The Church in American Captivity

The Church in American Captivity

 

  If you still believe there are morals, then you will not deny that America has been in departure from Biblical morality for the past few decades.  Fornication, family disintegration, Homosexual rights, legalization of drugs, legalization of abortion, media and personal obscenity, God censored public arenas, able people on the dole, and the habit of spending money that hasn’t been earned.   During this time, I have heard 2 Chron 7:14 (If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.) advocated as the panacea, the magic bullet.  I have preached and taught it myself.  It seems that I may be trying to start a left handed nut by turning it to the right;  so I am stepping back and rethinking.

 

  We believe 2 Chron. was recorded by Ezra in the 400s bc., after the Assyrian and Babylonian/ Medo-Persian captivities.  It reiterates a promise given to the nation of Israel at the zenith of their power under Solomon, circa 950 bc.  After Solomon finished the building of the temple, God spoke this promise to him.  The nation of Israel must not have heeded in sufficient numbers because they began a decline.  Shortly after Solomon’s reign, they became divided.  The Northern nation went into Assyrian captivity in the 700s bc, and the Southern nation called Judah went into Babylonian and Medo-Persian captivity in the 500s bc.  I have not been specific about the dates because Israelis were taken captive over a long period in small groups at a time until the nation was decimated.  They were returned from captivity, again in small groups at a time, but they continued to suffer during the inter testamental period under the Greek dynasties and Roman empire until the New Covenant was in effect (33 ad).  They were finally vanquished and scattered in 70 ad by the Romans. 

  The Israeli state founded in the late 1940s is not a revival of that old theocracy.  It was not established to renew and protect religious zeal.  It is a secular parliamentary democracy under a Prime Minister and a 120 member legislature called “Knesset”.  A Mosque sits on the site of the old temple. The altar and animal sacrifices have never been reestablished.   The Palestinians and their allies will ensure that those things never return, and if Israel tries to bring them back they will do so without U.S. help.   The Jews may yet be heirs of Biblical promise, but only those who come under the lordship of Christ.  Today’s Israel was understandably reconstituted to secure protection against anti Semitism and to avert another holocaust. 

  Was 2 Chron 7:14 a maxim (general truth) for God’s people for all time?  I don’t know.  I do know that God’s people of today (the Church) have prayed and sought God’s favor for a long time in mass numbers;  but  I cannot know how many have turned from their wicked ways.  I would have to be omniscient to determine that.  One thing is for sure:  America’s cancer continues to spread!  I sense that many Christians are growing weary and their faith is being sorely tested because the promise of a healing has not been fulfilled. 

 

  It could be that we are practicing questionable hermeneutics (methods of Biblical interpretation) in claiming this promise for America.  Good hermeneutics require that a scripture be interpreted in it’s original context, and not applied outside that context unless it is obviously intended as a maxim or a type.  “Typology” is the study of “types and antitypes”.  A “type” can be represented by an old typewriter;  the type being the letter on the end of the steel arm, the antitype being the letter that it prints on a piece of paper.  There are probably hundreds of types in the Old Testament.  They were intended to illustrate a reality (antitype) under the New covenant.  The Bible usually leaves no doubt, because the New Testament usually refers to an event or person and says plainly that it is the fulfillment (antitype) of this or that “type” in the Old Testament.  For example:  the blood sacrifices were types that found their antitype at Calvary.  Hebrews 9:12-14.  There are some factors that lead me to believe that the promised benefits of  2 Chron. may not be a typological promise that can find it’s antitype in a spiritual revival of secular America.  Judah (Israel) was a theocracy.  They were governed by the Mosaic Law that came from God and was administered by the priests, judges, kings, etc.  America is not a theocracy;  therefore, America may not fall under the terms of God’s promise to Solomon. 

 

  If any “nation” qualifies today to be beneficiaries of this covenantal promise, it is today’s theocracy;  the church.  I believe the “type” of the literal nation of Israel finds it’s antitype in today’s church.  If the prayer of Chronicles is to be properly directed today, perhaps it should be a prayer for the church.  A strong and healthy church can be vibrant with the soul saving message no matter what culture she finds herself in. 

 

  America has been a great vehicle for the church for many years.  She has been a springboard from which the church has been able to fulfill the Great Commission more thoroughly than from any previous nation;  but vehicles don’t last forever.  After a few hundred thousand miles, a vehicle ceases to become an instrument of freedom.  It’s owner is captured by the burden of all the things that are breaking down.  Repair costs and lack of dependability outweigh the cost of a newer one.

  I think it may be appropriate now for true Christians to develop a “captive” mentality.  In times when Israel did go into captivity, God always preserved a remnant of the faithful even within that captivity.  Just because the vehicle may be ready to blow does not mean that the church is, for even after God’s people go into captivity, He gives them success under the captor.  Captives held sway with the king.  They held high political positions.  Christians can still do likewise in America and should if so gifted.  If you are faithful, you will follow the examples of the captive Jews.   A heathen king will call for a Daniel’s advice when all else fails, and Daniel will never quit going to his West window for prayer, yet he shall prevail over the Lions.  Those like Shadrach and his friends will not bow before an idol, yet they will survive the king’s wrath.  An Esther will cast her fate on the mercy of God and successfully plead with Ahasuerus for her people.  A Mordecai will rise to prominence above his enemies and save his people from Haman’s hatred.  An Ezekiel will continue his prophecy on the banks of the Chebar.  A Nehemiah will serve Artaxerxes faithfully and boldly ask to go help with the reestablishment of Israel. 

  The captor nations have been buried by the sands of time, while the legacy of Israel (which we are part of) continues to shape the World.  Only the steadfast captives and those who joined them will shine as stars forever, and we need to revisit them and learn of their wisdom and deeds.  We have not been dragged off our soil into captivity.  The nation around us has simply been dragged into a secular ideology, and we find ourselves captives within;  but we still have a grand purpose to fulfill.

