The Macy’s Parade maybe the most celebrated parade in America. Inaugurated on Thanksgiving Day in 1924, during the heart of The Great Depression, employees of the Chain marched to the store on 34^th Street dressed in costumes of bright colors. The success of the day’s events led to expanding the parade to balloons, bands, floats, TV coverage, and of course Santa Claus. Millions of spectators line the streets each year, while the rest of us tune into the coverage for the unofficial launch of the Christmas season. The Macy’s Parade may be the most popular parade, not only because of its timing, but also because of the miracle movie associated with it.

My own experience with parades is fairly limited. I have one childhood memory of my family attending a parade. We packed a lunch and lawn chairs and helped line the street with all the other attendees. I have no recollection of the location of the parade, but I do remember dad putting me on his shoulders so I could have bird’s eye view. As an adult I’ve participated in numerous parades. I’ve marched with the Cub Scouts in the Veteran’s Parade, tossed candy from a float sponsored by our church in a Christmas Parade, and watched my son march in his high school band around the town square. Yes, he played the trombone. No, he was the only trombone player marching and he did not lead the parade.

Everyone loves a parade. From those at Thanksgiving, to the ones at Christmas, to those that usher in the New Year, and to the Windy City’s St. Patrick’s Day Parade with the Chicago River dyed bright emerald green. We march in Veterans and Memorial Day Parades to honor our servicemen, and stand in awe of the formation in the military parade. When our favorite sports team wins the championship we line the streets in ticket-tape fashion. In my hometown of Portland, Oregon the Starlight Parade opens the Rose Festival while Cincinnati kicks off the baseball season with its own parade. To say we love a parade maybe an understatement.

Rome loved parades as well, though they called them a Triumphal Procession. When the battle was over and the war was won the victors and the victims were paraded through the streets of Rome. The procession was led by trumpeters to announce their arrival. The defeated citizens, particularly the nobility, royalty, and military, were marched through the streets wearing their native clothing much like our modern day Olympian Parade of Champions. Unlike our Olympians, instead of the cheers, these people were booed and mocked, humiliated, shamed, and ridiculed by crowds lining the paths. Who’s to say they weren’t pelted with tomatoes or even rocks? Looted treasures where carried through the streets, celebrated and hoisted as a trophy. At the end of the procession was the conquering general driving a chariot. Dressed to look like the god Jupiter, the general adorned a purple and gold toga, a scepter crowned by an eagle, and wearing a red leaded mask. The climax of the procession was at the temple of Jupiter where the captives were forced to reenact the decisive battle and then executed before the crowds, dignitaries, and gods. Rome loved their parades, but I’m not sure if we could stomach them.

Having unified the Gallic tribes (over simplification: modern day France), Vercingetorix declared war against Julius Caesar’s Rome. His initial battle successfully pushed back Rome incurring several thousand deaths. The victory was short-lived as the Romans retaliated through besieging the Gallic armies and squeezing every bit of their supplies dry. Rome had time and resources on their side. In order to save his people Vercingetorix surrendered to Rome, hoping to stay off execution. But alas, he and his men were paraded through the streets of Rome before being executed by garroting, the art of killing someone by means of wire or cord, likely something akin to barbed wire. Rome savored the parade-like procession moment.

Picking up on this parade imagery, this Triumphal Procession, Paul bursts into praise: “But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him” (2 Cor. 2:14). Paul seems to love a parade. Even more so, Paul loves the image of the triumphal procession where the victors lead the victims in a parade. Note the present tense of his praise, “God always leads us” means it is currently happening now. So, the image is clear enough. We, the followers of Christ are being led in a triumphal parade following a great battle. What’s not as clear is what the image of the triumphal procession actually means.

One popular interpretation is that Paul sees himself as the victorious general with or leading the defeated procession to Jesus (C.K. Barret, 98). Such a picture places the apostle on the victors stand as he, not to mention the church, own and humiliated the enemies of Christ. With this interpretation the church stands in the driver’s seat of culture to dictate, mandate, and even control the direction society goes. We are the victors and to us goes the spoils.

If I were honest, I feel a little uneasy with such an interpretation. If that is what Paul is saying it seems like the church can run the risk of an entitlement mentality, demanding its rights, and forcing its will on people and the society. In other words, the hunted easily becomes the hunter, so that anyone out of line of church norms is dealt with severely. I’m not sure that is what Paul has in mind especially given the rest of 2 Corinthians where Paul seems to argue the opposite.

