Can You Hear Me Now (Part 1)

Monkey see, monkey do.  This is true of the monkeys mimicking the gawkers at the zoo, and it is true (many times) of the parent/child relationship.  Children will often imitate and repeat what they observe their parents doing and saying.  As a matter of fact, I have found that my son serves as a behavioral mirror of sorts in my life.

For instance, I begin virtually every prayer I pray with “Dear God, thanks . . .”  I never realized how much I do that until I hear my son now beginning every bedtime prayer with “Dear God, thanks for . . .”  He is probably picking up other phrases from me, but for the sake of this post, we’ll keep it in the positives  .

Another thing that my son does in reflection of dear old dad is his fascination with cell phones.  I spend way too many hours with a phone to my ear or scrolling through email on that handheld device.  Because of that, Josh wants in on the action as well.  Virtually any small rectangular object can serve as his “phone.”  He even has two toy plastic cell phones.  A friend even gave him her old Samsung (deactivated) that he carries around from time to time, occasionally putting it up to his ear and having conversations with imaginary people on the other end.

This behavior from a two year old is cute and endearing.  Josh continues to try to talk on his “phones” even though no one is ever really on the other end.  What a great contrast that is to the phone in my pocket.  I use my phone often also, but there is always someone there on the other end.  Either I call someone or they call me to fellowship, exchange information, or make requests.  If there were no one on the other end of my phone line, I would soon grow tired of the plastic box in my pocket and stop checking it.

I go through this today because at Wildwood over the next two Sundays we are going to be starting a new series entitled, “Can You Hear Me Now.”  This series deals with the topic of prayer by looking at two of Jesus’ parables on the topic of prayer from Luke 11 and 18.  Jesus told these parables to His followers (and they have been passed along to us through the preservation of the Scriptures) to encourage His followers to pray.  I think one of the primary reasons we do not pray more is because we begin to think that prayer is more like Josh’s toy phones then the real deal in my pocket.  We begin to think that no One is really listening on the other end, or that prayer never really accomplishes anything at all, so we grow tired of the concept and fail to fellowship with the Father frequently.

By looking at these parables over the next two weeks, it is my prayer that we will come to understand that there is GREAT network coverage for our prayer, so God can ALWAYS hear us in the here and now.  We have unlimited minutes and the calls are never dropped, so we can pray with confidence, knowing that God hears us.  This week, though, we will take that one step further.  Not only can God hear us, but He WANTS to hear us and respond to our prayers by giving us good gifts.  I am looking forward to our time together Sunday.  Between now and Sunday, try to read Luke 11:5-13 in preparation for our time together.  See you at the 9:30 or 10:50 service at Wildwood!

Remembering Alice Robinson

In the process of cleaning out a set of papers in my bedroom I came across this eulogy/tribute I wrote for my Grandmother and read at her funeral in February 2001.  This is not the usual kind of thing I post on my blog, but I thought this venue would be a good place to get this out to family members who may want a copy of it.  Further, Ecclessiastes tells us that “it is better to go to funerals than to festivals, and sorrow is better than laughter, for it has a refining influence on us.”  Therefore, as we remember a life lived, it helps us reflect on the life we are living today.  Hope you enjoy it!

 

“Alice May Richardson Robinson was born on May 27, 1902.  May 27, 1902 . . . nearly 99 years ago.  Think about that.  Alice lived to see all but 800 days of the twentieth century, and almost 400 days of the 21^st.  She was 6 years old when the first Model T hit the streets.  She was 11 years old when Cecil B. DeMille produced the first feature film.  She was 18 years old when women first got the right to vote.  She was 27 years old when the stock market crashed.  She was 45 years old when Jackie Robinson became the first African-American to play professional baseball.  She was 67 years old when a man first walked on the moon.  She was 73 years old when Microsoft was created.  What change in one lifetime!

All of you who knew Alice knew how important home was to her.  You see, a few years ago, Mary Jo went over to take Alice for a drive.  Alice, confused by the effects of Alzheimer’s on her brain, began to tear up, and told Mary that she wanted to go home.  Mary began to ask where home was, but no matter where she mentioned, it didn’t seem to satisfy Alice.  That day she didn’t seem to know where home was.

It’s not surprising that Alice would want to go home, because home was always important to her.  Home was where her family was.  Alice’s first home was in Laseen, Kansas where she spent the first six years of her life.  Then her family moved to Gentry, Arkansas, the place Alice would call her home because it was there she met her childhood friends.  It was also in Gentry where Alice learned to play the piano, a talent that would last her a lifetime.  We all remember hearing Alice play ragtime hits and the “Entertainer,” but not everyone knows that Alice also played the piano for the silent movies, often losing herself in the movie, and forgetting to play until someone would start whistling a tune that she would take up and play.  Gentry was home, because that is where her family was, and family was important to Alice evidenced by Alice working in the Post Office in Gentry to save enough money so her brother Frank could go to college.  It was family that also led Alice to move to Seattle in 1924 to work for the “Seattle Post-Intelligencer”, as she moved out there with her aunt and uncle.  Alice was truly ahead of her times, a woman in the workplace, as she also worked her way through some business school classes to improve her skills.  Her time in Seattle was memorable to her, and why not – her weekends included sailing in the Peugeot Sound, quite a feat for someone who could not swim!