 

  There was a certain stance that God wanted His people to take with regard to their captors, and perhaps this is what we should do and pray for America:

 

(Jer 29:4-7  Thus saith the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel, unto all that are carried away captives, whom I have caused to be carried away from Jerusalem unto Babylon;  Build ye houses , and dwell in them; and plant gardens, and eat the fruit of them;  Take ye wives, and beget sons and daughters; and take wives for your sons, and give your daughters to husbands, that they may bear sons and daughters; that ye may be increased there, and not diminished.  And seek the peace of the city whither I have caused you to be carried away captives, and pray unto the LORD for it: for in the peace thereof shall ye have peace.)

 

  Ensconse ourselves, proliferate, and pray for peace.  Peace for the nation that holds us captive, so that we also may have peace to carry on with our mission.  The empire within which Christianity was founded and flourished was about as wicked as they come;  but they provided one thing…..peace.  Christianity did not have to fight it’s way through one territorial warlord after another.  It seems God used Rome to facilitate the rise and spread of the church.  The seeds of this fledgling movement were flung over the known world for 30 years before the persecution began, and after that, God wadded Rome up and threw her away.  The church continued it’s conquests from other venues.  America is paralleling Rome’s demise with alarming precision.  The democratic process is falling prey to a horde with an entitlement mentality.  One day the bread wagons will not come.

 

  The true church will survive in this world and beyond.  The gates of Hades (power of death) shall not prevail against it.  It is eternal.  America once claimed to be a Christian nation and there is much evidence to show that the framers of our constitution and our early forefathers were favorable toward Christianity.   That was before evolutionists precluded God and tore the credibility out of the Bible (at least in the minds of those who didn’t want to believe it anyway).  It was before those who believe themselves wise would not accept anything outside the bounds of present scientifically defined parameters.  It was before the Bible became a book only for the backward and superstitious.  It was before we became a melting pot of many religions.   

  Despite the fact that 75% of Americans claim to be Christians, our President says we are not a Christian nation.  It is true that we are constitutionally prohibited from endorsing or inhibiting any religion, and perhaps that is what he was referring to.  Regardless of the semantics or statistics, it appears he may be correct in ways he did not intend, considering the height from which we have fallen morally.

  Some political pundits with proven credibility are saying that America is done.  I wouldn’t be quite that dramatic.  I have seen God turn things around overnight.  World events may force America back to her roots as a matter of survival.   Perhaps our progeny in whom we have instilled Christianity can conscientiously rally to that reborn nation’s cause. 

  Am I worried for them?  No.  Absolutely not.  If their faith can survive in this present day Secular Humanist and increasingly Socialist state, it can survive anywhere.  Christians have had a vital role to play as captives in many cultures. 

  The church was built with an amazing capacity to adapt to different cultures without losing it’s crucial message and it’s attractive power.  This has been proven by our foreign missions which have successfully gone to every corner of the world.  In our recent conflict with Iraq, I was amazed to learn that there are approx. 800,000 Christians there!  I had previously thought that only Muslims could survive there.  There are probably more professing Christians in the clandestine Chinese church than in the U.S.

 

  In any case, Christians have a larger identity as citizens of a culture without end.  Heb 11:8-10 By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out, not knowing whither he went.  By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise:  For he looked for a city which hath foundations , whose builder and maker is God.

 

  World history has proven that no empire here has ever had “foundations”.  They rise and crumble.  For 2000 years now, the eternal kingdom has been the only solid place to stand.

why can't I feel good?

Why Can’t I Feel Good?
Dear Readers: Sorry for the delay. I went to Missouri to spend a few days with my dad. Weather prevented me from getting back to my computer.

Sometimes a person will have problems that all the Biblical advice in the world cannot help. It is hard to draw a line between a spiritual problem and a physical one, because spirit, mind, and body are interconnected. If a person has a physical problem, it can cause a spiritual problem and vice versa.

At any rate, the helper sometimes must learn to diagnose a physical problem and work in tandem with medical treatment.

Things happen in a person’s life that make them susceptible to problems of the mind that need medical attention. Some of these are genetic. Some are caused by diet, pregnancy, aging, menopause, trauma, use of alcohol and illegal drugs, vitamin deficiency, chronic dehydration, even a lack of exposure to sunlight, or an overexposure to wind.



I will be very succinct with the technical stuff, as well as I can understand it as a layman. Skip this and the next two paragraphs if you are not into mechanics; but knowing a little about it has helped me understand "why" people can’t feel good, and why a physical problem may be at the root.

The brain is basically an electrical device. As an aside, I hasten to say that it is not a computer, for a computer can only process in linear fashion, following a system where a certain input must elicit a programmed response before it can continue. Brains think "laterally", not being bound to a railroad track, as it were. The brain can go off in any direction. Mine often goes off the tracks. My point is not to state that one is better, but to state that they are not even the same animal.

The brain is bathed in a naturally produced mixture including perhaps 100 chemical neurotransmitters; the principals of which are dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine. This mixture provides an electrical gradient through which nerve impulses flow along cell (neuron) appendages called "dendrites" into the cell body. The cell body has an "axon" which branches out and ends in terminals. These feed the input back out. Through this route, one cell can pass the impulse along to another cell’s dendrites, and so on. The brain is now "thinking" laterally. These axon branches are not "hard wired" to the next cell’s dendrites, but have gaps from the branches of one axon to the ends of the next cell’s dendrites. These gaps are called "synaptic clefts". There are approx. 100 billion of these cell structures in the average human brain. I am probably a couple of billion short. In order for accurate thinking to take place normally, the electrical nerve impulses must "jump" across millions of clefts. If the neurotransmitters are not in precise balance, they will tend to "re-uptake" (hide) in the axon branch terminal and the impulse will not be relayed to the next cell’s dendrites with normal efficiency. This inefficiency can cause depression, mania, "free floating" anxiety (that which has no rational cause), forebodings, unreasonable paranoia, even psychoses. Most antidepressant medications prevent the neurotransmitters from abnormally re-uptaking (sic) into the terminal of the axon branch. They make them stay out in the cleft and do their job normally.