Thus, the second view finds Paul, the apostles, and the church not as victors in the parade, but victims. Paul sees himself as part of the ones who are defeated, dishonored, degraded, and defamed. In this scene Paul, through Jesus Christ, has been conquered as he marches along the walk of shame. Paul has no rights or honor since he has surrendered his will. Thus, when Paul speaks in the next verse of the “aroma of Christ” and the “smell of death” (v. 15), he is doubling down on the image to speak of himself as sacrificed to God. Some saw the faithful sacrificing their lives to God as a stench, while God smelled a fragrant aroma. For, like Jesus giving up his life so that we might live, we sacrifice our lives so that others might live as well.

Very little, if any good, came from the Nazi concentration camps in World War II. Even less chance from the hell-hole called Auschwitz. But there was a prisoner, a Franciscan Priest, who had been hiding and helping the Jews and was imprisoned for committing such “horrible crimes.” His name was Maximilian Kolbe. He spent his prison days ministering to the other inmates. He offered his bread when they were hungry. He gave up his blanket when they were cold. He spoke kind and hopeful words when they were despondent. He was the aroma of Christ consumed with the smell of death. Mind you, he wasn’t going to make it out alive, was he? The only question was, how was he going to die?

In July 1941 a prisoner escaped the camp. The Commandant decided to punish those still in the camp by executing ten prisoners for the one who had escaped. As the Commandant read a random list of people he came to Sergeant Francis Gajowniczek, a Polish Jew, who cried out, “Have mercy! I have a wife and family!” Maximilian Kolbe stepped forward and requested to exchange places with Gajowniczek. For whatever reason, the Commandant allowed the trade. He and others were led to a room where they were denied food for a month before Kolb died by lethal injection. He died physically that day because spiritually he had already died by emptying himself. He was able to give his life because he had already died for Christ. His death was certainly a pleasing aroma to God, not because he died, but because of the means he met his death.

What Paul says about this Triumphal Procession runs counter to our intuitive thinking. We have control issues and we believe that being taken prisoner is a sign of weakness. We tell ourselves to pray harder, or to attend church more often, or to give more money, or take on more patients, or just be good. Even worse, we tremble at the thought of being dragged through the streets just like Paul in the Triumphal Procession. Instead, having surrendered to Jesus we find peace to throw ourselves deeper into serving, loving, and even forgiving. Because when we gave our lives to Jesus we already sacrificed away our lives anyway.

So the next time you watch a parade remember Paul’s Triumphal Procession. Look to the rear and if you see the climax of the parade or Santa Claus, remember that’s not you. We are not the victor, but the victim. You’re part of the procession being led even if it means death. Yea, it does have the smell of death, but then again it’s also an aroma of the fragrance of life.

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

No one embodied the greatness of sports more than Mohammad Ali. While his record of 56 wins, including 37 TKO’s, with only five losses has been matched by other fighters, no one has matched the quality of opponents Ali faced. Ali stood on the mountain of greatness and faced some of the other greatest fighters ever, and won. If winning against the best wasn’t enough, Ali was the self-proclaimed GOAT, declaring, “I am the Greatest.” His prowess immortalized in the photo of him standing over Sonny Liston, taunting him to stand up and fight. If being the greatest fighter ever wasn’t enough, Ali could speak in lyrical verse as easily as we can speak in pros, flowing from his lips with entertaining ease and meaning. What separated Ali from all the other great athletes was that he not only believed he was the greatest of all time, but that he wasn’t afraid to say it, either.

We play for bragging rights. My brother and I played one on one basketball in the backyard. The third game and tie breaker was not for a world cup but simply bragging rights. Couples gather around the table for a night of cards. No money exchanges hands, but whoever wins has bragging rights. At least until the next time. Two regional and rival football teams face off. They may be out of contention for a title, and nothing is on the line, except for bragging rights.

In a world where winner takes all, the gospel calls us to play a different kind of game.

Paul was losing his fight to win over the Corinthian church. He was on the ropes and his opponents held the advantage. He was taken a beating, or we might say, “takin’ a whoopin’.” The opponents, antagonistic to Paul, were filled with their own bragging rights. As one reads through 2 Corinthians, their story starts to come into clear focus.