It was family that called Alice home from the Northwest when, after 3 years, she began to get homesick and returned to the Ozarks where (at the ripe old age of 26) she met a handsome young man over a game of pinochle that she would marry in March 1929.  Alice and Glenn would start a love affair that would span almost 50 years, as they finally settled in Southwest City, Missouri after brief stints in Joplin and Kansas City.  It was in 1936 that Glenn and Alice moved to Southwest City, and many people came to know them for their Drug Store, but Southwest City was home for Alice because that was where her family was.  Glenn’s daughter Glenna would soon be joined by 5 new brothers and sisters as C.B., Frank, Mary Jo, Dick, and Don along with Glenn and Glenna became the center point of her life.  She was a loving mother who defended her children, while teaching them hard work and respect working in the drug store, or cleaning windows on Saturday morning.  Her relationship with Glenn, though, was always something special.  They worked together at the drug store, but days would end with a drive through McDonald County together, and usually an ice cream cone shared at Dairy Queen before returning home to their chairs where they might work a crossword together.  Glenn often told Alice she’d outlive him by 20 years, and he was almost right . . . she outlived him by 24.  Her later years in Southwest City were also marked by visits from the family, grandchildren especially – 22 of them to be precise.  A warm bowl of brown beans and applesauce would usually be awaiting our arrival at Mimi’s house.

Alice grew older in body, but not in attitude.  She was in her 80’s when she went to the Senior Citizens lunches and then only because her younger friend invited her.  As the years passed, her memory began to go, but her body and will certainly did not.  On one occasion, Alice was taken to the Grove Hospital to be treated.  Upon arrival, a nurse asked, “Do you know where you are?”  Alice never missed a beat and said, “Yes I do.  I am in the Grove Hospital, and there is the door, and I’m walking through it!”  Alice would move to Grove to spend her last years.  Alice now had 40 Great Grandchildren and two more on the way.  What a tremendous legacy to leave.  The legacy she would want to leave, for family was so important to her.  Home was so important.  That is why her statement to Mary that day as they drove was so appropriate, “I want to go home.”  Mary’s answers of Laseen, Gentry, Seattle, Joplin, Kansas City, Southwest City, and Grove all did not seem to satisfy her.  She said she wanted to go home but she didn’t know which home – none seemed to satisfy her.  On February 12, 2001, Alice May Richardson Robinson died of natural causes.  She got to go home.  After many days of hard work, she went home to be with Glenn, probably sitting in their chairs after a hard days work once again.  She went home to her Heavenly Father’s house.  And this home really satisfies her.  She is now home, and we are all thankful to have known her along the way.”

Contentment . . .

This past Sunday at Wildwood, our Senior Pastor, Bruce Hess, preached on the topic of contentment from Philippians 4.  As a part of that message, Bruce read a poem by Jason Lehman.  Many have indicated that they wished they could see the poem again, therefore, I am posting it here on my blog for you to see it and reflect on it again.

It was spring,

But it was summer I wanted.

The warm days,

And the great outdoors.

 

It was summer,

But it was autumn I wanted.

The colourful leaves,

And the cool, dry air.

 

It was autumn,

But it was winter I wanted.

The beautiful snow,

And the joy of the holiday season.

 

It was winter,

But it was spring I wanted.

The warmth

And the blossoming of nature.

 

I was a child,

But it was adulthood I wanted.

The freedom,

And the respect.

 

I was 20,

But it was 30 I wanted.

To be mature,

And sophisticated.

 

I was middle aged,

But it was 20 I wanted.

The youth,

And the free spirit.

 

I was retired,

But it was middle age I wanted.

The presence of mind,

Without limitations.

 

My life was over.

But I never got what I wanted.

Guess You Had to Be There . . .

“No, they didn’t just say that . . . did they?”  This is the thought that many have when they read Mark 8:4.  In this verse, Jesus 12 disciples make a statement that bewilders us.  You see these 12 disciples just a chapter an a half earlier (less than a page in many Bibles) had just seen Jesus feed roughly 11,000 people (5,000 men) with only five loaves of bread and two fish.  Now, just a chapter and a half later these men are in a situation where they are around fewer people (4,000 men), and have more resources (7 loaves of bread and a few small fish), and Jesus states his desire to feed this crowd.  Given this setup, what might the disciples say in Mark 8:4?

Before we look at Mark 8:4, let’s add a few more pieces of info to the story.  In the chapter and a half between mass feedings, Jesus walks on water, confronts a set of corrupt religious leaders, drives a demon out of a possessed girl, and heals a deaf mute . . . all in front of the disciples.  Given this context, we might expect the disciples to enter Mark 8:4 tightening the laces on their sandals, as they prepare to serve dinner to the crowd surrounding them.  However, Mark 8:4 says something very different.

