Justice Conference Day 1

I’m at the Justice Conference in Portland for a few days. I am traveling with the most amazing group of people from our church. I feel like I belong to this group of super heroes, and I’m not sure how I fit. We are here to learn how to put our boots on the ground in this ever increasing awareness of the societal wrongs that are being perpetuated at an alarming rate all around the world. We are asking ourselves to listen for the voice of God. To give a consistent message that we are all hearing. So guess what the first chorus has been?

Listen.

 

Plain and simple. Stop trying to fix other people’s live without first taking the time to listen.

Listening is a form of dignity. It communicates that the one in crisis might actually know something. They may even have a handle on what they need before we tell them what they need. It’s a lesson I’ve learned in marriage. A practical, other-oriented approach to compassion. Rather than me meeting my needs by “helping” you, what if I actually asked the question. Even better, what if I listened to the answer.

Best, what if I followed through on the offer to truly provide relief and care. In a manner that brings life to the recipient, glorifies God and does something profoundly wonderful in me.

All at the same time.

So the first word of the conference: Listen.

Identity

Who am I?

How do I determine my worth?

When I go to bed, and when I wake up. Throughout the day. My heart is continually affirming me and condemning me. Like patches of clouds and rays of sunshine, my mind is fully capable of shifting on a dime. Am I a good person, or am I a wretch? Am I both?

So often I live off the last endeavor. In my case, my most recent teaching or meeting. It could be a conversation or an activity. If things went well, good on me. If I perceive that it didn’t go so well, I sink into despair. Bottom line: my self worth seems to rise and fall on my sense of personal achievement. My accomplishments, for better or worse, are the determining factor in my own value to the “organization.”

Contrast this to the people of God.

All throughout the Old Testament God reminds the Israelites of who they are and what He has done for them. In short, they are a Chosen People who have been delivered from slavery.

Chosen and Delivered.

What did they contribute to such an incredible identity. Nothing but sin, rebellion and outright disregard for ways of God. Yet, over and over, the Lord reminds them of what He has done, and not of their past. They are to remember Him, and not them!

Flash ahead to the book of Hebrews. Once again, we are overwhelmed by singularly great sacrifice of Jesus. Through His voluntary death on the Cross, we now have access to the throne of grace through the removal of the barrier between God and man. In other words, my status has nothing to do with my accomplishments, achievements and/or accolades. In fact, I contribute nothing but filthy rags.

Who am I? I am a child of God who has been delivered up out of the Land of Slavery. I have been purchased by the Blood of the Lamb, brought back to life by the mercy of God, and had my mind transformed by the power of His Word. I am who I belong to.

Chosen and Delivered. That’s who I am. My identity is hidden in Him. Completely connected to the Cross and an Empty Tomb.

I am Saved.

 The best day can’t add to that truth. The worst day can’t take away from it.

Suddenly

It’s hard to describe.

I am often asked about it. The only way I can explain that night is by admitting that I can’t explain it.

We were just doing our jobs. Not a glamorous one, by any means. But it pays. In this day and age, that’s all that counted. Long, cold dark nights. Listening for the sounds of predators. Watching for the hint of daylight. Singing songs to the sheep. Such is the life of the shepherd.

It was a typical night. The three of us keeping watch. But it wouldn’t end that way.

It was a night of “suddenlys.”

At first we thought the light was a shooting star. But instead of a brief flash over the horizon, this light grew in size and intensity. Rather than traveling in a wide arc, this brilliant glow was coming directly at us! What is it? We froze, terrified at the sight before our eyes! Death seemed imminent.

Then we heard a voice. Deep. Confident. Gentle.

Don’t be afraid, the voice said. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people!

My mind was racing! A strange, unfamiliar sense of dread, awe and peace had come over me. And I liked it. Lights and colors I had never laid hold of.  A  quality of voice I had never heard. Emotions I had never felt.  And a message. Oh, the message!

What does this mean?