In the case of an imbalance, drug therapy is a valid option, perhaps a necessity to functional mental health. If the minister, or any brother or sister who wants to help another suspects that an imbalance is the case, he should encourage the troubled one to have a full medical checkup. The doctor has more expertise in diagnosis, and has the capability to do scans on various organs which produce natural mood stabilizers.

If people are in trouble, they will usually seek the advice of a minister or Christian brother first. We are free, and we should give freely, because we have received freely. The big question is: how does the helper know when to recommend a Doctor?

I have a series of questions I ask about sleep patterns, diet (eating too little or too much), rapid weight gain or loss, caffeine or amphetamine stimulants, depressants such as alcohol, illegal drug use, life situations that may understandably cause anxiety, paranoia, and depression. I ask about suicidal thoughts or actions. (Many have suicidal thoughts, but one in serious trouble will tell you the exact method by which he intends to do away with himself. He may have tried it.) One crucial query is "do you enjoy the things you always used to?" Lack of ability to enjoy things that always brought pleasure is the hallmark of clinical problems. I ask the troubled one about the severity (scale of 1-10) and the duration of their symptoms. Usually, if the severity is over 5 and has been sustained for over 2 months, I recommend a physical. Admittedly, severity is a subjective estimate; but if the patient doesn’t feel good, bless his heart, he doesn’t feel good! Everyone has normal ups and downs. It is abnormal for a person to be depressed or anxious without a cause for 2 months or more. Note that this is my method. I’m sure there are other valid techniques that I don’t know about. I know ministers who have doctorates in psychology. I don’t. I usually recommend an MD. A Dr. of Psychology can offer an educated diagnosis, but cannot prescribe medicine. M.D.’s can prescribe medicine, but many will want to recommend a Psychiatrist who specializes in mood disorders and can prescribe medicine. The Psychologist is usually most effective in carrying on the behavioral therapy. Medicines have proven most effective when coupled with behavioral therapy.

If we sense that the problem is physical, under no circumstances should we question the individual’s level of "spirituality". Many well meaning people will say, "Read your Bible and pray more." "Get more involved in church activities." This will do more harm than good if there is a physical imbalance. When doing these things does not relieve the symptoms, the person may be tempted to say "Lord, Lord, why hast Thou forsaken me?" His problem will be exacerbated by the thought that God has turned His back. He will conclude on his own that he is headed for eternal Hell fire. (One should be careful in speaking of Hell. The threat of Hell is not a deterrent to suicide. In severe cases, it may be the last stressor that pushes the clinically imbalanced individual to irrational acts that may prove fatal). Instead, we should be full of reassurance that God cares deeply and will never leave nor forsake us. They must know that Jesus was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, and was tempted in all points as we are. We can feel confident in telling the sufferer that his suffering will not last forever. God will not allow the Christian to go under, but He will provide grace sufficient unto the need. No matter how bleak the weather, we are never more than a few miles from brilliant sunshine. It is straight above us. The clouds will move away. They will come again. They will move away again. Being normal may be only an infinitesimal amount of Serotonin away.

God has allowed or possibly even guided professionals to become skilled at diagnoses and pharmacologists to develop their trade to the point that we have some tremendously effective medicines on the market now that are successful in 90% of cases. 60 years ago, I couldn’t have said this. Institutionalization and ECT (shock) therapy were our only options. ECT is seldom used now but it is still a valid treatment for temporary relief because it breaks the cycle of "ruminatory" thought patterns that become obsessive. ECT is not the monster that pop culture has made it out to be. The patient is anesthetized and a few minutes later he wakes up feeling better, although he may have some sore muscles. His short term memory is gone, but will return. He doesn’t remember the procedure. The fact that his recent memory is gone is the reason he is feeling better. He has forgotten the irrational thoughts that were causing his anxiety or depression. If I ever have a need for ECT, I would not hesitate to undergo it. Sweden was the leader in developing medications that have largely replaced ECT, but they were not approved for use in the U. S. until the ‘50s. The good ol’ Swedes have already done the "guinea pig" work.

I am told by the reading I have done that drug therapy is appropriate for one out of five people at some point in their lives. From experience in counseling, I would say more than that. The physical and emotional environments we live in now make people with imbalances less able to cope. Some resist taking medicine. They feel it is like taking an illegal mood altering drug. It is not. I see medicine as a providence of God. Illegal drugs are taken so that a person might feel abnormal. Legal medicines are taken to restore normality. Also; most legally prescribed medicines for mood disorders take weeks to build up to therapeutic levels in the system. They also take weeks to go out of the system and should always be terminated gradually under a physician’s guidance. One does not get an immediate "high" or sudden "crash" with them. If they did, they would be addictive. They can have a few mild side effects but these are gone within two weeks. Illegal substances are only temporarily effective. Soon, one is taking them just to avoid feeling like he is in Hell, and he is addicted. There is a big difference in legitimate medicine. The only people I have seen who have trouble with them are those who quit abruptly without a Dr’s guidance. This is because they feel normal again, and they think they are well. They sink back into their old patterns so gradually that they do not connect it with the fact that they have quit the medicine.