“His disciples answered, ‘But where in this remote place can anyone get enough bread to feed them?’”  – The disciples (Mark 8:4)

Are you serious?  Where can ANYONE get enough bread to feed them?  The answer is JESUS!  Jesus can feed them.  The One who fed the 11,000.  The One who walked on water.  The One who calls out the religious charlatans.  The One who casts out demons.  The One who makes the deaf mute hear and speak.  He is the ANYONE who can feed EVERYONE in that remote place.  If you are like me, you are probably laughing incredulously at your Bibles asking, “How could they miss that?!?!”

Well, before we bust our gut at their expense, let’s add a bit of perspective to their experience.  To fully understand some jokes, you just have to be there.  The disciples comments in Mark 8:4 fall into this category.  I believe their physical location played a big part in their faithless response to Jesus desire to feed the 4,000.  You see, Jesus fed the 5,000 up near Bethsaida a prominent Jewish community on the edge of the Sea of Galilee.  Since many of Jesus’ disciples were Galileeans (and many were fishermen), Bethsaida would have been a very familiar location for these men.  In a sense, this miracle was a “home game” for the disciples . . . Jesus did a miraculous thing in their own back yard.  In contrast, however, the feeding of the 4,000 happens in the region of Decapolis, a Gentile region located in the deserts between Galilee and Judah.  In a very real sense, this would have felt like a “road game” to the disciples.  They had grown accustomed to Jesus doing great things on their home turf, but change the setting, and they probably were not expecting Him to work in similar ways.   Of course, Jesus proves them wrong and takes what they have, blesses it, and feeds the masses in Decapolis with food to spare.

Before we allow ourselves to think that the disciples should not have allowed the geography to sway their response, let’s think about our own lives for a moment.  I am guessing that every believer in Jesus Christ has a faith that He can work in major ways in their life.  At the very least, by definition, Christians are believing that Jesus can work in the arena of their sins to provide forgiveness and redemption with God.  Most Christians will go even another step.  Maybe they easily trust God and expect Him to work in their church life or ministry setting.  In other words, they are trusting Christ to work when they pray for someone at church, share their testimony at small group, or teach Sunday school with the third graders.  These are “home games” for many peoples faith.  However, what happens when a difficult situation occurs at work, or in your family (extended or immediate).  Do people quickly trust God then?  When a difficult sale comes up at work, do people pray for that, or assume that Jesus has nothing to do with their work life?  When a tough parenting situation raises its head, do we trust Christ for that, or do we assume that we are on our own in that location?  The fact is, I think our “location” impacts our expectations of Jesus Christ just as it did the disciples.  I know many times it does for me.

Take a moment now and think of what the “home” and road” games are for you in your walk with God.  The disciples forgot that Jesus was the same with them in every setting, so they failed to take their current need to Him “on the road.”  This was a mistake.  Jesus wanted them to bring their struggles to Him both at home and on the road.  He wants to work in our church, home, and work life.  He wants us to be dependent upon Him at all times.  When we fail to do this, the joke’s on us.

A New Look at an Old Story

Putting my son to bed each night contains several repeatable steps:

1.  My son will ask to play for “five more minutes.”  This is a request we almost always grant, however, he is never really happy with the outcome.  Josh is only two years old, has just learned to count, and has no concept of time.  This combines to make “five minutes” equal to an indeterminate period of time (not now).  A two year old asking for five minutes is akin to a contractor telling you the project will be done in two weeks, or a spouse telling the other, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

2.  Time to brush his teeth.  Despite the fact that his toothpaste tastes like candy (don’t ask me how I know, I just KNOW, ok?), he hates this step and resists it vigorously.  Brushing a two year old’s teeth is somewhat like standing up in a row boat on the open seas.  The task would not be that hard if the surface didn’t keep moving.

3.  Next we change his diaper and put him into his PJ’s.  My personal favorites right now are his Superman jammies (that were last Halloween’s costume).  The shirt no longer fits quite right, exposing his pouchy tummy underneath.  For those of us who were fans of the old Batman television show, it kind of reminds me of Adam West  in those gray tights.

4.  Finally, we settle into a chair to read a story.  Lately, Josh’s favorite stories come from a children’s Bible that retells Bible stories at a level children can understand.  Truthfully it is a great time for both of us.  The stories are told in such a way that a child can understand, but the bigger truth of what is going on there is not lost on me, reading it again as a grown adult.

I was thinking about these Bible stories today as I was preparing for Sunday’s sermon at Wildwood.  There are stories in the Scripture that we have seen many times — passages we are so familiar with that we can recite verses within them without having to even look it up.  What is amazing to me, though, is that these passages do not lose their power or depth as we grow in Christ.  Christians only two years into their spiritual journey to believers who have spent their entire lives in Bible Study all can gain deep insight by looking at these familiar passages.  This Sunday at Wildwood, we are going to be looking at a very familiar passage together in both our 9:30 and 10:50 worship services.  We will be looking at Luke 15 in a message entitled, “My Two Sons.”  Take a moment over the next couple of days to reread Luke 15 in preparation for Sunday.  This passage is clearly worth a second look.  Maybe read it as a bedtime story the next day or two.  As a Father who reads to my son, this passage allows me to hear a story from my Heavenly Father that challenges me and encourages me as I drift off peacefully in His arms.

