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Happiness, a Puppy and a Warm Blanket

How do you bring peace and find happiness in a world filled with terror and sorrow? I guess if you can answer that question, you’ll have solved most of the world’s problems. Both Charlie Brown and Linus landed on one possible solution. They believed that if every child was issued a banjo and a puppy at birth, then everyone would find happiness. The logic is sound. A banjo is not known for playing a sad song, and puppies are anything but depressing.  

Happiness may very well be at the core of Schultz’s Peanuts Gang. The theme of happiness was not only the title of a book and multiple “Happiness Is” moments, but each character might have been seeking their own form of happiness. 

Charlie Brown might say that happiness is a loyal dog, which he may or may not have owned. Linus might say that happiness is a warm blanket, which was made into a movie based on numerous Schultz strips. Schroeder might say that happiness is playing Beethoven on his toy piano, undisturbed. Peppermint Patty might say that happiness is scoring higher than a D- without needing to study. Marcy might say that happiness is reading a good book. Sally might say that happiness is found in the love of her “Sweet Baboo,” (cue Linus off screen, “I’m not her Sweet Baboo!”). And Lucy might say that happiness is . . . well, she’s crabby and bossy, and I don’t think she was chasing happiness.   

The pursuit of “happiness” may very well be woven, not only throughout the fabric of the Peanuts Gang, but throughout the fabric of the American conscience. In the infancy of our nation, Thomas Jefferson, via the Declaration of Independence, penned that pursuing happiness was not only one of our freedoms, but a divine right.

Pursuing “happiness” has driven people to make choices where recreation and entertainment has taken priority in our society. People live for the weekend, as the build-up for Friday night begins early and the drudgery of Monday morning sets in. Many have their weekend get-a-ways, their boats, their campers, and their adventures all ready to go. The movie industry appears as healthy as ever, while sports programs are being fueled by fan loyalty. Everybody’s happy.

Everybody’s happy except for those struggling with chronic pain and depression, and that pretty much sums up our society. Anti-depressant medicine is common place. And, according to Sam Quinones, part of the opioid crises began when people were engaging in happiness without the pain (Dreamland, 35). One wonders where the other option is? One wonders when faithfulness kicks in (Rev. 2:10)?

Instead of focusing on happiness, we should turn our attention to joy. Happiness and joy are far from synonyms. Happiness tends to focus on the external, while joy tends to resonate from within. When we speak of wanting to be happy, the focus is generally on something outside of us that makes us happy: a new car, a relationship, a job promotion, a baby, or the latest toy. Our very words betray our belief, “this new item has made me happy.” The irony of course is that the new car demands maintenance and eventually breaks down; the relationship gets challenged or breaks up; the job promotion comes with more stress and responsibility; the baby wants fed or changed at 2:00 in the morning, and turns into a toddler who challenges parental authority; the latest toy immediately becomes obsolete and/or needs an upgrade. Even worse, more than one person has justified sinful and immoral behavior by claiming that God just wants them to be happy. 

Where happiness tends to be motivated by the external, joy emits from within and arises in spite of external circumstances. Two examples from the Bible easily emerge when joy overrides happiness. First, we find joy listed as one of the Fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 3:25), and is in fact listed first after love. When the Spirit is active in a person’s life, joy will be present regardless of what a person is facing. Secondly, James tells us that when we face a variety of trials, we should face it with joy (Jas. 1:2). James is certainly not a sadomasochist, but is pointing out that joy does not need external circumstances to radiate; more so, that joy can emit in spite of the situation a Christian is facing. Thus, after Paul and Silas were falsely accused, arrested, beaten and flogged, and then chained and locked up in jail, we don’t find them in pity or in anger. We don’t find them bemoaning their circumstance or questioning why they were suffering. We find them praising God (Act. 16:25). We find joy.

While I was writing this chapter, I received an encouraging note from a former member of the church where I preached. I was in that difficult transitional state where I had resigned from the church but was still preaching before I found a place. Not knowing any of the details for resigning, she shared with me her shock through Instant Message via FaceBook. Without wanting to know the details, she shared how much of a difference my ministry had made in her life. Her encouragement lifted my day. Even more so to know that my friend is bedridden with an undiagnosed paralyzing disease she’s battled for nearly twenty years. Unable to get up and go anywhere she wants, how easy for her to slip into self-pity and anger. Instead, a joy burns strong within her, and she was more concerned for my needs instead of her own well-being. 

