What's In It for Me?

I was thinking about the sixth chapter of the Gospel of John. The entire chapter is a fast-paced adventure that moves from scene to scene with light-speed.

Several thoughts occurred to me about the Lord's sermon concerning the bread that came down from Heaven. Just one of the many things I love about the Holy Scriptures: you can read it for years and you'll still discover something new.

Okay, Christ fed the five thousand and then preached a sermon about Heavenly Bread.  The news of the bread spread, (sorry,) and people came from miles around to get their fair share. When they found His boat missing, the one His apostles had used, they went so far as to track Him down on the other side of the lake. They even followed Him to a synagogue where He was teaching.

He told them that they weren't following Him for the miracles; they were only following Him because He gave them a full belly.

Being the rabbit hunters that they were, they made a couple of sad attempts to bait Him into the discussions about works and signs. Really? Everything they'd seen Him do and they wanted to talk about works and signs? Sheesh!

So, he continued trying to explain to them, in essence, if they didn't eat His body, they could have nothing to do with Him. Moreover, He told a bunch of Kosher Jews that they also must drink blood...His blood! He continued further that Moses gave the Israelites manna and they died, but the Bread He offered granted eternal life. He told that them that He is the Bread that came down from Heaven.

I am that bread of life. John 6:48

I can just imagine them cutting their eyes in astonishment and disbelief at the words of the Galilean. Some even whispering to one another their doubts about not only His words, but His sanity. The only response they could muster was that what He was saying was "hard."

They had witnessed many of His miracles. They had even been fed by them. Yeah, the five loaves and two fishes routine. For sure, they had seen much to encourage them to believe He was who He was. Shucks! They had even wanted to make Him King!

Verse 66, (interestingly) says, after that time, many of His disciples no longer followed Him. They, pardon the pun, had their bellies full of Him.

Then, to my mind, one of the most dramatic moments in the Holy Bible occurs. Jesus, after watching the crowds whom He had shown so much love walk away, turned to His disciples and asked what was, perhaps, the most poignant question He ever asked. He looked into their eyes and asked, "Are you going to leave me too?"

Just for a moment consider the thought. (Yes, a favorite thought of mine to which I keep returning.) Our Lord, our Savior was a man. Albeit, a  lonely man. A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. He knew what it was to lose and He knew what it was to be left alone. He, the One holding the keys to life and death, had lost loved ones through sickness, age and injury and He certainly knew what it was like to be abandoned by many whom He had loved and, one would have thought, loved Him.

So, here he stood, once again, abandoned by so many to whom He had given so much. It wasn't a new thing for Him, but it, obviously, never lessened the pain it caused Him. Furthermore, He knew total abandonment was not so very far away. He knew a time was coming when even His own Father would abandon Him. Yes, the man knew pain on a scale that we can't even begin to imagine.

His disciples had just seen Him feed five thousand with a little  bit of fish and bread. As if that wasn't enough, they saw Him walk on water. No small thing, but when He then climbed into their boat, they were suddenly transported through time and space to their destination on the other shore.

Oh, yes, they had witnessed so much. They had seen and heard things that so many others had not. And now, Jesus was asking them if He could depend on them. Would they stay or would they go?
A thousand things must've rambled through their minds: the miracles, the lessons, the "hard" words. They saw so many who had followed the Lord so far simply walk away dazed and confused. They had left so much behind and had invested so much time and energy in the man. Were they now beginning to understand a little about what would ultimately be required of them? Now, He wanted them to answer, likely, the toughest question He had ever put to them.

People come to religion for a myriad of reasons. They often seek peace, fellowship, support, help, an anchor, escape and even, sometimes, Heaven. Many seek a full heart. (Whatever that means.)

I've seen many men, young and old, inquire about joining the Lodge. Most don't really know what they're seeking. They come because of our reputation, factual or otherwise, or because of kinsmen or friends. I've seen far too many receive bad information about the purpose of Masonry. They are erroneously told that the best thing about it is the fellowship. While, yes, it is something special and rare, but if that is what a Brother sees as the number one thing Masonry offers, well, he hasn't been listening during the degree work.

Many come to America, not for the miracle of liberty that she is, but because they can get a full belly here. Granted, many have crossed the oceans for economic opportunity in our fair land and that is no sin. Still, they grew to love her. If you don't love her for more than just what she gives you, you will never be willing to die to sustain her. Freedom is not without responsibility. Otherwise, it is only anarchy.

Those who want to take and take and never be a part of us will never love her. They will treat her like a woman to be used and cast aside before the sun rises the next morning. Sadly, these include not only illegal immigrants and "anchor babies," but fourth and fifth generation Americans and more. Those who are so enthralled with themselves that no one and nothing else matters.
So, here stands our Lord, His eyes moistened, (I've no doubt,) with the earnest desire to hear their response. At the same time, He was both cursed and blessed by the knowledge of what their answer would be.

Now, good old Peter, who's heart was gold, but, like the rest of us, was too often swayed by his humors like a cat by it's tale, answered with the answer of all answers. Being the good little Jewish boy he was, he answered our Lord's question with a question.

"Where else can we go?"

He, of course, continued with the declaration that only Jesus had the Word's of Life and that He was truly the Christ, the Son of the Living God. Peter, whether it was walking on water or fighting a host of temple guards, if he didn't take time to think about his response, seemed to usually have pretty good
instincts.

Finally, Jesus, without actually acknowledging Peter's response reminded them that, although he had chosen them all, one of them would betray Him. He understood that there would always be those who would never...get it! No matter how much food or how many miracles and no matter how much love He showed, there would always be those who, like the others who abandoned Him, who could never see past their own desires and urges...and their own bellies.

So...Are You Saved?

Two things I would never want to do:

1. C0nvince someone who is lost that they are saved.

2. Convince someone who is saved that they are lost.

Two things Satan always tries to do:

1. Convince someone who is lost that they are saved.

2. Convince someone who is saved that they are lost.

I suppose this is personal for me since I was saved at the tender age of seven. I didn't have what one might call "a lot of sin" in my life. I think I simply discovered one night that I really wanted to give my life to Jesus. (Not a bad idea.) I've often speculated, since I basically believe you've go to be lost to be saved, that I must've been lost only to be saved. I mean, though I can't quite say it right, that I was,  perhaps, saved the moment I found I needed to be.