He continued. What did he say? A Savior has been born. To us? Yes…to us! He is Christ the Lord, and He will be found in a manger in the city of David!

Suddenly there was another suddenly. A choir of voices from the heavens filled our fields with the most wonderful, breathtaking song! We were paralyzed at the sight and sound of the beings from above! Is everyone hearing this? It was so loud, so resounding. So incredibly unique, so wonderfully majestic!

Glory to God in the highest,

And on earth peace among those

With whom He is pleased.

Then it happened. The third suddenly. Peace swept over me like the first rays of daylight. A warmth. A calm. A certainty in my mind and heart that whispered, “It’s going to be alright.” That’s the best way to describe it. No matter what happened from this day forward, everything was going to be alright. I just knew it!

This good news that brings great joy had brought me peace.

Yes, I would continue to be a shepherd. Yes, there would be dark nights. But where there was once fear and anxiety, peace now reigned.

Unto us a Savior was born. He is Christ the Lord. And His message is peace.

 

Early

“And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth.”  -  Luke 2:6

Everything about His arrival was unexpected. His mom and dad. His birthplace. The town in which He was born. Not what you might expect as the proper entrance for the King of Kings.

This is consistent with so much of the Scriptures. It is a wonderful and mysterious pattern that our God and Father establishes as normal. Perhaps it is to keep us control freaks from trying to know His mind and make sense of His wisdom. Or it could be that God wants us to learn to trust Him when the math doesn’t add up. It’s a norm at I have come to live with, and have a growing peace that has come with my contentment in God’s timing and ways.

Maybe that’s why I was struck by the passage in the second chapter of Luke. For the first time I noticed that Jesus’ birth seemed to be a bit earlier than His parents’ had expected. Joseph and Mary have gone to Bethlehem to register, in keeping with the decree from Caesar Augustus. The equivalent of the census. Lo and behold, Mary’s water breaks and it’s time to deliver! Not when, where and how they had imagined their laboring would take place!

And so it will be at His second coming.

The Son of Man’s return will be as when labor pains come upon a pregnant woman. It won’t be a complete surprise. I’ve been through this three times. I had a good 7-8 months notice. As for the exact time, of course not. But I knew a baby was coming.

We know Jesus is coming again.

We just don’t know when.

There are signs. There are contractions, and they a getting closer together. Yes, He is coming soon. And like His first advent, it would appear He will come at an hour no one expects. Earlier than His parents that His birth would happen. No doubt, earlier than the World expects.

So this advent season, let’s leave an overnight bag by the door. Let’s prepare room for His return as we celebrate His arrival. Let’s continue what the shepherds began, and herald the wedding announcement.

Good news. Great joy. Everyone’s invited.  Have you responded?

He is coming again, and if history repeats itself, He is likely to be early.

Rescuing

“I don’t know what a Jew is,

I only know what a human being is.”

Pastor Andre Trorme, Righteous Among the Nations, France

We have just returned from visiting Yad Vashem. The holocaust museum in Israel. As you might imagine, it is an incredibly moving and overwhelming experience. Words can’t describe.

Once again I am drawn to the people the Jews have named The Righteous Among the Nations. My eyes fill up as I consider the untold acts of heroism by men and women around Europe who saved Jews while putting their lives in harm’s way. Without an established network of communication, they did what seemed like the only right thing to do. They rescued.

The RATN were Catholics, Protestants, and Atheists. They were from Poland, Denmark, Italy and France. They were men and women. Young and old. Parents and grandparents. But they had one thing in common: a courageous love of human beings whose lives in were being placed in tremendous jeopardy. It mattered not that those who were being oppressed were not countrymen or kindred. It mattered not that they were compatriots or congregants. All that mattered was that they were human beings, and they needed the help of another human being. I plan to write much more about the RATN in the future.

A new horror has begun to emerge in our time. One in our own country. Yes, even in our backyard. There are thousands of young women who are being sold into sexual slavery in the United States. Some are trafficked from Asia and Europe, while others are abducted from the streets of the middle class suburbia and turned into a piece of property that belongs to a pimp, who works for an unthinkable monster perpetrating crimes against women at an alarming rate.