Most chemically imbalanced people are not psychotic. I knew one lady who was. She benefited from a medicine called an "MAOI" (monoamine oxidase inhibitor) She was fine as long as she would take her medicine, but she kept quitting. One night her husband awoke to the shaking of the bed. She was straddling him with a butcher knife, ready to plunge into his chest. Fortunately, he dodged and was only grazed in the shoulder. He subdued her and reluctantly dialed 911. The husband would not press charges, nevertheless she was forcibly placed in an institution for the criminally insane. After she was on medicine for a while, she was well enough to be released with a court order that she undergo random blood tests to verify that she was still taking the medicine. She now leads a normal life and is a very pleasant and trustworthy person to be around. Our church motorcycle club has had some very enjoyable rides with the couple.

3 out of 4 will need medicine called TCAs (tricyclic antidepressants) or SSRIs (Serotonin specific reuptake inhibitors) temporarily. Some will need a permanent "therapeutic" dose, usually lower than the initial treatment, to keep them balanced. There should be no shame in this nor is it a sin. I am a type 2 diabetic and will be impaling myself with needles permanently. When I found this out, the thought crossed my mind: "What about all the people who died from diabetes before insulin was synthesized and methods of delivery were developed? Am I "cheating" fate? Would anyone say I was addicted to insulin? Yes, I am and so are you. The medicine I take helps my cells metabolize glucose normally. I would have died long ago if I had decided to quit it. Once I got stuck away from home and the drugstores wouldn’t take my insurance. My glucose levels without insulin became lethal in about 3 days, regardless of whether or what I ate. Medicine like insulin or antidepressants for those who need it allows them to keep being productive and paying taxes. Otherwise, we taxpayers have to satisfy their disability claims. Are you listening now?

Chemical imbalances are not that uncommon and those who are troubled should know that they are far from alone. Anyone who would help need only know a little about the symptoms to make a reasonable request that someone see a Dr. It can’t hurt.

Sobriety

Sobriety


Let me tell you about High School. I was not sober. Ever.

Neither was I drunk. Ever. The word "sober" is used many times in the New Testament. It is always a commended virtue. It does not always mean "not intoxicated"; nor does it always mean "humorless". It simply means "sane". Sanity and intoxication are, of course, mutually exclusive for the otherwise sane person. Sane people do laugh, however. The sober person is one who laughs when something is funny, and who does not laugh when something is not. We may then say that sobriety is accurate judgment. The adjective "sober" can modify many different nouns. Within the scope of this essay, I would like to apply it to a concept that seems most difficult to achieve: a sober self image. My proposition is best stated in this text: Romans 12:3 For I say, through the grace given unto me, to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think; but to think soberly, according as God hath dealt to every man the measure of faith. On the other hand, some of Paul’s comments to Timothy indicate that he may have underestimated his abilities. This is not sober either.

My 5 year high school class reunion was an epiphany. Of all people, they asked me to be the emcee. I wasn’t planning on attending and thought that I would not be missed. Now you must understand that I had the most nonsober self image of anyone in my whole class. There were only around 30 of us. This class contained virtually the same people from 1st grade through high school. I said "virtually". I was an exception. We moved to that school district when I was in the 6th grade. I was the "new kid in school". No big deal. Lots of people change schools. The insanity was that I viewed myself as the "new kid in school" for the next seven years.

I did find one kindred soul who truly was a kindred soul. He and I seemed cut from the same cloth. I fear that I monopolized his social "circle". Mercifully for the sake of my own conscience, he is a successful and well adjusted person in his own right, and doesn’t seem to have been damaged much by our association.

What made my 5 year reunion so epiphanous was that my classmates weren’t at all how I remembered them. I was treated like an old friend. They couldn’t have changed that much in 5 years! Not that I was mistreated by them. I just didn’t think that I was a factor at all in their collective self identity.

I got the emcee invitation a few months before the event. My first reaction was; "This can’t be right." I wasn’t close friends with anyone except the afore mentioned. I didn’t participate in extra curriculum. I have the shortest "bio" under my picture in my senior annual. For all practical intents and purposes, I was invisible! Then it dawned on me that they knew I had become a preacher, and they probably asked me because I was used to public speaking. O.K. That made sense. I still thought it a bit bizarre, but I decided to do it.

The night came and they were almost all there. It seemed they had done well quickly. New, shiny cars and expensive clothing. Had it not been for the stunning wife on my arm; she whom I had gotten from a far country (Ohio); I may have turned around in the parking lot and headed out. I figured people would think, "Well, he must have something going to have wound up with her."



May I digress for a moment. The preceding is a personal illustration, but in counseling with people all these years, I have seen that it is far from unique. Our self image is determined largely by what we think that other people think of us. We tend to use them as our mirror. We could begin by realizing that we probably occupy less than a percent of others' thoughts; even those close to us. Everyone has their own world with it's concerns. I overcame my fear of public speaking when I realized that people remember less than 10% of what you say, and less than 1% of it 24 hrs. later! Can you give me an outline of the last sermon you heard? Quick! Can you even tell me the main point? Probably not because the cares of your own struggle have swept it to the periphery of your mind. It's there. It has registered in the mix of your thoughts and hopefully altered those thoughts slightly, but it's far from the center. Since our self image is generated from what we think others think of us, let us lose it by realizing that they don't think about us much at all. I could be pious and say that we should view ourselves only through the Lord’s lenses; but thankfully, even He chooses to view me through the "rose colored glasses" of the atonement. That is a positive image, but still fortuitously slanted. If our view of what others think of us is skewed, so will our self image be.

I was in a nursing home visiting an elderly lady. Neither of us knew the other very well. I concluded my visit by asking if I might pray for her. I took her hand and she sat straight up in bed. "Oh, Violet" she said to her roommate. "Listen." I thought nothing strange about wanting someone else to listen to a prayer. I prayed. "Oh". she said. "I thought you asked if you might propose to me." We misinterpret the intentions of others toward us easily. She was auditorily challenged. Not only is our reception imperfect; the transmission is garbled too. We’re working with humans, after all.