Climbing the Rock

There I stood, attached to a rope and a wearing a helmet.  The only thing in front of me:  a 50 ft. high wall of stone.  The only thing behind me:  50 middle schoolers.  The only thing I was supposed to do:  climb that wall and ring the bell at the top.  The only thing I wanted to do:  throw up.

This was the dilemma I found myself in during the summer of 1999 when I took a group of sixth, seventh and eighth graders to Young Life camp in Oakbridge, California.  Our days were filled with activities and games and on this particular Tuesday, rock climbing was the task du jour.  As some of you know, I really do not like heights, and I have done only about a half dozen pull ups IN MY LIFE, therefore, rock climbing has about as much appeal to me as pouring Tabasco sauce on an open wound.  However, with the cheering masses of pimpled faces behind me, I had no choice but to suck it up and go for it.  As I started toward the wall, I looked up and saw nothing but sandy colored rock, warmed by the desert sun.  I did not know what to do.  I had been told to climb the rock, but that general command was doing nothing for me.  Thankfully, the instructor (seeing the confusion on my

face) came over and told me to climb up using the blue colored hand holds that had been bolted into the rock face.  After hearing this advice, my eyes switched their focus from the largeness of the rock, to the specific handholds that made a zig zag line to the top.  Once I noticed these blue handholds, the situation got a lot clearer to me.  Instead of requiring me to understand the whole rock, I had a specific place to grab onto and pull up to the next level.  Using this strategy, I started my ascent.  Five grueling minutes later, I rang the bell at the top of the mountain and repelled down.  The blue hand holds had given me something to grab onto on the rock, and allowed me to reach the goal.

Now, with the picture of that mountain at Oakbridge in your mind, let’s look at another mountain.  This mountain is found in Palestine and the scene goes all the way back to about 2000 B.C.  The climb up this mountain was far more difficult than the mountain I scaled in the summer of 1999.  This mountain was difficult to climb, not because of its vertical ascent (as there was a path that led up this hill), but because of the cargo that had to be carried along.  The climber who ventured up this hill was none other than the Old Testament patriarch Abraham, and the cargo that he carried was a pile of firewood, and his curious little boy, wondering what they were doing so far from home.  You see Abraham had only one son with his wife Sarah, and Isaac, that curious little boy, was that son.  God had promised to make of Abraham a mighty nation, and that nation would become a river of blessing to the entire world, but all that seemed in jeopardy this day as Abraham and Isaac climbed the mountain together.  God had told Abraham to offer Isaac up on an altar as a sacrifice . . . that’s right, God told Abraham to kill his son.  Now this seemed to run contrary to the previous promises of God.  What was Abraham to do?  As he stood before that mountain leading up to the altar of sacrifice, Abraham was faced with a choice.  What was he to do?  If someone had been there that day talking to Abraham, they might have been tempted to say something sincere, but generic . . . something like “You just have to trust God.”  This was and is a true statement, but it has about as much direction as telling me in the summer of 1999 to just  “climb that rock.”  No, if Abraham were to take this scary step, he needed something more specific to place his faith in.  He needed some hand holds into the character of our God to trust in as he climbed the mountain by faith.  Hebrews 11:17-19 gives us a clue as what those hand holds of truth were when it says, “By faith Abraham, when he was tested, offered up Isaac, and he who had received the promises was offering up his only begotten son; it was he to whom it was said, ‘In Isaac your descendants shall be called.’  He considered that God is able to raise people even from the dead, from which he also received him back as a type.”  As seen in these verses, Abraham grabbed onto the fact that God would make good on His promises no matter what . . . even if it meant raising Isaac from the dead!  With that truth as an anchor, Abraham grabbed on, and climbed the mountain.  This event is very important, because it showed us how Abraham was living by faith.    As James 2:21-23 says, “Was not Abraham our father justified by works when he offered up Isaac his son on the altar?  You see that faith was working with his works, and as a result of the works, faith was perfected; and the Scripture was fulfilled which says, ‘And Abraham believed God and it was reckoned to him as righteousness,’ and he was called the friend of God.”

So, how about you?  Think of a mountain in your life that God is asking you climb by faith.  You know the mountains.  They will be different for all of you, but I can guarantee that in this month, you will each find yourself, helmet firmly fastened, staring up at what appears to be a 50 ft. high rock of truth.  For some of you, this is the rock of purity.  Your feelings are pulling you toward an inappropriate level of physical intimacy with your boyfriend or girlfriend, and you don’t know what to do.  Your Christian friends tell you to trust God, but that seems like such a big mountain to climb.  For others of you, this is the rock of trust.  You are feeling an overwhelming sense of anxiety about your future, and you don’t know what to do.  Your Christian friends tell you to trust God, but that seems like such a big mountain to climb.  Still for others of you, maybe this is the rock of depression.  No matter how hard you try, you are spinning downward into a dark, joyless existence.  Your Christian friends tell you to trust God, but that seems like such a big mountain to climb.  As you find yourself in front of these rocks, take a closer look.  Firmly fastened onto the stone walls are blue hand holds of specific truths about God that we can place our faith in as we climb.  Before you climb, take the time to identify the hand holds of truth from God’s Word and then trust in them by faith by actively living in accordance with their truth, we will ascend the mountains and reach our goal of maturity in Christ.

