.
So they turned their backs on him,
                 Leaving the situation grim.
Looking instead to people who promised more than they delivered,
               Never contemplating how they should have reconsidered.
Still off the mark will the arrow miss,
               If you tell me that somehow, “God’s got this!”

“Comfort,  comfort my people” was Isaiah’s cry,
               And comfort was Paul’s message for us to comply.
God comforts people,
               Playing no favorites as he extends compassion to all in measure that is equal;
Those to whom God comfort,
              Are those who feel the discomfort.
Only those needing comfort,
              Are the ones who come first.
Those who receive comfort are the weak,
              Whom Jesus refers to as the meek;
They are the vulnerable,
              And in their outcast they are the miserable;
They are the broken,
              And from them something has been stolen;
Like shivering in the cold,
              God’s comfort will never be held on hold.
And if all this boils down to some rising mist,
               Is it suffice to say, “God’s got this!”?

Life is like a clay jar,
               Appropriate, since life leaves us with nothing but a scar;
It feels like we are . . . Disposable
                                        Fragile
                                        Expendable
                                        Cheap
                                        Valueless
                                        Thrown-away
                                        Breakable
                                        Worthless
                                        Discarded
                                        Frail
                                        Inexpensive
                                        Replaceable
                                        Unwanted
And for all of this it is true
               As we want to throw in the towel because we’re through.
But God places a treasure within us,
               The gospel – a piece of himself – in the form of Jesus;
The strength to endure suffering and pain,
               Is found within the precious Name;
 So don’t think that I’m a little remiss,
               When you tell me, “God’s got this!”

Paul is honest about the toll of ministry,
              They fudged and shaded the truth, dodging any responsibility.
Paul says, “We are hard pressed on every side,”
             They say, “You just never tried.”
Paul says, “We are perplexed,”
              They say, “You are surely vexed;”
Paul says, “We are persecuted,”
              They say, “For ministry, you are just ill-suited.”
Paul says, “We are struck down,”
               They say, “You just exaggerate the crackdown.”
Paul says that we carry around in us Christ’s death,
                So that others might experience life through his breath.
And even if their words are meant to us they diss,
                Paul never wrote, “God’s got this!”

To be sure, life is hard,
                and will often leave you scarred;
If you are not careful,
                the consequence to your soul can be dreadful;
Sometimes the punches taken can feel like it’s from that Boxer, Ali,
                Since they float like a butterfly, and certainly sting like a bee.
And who has the heart to go on,
                 And who has not been tempted to withdraw, like was done at Saigon?
Should we just raise the Flag of Surrender,
                 And forsake all hope of dignity and splendor?
Or do we say how we will not lose heart,
                 And believe that ever morning we begin with a brand new start?
For out there someone will want to deceive,
                 Because they want us to believe,
And their words will come to us as a kiss,
                 When they tell us, “God’s got this!”

We will not be discredited,
                 But some of our theology needs re-edited;
So no stumbling block will be placed in their way,
                 Though some opinions I do wish to sway.
If it is faith that takes great endurance,
                 God instills within us a blessed assurance.
We face troubles, hardships, and distress,
                 And beatings, riots, hunger, and sleepless nights, if I must confess;
And the stamina it takes is like those of a marathoner,
                 Who competes against false rumors, slander, and dishonor.
For the burden of enduring the assault brings sorrow,
                 Though we look to the breaking of the sunrise tomorrow.
And you can dress it up in some sort of fritz,
                  But never do we find, “God’s got this!”

So one by one Paul stands in his boast,
                  And will present to the church the things he counts the most.
In his bragging, as we will count each one,
                  Hoping all other bragging will finally be done.
Multiple times has Paul has been arrested and placed in prison,
                  He brings this up because the issue has arisen; 
His skin shows signs of abuse,
                  His body broken from the misuse,
                           To his floggings,
                           To the rods used to beat him,
                           To the Jews law of “forty lashes minus one,”
                           And from the time he was left to die after a stoning,
                  And all this was unleashed on him with no excuse.
He was in danger,
                  From those he thought were friends to those who saw as a stranger,
                           Danger from crossing rivers or flooded waters;
                           Danger from bandits, who rob, steal, and kill;
                           Danger from his own countrymen, who accuse him of breaking the Law;
                           Danger from the Gentiles, who won’t give up their pagan ways;
                           Danger from the city, where power structures are in place;
                           Danger from the country, because wild animals roam;
                           Danger from the sea, where he was shipwrecked at least four times,
                           Danger from false brothers, who pretend to be friendly and faithful,
                   Because the message he preached wasn’t him being an entertainer.
Paul labored, and toiled, and went without sleep,
                    Since what he was in him came from his own deep.
So Paul will boast about the things that show him weak,
                    Every time someone levels at him some critique.
Which is why he will choose to dismiss,
                    When he hears someone say, “God’s got this!”

But Paul had an “out of the body” experience,
                      Where he was led into heaven – something quite serious;
He witnessed visions, inexpressible things, and revelations,
                      Which left him without a voice or any citations.
And because he stepped into paradise, he was given a thorn,
                       Which would have caused other people to mourn.
He begged, he pleaded, and prayed for God to take it away,
                       Or at least to keep this torment at bay.
Instead, God promised Paul something more,
                       Something for him to explore.
God offered Paul grace,
                       So Paul has the freedom to live and to minister in such a space.
But even more, God rained on the apostle a great shower,
                        So that when Paul is weak, God gives him his power.


So God does not take the situation away,
                       When we beg and plead to him and pray;
And God does not mysteriously take over,
                        Even if he does draw himself closer.
God is the power source for us to endure,
                        a source for us to plug into that is secure.
So that when we are so frail and weak,
                        That we are driven to our knees when the outcome looks bleak;
God draws close to us,
                         And with endurance that empowers us,
                         For now we know that “God dwells within us,”
Only brings a new premise,  
                        For me to say in all boldness and confidence and promises,
                        That with God living in me, I can say,
                         “We’ve got this!”
                         

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

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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.