Back to the reunion. I entered the banquet hall and it was surreal. It was full of friends. Friends I had never gotten to know. I sat and enjoyed conversation with people I had never spoken to before. Then the truth hit me like a cannon ball. These people had always accepted me. It was ME who had decided that I was unacceptable! If "sane" or "insane" can be used as opposites, then my self image through high school was insane! I was not being "poor in spirit", humble, meek or anything virtuous. These require sobriety and are not of the flesh. They require conscious, willful decision and effort. My problem was born of fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of obligations I may be burdened with as a result of relationships. I chose to be a loner.

I am not a fatalist. We are not the Lord’s pawn and He didn’t want us to be. He gave us will. It is our decision to hold ‘em or fold ‘em. To wit, we say we wouldn’t have changed because we think we couldn’t have. I don’t believe that. God has always known the decisions we will make and has determined His responses according to His promises, and in this way He has predetermined history; but He does not make individual decisions for us. I have second guessed some major decisions in my life and am pretty sure they were mistakes. If I could go back, I would change them. The way I behaved in High School was the result of a nonsober self image.

Someone may say, "Now Kenny, you know things turned out just the way God wanted them to." I may ask, "Why sayest thou?" They may say, "How do you know you wouldn’t have fallen into the wrong crowd and been led you astray?" I will beg to submit an alternative possibility; "How do you know that I wouldn’t have rendered much greater for the Lord if I had opted to interact socially in high school?" I may have influenced many of my classmates in the Lord's direction. It is highly unlikely that I would have strayed. I had a Daddy and Mommy who wore their knees out praying for me, and I was inextricably woven through the fabric of a good church. It would have given me a head start in college. As it was, it took two or three years of college just to coax me out of my shell enough to accept an invitation to substitute preach for a classmate who was ill. Until that time, I figured the military would be my future; and if I made it through that, I was going to find an abandoned house in the sticks, live off of the land and be a recluse; perhaps the subject of scary stories around a campfire. Really.

I preached and people did not walk out on me. God bless the people in those congregations around the Bible college! They put up with a lot of amateurish preaching, knowing that they were helping us "cut our teeth". I fancied a young lady who wanted to marry a preacher. That was my call into the ministry.



That night at the reunion rocked me back on my heels. Though I wasn’t outgoing, I knew I was acknowledged in college. We were all aliens in a foreign world and saw ourselves as equals. Now I know that I was acknowledged in High School too, but I never saw it. Now what do I do with my self image?

The football player can undergo tremendous pain during a game. Not until the next morning does he realize how bad he hurts. His mind was somewhere other than his pain during the game. Would a similar tactic work with a painful self image? How about being so externalized that we have no self image at all?!? I realize that a psychologist would scoff at that notion and he would be correct. Trying to view one’s self apart from one’s self is an impossible conundrum. Were it not that I had seen my face in a reflective substance, I would not recognize an objective image of me, such as a photograph. We don't know what our voice sounds like until we hear a recording of it. In fact, this very essay is polluted with subjectivism. It is engorged with personal pronouns and handicapped attempts at self analysis. Living in a body demands egoism to some degree. Even Jesus conceded to hunger, thirst, sleep, pain, and other needs of the fleshly self. Perhaps we should say, "How about striving toward the minimal self awareness possible. How about practicing the attitude that we are assimilated and diffused into the essence of Christ?" I think someone already thought of that.



Col 3:3 For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God.

Matt 10:39 He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it. Rom 6:6-7 Knowing this, that our old man is crucified with him, that the body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth we should not serve sin. For he that is dead is freed from sin.

Gal 2:20 I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me. Etc., etc. You get the point.

So I stabbed a dagger through MY ego…. But it healed in an instant! I threw it under the train; but it popped back up after the train was gone! I went to the steel mill and threw it into the furnace. It emerged like the Hebrew boys, without even the smell of smoke. So deeply engrained was this ego problem that it blocked out most of the universe around me. The reunion showed me that there was a universe beyond my skin. Not just the people there, but how far off the mark my perception of them had been. I knew that the indwelling Holy Spirit wanted to turn me inside out. And it is a long task. It is a life long progression, usually with many setbacks. All I know is: the ego is a terrible thing to be alone with. The longer we stare into a mirror, the uglier we become.

Ministry was a gift from God to me. It slammed me straight up against other people. I got involved in their lives. I had a preacher friend who told me, "If you’re feeling stalled and stale, you’re probably sitting in your office too much. Get out and be with other people. Talk. Presume that others like you until they prove you wrong. Do something constructive for them and let them do for you." Good advice. Doing for others is actually the best thing you can to minimize your own self awareness.



The "me" voices are still there, but my hearing is not so good anymore. The worse my hearing gets, the better my vision gets. I can actually think now. I think I am dying now, and I feel much better. I’m getting less insane and more sober; and I feel much better.

Did he just slander me? I think so, but "me" is out right now. Did that guy just honk his horn and shake his finger at "me"? I think so, but I don’t know where "me" is. Did that lady just cheat "me"? I think so, but I can’t get in touch with "me" right now.



It’s O.K.; for I say again: the ego is a terrible thing to be alone with. If it has to be there, may it be an ephemeral presence; and may it always be firmly chaperoned by sobriety.

Sunday at Lolie's

Sunday at Lolie's

  With the help of my wife, we have pieced these 43 year old memories together.

 

  Lolie drove a 1953 Ford like the chariot of Jehu over the blacktop and gravel roads of North Central Missouri .  In 1970 Schuyler was a poor county with no Mounties so she got away with it.  She was a septuagenarian at the time, and the most active member of my very first pulpit assignment.  I don’t think she was ever married, but the church treated her as a “widow indeed” according to I Timothy 5:5.  I think she had a brother but I knew not of his whereabouts.  She and the church lived in symbiosis, and methinks the church came out on the better end of the deal.  They helped Lolie with groceries and house repairs, and kept that car running, and she reciprocated with all her might.