On Sea Donkeys, Brett Farve, and Early Retirement

When the Sea Donkeys took the floor this fall to try to repeat their rec league basketball championship, I was not on the roster.   2009 would mark a first . . . the first year in nearly 30 that I would not be playing on any organized basketball team.  At the age of 36, I was retiring from the sport.  (DISCLAIMER:  I tend to retire from sports much like Brett Farve retires from the NFL, so stay tuned . . .)

My retirement from basketball was a result of a culmination of forces:  weight, age, and nagging tendonitis tipped the scale on my participation on the team this fall.  This was a big deal for me because I love the game of basketball and have had a lot of success playing the sport over the years.  However, as I assessed my participation this fall, I came to the stark realization:  my best days were behind me.

In short, I have become what I despise:  that older guy on the basketball court who fouls you too much on defense, and who rarely moves past the 3 point line on offense.  I can’t dribble the ball past anyone, cover anyone, and I turn the ball over too much against marginal pressure.  There was a day when playing defense, handling the ball, and breaking the press were my specialties.  Now those days are gone and they are never coming back.  There is a time when the only clock you are playing against is the one hanging on the gym wall and counting down 20 minutes in each half.  Last season, I realized another clock was rapidly winding down (my biological clock) and by the time I realized it, the shot clock had already been turned off.  I am not ready for a rocking chair, but I am deciding to quit while most of my hardwood memories are good ones and before my deductible kicks in on another orthopedic surgery.

I was reflecting on this as the Sea Donkeys took the floor Monday night for their first game, and as I was pondering Philippians 3:12-14 where Paul says, “Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.  Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it.  But one thing I do:  Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

In those verses, the Apostle Paul is reflecting on his past experience.  In his pre-Christian days, Paul had achieved a very high level of respect in Jewish circles.  In fact, Paul says in Philippians 3:6 that his peers found him “faultless” in their brand of righteous living.  Paul was very good at living the Jewish life.  Paul’s life history, however, took a wild turn while Paul was on a business trip.  Despite his performance culturally as a Jew, Paul was far from God.   He was even persecuting the early church, rounding up Christians for arrest and execution.  One day while Paul was on his way to Damascus to conduct the business of killing Christians, the risen Jesus Christ appeared to Him from the clouds and called Paul (then named Saul) to leave his legalistic Pharisaical ways behind him, and come and follow Jesus.  Paul did just that, and the resulting story is the most dramatic conversion in the entire New Testament.  One might be tempted to say that if anyone could glory in their past “legalistic success” as a Jew, it would have been Paul pre-Christ.  One might also be tempted to say that if anyone could glory in their dramatic conversion story, it would have been Paul.  Given his dramatic past, some might think that Paul had already arrived spiritually, and that his best spiritual days were behind him.  Paul, however, knew better.

Rather than retiring from spiritual pursuits and glorying in his past, Paul humbly declared in Philippians 3:12-14 that he had not yet “arrived” spiritually.  In fact, Paul believed that his best days (and heavenly reward) were in front of him, not behind him.

This story and the principles behind it should remind us of a very important truth.  In many arenas of our life, we get worse with age.  As we get older, we get slower, fatter, and our physical faculties begin to fail.  Since our best physical days are behind us in this life, we can begin to think that our best spiritual days are behind us as well.  In our physical and spiritual pursuits in life, we run the temptation of ceasing activity and “glorying” in our past.  Thinking our best physical days are behind us, we stop playing rec league basketball.  Thinking our best spiritual days are behind us, we stop learning, serving, and growing.  Having ceased to move forward, we have a tendency to sit around and talk about the “good old days” when we used to do big things.  Spiritually speaking, we sit around and talk about how much we grew in our faith while we were in the Youth Group, that summer we were a counselor at a summer camp, the mission trip we went on in ’98, or the Sunday school class we used to teach.

If you think your best spiritual days are behind you and you are spending your spiritual life reveling in your past achievement, then take to heart the words of the Apostle Paul.  Forget what is behind and press on toward the goal in Christ.  Though outwardly you are withering, inwardly you are being renewed day by day.  Your best spiritual days are in front of you, not behind you, so press on!  Stay engaged.  Keep reading the Scriptures with the anticipation of learning new things.  Keep serving Christ believing God can use you to share His love with a dying world.  Keep connecting in Christian community, believing that you are still a vital part of the group.

If you have spent the past few years in spiritual “retirement,” not serving or learning, or growing, pull a Brett Farve and get back in the game.  Press on my friend!

