Category: 2 Corinthians

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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.

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Out of the Bubble

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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That Kind of Rejection

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rejection is a part of life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Assigning Intent to Behavior

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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