They were proud of their Jewish pedigree (11:22-23a) and promised a more powerful experience with the Holy Spirit, something Paul had supposedly failed to provide (e.g., 3:817,18). They carried with them letters of recommendation (3:1), likely from Jerusalem, giving them some form of authority. Paul never produced such letters, thus Paul lacked true authority. They were trained speakers who waxed eloquently (11:6), all the while accusing Paul of being timid (10:1, 10). They accepted financial support from Corinth, and used that position against Paul (12:16). Paul refused such backing from Corinth, but was collecting funds for the famine relief in Jerusalem. The opponents may have feared the gold mine in Corinth might soon dry up. Seeing a hole to exploit, they used Paul’s “change of plans” as a means to undermine his truthfulness (1:15-22). Paul was not to be trusted. Sure, they preached Jesus (11:4), but not the Jesus Paul preached. They preached a Jesus of success, power, and popularity, unlike Paul’s version of Jesus: weakness, poverty, and shame. And to boot, the opponents self-promoted themselves (3:1), filling their arguments with boasting and bragging rights. Ultimately, the Corinthians’ were buying what these opponents were selling. Why not? If we were honest, we would too.  

The story is told of a church looking for the perfect preacher. Candidate after candidate was rejected for the smallest flaw or perceived fault. After going through countless prospects, one of the committee members presented a letter to the board of a potential minister for their church. The letter read as follows:

“I’m over fifty years of age. I have never preached in one place for more than three years. In some places I have left town after my work caused riots and disturbances. I must admit I have been in jail three or four times, but not because I’ve broken any laws.

“My heath is not too good, though I still get a great deal accomplished. The churches I have preached in have been small, though located in several large cities. I’ve not gotten along well with religious leaders in towns where I have preached. In fact, some have threatened me and even attacked me physically. I’m not too good at keeping records, as I have been known to forget whom I baptized.

“However, if you can use me, I shall do my best for you.”

The member looked over the rest of the committee, “Well, what do you think? Shall we call him?”

That the committee was aghast might have been an understatement. How could this member believe that their good church would even consider a man who has nothing but a troublemaking, absentminded, ex-jailbird? Was the board member crazy? They demanded to know who sent the letter.

The board member eyed them keenly and replied, “It’s signed, the ‘Apostle Paul.’”

Rome played for bragging rights. They boasted an unprecedented era of world peace and marketed it as Pax Romana, The Peace of Rome. But the peace was achieved through terror, intimidation, fear mongering, and the brutal and shaming execution of the crucifixion. On roads, highway, hills and any place visible to the public they crucified those who dared to defy their government. Like a billboard on our interstates, they advertised their reign of terror. “This is what happens to anyone who stands in defiance of the State.” You can almost hear the taunt, “Na nan a na, hey hey-ey, goodbye!”

On a hill outside of Jerusalem God set up his own advertisement. While Rome was owning the bragging rights, God allowed his Son to be humiliated, shamed, abused, scourged, and mocked as by-standers hurled insults like they were hurling stones. The naked victim, no he did not have a loin cloth around his midriff, was exposed and disgraced. The innocent man was executed in the most horrific and indignant way possible. The cross was not a platform for bragging rights, which makes Isaac Watts words so profound: “Forbid it Lord that I should boast, save in the death of Christ my Lord.”

Rome bragged. God was shamed. It’s the biblical narrative often flipped by American churches. For when we distort the narrative of the cross, we will distort the narrative of our faith, our churches, and our ministries. For we will begin to operate out of personal strength, talent, and pride that looks nothing like the cross. It is what Paul was battling and contending with concerning the outside influences in Corinth.

Paul could go head-to-head with these opponents, and no doubt win a no-contest against them if not a TKO. But that might be playing into their hand. He certainly has the right pedigree himself along with proper training. And no one can doubt his service to Christ. But instead of continuing that road, Paul takes another path as he redefines boasting and bragging rights.

As Paul will say, “If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness” (2 Cor. 11:30). Wow, talk about flipping the narrative!? Paul is willing to self-disclose the very things we try to hide and minimize. He’s willing to show his pain, his weakness, his vulnerability, and his suffering so that whatever good happens is credited to Jesus. That is why his list includes prison time. He lists floggings, lashings, beatings, and stoning’s. He’s been shipwrecked, more than once, and spent a night and day on the open sea. Danger threatens him at every turn. He’s known hunger and thirst and gone without food. He’s been cold and naked. He carries around the burden of the church and when members are led into sin, he feels the burn too.