  I was still in college, and made the 90 mile drive on Sundays.  I preached both morning and evening, and drove back to school Sunday night.   I didn’t have to worry about not being there all week, for I knew that old black Ford would be roaring around, evangelizing and pastoring.  When I got there, Lolie briefed me about her week’s exploits and advised me of people that needed my attention on Sunday afternoon.  

  One day I got a phone call from one of the elders.  “Well, she’s finally done it!  I kept tellin’ her to slow it down.  Shor ‘nuf, she put that car in the ditch and broke her leg!”  On Sunday, I was first to arrive at the old church building back in the white oaks.  I was stunned to hear the gravel crackling like bacon grease and pinging in the wheel wells.  Before I looked, I knew it was Lolie.  There she came, followed by a cloud of dust that completely limed some lucky farmer’s field.  The mighty ‘53 had come through with the passenger door slightly cavitated and a lot of grass stains and mud but otherwise as ornery as ever.   The grill had a big horizontal piece of steel a few inches above the bumper that looked like a smirk.  It seemed to be saying, “Is that all you’ve got?  Bring it, baby!”  Lolie emerged, complete with crutches and cast.  I think the Ford had a manual transmission and I couldn’t figure out how she drove it with a cast.   Evidently, it’s possible.   “Well, ya beat me here today, preacher!”   I put my arm around her shoulder and said, “Lolie!  I thought I’d be seeing you in the hospital this afternoon!”   “Aw, nah.  Ah cain’t sit still.  Folks calls me ‘the unsinkable Molly Brown!’”

 

  After worship, it was the custom to eat dinner at one of the members houses.  It was a small congregation so we had been in all of the members’ homes several times;  all except Lolie’s.   One Sunday after the sermon the men approached me with a solemnity that aroused my apprehension.  “We thought we’d ought ta warn ya, preacher.  You’re eatin’ at Lolie’s house next Sunday.  She’s been a pesterin’ us ta let her feed ya.  We been puttin’ her off ‘cause…..well….she ain’t like normal folks.  She ain’t slow or anything;  she’s just a little different.  She’s so good hearted and does so much for the church that we finally said ‘OK’.  We figured it’d be alright so long as you were prepared.”

  That next week wore my imagination out.  I had driven by her house in Lancaster several times and knew it was sort of ramshackle on the outside.  The grass in the little front yard was knee high and headed out.  I assume she preferred it that way because I’m sure the church folk offered to mow it.  It would  have taken only ten minutes.

  Well, Sunday came and for some reason, after preaching I was as hungry as a black hole.  Lolie had left a little early to go home and get everything ready.  We drove to her house and knocked on the front door.  We could see her inside waving us around to the back.  By the way, we were on Summer break and it was a blistering Missouri day.  She had no air conditioning, not even a fan.  All the windows were shut and covered on the outside with plastic.  We walked around to the back and there was a chicken coop and several fowl clucking around.  For some reason, that sound comforts me.  It reminds me of happy, sweaty, lazy days on my grandma’s farm.  The back door opened and I beheld a tunnel.  Old newspapers and magazines, tied into bundles with baler twine, completely filled what was presumably the living room.  Every inside wall in the house had been torn out.  I could see why the roof sagged.  No support except for the outside walls.  The bales of papers went all the way to the ceiling and I figured that was the only reason it had not collapsed, but I wondered how the joists held under what must have been tons of papers.   I scooted sideways through the narrow canyon, finally emerging into…..the bathroom/aviary.  There were large areas where the ceiling plaster had fallen off the lath.  The walls had been torn out around what used to be a bathroom and all that was left was a toilet perched on a pedestal squarely in the middle of the house.  It was truly a “throne”.  Mercifully, a tattered shower curtain hung around it.  There was no shower or sink.  Just that commode.  I don’t know how, or if Lolie bathed herself.  Surrounding the throne were cages and cages of Parakeets.  “My goodness, Lolie!  How many parakeets do you have here?”  “About 50” she said.  I saw a couch sitting propped against the mountain of papers, as if to prevent a landslide. 

  The ceiling above the bathroom and kitchen was festooned with…..model airplanes!  Big ones, small ones, biplanes and tri planes, fighter jets and commercial liners, even a huge Saturn V rocket complete with command module.  Men had landed on the moon the year before.  “Lolie” I said “Who made all these for you?”  “Oh!  I made ‘em.  I just love to make model airplanes!”  I didn’t ask but it was a safe bet that she had never been on an airplane.  Dreams.  That’s what they were.  Dreams hanging from her ceiling.  And birds that could fly.  Something I’m sure Lolie never could do until she left this life;  though I bet she got that car airborne a time or two topping a sharp hill.

  I walked to the couch and sat down.  It was a good thing I sat before my wife because my rear hit the floor so hard that the window panes rattled.  Had my wife sat first, her dress would have flown clear over her head.  There I sat looking between my knees with my wife balancing tentatively on the very edge.  I reached around and pulled one of the papers out of the pile.  My jaw dropped when I saw that it was a perfectly preserved 1956 “Life” magazine.  I was amazed at how old it was, but now I know she probably had a fortune there.  Collectors will pay good money for stuff like that.

  Lolie worked busily at the kitchen sink washing dishes.  My wife said, “Can I help?”  “Oh yes, honey.  Can you get the gravy down?”  “Where is it?”  “In that cupboard above the sink.”  My wife reached high and opened the door.  A “grand daddy long legs” scurried away and my wife was done.  There, inside that high cupboard was a huge roaster almost brim full of chicken gravy.  I don’t know how Lolie got it up there.  I stood on one of the rickety wooden chairs and carefully pulled it out and lowered it onto the table.  “My, Lolie!” says my wife.  “That’s an awful lot for just us three.”  “Oh, honey, we won’t eat it all today.  It’ll last me for a week!”

