Category: Ministry Musings
Back to Bach
This is merely a short, cheery greeting to all of my readers with a prayer that you might truly celebrate with joy the resurrection power of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Easter seems to be the “second” Christian holiday, and tomorrow I will be addressing why I believe that is wrong. When the disciples fanned out across the world in the Book of Acts, they weren’t talking about a baby in a manager (as precious as that scene is), they were buzzing about the empty tomb!
Bach's Lunch
It’s the middle of day on Saturday, and I am sitting on the mezzanine level of our lobby having a fabulous time. Those of us assembled here are enjoying our first Easter season Bach’s Lunch. It’s really quite a simple concept. People bring a box lunch, buy some coffee at Portico and listen to Bach.
If you know anything about me, you know that I am a huge classical music fan and was a minor scholarship French horn player in a former lifetime while in college. I never had much talent, but did develop a good ear for music. (I know, I should have been an Anglican or something).
Honestly, I am a bit taken back by the level of talent I am listening to at the moment. We have a strong group of string players from our church complemented by a few strategically placed guests. The vocal ensemble is all ours and I must say that I am impressed by what I am hearing. This is really quite neat – and fun! I think we might hear a sampling tomorrow in the services.
For those of you in the city, I hope to see you in the morning at one of the three services. Remember that we are in the middle of the auditorium remodel and have no seats in the balcony at the moment. So, if you could come to the first service that would help. To the rest of you wherever you are, may you enjoy God’s richest blessings this weekend. Meanwhile, Bach to you.
By the way, I put some pictures of my recent journey up on FaceBook for those of you who asked.
Getting Old!
I despise it when old people try to romanticize the past, like by talking about how far they walked to school in several feet of snow with cardboard in their shoes and all that. I hate the whole scene of complaining about the way things are today when “in MY day” … … … Oh, barf!
Trying to remain flexible and relevant is extremely important to me, and I would rather be around young people than just about anything else than I can imagine. Old people who get rigid, grumpy and fight change for the sake of fighting change should just be rounded up and … OK, I’ll hold my tongue. You get the idea. The wisdom of the old is a precious commodity and not to be despised. Really! It’s just that sometimes old people get so grumpy and out-of-touch as to make that wisdom practically inaccessible. When I get like that, let me know and I’ll try to go quietly.
Anyway, the other day I was reading a blog, a blog by someone young and hip. Something she said sparked me. She invited others to share some of their missionary adventures, and my mind began to race. I’m NOT really that old. (I’m NOT, am I? Please reassure me. I’m getting a little insecure). But, some images of missionary adventures of my youth came into my mind, and I’d like to share just one with you and give you an idea of how much the world has changed just in my lifetime.
I was 24 years old and Chery, much younger. Our oldest daughter had just turned three and our youngest daughter was a whopping 5 weeks old. We were missionaries now, though we had not a clue what that meant. With a full tank of equal parts ignorance and zeal, we had driven a VW van from Kansas City to Nicaragua on our way to language school in Costa Rica. We had driven across deserts, mountains and ferries and endured hours of bewildering border crossings, all navigated in a language we could not speak. Along the way, we had stayed in places that I am grateful to God we have never seen or imagined again.
The night before we had arrived at an isolated Bible institute on the outskirts of Managua, Nicaragua. A friend with whom we were staying had invited us to accompany him to a church meeting in the boondocks, stopping for dinner with a local family on the way. Sounded like fun.
I had visited Nicaragua on a couple of short term trips, but had no idea about the realities of everyday life. I was to discover that in those days it was still not uncommon for men to wear a six-shooter on their hips, tie their horses to hitching posts in the villages and have gunfights in the street.
Horses were actually much better suited to rural Nicaraguan life than my little VW van. Turning off the main highway, we slowly made our way down very primitive dirt roads – until they ran out. We, however, kept going. I was following something that I imagined to be a cow path. The dust was as deep as a February snow in Minnesota. Then, the van stalled and engine shut down.
“No problem,” my friend said cheerfully. “Happens all the time.”
The dust was so deep it had totally plugged the exhaust pipe, smothering the engine. Don’t ask me questions about how that works. I know nothing about mechanics; that’s just what I was told. What I do know for sure is that we were soon poking away at the dust in the exhaust pipe with a pocket knife. The pipe was cleared, and we were on our way.