Sometimes I think our image of the Apostle Paul looks too much like a Mohammed Ali hovering over Sonny Liston, taunting and thumping his chest, defeating some of the greatest around him like George Foreman and “Smokin’” Joe Frazier. But such an image is imposed by our American mindset of greatness. If we were to meet the Apostle Paul personally, I believe we’d find someone less imposing, someone less impressive. The Corinthians knew him, and that’s how they felt about Paul. Why should we who have never met Paul think any differently?

Where most want to talk about their wealth, Paul talks about his poverty. When most want to speak about the ease their life has been, Paul reveals how hard his life has been. While most will keep count of the people they converted and baptized, but draws a blank on that number. If most want to let everyone know what they’ve won, Paul makes sure everyone knows what he’s lost. While most want to brag about what they get right, Paul confesses about what he’s gotten wrong. Why? Because the weakness exposed in our lives means we are relying not on ourselves, but on God. That’s why Paul’s bragging rights don’t look like much to boast about.

I wonder what my bragging rights might entail. Would I talk about being ADHD and the difficulties that come with keeping focused on task, or how ADHD is linked to anxiety and depression making the peace of God a challenging experience? Do I let you know that as much as I love to read now, as a child I hated reading? I was slow and reading compression meant I studied twice as hard for half the grades. Sometimes my people skills are lacking. My debating skills are weak, I stumble to find my words while speaking, and as much as I want to I cannot “free bird” preach, often relying heavily on my notes. And after thirty-five years in ministry, I am the walking wounded to which I feel more like a failure than champion.

No, I don’t have much bragging rights. But then again, no one else does either. And that may just be Paul’s point.

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

In 1979 my friend, Don, and some of his buddies, ventured their way up to the ski resort on Mt. Hood in Oregon for a day on the slopes. As he and his friends piled into his car they made their way to Government Camp, the last and main stop before reaching Timberline Lodge. From the camp to the lodge was a sixteen minute, winding, switchback steep road, ascending two thousand more feet. With snow already on the ground, and their car was a typical rear-wheel vehicle, they had to make a choice: take the time to put chains on the tires or make the climb without them. Chains were a must in snowy or icy conditions on Mt. Hood, but they were teenagers and were not interested in sacrificing ski time for traction.

Leaving Government Camp, they spent the next hour fishtailing, spinning their tires, and inching their way up the mountain. With no end in sight, the boys gave up and admitted defeat. They were losing precious skiing time, and who knows how much longer they had till they reached the lodge? They pulled over, unloaded the car, dug out the chains, mounted them to back wheels, and then reloaded the car. As they got back in their vehicle they knew they had a renewed hope. The next turn they made put them directly into the parking lot of Timberline Lodge. They had given up. They had waved the white flag. They had surrendered on the brink of reaching their destination.

Life is hard. Living by faith is harder.

In 2 Corinthians 4 Paul makes a bold statement, not once but twice. He tells us, “We do not lose heart.” We are not kind who give up, surrender, quit, or walk away while the ball is still in play. We may want to. We may be tempted to do so. We may be pushed to the brink, but we cling to our faith like we’re hanging on by the very last thread.

The two times Paul declares, “we do not lose heart,” act as bookends to hold his overarching thought together. In verse one he speaks of integrity and checking our agenda at the door. We refuse to deceive, to manipulate, and to “fear monger,” as it’s not about us. It’s never about us. We’re simply jars of clay who have been given the gospel as if it were a prized treasure.

Because life is hard, and living by faith is harder, Paul openly concedes how easy it might be to lose heart. Refusing to gloss over life and embrace faith, Paul is frank about the cost of discipleship. To be honest Paul actually offers four reasons why we might be tempted to quit and to give up. They can be found in 2 Corinthians 4:8-9.

First, Paul says we are “hard pressed on every side.” Like a trash compactor, stress closes in, squeezing the life out of us. Feeling we have no escape, the pressure will not let up. We’re spiritually claustrophobic and our stress levels are exceeding safe levels of operation. Our plates get full as more stuff keeps getting piled on. And it’s constant. We see no end is in sight and it’s simply too much to handle.

 Secondly, he admits that we are “perplexed.” Things happen to us and events unfold that leave us baffled and puzzled with our equilibrium making us dizzy. Like a merry-go-round spinning out of control, we want to shout, “Stop the world! We want to get off!” We wonder how this could happen, and why it is happening. The more questions we ask, the fewer answers we find. And let’s be honest, those answers are often trivial and trite, masked in faith-like language.