Friends, it’s Economics 101. Demand and supply. The sexual appetites of men have spiraled out of control with the easy and constant access to pornography. At some point, the male brain is no longer responsive to the simply viewing images. The eyes of a man are never satisfied, Solomon accurately noted. And a new holocaust is beginning to build momentum. Right under our noses. Hidden in plain sight.

“Rescue those being led away to death. Hold back those staggering toward slaughter.

If we say we knew nothing of this, does not He who weighs the heart perceive it? Will he not repay man according to his work?”

My Easy Job

My friends don’t think I really work. I mean, it doesn’t look all that hard to the naked eye. The hours are pretty good, the benefits great. And I  haven’t had to break a sweat yet! That was until recently.

You might have have heard the story.

I’m an armor bearer. Normally that might be fairly demanding work without the promise of much job security. Not me. I carry the shield of a ruthless killing machine named Goliath, who hails from Gath. Standing at over 9 feet tall, he is a sight to behold without his armor on. I am one of the shorter men of the Philistine tribe, and am quite certain I was selected to serve in this capacity to further add to the visual sense of dread to those who may have the unfortunate privilege to stand before us to do battle. Which, of course, never happens.

Here’s the drill.  We confront inhabitants of a land we wish to occupy, with the Giant issuing a challenge to the men to put forth a worthy combatant. Winner take all. Within a matter of time, the residents vacate their homes, choosing to live in shame rather than face certain defeat at the hands of Goliath.

Our perfect record was about to receive it’s first blemish.

We set out the small nation of Israel. Perched in a scenic location with bountiful water supplies and fertile soil, it was an easy choice to make. We gathered our men at the Valley of Elah, on the outskirts of Judah. The men of the land faced us from across a small brook, which separated the two tribes. The Giant shouted his usual challenge, complete with enough disparaging remarks to make most men blush. He was unusually relentless and vulgar, choosing to insult the God of Israel as well as the fighting men.

I was certain this would bring some reaction. Having an unusually good vantage point, I could see fear in the eyes of these men. Fear accompanied by shame. This went on for well over a month. Every day, the same routine. The men came dressed for battle, Goliath repeated the terms of engagement, and the men of Judah would show us their backs. Was there not one man who contend for their God? I  wondered how long it would be before they gave up this charade and showed their true colors, like all the other nations before them.

I wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

On the fortieth day of the siege, things changed. After Goliath made his usual challenge, replete with  insults to the men and irreverent obscenities to their God, a young man stepped forward. I should say boy. It was quite a sight. The Giant that it was an insult. I thought it was a joke. That was, until I looked into at his boyish face that betrayed his fierce inner strength and  unrelenting zeal. Though he was not dressed for battle, he had a warrior spirit. As he drew near, my perspective sharpened. I’ll never forget it.

I saw fire in his eyes.

I heard the conviction in his voice.

I felt the confidence in his God.

He matched the Giant word for word in battle. Then he uttered a phrase I had never heard before. It struck a new emotion in me. As he spoke these words, a sense of dread fear filled my heart:

“The world will know that there is a God in Israel.”

For the first time in my life I was actually going to be required to lead Goliath forth in battle! The Giant motioned me forward with his spear. He began to lumber forward, encumbered by his massive size and heavy armor. To our complete shock, the manchild actually ran toward us! Swinging his sling, he struck our warrior in the exposed place on his forehead and felled him with a single stroke.

The story has been told for many years since then. I have the scars to verify it’s authenticity. And I now share in the knowledge communicated to the Philistine army on that day.

There is a God in Israel! Holy is His name!

Confirmation

And the Lord said,”Rise and anoint him, for this is he.” 1Samuel 16:12

I started blogging on my first trip to Israel two years ago. My goal then, and now, was to help you see and feel a what I was experiencing. To make the invisible become a little more visible. However, I don’t think I can ever do justice to the mountains of Ein Gedi.