Numerical Proof . . . I Think I Can Beat Tiger Woods

I can beat Tiger Woods at golf.  Yeah, you heard me right.  I can beat Tiger Woods in a game of golf.  Sure, he may have won 14 major championships, 70 PGA tournaments, and 3 U.S. Amateur Titles, but I can still take him.

Wanna know how I am so confident?  It’s all in the numbers.  Tiger’s scoring average this season on the PGA Tour was 69.06.  So far in five rounds of golf I have played in 2009, I have averaged an 86.  Since 86 is more than 69, I feel I have a great chance to beat him.  Sure, I am aware that when I play with Tiger I will most likely be intimidated and not play as well as when I hit it around with some friends out at the local municipal course, but surely I won’t play 17 strokes WORSE will I?  Surely not.

Wait.  What’s that you say?  Golf is about hitting the ball the FEWEST number of times where the LOWEST score wins?  Oh, OK.  I would now like to amend me previous prediction . . .

It’s easy to see, though, why I would anticipate beating Tiger on the links.  After all, in virtually every sport, the higher the score, the greater the chance at victory.  Basketball, football, baseball, tennis, bowling, bocce ball, even yard darts all award the victors crown to the athlete who scores the most points.  Given this overwhelming trend in sports, is it not to be expected that I would assume my 86 would be 17 BETTER than Tiger’s 69?

The problem with my logic is that in the game of golf, the rules specify that low score wins.  It does not matter what I think or how other sports declare a winner.  If I am playing golf, I must adhere to the rules established by the creators and caretakers of the game, and acknowledge that low ball wins.

Of course I realize the rules of golf, and would never assert that my 15 handicap could ever compete with the greatest player on the planet, but I was thinking about this analogy on Sunday as our Senior Pastor Bruce Hess preached on Philippians 3:1-11.  In this passage, the Apostle Paul provides the Philippian church with his religious resume.  In Philippians 3:4-6 Paul says, “If anyone else thinks he has reason to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for legalistic righteousness, faultless.”  While this religious pedigree may be somewhat cryptic to us, know that to a first century Jew, this was five star spirituality.

In Paul’s day (as in ours) almost all religions define their “winners” by their spiritual achievements.  In most systems, the winners (who are awarded with eternal life) are picked by who scores the most goodness points.  Given this situation, it was not surprising that Paul began 3:4 by saying that he has “more” reasons to put confidence in his religious resume than anyone else, because (as 3:6 states) Paul was “faultless” according to his religion’s righteous rules.  According to these rules, Paul would have been declared a winner.

However, in 3:7-9 Paul says, “Whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ.  What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things.  I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ – the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith.”  What Paul was saying was that his Jewish religious resume made him look like a winner under the old set of rules, however, in Christ, he realized that there are a different set of rules.  Under the new rules, scoring 86 goodness points does not make you a winner.  What makes you a spiritual winner is if your faith points to the 1 Savior Jesus Christ, who died on the cross for our sins.  Though most religions don’t use that scoring system, in Christianity, 1 beats many every time.

At first this rule clarification is quite troubling.  We find it hard to believe that God would not save those who had scored the most points in this life.  That seems only fair and sporting.  However, the flaw in this thinking is that ANYONE could be good enough for a holy God.  No matter how many points we may score, we can never achieve a perfect score for God.  In fact, the Bible says that only Jesus Christ truly lived His life with a perfect and winning score.  Since God loved humanity and desired a relationship with them, and knowing that humanity would never score enough goodness points on their own to win the game, God made a very gracious offer.  He offers to have us join Jesus’ team.  When we do so, His winning score becomes affiliated with our name, and we get the benefit of reaping His reward . . . eternal life.

Therefore, as you read this today, I would like to challenge all of you to take stock on what rules you are playing the game of life by.  Are you playing by the rules of virtually every other religious game, where scoring goodness points wins you eternal life, or are you playing by the reality of Jesus Christ who says that He is the one way to peace with God and forgiveness of our sins.

It is crazy for me to think that I could beat Tiger Woods in golf.  It is even crazier to think that I could somehow be good enough for a holy and perfect God.  Thankfully He has shown us the rules that allow for our sin to be fully paid for by Jesus death so that His life might flow through us.

Born Again Sooner

Though I grew up in Oklahoma, I did not grow up being an Oklahoma Sooner fan.  Just as finding yourself in a garage does not make you a car, so living 32 years in the state of Oklahoma does not make you a Sooner.  Becoming a Sooner was a journey for me . . . and this is my story.

I grew up in Bartlesville, Oklahoma.  My parents took me here when I was still in utero, and I spent every day here for most of my life.  Though I grew up around the Sooners, I spent most of my early years rebelling against their agenda.  In 1988 when OU played Kansas for the College Basketball National Championship, I wore a “Beak ‘Em Hawks” KU T-shirt to school that day.  When Charles Thompson appeared on the cover of Sports Illustrated in his orange prison jumpsuit, I laughed in sadistic delight.  (As a born again Sooner fan, I do not take pride in the behavior of my early years . . . thankfully, I would eventually see the light.)