  That was our meal.  Mashed potato buds smothered in chicken gravy.  Not bad.  “Now, I’ve got some dessert.” says Lolie.  “Frozen cream pie.”  My wife got up to get it out of the ancient refrigerator.  It wasn’t in the freezer.  There on the lower shelf of a refrigerator that didn’t work were two cream pies….. liquefied.   She brought them to the table and we ate them with soup spoons.  Not bad.

  We sat and talked a while and Lolie gave me my assignments.  We walked out to the car and headed out.  My wife said, “Let’s not go see anyone just yet.  Take me out on a country road because I don’t feel so good.”  Funny.  I thought it was “Not bad.”

 

  Now I hope you have enjoyed Lolie’s story, but don’t miss the application.

  Instead of disqualifying herself, Lolie saw her purpose in the kingdom.  God doesn’t throw us on the scrap heap, but we cast ourselves there.  We don’t see many results from our efforts and we censure ourselves.  We may quit serving, we may quit praying, we may turn our backs on our profession of faith altogether.  Or we may view God as a W. C. Fields in the sky.  We feel He has said, “Get away, kid!  Ya bother me.”  We look at ourselves and say, “No wonder God has benched me.  I’m not that smart.  I’m not pretty.  I just can’t seem to win friends and influence people.  God, if you only want to bless the ‘elite’, then I guess Idon’t belong.  I’m out of here.”

  Lolie was an eccentric old woman who evidently never had those thoughts.  She kept on stroking.  Perhaps she had read  1 Cor 1:27-29   But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty;  And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are:  That no flesh should glory in his presence.

 

   C. S. Lewis was already a celebrated author and educator.  He and his brother, Warren, walked each Sunday to a little stone church building not far from his English country home outside Oxford.  There sat one of the most brilliant men of the 20th century, humbly listening to simple sermons from comparatively simple men;  because they quoted the wisdom of God which is beyond all the wisdom of men.

   I have always had a heart for the “underdog” for I am one.   I make no secret that I am uncomfortable with “consumer oriented” congregations.  This is an age of narcissism, and these congregations only feed it.  How shall a man die to himself there?  It is too easy for a person to think he is being a Christian there without divesting himself of his pride.  Some people are there to be seen by others, not to commune with Christ.   Humility is the first attribute one must assume in order to be saved.  Unless Naaman gets down off his high horse, he shall remain a leper.  That’s why God often hides His jewels in a brown paper bag.  That’s why Jesus said, Matt 11:25  I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes .  That’s why Paul said, 1 Cor 1:26  For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble , are called:  Of course Paul was master of “tongue in cheek” and Jesus used metaphor.   They were jabbing barbs at the “fleshly” or secular world’s estimate of Christians.  

  And that’s probably what God was doing when He carried good will and the benign influence of the kingdom all over Schuyler county with an odd old lady in a ‘53 Ford.  If you would be truly wise, you dare not overlook people like these.

The Third Virtue

I’m not sure how we developed the idea of "rank" among the Trinity. Probably because of the order they are mentioned in Matt. 28:19. They are all the same entity that we call "God", but we usually see Father as first, Son as second, and Holy Spirit as third. We get into real trouble if we imagine that one is lesser in power and authority.

We do, however, have scriptural evidence for rank among the three great virtues: 1 Cor 13:13 And now abideth faith, hope, charity , these three; but the greatest of these is charity. Charity, or love is #1. It envelopes faith and hope, for if we do not love God and neighbor, we will not exercise faith and hope. Actually, they are interdependent. We study much on charity and faith, but it seems to me that hope is not the subject of nearly as much meditation.

Of late, I have seen the tremendous importance of hope, and I would like to sing it’s praises in this essay.

THE PIT



The place where I work has a lime pit. It is a lagoon where the city water plant deposits lime which is used in the purifying of water. We dredge the lime and pump it into large holding tanks where tanker trucks are loaded. They take it to spreaders which apply it in fields to "sweeten" the soil and make it more productive. We use a raft to move around and position cables to guide the dredge and position the pipes behind the dredge. We all must wear life jackets. In the case that we should fall into the lime, we are instructed to fall backward, spread eagle, and wait to be picked up. The worst thing we could do would be to stand, for the lime is like quicksand. We could quickly sink to a point between the naval and chest. At this point, suffocation happens because you can no longer move the diaphragm that pulls air into your lungs. People caught in quicksand are dead long before their head goes under. Even before that, an attempt to pull one out would dismember the body. Sometimes we must flop down flat on the promises of God. Help will come. The Spirit will move to rescue us. Soaked and muddy we may be, but we are moving again. A cleansing shower and dry clothes await if we make our rescue possible.

Sometimes the water is very shallow. The lime is piled almost to the surface. Therefore, the dredge does not power through the lime with a propeller. It has a bull wheel that pulls it at a steady rate along a cable which is anchored securely to the shore. A diesel engine turns the wheel and keeps the dredge moving at a snail’s pace, even through the shallows. Our hope is the engine and cable; and we have an anchor, that saves the soul. Steadfast and sure while the billows roll. Anchored to the Rock which cannot move. Grounded firm and deep in the Savior’s love.

THE BLACK DOG

Churchill called depression and despair the "black dog". The "black dog" came and went throughout his life. It is not so amazing that a man like this could lead Britain through her darkest hour. It is not so amazing that he could say, "Never, never, never, never give up!" He had seen his own dark hours many times, and he knew that they did not last forever.