Well, as I've discovered through the decades, turning your life over to Christ, even so early, is no end to struggles. In many ways, it's just the beginning. Among the many, one of the worst of my struggles was that I heard the more than occasional whisper in my ear that I was too young and ignorant, didn't know what I was doing, was only trying to please mom & dad and was merely going through the motions when I accepted Christ. After all, how could someone so young even need saving in the first place?

A lot of my  affliction came from years of hearing so many adults give their testimony, reciting the minutest details of their salvation experience, seemingly, to the point of what color tie the preacher was wearing. Many from pulpits (not my father) expressed a point of view that, if you were unsure, you surely were unsaved. They preached, "I know that I know that I know." Well, I didn't "know." (I would go so far as to say that, even today, I don't "know.")

I can't count the number of times over the years I found myself in a "closet" praying, "Please, Jesus! If I'm not saved, save me!" The pain was nearly unbearable at times. I would sometimes feel as lost as a ball in high weeds!

I believed that I believed, but was still sometimes filled with fear that I had missed some important point somewhere in the process. Perhaps in my prayer, I hadn't confessed the right things or said the right words. I didn't know what! There seemed to be this nearly incessant nothingness that nagged me. It was unnameable and indefinable, but it bothered me nonetheless. I've often considered that the very fact that it was unclear and unspecific made it all the more bothersome. Just the simple fact of not knowing prevented me from dealing with it. I didn't know what was wrong, so I didn't know what to do. It was just there! It wouldn't go away!  Fear seemed to be my perennially returning unwelcome companion.

I suppose you can't truly deal with a problem when you only know the symptoms. When you can't identify what is causing them. How can you cure a disease if you don't what it is, I suppose?

Among the many inanities that vexed me was that I imagined a life committed to Christ might result in a missionary call to Africa or some other such horrifying possibility. Daydreams like this only made my problems worse. I can recall standing at a youth retreat in Nashville, being around twenty years old, deciding to finally, truly give God His way in my life. (A vow which I have broken many times through the years.) Yes, I struggled with my dedication to my Lord for a long, long time. Uh...I mean...I struggle with my dedication to my Lord. Always have. Always will.

I can't say exactly when I found anything I would refer to as peace about the matter, although, even at the age of thirty, and after, it still from time to time haunted me. (I imagine the problem was only exacerbated by the unrepented sin in my life.) Even after it began to dawn on me what my problem was, this feeling would continue to periodically bother me. Yup, just lingered, it did!

I've little doubt that the healing began from conversations with my dad. A lot of healing and wisdom (although sometimes unapplied) came from such conversations. Though we covered lots of ground on every topic from politics to history to religion, mostly, we talked about God.

The discussion topic that seemed to help me most in this problem area was that of, not only the security of the believer, but the dedication of the believer. We both believed strongly, "once saved; always saved," but dad always preached that salvation would inevitably lead to a life of holiness. He felt that any seed planted by the Holy Ghost would certainly lead to a healthy, fruit-bearing tree. If there was no fruit, there was no life.

More than once, we discussed how people, whatever age, would allegedly give their hearts to Christ and, at some later date, announce they had never truly made a commitment to Him. ("Commitment" being the operative word here.) They would, again, profess their faith and ask to be rebaptized. They then would rejoice in their new-found peace and proclaim their delight that, after having been so long mistaken, they had "at last found Jesus."

Now, I'm not one to tell someone whether or not they have true religion and, in my mind, being sure as sure can that you are "right with God" is of ineffable importance, but there are questions that come to mind whenever I hear of someone, someone I've felt I've known as a Christian, go through this process. Mostly, what occurs to me is a simple question: Will things be different now?

I've even seen this occurrence happen en masse. It tends, predominately, to occur in country churches. A new pastor comes to fill the pulpit, who is considered by many (definitely by himself) as a real firebrand. Within a year, he's got virtually the entire congregation "saved and baptized." He quickly convinces virtually the entire congregation that they were never truly saved in the first place. Then, they all get rebaptized. All except the deacons, of course. (There's no hope for them!)

Touching briefly on the subject of  deacons: I suppose things are complicated enough when the congregants get saved and baptized again. What do you do with a deacon who confesses he's never been saved? He sure can't be a deacon anymore! Can he? Can he?

Dad always called them "Bain & Holden" preachers. He named them that for a local tire company that would take your old tires and, for a fee, retread them. Just like new...almost. These preachers seemed to take great pride in persuading entire congregations that the solution for their problems, whatever their problems were, was that they had never been born again and needed to be.

Personally, I've often wondered if the "problem" with many of our parishioners was that the majority really didn't have a relationship with Christ. Especially the deacons! Maybe Bain & Holden preachers are actually onto something? Well, it's a theory.

The problem now was that the problem only continued. Same old, same old. Nothing changed. Sinners didn't come to Christ and Christians still were cold and indifferent. Or worse. So, if their issue was that they were lost and were now saved, why no change?

I can still remember hearing through the grapevine that a former Sunday School teacher of mine had gone through a similar saved and saved again experience. (She, incidentally, was the first person to give me my own Bible.) She was quite easily past forty, maybe fifty, when she, I don't know the details or circumstances, decided that she had never actually been saved.

Now, I've known this woman most all of my life. She attended a church my dad pastored when I was a child. She was an active member of the congregation and, as I said, even my Sunday School teacher.

Over the years, she came up in many a conversation at my father's household. We knew her as an energetic, busy woman, but also as pushy with loads of attitude. She always seemed to view herself as a little superior and never seemed much concerned with hiding her feelings. It seems tact was never her strong suit.

Fast forward a few decades. My path of life lead me, at least for a little while, to the church of my childhood where this particular woman was a member. This was some years after her most recent, shall we say, conversion. Somehow, regrettably, she even became my Sunday School teacher...again! (Yes, there were no actual men in this church.) In my own never to be humble opinion, I could see no difference between the woman of my boyhood and the woman of my adulthood. She seemed to be the same, cool, aloof, slightly self-righteous woman I and my family had known for decades. So, what was the effect of her conversion? Where was the change?