Thirdly, Paul confirms that we are persecuted. Everyone turns against us, leaving us alone with feelings of abandonment. Persecution means the shouting voices of hate standing against us drown out the whispers of love from the voices standing with you.

Finally, Paul confirms the worst as we are “struck down.” Such language has doom written all over it. “Struck down” almost sounds like we’ve been slain in battle, and we’re left to take our last breath on the battlefield of life. Game over and no hope survives.

Hard pressed, perplexed, persecuted, and struck down. In the midst of such pain and suffering, where is God? More importantly, how does one prevent themselves from giving up, throwing in the towel, or losing heart?

If anyone has a cause to loose heart it might be my fifth grade teacher, Edwina Schackmann. Edwina towered over everyone at maybe five feet. Maybe with heels. But she was a giant of faith. While she commanded the respect of her students and fellow teachers, she commanded even more of her faith. But her story is not for the faint of heart.  

Edwina and her husband had three boys, and her husband was a salesman who traveled the Pacific Northwest. On this particular day he invited his wife to join him on his sales trip with a stop off at the beach. Edwina packed a lunch, and with their youngest in tow, they headed on their adventure. Unbeknownst to them, their beautiful day was to turn into a nightmare. A drunk driver met them head on. Edwina’s husband was killed from the impact. Edwina suffered broken bones in her back. The baby, thrown from the car, fortunately landed in a soft patch of grass.

For months Edwina recovered in the hospital in a partial body cast. Recovering from her broken heart took longer. I’m sure a lot longer. When she taught me, her boys had grown to be respectable, Godly men making their mom (and dad) proud. I remember Edwina talking about sitting in the hospital with nothing to do. She read her bible and used her cast as a table to cut art projects and lessons for the children’s bible classes.

Edwina lost her husband. She lost a father to help her raise their boys. She could have lost her faith. She didn’t. She endured and was never one for losing heart.

Where do we go to find the strength to endure, because life is hard and living by faith is harder.

Returning to 2 Corinthians 4:8-10, for each of those reasons to lose heart, Paul offers hope. While he admits life is hard, he reminds us how God is the one who holds us together. The strength to endure does not come from within, but from the One who empowers you from within. So yes, we are “hard pressed on every side,” but God says we are “not crushed.” We may hurt, and often do, but we’re able to press forward.

Sure, “we are perplexed,” but God states we are “not in despair.” Hope will not abandon us, nor will it disappoint. We will scratch our head trying to make sense of life, but that it leads to abandon all hope is not part of God’s will.

True, we are often “persecuted,” but God promises that we are “not abandoned;” we are never alone. Jesus promises to never leave us or forsake us, so that the whispers of love quiets the shouts of hate.

And of course we can be “struck down,” but God declares we are “not destroyed.” We get hit and even knocked down, but we don’t get knocked out. We get back up and go on living, enduring, and even thriving. 

Because God is with us, sustains us, and fuels the fire within us, “we will not lose heart.” The closing exhortation bookend occurs in verse 16. Even though physically we are wasting away, inwardly we are being renewed. The strength to endure comes from God who fuels the Spirit within us. If allowed, his Spirit will keep us moving with forward progress. So it’s true, life is hard and living by faith is harder, which is why, in spite of the reasons above, “we do not lose heart.”

My friend Jamie takes a group every spring to hike the Grand Canyon. The Phantom Ranch Trail is a 10 mile hike down and another back along a path with 500 feet vertical cliffs. You walk down, but it’s a climb coming out. Every year 12 people die at the Grand Canyon from falling, dehydration, or medical problems exacerbated by the hike. A couple of years ago, Jamie and his crew met a man who was on the edge of being another fatal statistic.

With four and a half miles to the top Jamie’s group was on target to reach the entrance before dark, no later than 5:30. But then, they met a man struggling to make it out. He was physically and mentally unprepared for the hike (he was over-dressed, overweight, and had packed an 85 lbs. backpack including a tent for a day hike). He had no water. No food. No electrolytes. No friends, as the group he was with left him behind. To say he was spent was an understatement. To say he was losing heart and that his body was giving out was not far from the truth.