Ein Gedi is the remote dessert oasis that David retreated to in an effort to escape the murderous wrath of his father-in-law, King Saul. It is a unique blend of wasteland and a rock climbers paradise. Blazing hot, red sand combined with sheer, rugged and impossibly vertical cavernous walls lining the canyons of Ein Gedi. It is the perfect place to flee. One would have to be incredibly motivated to continue the pursuit once it had reached this region.

Which is exactly the case with King Saul. Overcome with jealousy for the new found and well deserved favor that David has achieved, the King is hellbent on ending the threat to the status quo. David has found a cave in the mountains of Ein Gedi, with enough room to accommodate his 600 men. (Trust me, it’s possible!)

The back story. Saul has proven to be a puppet king, doing what the people wanted rather than obeying the voice of the Lord. As a result, the Lord has had Samuel anoint David to be king. One problem. Saul is still on the throne. It is not a matter whether  David will wear the crown, but when. It is a promise he lives with, as well as a tension.

He is not the first person to live in the already and not yet. Caleb lived over forty between the time God promised him the hill country as an inheritance in the land of Canaan. Mary lived nine months, treasuring the knowledge that the baby she carried was no ordinary child.

Back to the story. David and his men are hunkered down in the back of one of the many deep caves of Ein Gedi. Suddenly loud voices are heard outside, accompanied by the distinct sounds of many horses. It’s Saul and his men! David’s men quake with fear. Then, in  walks Saul. Alone! He needs to “relieve himself.” Of all the caves! David’s men are buzzing, whispering into to his ears to seize the moment. This must be the Lord, they insist! Strike him and down and assume the promised kingdom. This is confirmation!

It would be hard to deny. Had  God really directed Saul into the one cave David had made his hiding place? The potentail for a Hollywood moment was there. Picture it: King walks into a cave by himself. Moments later, David emerges from the same cave holding the head of the King. All Saul’s men bow down and pledge their service to the new king. Must be God!

Did God want the boy who had taken down a giant named Goliath to become King by killing a man with his robe down? Imagine his first press conference. “Uh, King David, how did it happen? Tell us how you killed King Saul?” Next question!

Back to the cave. Despite overwhelming pressure to take the easy route of instant gratification and a spike in public approval, David refuses to take the bait. He knows that one day he will wear the crown. It’s not a matter if, but when. It’s not a matter of whether, but how.

He knows that what is gained through disobedience can only end in disaster.

Are you waiting for God has promised? Are you in the tension of the “already and not yet?” If so, you are in good company. Caleb, Mary and David would encourage to wait. To wait patiently. To wait on the Lord. He who promised is faithful, and He will do it. Even when all signs are pointing to confirmation, listen to that still small voice that says not yet. He is not slow in keeping word.

It’s not a matter of whether  He will, but how He will.

Crossing Ahead

I mentioned earlier that the theme of our time in Israel has been courage.  The subject continues to dominate the landscape of our experience. Yet it just dawned on me a moment ago. Call it an epiphany, or may be just a firm grasp of the obvious.

“Be strong and courageous, for you shall cause this people to inherit the land that I swore to their fathers to give them. Only be strong and very courageous…” Joshua 1:6,7

It’s a huge hint as to what life will be like for the people of the promise. Yes, it will require courage to cross over the Jordan. But it will take an equal, if not greater, amount of courage to remain in the Land. Receiving the promise of God is one thing. Laying hold of it is another.

Perhaps this is just another metaphor of our lives as Christians. We spend an inordinate amount of time considering the offer of salvation through Jesus Christ. Once we step by faith into the promise of new life, we may mistakenly believe that this is both the beginning and the end of the Christian experience.

We forget that though it requires courage to enter the Land, and  we will need more courage to live in it. We must be very courageous.

Jesus said that He came that we may have life, and have it abundantly. “Life” may be the equivalent of entering the Land. “Life abundantly” may describe how we are to live in it. To take life courageously and take hold of the life that is truly life. I suggest that this was designed to be one and the same.