I believe it's worth examining exactly what she was doing in and with her life that could allow her to teach Sunday School, sit on church committees, work in various women's mission groups and generally be an active church member who, by her own profession, was lost the whole time. Was she lying to us little children in her Primary Sunday School class? Was she lying to her husband? Her family? Her two pastor sons? Herself? Her God? Was she deceived? Did she think she was saved, but wasn't?  Did she just feed everyone in her life a load of...bologna? Did she wake up one day and discover she just simply had no joy in her salvation? Did she realize that although she was a very busy bee, that she just simply treated others like crap? Did she think being saved was the cure? Did she spend decades not believing that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of the Living God? So many questions, yet so few answers.

Dad summed up her problem and that of many other Christians like her who made similar claims about their late-discovered-missing-salvation-experience in words similar to these:

Sometimes Christians give their hearts to the Lord, but most never seem to get around to committing their lives to Him.

Now, this, obviously, requires some explanation on my part.

So many of we believers, at whatever age, came to a realization that we need Christ in our lives. We understand that the alternative is Hell and we, rightly so, should accept Jesus and avoid that dreadful ending. Few, if any, understand the implications of being born again and the impact it has on our lives. Most just realize we want to avoid Hell and, one day, enter Heaven. Fortunately, God's mercy is deep and wide and He welcomes us in like the little children we are when we call on His name.

Now, all that is well and good and having a home in Heaven is the only choice that I personally would ever want to make. Still, isn't there more to it than that? Isn't there something in the Holy Scriptures about growing in our spiritual walk with our Savior? Aren't we supposed to learn more about Him? Aren't we supposed to learn to be more like Him? What was once called the "Perfection of the Saints"? (That also is topic for another blog.) How do we achieve such a state of grace? Does it happen by going to church, hanging with other Christians, praying a little and reading the Bible a little? Does it happen through osmosis? Does it just happen? Boom! (Entire Christian denominations think so.)

Too many of the newly saved begin their journey with the idea that once they give their hearts to Christ, everything will then be sunshine and roses. They, of course, have no idea of the rough and rugged journey that lies ahead of them. They seriously seem to expect it to just happen. They don't realize how much effort is involved in learning to not put effort into your Christian walk.

Years pass. They look around and discover they have become as complacent as those surrounding them. In their minds, many convince themselves they are even worse. They give inordinate attention to those who profess to be certain beyond the shadow of any doubt that they have salvation. They themselves feel little or nothing and are, in the wee, small hours of the morning, unsure of anything. Countless conclude that they surely missed the departure and are stuck on shore while all the other Christians must be partying on the spiritual Love Boat. (Or Gospel Ship, if you prefer.) They see all this as a sign that they are simply unsaved. They don't feel what they believe to be the "Joy of the Lord."  They leave themselves with no other conclusion but that they are on the outside looking in and are only strangers to God. They see themselves, in so many words, remaining in a state of sin, outside of God's grace. What else could it be, right?

Perhaps, worst of all, they receive bad counseling from, what I call, "Samurai Christians." These guys always go for the jugular! They always go for the kill!

You've met them too. They are those super-evangelists who are so hot for the prospect of saving a soul that they habitually jump to the conclusion that being lost is always the problem and being saved is always the cure. Being hammers, they see everything as a nail! They are focused like a laser beam on proselytizing every two-legged soul they meet and will have you reciting the "sinner's prayer" before you can bow your head and close your eyes. They then proudly put another notch on their Bible, bragging at church, on the phone or internet that they "won another soul for Jesus!" Yeah, Samurai Christians deserve a blog of their own. Don't worry, it's coming!

I commonly hear confused and listless Christians complain that their lives feel as empty as, in my words, unplowed fields. They bear no fruit, so they know not the joy of the vintage. Ya might say there are no goods in their "spiritual storehouses."

I can't help but ponder a few questions, regarding these pathetic waifs. Did they till? Did they plant? Did they water? Did they fertilize? Did they pull the weeds? Did they do any of those things that are required, not for salvation, but for a holy harvest? And they wonder why they don't "feel" anything? Feelings are great when they are good, but few realize how far removed from salvation they are.

Don't get me wrong. It's good to examine the relationship between yourself and your God. I think that's healthy! We should never take anything, especially regarding something so important, for granted.

If your relationship with a friend or even your Savior seems cold and indifferent, do you ask yourself, "Exactly how much have I myself invested in this relationship?"

So, what is the answer? How do we avoid the emptiness? Can we avoid the emptiness? Does feeling empty mean we are empty?

So, many times I've heard even educated, intelligent Christians use the words "faith" and " know" as if they are interchangeable. As if they are synonymous. They want to know things that are, frankly, unknowable. Most Christians can't stand to live without knowing, so they pretend they know things that they are supposed to take on faith. Thus, they often confuse the simple state of not knowing as not believing...or having never believed. They feel they must know or there is nothing to know. They, simply put, can't live by faith! Yes, faith is sometimes scary and uncomfortable, worsened by our natural fear of the unfamiliar and unknown, but when we put our faith in God, we discover things that we can't know if we never have faith. Things we will never know if we never admit that we don't know.

I've spent some time trying to figure out what salvation is, but also, what it is not. I've come to a few conclusions: It is not an algorithm of words, a scientific formula or a math equation that will lead you to a desired result. It's not an exercise and it's not recitation.

I suppose one day, actually, over a period of many, many days, and years, it finally began to dawn on me what salvation actually is. It is consciously accepting and believing that Christ died for me and that accepting his substitutionary death allows me to live forever with Him. It is choosing God!

We try so hard to focus on an event, a moment, a point in time where we asked Jesus into our lives. Not to contradict myself, but, yes, there should be an occasion in your life, more pronounced for some than others, where we realize we don't belong to Him and we decide we want to belong to Him. When the Holy Ghost calls and we willingly answer, it is truly only the beginning of our life. Still, trying to analyze and dissect such an event by attempting to hold it up to the standards of our own imaginings, is like examining the beaker in the laboratory and ignoring the chemicals forming the miracle cure within. Isn't it less about the mechanics than the results?