Rural Nicaraguan Life
Arriving the the home where we were going to dine, we discovered that the family spread was a thatched roof, mud-walled hut with dirt floors. I could tell Cheryl was a bit nervous about things like sanitary conditions to prepare the baby’s formula and all that. I, of course, was now a missionary and thought this all to be pretty cool. Way too cool to be sympathetic to my wife. You know, the way you deal with this stuff is just to pray more, trust God and read the Bible, right?
Not long after arriving and dishing up the rice, pieces of chicken and tortillas, I looked around to see my three-year-old fighting with a pig in the dining room that wanted to eat from her plate. That was my first clue that maybe this wasn’t as cool as I thought.
In fact, my mind began to glaze over as the reality began to sink in. We did make it to the church service, but I can’t even remember what it was like, except that I didn’t understand a thing. By this time, I was beginning to realize that this might be harder than I thought.
To have a personal telephone in Nicaragua in that era was an unimaginable luxury and a practical impossibility with waiting lists measured in years. Making a phone call was an adventure that involved a trip to a post office, standing in a couple of lines, paying some fees, getting some stamps and signatures on some papers and waiting for your turn to go to an old phone in the corner that you had to crank by hand. If connection could be established, you prayed that you could actually understand the person on the other end through the static. Letters or cars? Anywhere from weeks to months for them to arrive.
During my recent trip to the Middle East with my friends from Latin America, I thought about stuff like this more than once as I watched each of them speak to their wife and kids with video Skype on their cell phones. Good grief! Am I really that old? I’m not, am I? Please tell me that I’m not. Or, just share with me some of the gnarly old junk that you can remember from years ago. You know, stuff that makes you feel wasted, spent and worthless. Misery loves company.
Thoughts on a Beautiful Country
Istanbul
Being a frequent traveler, people often ask my favorite country to visit. That’s a great question, but impossible for me to answer. As an eternal optimist and glass-half-full guy, I can find things to admire just about anywhere I wander. Well, that is, of course, with the exception of … you didn’t really think I’d tell you, did you?
Turkey is stunning! Definitely toward the top of most of my lists! A large country of over 72 million people, it is as geographically diverse as the people who inhabit it. The soil is rich and fruitful, the mountains are spectacular and snow-covered, the beaches are amazing and, and, and … you get the idea. Just about anything you could want can be found in Turkey. It is possible on any given day to find any climate within the borders of Turkey, cold to hot, wet to dry. You can Google Turkey and get the touristy info anytime you want; I’m not writing this to promote Turkish tourism. But, it is true that Turkey is a gorgeous place with world class cities like Istanbul and Izmir.
Right now I am thinking Bible and history. Outside of Israel, there is no nation that contains more biblical history. Noah’s ark is said to have touched down on those snow covered mountains of Ararat – in Turkey. Turkey’s position as the land bridge between Asia and Europe means that so many of the biblical peoples have been connected in one way or another with Turkey. The Apostle Paul was born in Tarsus – in modern Turkey. Followers of Jesus were first called Christians in the church of Antioch of Syria – also located in modern Turkey. When Paul wrote to the churches in the region of Galatia, he was writing to churches in Turkey. The letters that Jesus wrote in the Book of Revelation to the seven churches – yep, they are all in Turkey. For the first 1,000 years of the Christian faith, no city played a more important role than Constantinople (modern Istanbul), not even Rome. This is a short list, but the idea is to remind you (or inform you) that Turkey is sometimes called “the other Holy Land” for a reason.
So much of what you read about in the Bible took place in Turkey. Today, however, Turkey is one of the most resistant places on earth to the gospel. Estimates of genuine evangelical followers of Christ in this nation of over 72 million range from 3-4,000. There are many more members of traditional, Orthodox churches, and it must be assumed that there is a remnant of believers among them as in other places as well. In a few days we will commemorate the martyrdom of three men killed for their faith in Christ during a horrible incident almost four years ago in eastern Turkey.