Knowing the switchbacks were only getting steeper and harder, Jamie convinced the man to join his party. But doing so meant a much slower pace. Much slower. With the crew acting as a buffer to prevent him from falling, they started the ascent. They walked him out by these simple instructions. They were taking 20 steps then resting for 20 breaths. Then they repeated the process: 20 steps followed by 20 resting breaths. They continued the cadence for the next six and a half hours arriving well past their scheduled arrival time. When they reached the entrance of the park, they were hardly on record time. But it wasn’t about a record, it was about not giving up against all odds. It was about not losing heart.

Maybe you’re on the verge of giving up and you’ve been feeling the hope leak out of you like a small hole in a balloon. You are losing heart, and you don’t know from where the strength to take the next step will come. Or, maybe you will encounter someone today who is losing heart. It’s easy to do when death hovers over us on a daily basis. Life is hard and living by faith is harder. Maybe the way out is the slow pace where you take 20 steps forward followed by 20 resting breaths. You repeat this process so that you do not lose heart. You repeat this process until you reach the summit, which you may not reach it very fast, but will reach it. It’s not about speed or record pace. It’s about not losing heart, to keep forward progressing moving. And who knows that right behind the next turn maybe your destination. 

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

It’s always easier to look where you’re going because “seeing is believing.” Scripture challenges us to flip the scenario so that “believing is seeing.” Ask that to the disciple we know as Doubting Thomas who declared that he’ll only believe when he touches the nail scars of Jesus. Once Thomas was confronted by the resurrected Jesus, he confessed his faith. Jesus agreed that he believed, but only because he saw, then added, “Blessed are those who have not seen yet believe” (Jn. 20:29).

Paul, in 2 Corinthians 5:7, said it like this, “We walk by faith, not by sight.”

Three times in three verses Paul drops the word “for” to sum up his main thoughts at the end of 2 Corinthians 4 and the very beginning of 2 Corinthians 5. The first “for” underscores our hope that whatever grief and suffering we are experiencing now will be outweighed by the glory God has in store for us (4:17). The second “for” foreshadows our faith and is found in the middle of verse 18 as Paul says we focus on what is unseen, rather than what is seen. Specifically, our reward cannot be seen by the naked eye but we believe God is holding it for us. The third “for” appears in the first verse of chapter five which highlights the same thought as the previous one: our earthly bodies will wear out and break down, and that is ok. God has a new spiritual body awaiting us that that will not be susceptible to pain and suffering, nor will it ever experience sickness and death. All we can see with our eyes is the physical weakness our bodies experience as it deteriorates over time. Yet we see something else in the future when our bodies will endure with strength for all eternity.

Thus, as Paul says, “We walk by faith, not by sight.”

We walk by sight when we believe our mortal body is the end all to the story; we walk by faith when our longing for the immortal body is realized. We walk by sight when making spiritual decisions based on charisma; we walk by faith when we make spiritual decisions based on the Fruit of the Spirit. We walk by sight when we pull away from God during times of suffering; we walk by faith when we draw close to God through suffering because God comes closer to us in times of affliction. We walk by sight when we focus on the temporary; we walk by faith when we focus on the eternal. We walk by sight when we measure success by crowds, money, and volunteers; we walk by faith when we measure success by transformed lives. We walk by sight when we see affliction as the end-game; we walk by faith when we see glory as the end-game, even when glory goes through the path of affliction. We walk by sight when we jump on the latest bandwagon; we walk by faith when we live with our eyes focused on Jesus.

So Paul reminds us, “We walk by faith, not by sight.”

I once knew a preacher who was diagnosed with third stage cancer. He was a rough and tough navy man who fought in the War but when he converted to Christ he became a kind and joyful preacher. He spent some forty years preaching and ministering in local churches in the Pacific Northwest. With his diagnoses before him, and his death imminent, he and his wife visited their children and grandchildren in Texas. On their return flight he was settling into his seat. The stewardess walked by and stopped, staring at the man before moving on to her duties. Later, she did same thing, stopping to gaze almost in wander of the man. On her third encounter she addressed the man, saying, “I’m sorry to bother you, sir.” She continued, “But did you know your face was glowing?” Glowing. Having known this man personally, and I can almost imagine how his face was beaming, and even more when his smile broke across his face. He replied to the stewardess, saying, “I’m going home to see my Father.”

We walk by faith, not by sight.