We cause so much consternation for ourselves and our fellow, albeit, weak minded, Christians. These arguments for formulaic faith cannot actually be backed up with Scripture. It is no more than just attitude, incited by unrepentant fear, a desire to be a part of the crowd, to fit in, and most importantly, to not stand out. It is a covetous, even idolatrous and sinful lust to put more faith in an event and our own self-assuredness than in the loving God who saved us and says, "Trust me!"

It's a silly little anecdote, but on a nearly daily basis, I see a small example of people's inability to trust. When I assist customers in picking up their order at work and I hand them a pen that is not really a pen, but I know it will write on the laser-paper receipt I just asked them to sign, I see the doubt in their eyes when I look at them and say those most fearful of words..."Trust me!"

I'm convinced that is all God really wants from us. Trust!

Songs are sometimes glorious, testimony is often thrilling, sermons can be invigorating and inspiring, but is there truly any higher praise we can offer the God Who gave so much for us, Who loved us more than His own life, than to merely trust Him?

Lastly, only one question, at least in my mind, remains:

Am I saved?

Yes, I was saved; I am saved; I will be saved!

Philippians 3:10 (KJV)
That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death;

Jeremiah 33:3 (KJV)
Call unto me, and I will answer thee, and shew thee great and mighty things, which thou knowest not.

Holy Nehushtan!

We, as Christians, don't always see the forest for the trees. We are easily bewildered and habitually forgetful. We spend our lives both blessed and cursed and too often confuse the sources of both.

 "God sends rain to fall on the just and the unjust." Matthew 5.45 (paraphrased)

Yes, we even confuse cause with effect. Good things happen; bad things happen. We know we should be grateful to God for His goodness, but, historically, we haven't always thanked Him. Sometimes we give credit for our blessings to the wrong person...or thing. We forget that even though that thing is designed and/or sent by God, it is not God. Had we been paying better attention, we surely would have noticed the difference.

Most are familiar with at least some of the Old Testament stories of the Israelites sojourning with Moses in the wilderness. They always seemed to struggle with their faithfulness to God and, so to speak, keeping their eyes on the prize.

On one of the more famous occasions recorded in the book of Numbers, the children of Israel were doing what they did best: grumbling and complaining! Well, the Lord God, shall we say, got his bellyful. He went so far as to send a swarm of fiery serpents, biting their way through the midst of the camp. These vicious vipers bit many, many of them and many, many of them died.

And, as they were dying in their numbers, they, of course, despaired, crying***** out to Moses for help. I at least give them credit for having the good sense to turn to one who, in turn, turned to God. Moses then prayed for his people.

God gave Moses an interesting, even cryptically prophetic remedy. He told Moses to make a serpent of brass, one that resembled the others, but wasn't one of them, put it on a pole in the midst of the camp and tell the people that if those who were bitten would merely look at this "brazen serpent," they would live. Simple enough! Well, people being what they are,  some looked and lived, but some refused. Those who followed the Lord's command of merely looking were healed of their wounds and lived to tell the tale. The others? Well...

Incidentally, it's probably best for another blog, but much could be said about the fact that the brazen serpent on the pole was similar to the biting serpents on the ground, but was not one of them. Why did God order Moses to make a serpent of brass? Why did he not just have him choose one of the fiery serpents? Why hang it on a pole? Who made the serpent? Who made the pole? Why so many questions?

Fastforward a thousand years or so. Many leaders and kings of Israel had come and gone. Hezekiah, a particularly good king and a direct descendent of David, now sat on the throne in Jerusalem.  The Bible says there was "none like him." (II Kings 18.) He followed God faithfully and destroyed the "high places" and groves of pagan worship throughout all of Judah.  He even broke into pieces something called Nehushtan!

The Israelites, as they were wont to do, (as are we,) had long before confused the cause and effect of their miraculous deliverance from the legendary "fiery serpents." The brazen serpent, created by God's command, had become so much more than a family heirloom for Israel over the centuries. It had become a thing of reverence and awe. The people had even begun to burn incense to it.

I can only imagine the old Hebrews telling stories to their children and their children's children about how the "fiery serpents" had invaded their camp and that those who looked upon the brazen serpent were healed and lived! It must have been exciting for the young ones as they too looked upon the serpent. They were surely filled with wonderment and awe, listening to the stories grandpa told them about this snaky creation. I can easily imagine how the story might have evolved over the centuries, inflating the brass thing's power.  I'm sure it's supposed vigor would be even more exaggerated if the one relating this drama somehow managed to forget to mention that it was the Lord God who not only sent the deadly serpents into the camp, but instructed Moses to create the one which they held in such admiration.

Yes, it's a rare man indeed who can repeat an even already interesting story without embellishment, exaggeration, hyperbole or, even for some, downright lying. It's not hard to understand someone wanting to be known as the best story teller even if the story isn't exactly, shall we say, accurate. Imagine the old men falling to the siren song of the "ooh's" and "ah's" and wide-eyed attention of an enraptured audience.  Sounds like a few, a lot, of preachers I know these days.

Yes, whether on purpose or by accident, it's so easy to see how the crux of this seminal event could be lost with the waxing and waning moon over the centuries. Since they had not been heedful of God and His commands, not to mention His mercy, they had forgotten that this was done so not all stiff-necked Israel would die that day!

It's easy to see how, when looking for something to blame or thank, people often default to what they can actually see. People form entire religions out of worshiping stars, trees, mountains and any number of other observable, awe-inspiring objects of nature in their search for life's elusive meaning.

Yes, the serpent was made by God's design at God's command, but it was only an instrument made by a man that was intended for the blessing of God's people. It was not a living, breathing god itself. It was merely a brass thing!

That's why Hezekiah called it "Nehushtan." It was an insult, a term of derision and, frankly, a proper assessment.

"Nehushtan" means a thing of brass. This good king was making the point that this lifeless serpent was neither deity nor holy and was nothing that should have incense burned to it. He then proved his point by breaking it into pieces. So much for the power of Nehushtan. Oh, yes, Hezekiah was literally an iconoclast.

Fastforward to today. So much of what we have incorporated into our services, rituals, programs and more, stuff that was prayerfully intended for the good of God's people and salvation of souls, have taken on a life of their own. There is nothing inherently wrong with programs. They give us useful ways to organize and avoid the chaos into which we so easily slip. Yet, we find ourselves needing more people to run more programs to enable us to have more programs so people can run these programs so we can start new programs. I always laugh, on the rare occasion I attend a local Associational Meeting, when I hear them discussing the "Committee on Committees." It's the circle of life!