Long ago, the black dog came and sat on my porch. Then he moved into my house. Then he got into bed with me. Then he crawled into my head. Ministers deal with long stretches where they have a steady diet of dysfunction, suffering and death to deal with. It is no one’s fault. That’s just the way it is in a fallen world. Each ring of the phone would send a shock up my spine. Someone else has been rushed to the emergency room. Someone was contemplating suicide. Someone was on the verge of divorce. A wise elder gave me the best advice. He ran his gnarly fingers through his thin hair and said, "All I know to tell you, Ken, is just to keep working. Things will get better. I’ve been in this church a long time and these things always blow over." In other words, move on with the hope that things will get better.

Leaden sky, collar up, hands in pockets, hat pulled low against biting wind; my head was down because I was watching the Spirit move my feet. Through one hospital door after the other, up the steps, down the steps. The hope that things would get better was what kept me moving. And things got better, and the next time it got bad, the Spirit moved me again. Now I know He is faithful. When things get tough, He gets tougher. Sometimes He is a gentle dove; but if need be, He turns into a Pit Bull. The black dog is handily dispatched. I know the black dog will come again, but I fear him no more.

The black dog has run off. I have not seen him for a while, and I have carried the message of hope to those whom he has visited.

THE TUMOR

On 10 Sept. 2013, my wife brought to my attention that it was the 1 year anniversary of her surgery to remove a malignant tumor. I thought back on our saga with this issue; a great test of our faith. It has elevated the virtue of hope to a new level in my practice of the virtues, and I have developed a new respect for hope and a greater understanding of it’s importance.

From the time of the diagnosis, her doctors have not only been practitioners dealing with the physical aspects of our situation, but they have also treated the mental and emotional side, and their main purpose in these has been to give hope. The Stephanie Spielman center in Columbus, Ohio, where we have gone for treatment, is not a dark and foreboding anteroom of the doomed. It is a happy place. It is decorated with bright wall coverings & carpet, large windows overlooking the bustling city, flowers and balloons, and heavy emphasis on the word "survivor". The halls are decked with smiling, victorious pictures of those undergoing treatment. The staff members have continually given us statistics and probabilities; assurances of the low expectations for recurrence and life threatening consequences. Free cappuccino machines are everywhere. The patients who sit waiting, some of them in bright colored head wraps to cover their bald heads, are friendly, talkative, and cheerful. I enjoy their company while I sit and wait. I think this, as much as any of the other treatments, has done the most to help us weather the storm thus far. There have been many hugs, pats on the shoulder, and positive nods because the cancer was detected early and remained localized. The employees, from receptionists to doctors, radiate with hope.



Through this experience, I have also gained a greater respect for hope in our spiritual lives. Heb 6:11 And we desire that every one of you do shew the same diligence to the full assurance of hope unto the end: The Christian’s hope is solid assurance. Many worldly hopes can be dashed. Not the hope that we have in Christ. I know the answer to the riddle of what would happen when the irresistible force met the immovable object. The immovable object would prevail. God is the irresistible force and His promises are the immovable object. Since it is impossible for Him to lie, under no circumstance will He break a promise; therefore, the promise stands. Our hope is anchored in His promise.

Each 3 foot thick cable of the Golden Gate bridge is anchored into a 60,000 ton concrete block buried in earth. Even they could conceivably fail in an earthquake. When Jesus picked Himself up by His own bootstraps and walked out of the tomb, hope became anchored in that which is immovable under any circumstance. Hope is the fuel in our tanks. Hope is what keeps our feet in motion, continually putting one in front of the other. Without it, we slow down, finally stopping and sinking into despair. If we dwell there, our demise quickly follows.

THE SUBMARINE

I heard the story of a submarine that sunk in about 250 feet of water. The crew waited for endless hours. Hope of rescue was dwindling as the air inside became low on oxygen. Finally, the clanking of a diver was heard on the hull. In Morse code the message was: "Is anyone alive in there?" One of the trapped seamen ran to get a pipe wrench and tapped a code from the inside: "Is there any hope?" "Yes" came the reply. "We will lower a rescue chamber which we can attach to he hatch. We’ll bring you up a few at a time." Hope brought 33 crewmen safely to the surface. Later, even the sub was salvaged.



THE SONG

The late singer, Waylon Jennings, may be an unlikely source for wisdom; but he had a song that I have sung to myself over and over for years: "Storms never last, do they Jessi; Bad times all pass with the wind; Your hand in mine stills the thunder; You make the sun want to shine." Now I don’t know who "Jessi" is, but I know Whose hand in mine stills the thunder. He stills it with hope.



THE WEATHER


Many may see that hope is in the promise of Heaven, and that is certainly true; but I don’t think hope is only in Heaven. Hope is also in the fact that our condition in this life is much like the weather. Here in Ohio, weather changes rapidly. Yesterday morning when I got up to go to work, it was 43 degrees. Today we hit 96. The day after tomorrow the predicted high is 64. Sometimes in Winter it can be wet and gloomy for two weeks. Some days are so dark that the street lights stay on; but we know the sun will shine again. That’s what keeps us truckin’ through the fog. Things will get better. We must see our lives in the amalgam. When we do, I’m sure we will conclude that we’re not that bad off after all.

THE ABSENCE OF HOPE

I love baseball. In basketball or football, there comes a point before the end that you can safely head for the parking lot. In baseball, there is hope until the last putout of the last inning.

The poet, Alighieri Dante, pictured the gates of Hell with an inscription above: "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here." To him, this was the most exquisite torment. No one will pay or pray us out of a non existent purgatory. Separated from God irrevocably. Abandoned to an eternal cauldron. Contemplating this makes hope the first straw I would grasp for. If someone would only promise me that it would last for just 1000 years; or a million; or a billion! If only someone would tell me that I would just go out of existence!

When we think of the absence of hope, the presence of it becomes immeasurably precious.

　

Practice Charity, for it is the purest imitation of God. Have Faith, for without it, it is impossible to please God. Don’t neglect hope, for it is anchored to God, and it will surely bring us safely through, and eventually home to Him.