My transformation into the Sooner nation began as I was searching for a university to attend.  The cost to bridge from high school to a college diploma was a great gulf that seemed impossible in my own human effort to cross.  Amazingly, OU realized this gulf and reached out to me.  They offered me a pair of scholarships to pay the price necessary for me to make it all the way to their cap and gown.  Amazed by their gracious offer, I accepted, and my love relationship with OU began.

Early on in my days on campus, I met some friends who had been OU fans much longer than me.  Thankfully, they took me in and brought me along every weekend to the games, instructing me of OU’s past, and teaching me the words to the songs they would sing each week at the beginning of the game.  Slowly, things were beginning to make sense.  Thankfully, though, my more experienced friends were patient with me as I would head home to the dorms to sleep during the second half of some of the games.  Sometimes the game was a bit boring in those days!

Now, some 17 years since I first gave my life to the Sooner Nation, I have seen something remarkable happen.  The same songs that I once butchered the words to (and thought were too hard to sing) I now sing out at the top of my lungs, fighting a tear back at times when the OU Chant is sung.  My closet no longer contains a stitch of clothing for another school.  I now show up early to games, and stay until the final snap, without ever wanting to take a nap.  I now take other young friends by the hand and pull them up on my proverbial Sooner Schooner to give them a tour of what it means to be a Sooner.  I now know OU’s awesome history by the numbers and can recite it on command.  I am so thankful that OU reached out to me 17 years ago and paid my way.  It changed my life.

Knowing this, if you try to reach me this Saturday night at 6 pm, don’t be surprised if I don’t answer the phone.  It is hard to talk on the phone when you are choking back tears as the band plays Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Oklahoma” while the drum major leads the Pride out onto the turf at Cowboys Stadium.  My life has truly been changed by OU, and this real life change is evident for all to see.

Now, if you are a Christian, no doubt you recognize much of my rhetoric.  While my OU transformation is mostly trivial and somewhat exaggerated, trusting in Christ for the forgiveness of sins is no joking matter.

Many grow up around Christians and inside churches, yet do not have a personal relationship with Christ.  Without a personal relationship with Christ, people live lives contrary to God’s ways and even mock (or persecute) those who believe in Christ.  For those who are Christians, however, eventually they come to realize that they desire a relationship with God and forgiveness for their sins, but restoring a relationship with God is something too great for a human to accomplish in their own effort.  Knowing this (and loving us) God reaches out to humans, offering a free ride to eternity based on the full payment for our sins made possible by Christ’s death on the cross.  If we accept this “scholarship” by faith, we enter into a relationship with God that will never end.  For the new Christian, worship services are first a bit difficult to follow with the special worship songs and liturgies, but eventually, you figure it out, and it becomes very meaningful to you.  The sermons may put you to sleep sometimes, but over the long haul, you begin to feed off of God’s Word.  When you first enter into a relationship with God, other Christians disciple you in the ways of the Lord, but as you grow, you begin to take others along also in this process.

I share all this with us today, on the eve of a new college football season, to remind everyone of what happens when something changes your life.  Because of a scholarship and a degree, I freely talk about OU, invest money in shirts and tickets, organize my weekends around a 4 hour game, and proudly display my love for Bob Stoops and Sam Bradford every chance I get.

As a Christian, our lives have experienced even greater change.  Because of Christ’s death on the cross will we talk freely of our love for Him, contribute to His work with your time and treasure, and make it a priority to worship with the Body of Christ on the weekend?  When your life is really changed by Jesus Christ, that change is evident for all to see.

Baptism

In the fall of 1998 in Nick and Linda Losole’s swimming pool in Coppell, TX I was taking part in the leadership of a baptism service attended by our youth group (I was a youth pastor at this church at the time.)  As a combination of kids and parents looked on, the individual who was being baptized climbed into the water with our Senior Pastor (Wayne McDonald) and told his testimony.  After the testimony, Wayne walked over beside this individual and dunked him beneath the water’s surface, then lifted him back out of the water moments later.  The youth group applauded and cheered.  All baptisms are important, but this one was a bit unique for this group (and most groups for that matter!)  You see, on this night, the youth got to witness their Youth Pastor being baptized.  That’s right . . . on that night in the fall of 1998, I was baptized along with my wife, publicly participating in an ancient ceremony that has been an integral part of Christian worship from the very beginning.

Now, my experience with baptism should raise some very important questions in your mind:

First of all, you might ask this, “Mark, did you become a Christian while attending Dallas Seminary and serving as a Youth Pastor in 1998?” This is a good question, and some might look at the facts of the situation and draw this incorrect conclusion.  The reality is, I had been a Christian for many years prior to this water baptism at the Losole’s home in 1998.  This experience (together with the truth of God’s Word) reminds us of the important distinction between belief and baptism.  We are saved, according to Ephesians 2:8-9, by God’s grace that we receive by faith.  God graciously offers to forgive us our sins because of the work of Christ.  He asks only that we receive this gracious offer by placing our faith in Jesus Christ as our only way to have a relationship with the living God that will culminate with spending eternity in His presence.  Baptism, while very important and commanded by Christ, becomes merely the outward sign of the faith that has already taken root in someone’s heart.  Therefore, I embraced Christ’s gift of life in 1990, but I was not baptized after believing in Christ until 1998.  In a sense, I spent the first 8 years of my Christian life like a husband who did not wear his wedding ring.  The reality of my “marriage” with Jesus Christ existed, even though I had not put on the outward symbol of that union.