The Holy Bible, the inestimable gift of God to man, a book which contains so much that is edifying and strengthening, so much instruction for believers, a history of God's saints and the tenets of God's plan, has become, for all too many, a thing to worship. Even it has become Nehushtan!

Do you doubt me? How many times, in any given sermon, will a preacher refer to the Bible as "The Word of God"? How many times have you heard preachers, et al., say that this book "contains all we need to know about God"? How many times have you heard preachers say that this book "contains the mind of God"?

They back-peddle and side-step and talk out of both sides of their mouths claiming they don't mean it that way, (whatever way they think they mean it,) but their words speak louder than words. If they spoke of a man the same way they speak of this, albeit, holy book, they would be accused of worshiping the one in discussion.

I suppose anything, if out of order, can become Nehushtan. The Jews worshiped traditions, the Torah and Jerusalem. We worship traditions, song books, buildings and more. (Some apparently worship Nashville.) We often think we are worshiping God, when, in actuality, we are only worshiping the things that pointed us to God.

Mom & Dad were great! Those old songs were awesome. Sunday School at ten and worship at eleven are wonderful. Sunday evening service can be special. Wednesday night service can be sweet. The KJV is surely given to we English speaking people by divine intervention. Still, none of those things are the things that paid the ultimate price for our salvation. They are all Nehushtan! They are no more than things made of wood and paper and brass! Good they may be, but they are obviously not the best!

I've seen far too many habits, (I won't even say traditions,) held onto with a death grip because they were handed down to us by mom & dad. Whether it's seating arrangements, order of service or old songs. Some just don't seem to care how many lost souls burn in Hell as long as they get to sing one more rendition of, "Mansion Over the Hilltop."

Our churches and families can also very, very, very easily become our Nehushtan. Too many times has it been heard in any given congregation, "That's the way we've always done it." Or perhaps, "That's the way mom & dad did it."

Now, those things may or may not be good. Those may even be the things and people who pointed us to Christ. Yet, they are not Christ! They are never to be the object of our worship.  And, by-the-way, don't say you don't worship a thing when you revere it as holy; don't say you don't worship a thing when you fight with and abandon your friends over their objections to it; don't say you don't worship a thing when it takes pre-eminence even over the salvation of lost souls.

We remember our deceased loved ones, as we should, but we set them so high on a pedestal as to turn them, at least in our eyes, into holy things. We treat the memory of mom & dad and family members with the utmost care and reverence, remembering exactly which pew that sat in at church. Yes, sometimes there's even a bronze  plaque.

We take good care of our bodies. We feed, bathe and clothe ourselves in the finest raiment we can afford. (Some of us, yes, even go so far as to burn incense to ourselves.) And when we die, we preserve our remains as best we can, covered within the bosom of Mother Earth, having a marble monument to ourselves placed above our heads. Furthermore, we expect this body, that we frankly worshipped, to somehow reincorporate itself at the return of our Savior and rise to spend an eternity in Heaven "walking on streets of gold."

We are blessed with so much that God gives us as He seeks to lead us to His Saving Grace. Whether it be signs, books, friends, family members or buildings, none of these should be the first object of our effection. These are only the trappings of our faith.

Don't get me wrong! I love miracles! I love good music! I love good sermons! Good services! Good friends! Good feelings! Yet, all of this is Nehushtan!

I once read a very popular book and  in it, the author was continually trying to make the point that we are to seek God's face and not just His hands. Though the point was excellent, I wondered if the man had ever actually read his own book. He incessantly related anecdotes about exploding pulpits and people falling down under the influence, allegedly, of the Holy Ghost. The author seemed caught in his own trap. He couldn't seem to realize that the thing he was talking about avoiding was the very thing in which he was ensconced.

Everything the man seemed to say, every story, concerned things and events that surrounded supposedly committed believers. It was real miracle-a-day stuff. The problem? It was all just about the stuff! It was the trappings and surroundings and excitement and miracles of the Bible and Christianity. It seemed to have little to do with the Gospel and the One who died for me.

It usually works that way. We, as the Jews of old, have no intention of letting our affection slip from the One who deserves it to someone or something else. It just happens when we don't pay attention. Much like a man with wandering eyes who stops paying attention to the one he loves because another has captured his attention.

We forget that God is a jealous God and that He desires all of our attention and affections for Himself. Since He gave everything for us, it seems only fair that we would requite His love.

Even the cross is no more than wood. The nails only iron. The tomb a hollow place in a rock. All are wonderful and meaningful, but all these too are just so much stuff!

I haven't thought this entirely through. I'm treading on thin ice, but I'll keep walking out until it breaks. (I'll sink, swim or the Lord will lift me up, I suppose.) Somehow, it seems to me we even worship the man Jesus over the eternal Christ. Many make the man Holy to the point of making Him a part of the Trinity as opposed to God in the flesh of a babe born in a barn. Not a few forget that His flesh was truly flesh. Yes, He was God in the flesh, but in the final analysis, Jesus was just a man. He was like me. He sweated, thirsted, ached, grew tired and suffered from every bodily function and malady that I do. He would have been no more than any other man had He not embodied the indwelling of Jehovah. Is it possible that we can even make Jesus Nehushtan?

He was a source of worship for many, (though He always pointed to His Father,) as was Nehushtan. (John 5.30) He was broken in pieces, by a King unlike any other, as was Nehushtan. (Isaiah 53.10) He even broke the bread at the Last Supper and referred to it as His Body. (Matthew 26.6) The parallels are obvious. Alas, they are opaque and, sometimes, esoteric. It's something I'll be praying about for a long time to come.

I suppose the lesson here is that everything is Nehushtan! Everything but Christ, at least. All must be broken and torn down for the Word of God that became flesh. He is the Author and Finisher of our faith.

All Glory and holiness to Him!

So, You Wanna Go Back to Egypt?

After God freed the Children of Israel from the slavery of Egypt, they left bondage behind, taking with them the spoils of war as if they were the ones who had conquered their former masters. They sojourned in the wilderness, received the Ten Commandments and the Law of Moses, were fed manna from Heaven and water from a rock.