Let me hasten to add that since the 1920′s the government of Turkey has been secular, and there is no official policy of persecution as long as people live peacefully among each other and don’t try to convert others to their religion. Most of the attacks that have taken place against believers in recent years have come from radical nationalists or religions fanatics. Before you are tempted to become a bit judgmental of those who perpetrate such attacks, let me remind you that it was through this country also that thousands of European crusaders roamed in their quest to recapture the Holy Land and Jerusalem. Along the way many were given to incredible displays of rape, rampage, cold-blooded murder, savagery and other barbaric acts with a ferocity that still brings pain to this day. Don’t say, “get over it”, or “that was a long time ago.” That very attitude is a great part of the reason that the wounds are fresh to this very day. You really can’t understand unless you have lived inside the hearts of those who live on the other side. Though there are plenty of examples of excess to go around on all sides, there are also many poignant examples of Muslims protecting Christians and providing for them in these lands. Sometimes, the most powerful form of witness is to lay the arguments and blame aside and opt for a genuine, contrite humility and recognition of the common human problem of sin.
Please don’t think I am advocating a silent witness approach, or a passive, do-nothing presence. I am a follower of Jesus Christ and I live to share my faith. The question is how one goes about doing that. Loud and bold does not always equate to biblical and Christ-like, though sometimes it surely does. Just like in Bible study, context is everything. History shows that sharing faith at the point of a sword rarely works. How about something really radical, like living daily life in the power of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, and trusting God for open doors of “utterance” as Paul asked the Colossians (residents of Turkey) to pray for him? He also asked that God would grant him the grace to speak boldly, clearly and correctly. How about being channels of God’s love to all people regardless of whether or not they ever come to share our faith. We have the example of God himself who loved us even when we were yet sinners.
When I think of Turkey’s amazing biblical past, I make application to my life by being reminded that whatever I have done in the past for God’s kingdom’s sake is no guarantee that I am living in his power today. The same truth applies to congregations. A proud and storied history is great, but what about God’s working in and through us today? Looking back over my life, what are the landmark times of God’s power manifested in me? Are any of those times within the past year? Why, or why not? Those are the questions I need to ask myself. The answers are not always gratifying or comforting.
I am also reminded that no matter how beautiful a country, an individual or a church on the outside, there can be a totally different story beneath the surface. What is at the very core of my existence? Would it be my own selfish desire, or Christ and him crucified?
Finally, I am reminded to pray for Turkey and its peoples. I must pray for those followers of Jesus who live and labor there to witness the power of Jesus Christ in and through their lives. Some of them have suffered greatly and a few have paid the ultimate sacrifice. The least I can do is pray.
OK, you’re right
Sunday I mentioned in a couple of services that we were going to take a parenthesis in Psalm 119 to look at the Psalms of Degrees. Now, that is a good study, but we were originally thinking to break things up due to the auditorium remodel and my travel schedule.
Well, both the timing of the auditorium remodel and my schedule have changed a bit since we first thought to do this several months ago. Add to that the good feedback we’ve been getting from the Psalm 119 study, and several of us on the leadership team this morning concluded that you’re not bored yet. Always a good thing! Soooo, we’re going to plow straight ahead through Psalm 119 and we’ll try to come back to the Psalms of Degrees at a point further down the road. Spread the word!
Over the past few weeks I have also been praying about setting aside a Sunday at some point this Summer to do something a bit special. Keeping on course with Psalm 119 gives a bit of breathing room to do some things like that as God’s Spirit leads.
This Sunday, then, we look at the Teth stanza, the ninth of 22 stanzas. You’ve heard me say repeatedly that the first verse of each stanza begins with that same corresponding letter of the Hebrew alphabet – in this case Teth.
Just for fun, you might want to see what this might look like if it had been written in English. Here is an example from Theodore Kübler of the Daleth stanza (119:25-32) as found in The Psalms Chronologically Arranged.
Depressed to the dust is my soul: Quicken Thou me according to Thy word.
Declared have I (to Thee) my ways, and Thou heardest me: Teach my Thy statutes.
Declare Thou to me the way of Thy precepts: So shall I talk of Thy wondrous works.
Dropping is my soul for heaviness: Strengthen Thou me according to Thy word.
Deceitful ways remove from me: And grant me Thy law graciously.
Determined have I upon the way of truth: Thy judgments have I laid before me.
Deliberately have I stuck unto Thy testimonies: O LORD, put me not to shame.
Day by day I will run the way of Thy commandments, When Thou shalt enlarge my heart.