A man went to his minister and confessed his struggle to pray. To him it always felt like a one way conversation, where God never answered, if God ever listened at all. His mind often wandered as he failed to stay on task. And what words were spoken, he felt, never penetrated the ceiling of the room where he prayed. The minister absorbed his concerns, and in comforting the man offered a suggestion. He said, “Why not pull an empty chair up to you and then talk to God as if he was sitting in front of you. The man gave it some thought but never spoke to the minister about the matter again.

Decades later the man was transitioning at home. He was in bed, nearing death. That night the patient passed and when the family found him in the morning, he was not in bed. They found the man kneeling before a chair that was next to the bed with his head resting on the empty seat as if his head was resting on someone’s lap.

We walk by faith, not by sight.

I was a child during the seventies when the search for Noah’s Ark was all the rage. A movie and some TV documentaries had come out cataloging, inconclusively, people’s attempt to locate the famous ship. Eyewitnesses claimed to have seen it and described its structure, but no physical evidence was ever produced. The movie and shows fueled a frenzy of faith discussions.

One particular afternoon, I was with a handful of neighborhood children talking about the ark and whether or not it was real. One kid said, probably echoing words he had heard at home, “If the ark is real, why doesn’t God allow us to find it so that we can all believe?” As if settling the ark’s existence would solve all other doubts and skeptics on God and faith.

I was just a kid at the time and had no comeback. My oldest brother happened to have overheard the comment as he was headed to his car. He blurted out, “Because then it wouldn’t be faith.”

The Hebrews writer might say, “Faith is being sure of what we do not see” (Heb. 11:1). But Paul says it this way, “We walk by faith, not by sight.”   

I’m reminded of the time Jesus sent his twelve disciples across the Sea of Galilee; he’d catch up with them later. In the middle of night as they were about halfway across the eight mile body of water, they were frantically working against the wind. I could almost hear Peter barking out instructions to the eleven. Like a running back hitting the Steelers famed Iron Curtain, forward progress had come to a sudden stop. The depth below them was one hundred forty feet, and they weren’t wearing life jackets, and who knows what lurked beneath the deep? We know four of the men were experienced fishermen, leaving the majority as land lovers. This boat, packed full of scared men, could easily capsize. Here they saw Jesus walking on the waters, though they were convinced it was a ghost. When Jesus called to them, Peter sought confirmation. “If it is you, Lord, tell me to come to you on the water.” (Mt. 14:28).

Jesus extended the invitation as the water was just fine.

Peter, with his eyes fixed on Jesus, began walking on the water toward the Lord. Yea, walking on the water. But he took his eyes off Jesus, focusing on the violent, threatening waves slapping him in the face, trying to sweep the legs. When his attention shifted from Jesus to the waves, he sunk and almost drowned. Almost, as Jesus reached down to pull Peter from the waters.

Peter could have said it, but Paul wrote it, “We walk by faith, not by sight.”

As Jesus made his way through the garden, he so desperately wanted those closest to him to remain close to him. They didn’t. They fell asleep foreshadowing their failure when Jesus really did need them. Jesus would face the night, alone. As he prayed, death hovered over the Savior like a dark ominous bird of prey with its talons retracted waiting for the attack. Oh, with the cross before him, how Jesus wanted this cup to pass. Luke tells us that as he prayed, sweat poured from him like drops of blood, to remind us how deep the anguish Jesus felt. But Jesus’ words, “No my will, but yours be done” (Lk. 22:42), only highlighted the truth that even Jesus “walked by faith, not by sight.”

Time and time again Scripture reinforces the theme,
                as if we are called to drink from this heavenly stream;

The youthful David faced the Goliath giant,
                with only a sling and five smooth stones, his victory was not kept quiet;

Abraham was called to leave his home.
                to venture to a land he would never own;

Israel was pinned in between Pharaoh’s army and the Red Sea,
                and it was the parting of the waters where they’d be free;

Mary embraced her call to bear her shame,
                and the child born to her would wear the Lord’s Name;

Hannah made a vow to God to give her a son,
                giving the child to God only meant the story had just begun;

Daniel was thrown into a den filled with lions,
                praying to God was his only reliance;

Everything in Peter said going to the Gentile Cornelius was wrong,
                but witnessing the Spirit descend on that family became his theme song;

Rahab hid the Israelites spies in her home,
                allowing her faith to be passed down to the next generation like a chromosome.

So if the path you tread is in need of light,
                then remember this that we all walk by faith, not by sight.

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