Yet, in spite of the Providence of the Great I Am, they incessantly whined and complained against Moses and Aaron and longed for the days of captivity. They railed against God over and over, grumbling and asking if there were no graves in Egypt for them.

Sheesh!

So, if you've read your Bible at all or maybe even just watched "The Ten Commandments," you know that God cursed them to walk for forty years just across the Jordan River, within sight of the Promised Land. He decreed that only those who were under forty years of age, save Joshua and Caleb, would ever stroll through this renowned land of "milk and honey."

Now, you might ask yourself why this great and powerful, merciful and loving God would do this to the former slaves of Egypt? Well, the constant rebellion and stubbornness is the obvious short answer. Still, there is a little more to this story than what might be so apparent.

Have you ever sat in a Baptist church, (not only us Baptists, though,) and listened to the old farts shooting down any particular idea that came along just simply because it was new? Oh, no, most would not be so bold as to declare their feelings and prejudice honestly and openly, but if you could see into their heart, you'd know that's exactly and only why they are against it...whatever "it" may be.

"That's not the way our last pastor did it."

"That's not the way grandma and grandpa did it."

"That's not the way mom and dad did it."

"Why do we have to sing those new songs? Why can't we sing something we know?"

"We've always did our order of service this way. Why change now?"

"The deacons have always taken care of that."

"The trustees have always taken care of that."

"I've always sat in this seat."

And the beat goes on and on and on and on!

What are they really saying? They're saying,  "That's not the way we did it back in Egypt!"

We all remember the great Jerry Clowers quote: "A rut is just a ditch with the ends knocked out." We are so very comfortable in our bondage. It is what we are familiar with and the thought of changing the familiar is terrifying to us.

It begins when we are children. We won't to play the same game and watch the same video and sing the same song over and over again. Hypocritically, it makes us adults crazy, but we have retained that childish love for the familiar. Even in our congregations. We want to walk through the door and know exactly what will happen on any given Sunday. We don't like deviation or messing with the status quo. We don't like change!

God, Who knows past, present and future, looking down upon this mutinous host, saw that, sadly, sometimes the only way to move a nation forward is to get rid of the dead weight. It was a sure thing that if the youth of Israel grew up with the negativity and defeatism of their parents and grandparents ringing in their ears, they would do no more than repeat the same process in a vicious circle that must be broken and broken only as God can do.

With each new generation, God gives opportunity for a congregation to be, if you will, born again. Now, I'm not talking about a different Gospel here, I'm merely saying, look at things from a different angle and, perhaps, try a different approach. Accept the fact that different people have different tastes and agree to disagree. As I look around our congregations and see the pride and selfishness that people exhibit. Even those who are of the opinion that they are trying to do right, They clutch with a death grip the things of the past that are dead and gone and stink. Regrettably, it usually is the old who have become so comfortable in their pews that nothing less than their own funeral would move them.

Yes, I miss my parents too! One day, I'll make that final move and see them again. But I can't keep them alive by quenching the Spirit of God. He wants to take us places that we can't even imagine. He wants to take us places where we will have not choice, but to trust in Him.

Are you ready to cross the Jordan to a new land blessed by God? Are you ready for God's great adventure?


Exodus 14:11

And they said unto Moses, Because there were no graves in Egypt, hast thou taken us away to die in the wilderness? wherefore hast thou dealt thus with us, to carry us forth out of Egypt?

"Close Enough for an Anointing"

While anointing has been around for millennia, it has, these past few decades, become all the rage in some circles of Christian society. We see it used in more and more places in more and more ways. I’ve known those who anoint people, cars, and even check books. I guess they figure if it’s good for one thing it must be good for another.

Much of the anointing we see today seems to be practiced among the many Charismatic/Pentecostal type churches. While at one such church, the member that invited me there took the opportunity to reveal to me a small bottle of olive oil, kept safely inside the pulpit. He seemed to be quite proud of his little prize.

I can only actually remember being present only at one “anointing.” Most of the details have escaped me, but do I recall a man coming forward to the altar, apparently asking for prayer. The “minister,” who held a small bottle of oil, (I assume olive,) removed the lid, daubed some on his finger tip and wiped it in the sign of a cross on the man‘s forehead. I found it oddly mesmerizing.
 
Now, this ceremony, I suppose, was intended to somehow cajole, persuade or, perhaps, even manipulate God into granting this man the healing, physical, spiritual or otherwise, he desired. The congregation seemed to firmly believe this ritual was the path to God’s resolution and/or absolution.

I’m also reminded of another preacher who made what was to me a very curious statement. I found it so, considering his background and denominational persuasion. He drew a striking comparison between black magic and white magic. He reasoned that when pagans, etc., go through their ceremonies and rituals, they expect a certain result from their deities and/or spirits. When they call upon evil spirits, it is black magic; when they call upon good spirits, it is white magic. He continued that when we, as Christians, go through our various step-by-step processes expecting a certain result from God, it is no more than “white magic.”

In fantasy books and movies, the bad witch uses rituals to gain the cooperation of bad spirits and the good witch uses rituals to gain the cooperation of good spirits. Isn’t it all manipulation?

It seems to me that if someone drew a pentagram on the floor, sacrificed a chicken or a goat, spoke some bizarre words, intelligible or otherwise, attempting to motivate some vague deity to grant its blessings, any intelligent person would call that black magic. Strangely enough, though, Christians often gather at the altar, speak some bizarre words, intelligible or otherwise, put a little oil on some pour soul’s forehead and far too many believe that this will somehow persuade the One True God to grant the blessings they so desperately crave. Wouldn‘t this qualify as white magic? Come on, now, before you get too upset, is there that big of a difference?

To my Baptist friends, don’t feel too superior. We have as many rituals as they and we too are equally convinced we can get God to answer our prayers if we follow them faithfully. We study our Sunday School lessons, read our Bibles daily, attend worship on Sundays and Wednesdays, tithe faithfully and “witness” dramatically. We do all of this expecting that through these various consternations, we too will gain the boon of God’s blessings.