Now, if you are really interested, here’s what the same passage looks like in Hebrew. Remember that Hebrew reads from right to left. ד is the Hebrew character Daleth that begins each verse from right to left.
(Psalms 119:25) דבקה לעפר נפשׁי חיני כדברך׃
(Psalms 119:26) דרכי ספרתי ותענני למדני חקיך׃
(Psalms 119:27) דרך־פקודיך הבינני ואשׂיחה בנפלאותיך׃
(Psalms 119:28) דלפה נפשׁי מתוגה קימני כדברך׃
(Psalms 119:29) דרך־שׁקר הסר ממני ותורתך חנני׃
(Psalms 119:30) דרך־אמונה בחרתי משׁפטיך שׁויתי׃
(Psalms 119:31) דבקתי בעדותיך יהוה אל־תבישׁני׃
(Psalms 119:32) דרך־מצותיך ארוץ כי תרחיב לבי׃
Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!
In the late 300′s and early 400′s, Patrick was a typical teenager kicking around NE England where he was born to an aristocratic family of Britons, one of the Celtic peoples who inhabited the British Isles during the time the Roman armies occupied the area. Patrick grew up speaking Latin and was realistically more Roman than Celtic in his culture, even though he would have understood the early Welch language spoken by the lower classes in his area.
Patrick’s grandfather was a priest and he grew up in a Christian home, even though his adolescence was characterized by living on the wild side and having a healthy dose of skepticism toward the organized church. At 16 years of age, Patrick was captured by a band of Celtic pirates from Ireland and sold into slavery to a tribal chieftain and Druid by the name of Miliuc moccu Boin in Ireland. Soon, the carefree teen found himself herding cattle for his master.
During this season of Patrick’s life, the time with the cows served to bring him to a deep personal faith and he became a thoroughly consecrated follower of Jesus Christ. He also learned to love the people and the culture of his “owners.” He mastered their language and culture. In his sixth year of captivity, God spoke to him in a dream that led him to escape and return to England.
The next period of Patrick’s life is without much historical support, but we know that Patrick went on to finish his education and became a parish priest in England, whatever version of the process you might accept. Later, history again becomes a bit more clear. At 48, Patrick received a Macedonian type vision that led him to return to Ireland, the land of his captivity. This time, it was as a free man who returned with the mission of setting others free from the slavery of sin. This was a significant event of history, because the Irish Celtic people were considered “barbarians” and impossible to evangelize without civilizing them first.
Patrick arrived in Ireland with an entire missionary team. What they did resulted in one of the most significant movements of God in history. For the next couple of hundred years, Celtic Christianity would represent the most fruitful Christian movement in Europe. Some historians believe that Celtic Christianity is responsible for “saving” Western civilization, but that’s a story for another day. The information I am sharing here is based on a book I recently read called The Celtic way of evangelism: How Christianity can reach the West again, by George C. Hunter III. I’ve also seen most of this information elsewhere.
I thought much of the book was unevenly written,but there were some great thoughts hidden here and there. Here’s one of my main take-ways. Patrick and his missionary team were able to reach this difficult and very different people by establishing communities among them. Their specialty was hospitality! They welcomed others to come and experience life among them. In the process, these fierce Celts were able to meet genuine followers of Christ for the first time. It wasn’t long before many of them wanted what they saw in the lives of the believers.
Hunter characterizes the difference by saying that the Roman church (like many evangelical churches today in the Western world) say to the unbelievers, Believe so that you can belong. The Celtic way of evangelism was to say come and belong so that you can then believe. This simple concept resulted in an explosion of evangelism that rocked the world. How do you think this truth may apply today?
We have lately been asking God to make us a community that has genuine biblical hospitality as part of our DNA. Hospitality is defined as making place for others – in your heart and literally. True hospitality goes light years beyond a nice smile as you hand a church bulletin to a visitor!
What types of ministry are you doing where you could invite a lost friend to come along beside you? What a great way for them to get close enough to see the reality of who you are and what you believe! How else might we communicate to a new generation of people who are fascinated by Jesus but put off by the church, that we want them to come and belong so that they might believe?
When we reverse the process, we communicate that if you will become like me, then we will let you belong to our club. Where does this put the focus?
One day I might toss up some more thoughts about the amazing individual we know today as Saint Patrick He had far more going for him than leprechauns, four leaf clovers and green beer! Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!