Jesus didn’t come to be only a Savior, but Savior and  Lord.

So here’s to courage to enter the life that Jesus came to bring to the World. And here’s to the sustained courage required to live the life!

 

A New Man

It’s still hard to speak about.

Even though it has been so many years. I am frequently asked to tell my story, which I do with some reluctance. I do so only to give others hope. Maybe even you. If Jesus Christ can change my life, He can change yours too.

I grew up in the region of the Gerasenes. We were on the wrong side of lake, so to speak. The Gerasenes is located on the east side of the Sea of Galilee. We are a mixture of Jews and Greeks, farmers and fishermen. We are perhaps best known in Galilean region for our massive cemetary on the rolling hillside, the only one in our community.

People came here to get away from the city. We are loners, fiercely private and very protective. Outsiders are not given a warm reception, often treated with open contempt.

This is my home.

I have fond memories as a child. Working the fields with my father, enjoying the Sea with my siblings. But my life took a different turn in my teenage years. I became a hellion. Lawless. I was a thief, a drunkard and a bully. I brought shame to my family, forcing my father to remove me from our home.

I have no memory of the next five years of my life. None whatsoever.

The only knowledge I have of those years comes from little sister. She apparently never stopped hoping and praying for me. She says that I lost my mind, wandering aimlessly through our city and yes, even our graveyard. I began to terrorize our entire community. When the authorities attempted to subdue me, their chains could not contain me.

I was a man possessed.

One day that all changed. Jesus of Nazareth had relocated to the town of Capernaum, just a little north of us. Rather than pursuing a large haul of tilapia that morning, He made the unexpected decision to enter our town. I can’t imagine what would make Him think that was a good idea. Looking back now, I’m eternally glad He did!

My sister says that as soon as Jesus climbed out of the boat onto the rocky shoreline of the Gerasenes, I confronted Him. With full force, completely naked and screaming profane words I came at Him. It was a merciless and file display of evil. So I am told.

This is where I begin to remember again. Inexplicably I found myself sitting at the feet of Jesus. Dressed and in my right mind, my heart was racing with joy! What had happened! I felt like was a different person! Here I was, in the posture of a student waiting to be asked by the Rabbi to become a disciple. To follow Him.

I was ready to leave the Gerasenes. I had no life here. I was hated, and rightfully so. I wanted a new life. A second chance. So I asked Jesus if I could join His group and begin a new life. To my surprise, He denied me. Rather, He said, “Stay here and tell everyone what God has done for you.”

That’s exactly what I did. Looking back, I think I may have been the first missionary to be sent by the Lord Jesus. I didn’t want to stay here, but now I see the beauty and wisdom of my Savior. Who better to be a living proof of the goodness and power of God to our community than me, sadly? I was an object of scorn, ridicule and fear for years, and who had been transformed in a moment into an object of grace, love and hope.

If He can do that for me, what can He do for you?

Courage

Courage is not the absence of fear. Courage is remaining committed to a course of action in spite of fear.

This has become the dominant theme on our trip to Israel this year. From the stories we have explored, to the sites we have visited and the people we have met. The catalyst has been courage.

Today we visited a kibbutz called Nir-am. It is located approximately three miles directly east of the Gaza Strip. This small farming community, founded in 1946, was home to be 500 men, women and children when I visited in the early Spring of 2009. Currently there are only 350 occupants. The reason? Nir-Am has been struck by over 150 missiles, known as Qassams, launched by their neighbors to the west. The air raid alarm sounds approximately 10-20 times a day, giving the residents a 15 second warning to reach safety in the event that the missile is heading toward them.

I saw this clip on YouTube two years ago and watched it again today. This young woman tells her heart-breaking story more powerfully than I could attempt to summarize. Please take the time to watch, and remember a small community of peaceable families who live with the threat of random violence on a daily basis. By choice.

This is what courage looks like.