For those who believe in literally anointing the sick, sorrowful or insolvent, I would ask one question: If you truly believe in it, then why are you so tepid with the exercise? If a little will help a little, won’t a lot help a lot?

If I truly believed anointing would save me, heal me, draw me closer to God or do the same for a loved one, would I want to have oil merely daubed on my forehead? Wouldn’t I want a barrel full poured over me? Wouldn’t I want to take a bath in the stuff? Wouldn’t I want to be drowned in it? I don’t want a little Spirit or a little healing; I want the whole thing!

In the Old Testament, several examples of anointing are given. They include everyone from prophets to priests to kings. The ceremony of anointing was always used as a symbol of God’s ordination for service. Among those given, perhaps the most descriptive passage recorded is in the book of Psalms.
David, being a man who had both witnessed and experienced anointings, knew somewhat of which he spoke.

The scripture in discussion proceeds as follows:

Behold how good and how pleasant it is
For brethren to dwell together in unity.
It is like the precious ointment upon the head,
that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron's beard:
that went down to the skirts of his garments
Psalm 133:1-2

This is a seminal event in the establishment of a government and a priesthood for God’s chosen people. The Israelites are finally free, headed for the Promised Land and God has given Moses His plans for organizing His children into the sovereign, righteous nation of Jehovah-God. They stand, poised to become what, since time immemorial, God had pre-determined them to be.

God had planted and watered the tree that would bare the fruit used for this momentous occasion. The olives had been plucked, pressed and preserved. He had birthed and reared the very ram whose horn would contain the oil for Aaron‘s anointing. Everything had been brought together at this supreme instant. Everything was in place to fulfill what God had been planning for millennia.

In my mind's eye, I see Aaron being anointed first High Priest of the temple of God and the state of Israel with great pomp and circumstance. Moses raises the horn of oil over his head and the liquid within comes gushing out! Now, it runs down Aaron’s head, his beard, his clothes, reaching the “skirts of his garments” and finally, dripping down to his feet, forming a pool around them.

There is no mistaking that this man has been anointed. He can’t hide it! Not only that, but everywhere he walks, he leaves a literal puddle. This is not the light anointing of someone who doesn’t want their life in disarray or their clothes stained. This is the anointing of someone who has cast off all worry about the world’s view of him and desires with every fiber of his being to concern himself only with God’s perspective of him. All of Heaven is enraptured by this historic occasion!

A few things really stand out for me in the passage in discussion that seems to contradict the standard manner of modern anointing. From what I’m able to determine, when people are “anointed” today, it’s done in a way to keep from ruining their hair and clothes. They don’t seem to want to be mussed up or messed up. I suppose they don’t want to be asked questions at the Steak House as to why their clothes are so wet and discolored.

It’s not the deepest theology to understand that oil represents the Holy Spirit. Some people want a little Spirit and some people want a lot of Spirit. The problem with the variance is, the Holy Ghost is all or nothing! And when He comes, He generally makes a mess of our lives. At least, what we might perceive as a mess.

God’s anointing is undeniable! It changes not only the one anointed, but the perception of those who observe him. God’s anointing leaves us drippy and sticky and smelly and out of sorts and out of place. It makes it hard for us to hold on to anything and hard to be held on to. It marks us and heals us and leaves us shimmering in the sunlight!

Some years back, I heard Bishop T.D. Jakes, (of all people,) make a statement concerning the subject of anointing that I‘ve never forgotten. He said, “I want an anointing that’s going to mess up my hair.” I understand that his church is a church that practices anointing, so, I found his statement to be a particularly curious one indeed.

And as my pastor said, concerning anointing, “…you have to be close to someone to do it.” We cannot receive God’s anointing from a distance. As Simon the Cyrene was anointed by the blood from the cross of Christ, so too must we remain close to our Savior to share in his anointing.

Our Savior, our High Priest, His anointing ran down to “the skirts of his garments as He prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane. He prayed on a Mountain of Olives! Jesus was the Messiah! Jesus was the “Anointed One.” His anointing, the anointing of God, certainly affected his life. Although those around Him saw His anointing as tragic, God and He saw it as beautiful! Incidentally, it’s worth noting, Christ’s anointing resulted in His death.
Yes, it marked Him. Everyone around Him knew he had been anointed. As a matter of fact, He left a trail of His anointing all the way to Golgotha. Oh, yes, it even messed up His hair.

Leviticus 8:10 And Moses took the anointing oil, and anointed the tabernacle and all that was therein, and sanctified them.

11 And he sprinkled thereof upon the altar seven times, and anointed the altar and all his vessels, both the laver and his foot, to sanctify them.

12 And he poured of the anointing oil upon Aaron's head, and anointed him, to sanctify
 
  
 

"Oops!"

My brilliant daughter never ceases to amaze me. She is insightful, wise, articulate and, I'm proud to say, spiritual. (I say this, of course, without any prejudice whatsoever.)

We were watching movies that dealt with the Passover this past week and were enjoying the 1956 version of "The Ten Commandments." I had just bought the fifty-year commemorative three-disk set. My darling daughter had never seen the movie, so it was a big thrill for me to share it with her.

Now, if you've seen the movie and remember the story, it seems that Moses, Charleton Heston, had tarried too long on Mt. Sainah and the people were restless, unruly and had given up hope, even to the point of coercing Aaron, John Carradine, into building an idol of gold for them to worship...a golden calf.

So, Moses, after receiving the Ten Commandments, is walking down the mount where he meets Joshua, John Derek. They hear a noise in the camp which Joshua incorrectly interprets as that of battle. Moses, on the other hand, knew it to be only the sound of singing.

In true C.B. DeMille form, Moses steps out on a pedestal of stone, an outcrop, with a looming and dark sky at his back, to look down upon the children of Israel with a look so cold it would freeze water. For the moment, the people continued their party, not even noticing the old man on the mountain. Then Joshua, who had joined Moses on the precipice, blew his trumpet.

Suddenly, at this point, everything in the film, just for the slightest instant, went quiet. The people all turned from their wickedness and silliness to stare, mouths agape, at Moses gazing down at them. That's when the scene stopped. There they were, caught in their sin. Here's where my baby girl showed her genius.