A second question you may want to ask is this, “I thought you grew up in a church?  Were you not baptized there as a child?” The answer to this is “yes.”  I did grow up in a fine church in Bartlesville, Oklahoma that practiced the baptism of infants.  If you are unfamiliar with this practice, know that different denominations believe different things happen when an infant is baptized.  Some believe that the child has their “original sin” washed away when they are baptized as an infant, thus covering them with God’s grace until they get old enough to make a faith decision for themselves.  This was the position of St. Augustine.  Other groups believe that infant baptism actually assures salvation for that child as they grow older.  This was the view of Martin Luther.  Other denominations see infant baptism as merely a dedication of the child to the Lord by the parents who promise to raise the child in a Christian heritage as a part of a community of faith.  I was baptized as an infant in a church that had a hybrid belief about infant baptism that combined elements of these three positions.

The next question you probably want to ask is “Why were you baptized AGAIN, if you were baptized as an infant?” I decided to be baptized again out of obedience to what I believe the Scriptures teach about baptism.  As I progressed through seminary and grew in my understanding of the Greek language, I came across an interesting concept.  The Greek word from which we get the word “baptize” is actually the word “baptidzo.”  When translators went to translate baptidzo into English, they basically punted.  They did not bother to translate it at all.  They simply transliterated the word into English and thus borrowed its Greek meaning.  The Greek word baptidzo has two streams of related meaning, one literal and the other figurative.  The literal meaning of baptidzo is to immerse.  If a ship sank into the ocean, the original Greek would say that it was baptized into the ocean.  The figurative meaning of the word meant to fully identify with something.  The figurative and literal meanings are intimately related.  In other words, a sunken ship becomes so identified with the ocean that (from the water’s surface) it becomes impossible to tell the difference between the ocean and the ship – all you see is water.  Seeing these streams of meaning, I began to believe that when the Bible says “baptize” it really means to “fully identify with Jesus Christ” where water immersion becomes the best available symbol to picture this spiritual reality.

Further, as I sat in John Grassmick’s Greek Class at Dallas Seminary studying Romans 6, I came to see that the picture of baptism is a symbolic recreation of one’s death, burial, and resurrection with Christ.  In other words, when someone goes down beneath the water, they are identifying their life with the death and burial of Christ . . . a full payment for their sins.  Then, when they are lifted out of the water, they are being raised again, a picture of their new life in Christ (2 Corinthians 5:17).  While I did not believe that my salvation depended on my participation in this symbolic ceremony, I did believe that water baptism by immersion was an important step for me to take in response for what I understood the Bible to be teaching.

Another question you may have is this, “Weren’t you insulting your family when you chose to be baptized again as an adult?” This is a tough question for me to answer.  Tough, because I was not the one who may have been offended.  The question is a good one because my parents (like millions of parents around the world) had me baptized as an infant as a step of sincere faith.  Further they followed through on their commitments to raise me in the church and in a Christian home.  This legacy was used by God to ultimately lead me into Christ’s saving embrace.  In no way was my decision to be baptized an attempt to discredit my parent’s faithful investment in my spiritual life.  In fact, I called them before my baptism to tell them what I was doing and to thank them for their spiritual influence in my life.  I do not think that my baptism as an infant was a terrible thing . . . from my understanding of the Scriptures, however, I just do not think it is the best expression of Christian baptism.  The pattern in the New Testament seemed to be that people believed and THEN they were baptized.  Since an infant has not yet really had the chance to demonstrate faith, the faith given at their baptism was really their parents.

One final question is this.  “What are YOU to do in response to this?” This is an important question.  If you are someone who has trusted in Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, but has not ever been baptized since trusting in Christ, then I would challenge you to search the Scriptures for yourself to see if God’s Word matches your experience in your practice of baptism.  As a Pastor who has come to this conviction on immersion baptism of believers and as one who serves in a church that practices this form of baptism, I share my perspective with you.  As I state this conviction, though, I know I state a position that is counter to the teaching and practice of giants of the faith like Augustine and Luther.  When it comes to this issue, don’t just take my word for it, search the Scriptures and come to your own conclusions.  Augustine and Luther had their reasons for believing in and practicing infant baptism, while I ( and many others) have my reasons as stated above for believing something different.  What do you believe on the issue?  What is your conviction?

If you have trusted in Christ and have never been baptized and are interested in finding out more about the topic, then I would encourage you to attend Pastor Bruce Hess’s Baptism class this Sunday, August 30 at Wildwood at 4 PM in the Gathering Hall.  This is a place to find out more about baptism, to ask your questions, and also to sign up to be baptized at Wildwood’s next baptism service, which will be held on September 20.  If you have thoughts or questions, I would love to hear them!