I suppose that one can find happiness if he or she is given a warm blanket and puppy; and I’m pretty sure some people get excited if they’re given a banjo. But the blanket will wear out, the puppy will need to be potty-trained, and the banjo’s strings will eventually break. Maybe that’s why joy is God-given and God-driven, because you can experience joy even if you don’t have a puppy or a warm blanket. 

bonum dolar! 
(e.g., Good Grief!)

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CHURCH: We’ll Need A Bigger Boat

I’m not much of a sea-faring sailor. I’ve done some waterskiing. Some. I once took a ferry across the Puget Sound on the way to British Columbia (my brother got sea-sick). A family trip once involved boating down the Willamette River from Oregon City to downtown Portland and back again. I can’t say I’ve ever been on the high seas or in a ship. I haven’t even been to the Ark museum.

Though lacking sea-faring experience, like you, I’ve been exposed to many sea-worthy passages in the Bible. A flood of epic proportions is experienced when telling the Noah story. Repentance is themed throughout the rebellious Jonah story (talk about the one that got away!). And Jesus walking on the water like he’s walking across the living room floor is gripping in and of itself.

But one Biblical story has somehow gotten lost in the deluge of sea-worthy stories. The moment takes place in Acts 27 when Paul is making his way to Rome to face a hearing before Caesar. In short, the ship Paul had boarded was secure in a port in Fair Havens on the island of Crete. But the harbor was not suitable for winterizing. The weather had already turned against them, making travel dangerous while delaying their progress. A better harbor in Phoenix was only fifty miles (plus/minus) around Crete. Hovering the shoreline, surely they could reach the port until spring.

Paul, maybe the smartest guy in the room, stood and spoke against that idea (Act. 27:10). But he was neither a sailor nor sea worthy. The captain and owner of the ship ignored his advice and set sails to Phoenix. Then the wheels fell off the train.

What started as a gentle wind turned into hurricane-like conditions (Act. 27:13-14). The storm took hold of the ship and pushed them off course. Way. Off. Course. Two weeks in the open seas forced the 276 people on board to were exposed and at risk. Tackle and other items were thrown overboard to lighten the load. Fear of the storm gave way to fear for running aground and being dashed against the rocks. The ship was all but torn apart.

In the middle of the dangerous chaos, two moments stand out in the Acts 27 narrative. First, Paul warns those wanting to abandon ship will be lost unless they stay on board (27:30-32). Logic and protocol told them to lower lifeboats and get away from the (potentially) sinking vessel. It looked like a losing battle. But the man who warned them against taking the trip to begin with warned them again. “Only those staying with the ship will be saved” (v. 31). In an act of faith, the sailors cut the ropes to the lifeboats and remained on board. True to Paul’s word, no one was lost even though the ship was eventually torn apart.

Secondly, having forsaken their meals for rationed survival, Paul encouraged them to eat in order to renew their strength (v. 33-34). They weren’t out of the storm yet, but were needing nourishment. But as Luke describes the meal, he frames it with Lord’s Supper language, “. . . he took bread and gave thanks to God in front of them all. Then he broke it and began to eat” (v. 35). Obviously, they were not taking the Lord’s Supper, but the Lord was present at this meal because he kept them safe. Thus, the Lord’s Supper hovered over this meal they were eating. And as Luke tells us, “they were all encouraged” (v. 36). 

As I reflect on 2020 and the hurricane-like storm that the church has been enduring, I can’t help but believe that Paul’s words are still ringing true today. First, fear forces us to abandon ship and in this case ship is our local church/congregation. Church is far more than a building; it’s the people who fill that building. We’re connected, bonded and committed to each another. And when we cannot be together in person, the temptation to abandon any connection intensifies. If we’re meeting with social distancing protocols in place, we meet and follow the rules. If we’re only online, then we step into the online presence. But the rest of the week, we check in with our brothers and sisters to ensure they’re still safely aboard for the worst mistake to make is abandoning ship. Let’s ride this storm out, together.

Secondly, stay nourished. As we’re continuing to meet together (in person or online), celebrate the Lord’s Supper and allow it to be the focal point of the assembly. Like attendance, when life gets hard or feelings of failure surface, abandoning the Supper is an easy step to make. Instead, like famished people, we should run to the Table for Jesus makes his presence known at the Supper.

When “all hands are on deck” and “we batten down the hatches,” we’ll find that God will keep us safe and secure through the storm. When others see the presence of God in the midst of this storm, they’ll want to join us. And when they do, we’ll need a bigger boat.

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

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Politics, Religion and the Great Pumpkin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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CHURCH: Rediscovering a Place of Joy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted on

CHURCH: Rediscovering A Place of Joy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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A Gathering Place

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then again, maybe that Gathering Place is called Church. 

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