I was sitting on the couch next to my daughter, enjoying the drama of the moment. That's when it happened. I heard my little girl say something so profound, the brilliance of it almost, almost passed me.

"Oops!," she said. Then, we laughed until we cried.

Now, I can only imagine that other words and phrases less suitable for genteel company went through their minds. Still, they knew that they were busted and they knew it was now, so to speak, the end of their ends.

The old adage goes, brevity is the soul of wit. Sometimes, understatement is the soul of genius.

******************************************************************************

Exodus 32
1And when the people saw that Moses delayed to come down out of the mount, the people gathered themselves together unto Aaron, and said unto him, Up, make us gods, which shall go before us; for as for this Moses, the man that brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we wot not what is become of him.

2And Aaron said unto them, Break off the golden earrings, which are in the ears of your wives, of your sons, and of your daughters, and bring them unto me.

3And all the people brake off the golden earrings which were in their ears, and brought them unto Aaron.

4And he received them at their hand, and fashioned it with a graving tool, after he had made it a molten calf: and they said, These be thy gods, O Israel, which brought thee up out of the land of Egypt.

5And when Aaron saw it, he built an altar before it; and Aaron made proclamation, and said, To morrow is a feast to the LORD.

6And they rose up early on the morrow, and offered burnt offerings, and brought peace offerings; and the people sat down to eat and to drink, and rose up to play.

7And the LORD said unto Moses, Go, get thee down; for thy people, which thou broughtest out of the land of Egypt, have corrupted themselves:

8They have turned aside quickly out of the way which I commanded them: they have made them a molten calf, and have worshipped it, and have sacrificed thereunto, and said, These be thy gods, O Israel, which have brought thee up out of the land of Egypt.

9And the LORD said unto Moses, I have seen this people, and, behold, it is a stiffnecked people:

10Now therefore let me alone, that my wrath may wax hot against them, and that I may consume them: and I will make of thee a great nation.

11And Moses besought the LORD his God, and said, LORD, why doth thy wrath wax hot against thy people, which thou hast brought forth out of the land of Egypt with great power, and with a mighty hand?

12Wherefore should the Egyptians speak, and say, For mischief did he bring them out, to slay them in the mountains, and to consume them from the face of the earth? Turn from thy fierce wrath, and repent of this evil against thy people.

13Remember Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, thy servants, to whom thou swarest by thine own self, and saidst unto them, I will multiply your seed as the stars of heaven, and all this land that I have spoken of will I give unto your seed, and they shall inherit it for ever.

14And the LORD repented of the evil which he thought to do unto his people.

15And Moses turned, and went down from the mount, and the two tables of the testimony were in his hand: the tables were written on both their sides; on the one side and on the other were they written.

16And the tables were the work of God, and the writing was the writing of God, graven upon the tables.

17And when Joshua heard the noise of the people as they shouted, he said unto Moses, There is a noise of war in the camp.

18And he said, It is not the voice of them that shout for mastery, neither is it the voice of them that cry for being overcome: but the noise of them that sing do I hear.

19And it came to pass, as soon as he came nigh unto the camp, that he saw the calf, and the dancing: and Moses' anger waxed hot, and he cast the tables out of his hands, and brake them beneath the mount.

Crossing Jordan

I can only imagine what it must have been like for Joshua. Did he have to drag the Israelites kicking and screaming out of their comfort zone?

There they were, in a land where they had pretty much taken out all their enemies. They had a daily supply of bread from Heaven and swarms of quail for meat. They never needed new shoes and anytime they needed water, Moses would just get it from a rock. Wouldn't God would grant the same miracles for Joshua?

What was on the other side? Hard labor? War and more war? Giants! Oh, yes, their fathers had even told them of how the Almighty had, for their lack of faith, cursed them to wandering in the desert until all the "old folks" died off. Sheesh! Thousands of funerals a day!

Yeah, the west side of the Jordan had grape vines so full that it took two men to carry a bunch, but things were pretty good in the east too. So good that two and a half tribes chose to stay where they were, (even though they did promise to participate in the conquest itself.) Sure enough, they all greatly desired to go to the Promised Land, but everyone hates change. This would be a big change!

We all fight change and prefer the status quo. Remember, inertia can keep you moving or keep you put. We say we want to grow in the Lord personally and in our congregation, but we don't want to move from our spot...metaphorically, spiritually or literally. We, especially, in small churches, have a "spot" where we sit and Heaven help anyone you find in your "spot." After, all you've been sitting in the same place for years...metaphorically, spiritually and literally. We don't want to sing any different songs. We sing the same ones Sunday after Sunday. Sure, thousands of lovely, Spirit-filled hymns have been written, but, then, we'd have to go through the trouble of learning them. Besides, our songs are the songs Mom & Dad sang. "That's how Daddy did it." are some of the saddest words that a Christian can say.

Daddy was great, but I ain't Daddy. He lived in his world in his way, but I have to live in mine. Moreover, I have to live in the world of others who don't see things my way. Yes, being different just for the sake of being different is no good either, but always remember what the great philosopher said: "A rut is just a ditch with the ends knocked out."We have our regular Sunday services, even though half of the people we know work nights and/or on Sundays. If they can't be there, too bad, too sad, I suppose. Not to mention, that Wednesday "Prayer" Service. Incidentally, have you noticed during "prayer" service that you meet for an hour, but pray for maybe five minutes.

We suffer through the same liturgy Sunday after Sunday and, sadly, many of us don't even notice the rut that we are in. Yes, my Baptist brothers, it is a liturgy when one service is a duplicate of the previous. How do you think visitors feel? The interest they may have in your otherwise loving congregation will wane when faced with stagnation that the rest of the congregation doesn't even notice. Different is not always better, but doing the same thing week after week, month after month and year after year definitely is deplorable.

It's enough to bore the good Lord Himself. Sometimes, I can almost hear him say, "Come on! Are you going to sing that song again?"The Pharisees didn't like the way the Lord made changes. They too wanted things to stay the same and yet we look down our noses at them and judge them for our very own sins. I'm like you. I want to be comfortable and not be annoyed by being forced to move...metaphorically, spiritually or literally. Still, the Lord is moving and if we want to keep up, we need to go with Him.

"Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." Phillipians 3:13

Change is a comin'! Come along or get left behind.