Nehemiah was the king's cupbearer, living securely in the palace of Shushan, ever close to the King's presence, always at His beck and call.
Meanwhile, his fellow captive Jews were "in great affliction and reproach" because the walls and gates had been destroyed. Walls were a city's chief defense against enemy forces. The gates, in addition to being a defense, were also a city's identity; in some instances, the gates even represented the "glory" of a city.
With no walls to defend her, the former Jerusalem was easy prey for marauding armies. With her gates burned, she had lost her identity, indeed, her glory. No doubt Jerusalem had brought upon herself this tragic fall from Jehovah's graces; yet there was a man whose heart was not calloused to her downfall. Nehemiah received word about the reproach of his brethren, and his heart was broken. He sat down to weep, to implore God for the plight of his own countrymen, and even to repent on their behalf.
I wonder, while you're in the palace, can your heart still be touched with the plight of those who have brought about their own ruination? Or are you so secure, so comfortable in your own calling as the King's servant, that you scarcely remember those whom you once called "brethren"?
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Samson's Last Request
Samson's final request was for vengeance. He could have asked for restoration, but he chose vengeance: "Avenge me this once of my two eyes...". As a result, he died with an enemy he had fought bitterly against for much of his short life.
Who knows what great things he might've accomplished had he sought restoration of his anointing, instead of revenge for his blindness? A blindness that was brought about by his own carnality, lust, and self-reliance.
Is your desire merely for revenge against an enemy that has taken something from you? Are you simply out for one final, but hollow, victory over an adversary that has bound you, taunted your anointing, mocked your ministry?
Or are you seeking restoration to the anointing and power that ultimately brought about all your previous victories?
Do you want revenge? Or revival?
Who knows what great things he might've accomplished had he sought restoration of his anointing, instead of revenge for his blindness? A blindness that was brought about by his own carnality, lust, and self-reliance.
Is your desire merely for revenge against an enemy that has taken something from you? Are you simply out for one final, but hollow, victory over an adversary that has bound you, taunted your anointing, mocked your ministry?
Or are you seeking restoration to the anointing and power that ultimately brought about all your previous victories?
Do you want revenge? Or revival?
Sunday, April 26, 2009
When The Anointing Flows
A testimony to God's goodness: A few nights ago, I was just sort of meandering over the piano, when my wife asked me to play Timothy Spell's When God Unfolds The Rose. For those who have never heard it, you've missed a tremendous blessing; I suppose I could easily name it among my favorite songs of all times.
Because of how dearly I love to hear Bro. Spell sing this, my initial reaction was, "Oh, no, honey; that's not a piano song; that's a vocal." She replied, "I realize that; I was wondering if you could play it that way...sort of let the piano become your voice."
I could tell she felt hurt by my initial refusal, so I started tinkering with the melody. Before I knew it, I was "locked in", and the words were flowing through my mind even as they spilled out onto the keyboard. I tried to not "elaborate" the song anymore than Tim's original vocal version, but the more I played, the more the message came through my heart: When God unfolds the rose, He always gets it right...
Those who know me personally know that, for a couple years now, I have gone through a period of "waiting"; holding a secular job here in the Austin, TX area, trying to be faithful in the little things, feeling as though I had somehow made God mad at me. I even voiced my feelings in an email by telling some close friends "I feel like I've been fired by God." If you're called of God into any sort of ministry, and you've gone through this period of waiting, you can relate to my anguish.
As I played this song, the message of Hope, the promise that "the gifts and the calling of God are without repentance", rang through each note, each chord, each progression. I suddenly realized that, even in the subdued darkness of my little living room, the Anointing of God was flowing freely, moving on my heart, flowing through my hands, speaking to me (and, I suppose, to my wife who sat listening in the darkness), reassuring me that He's not finished with me.
The Anointing of God...something that I have always craved, whether in my preaching, or ministering in music. Nothing else matters, for nothing else can replace that awesome Touch of God's hand, when a holy God reaches down to touch an undeserving man, and suddenly Heaven and earth meet, and we are ushered into a supernatural realm where Promise becomes reality.
Surely when Bro. Spell sings, he must feel what I felt that evening; as I played the final chorus, the key modulation became the introduction to a crescendo of chords that I spilled my heart into. Although he was hundreds of miles away, has never met me, and knew nothing of what I was feeling, Bro. Spell's voice rang loud and clear in my mind, and I gave the song a voice: the piano sang the melody, felt the passion, and proclaimed the promise: When God unfolds the rose, He always gets it right...
When I came to the close of the song, and the final note had faded away into silence, I turned to my wife, tears on my face, and said, "You mean like that?" She was sitting in the darkness, her back to me, but I heard the tears in her own voice when she quietly replied, "Yeah...something like that."
God has been so good to me. I am never comfortable talking about my own music, my own gifts and abilities, but I do know that God has blessed me with an extraordinary gift to play skillfully unto the Lord. It may sound strange, I know, but I tell you before God, there are times that I watch my own hands, listen to the music that is flowing, and can only weep in a combination of humility and awe, because I know it's God that's doing it.
When the anointing flows, everything else is forgotten. In the quiet darkness of my own living room, I was once again ushered into His Presence, and blessed beyond measure to feel His hand on me again.
I only hope I blessed Him as much as He blessed me.
Because of how dearly I love to hear Bro. Spell sing this, my initial reaction was, "Oh, no, honey; that's not a piano song; that's a vocal." She replied, "I realize that; I was wondering if you could play it that way...sort of let the piano become your voice."
I could tell she felt hurt by my initial refusal, so I started tinkering with the melody. Before I knew it, I was "locked in", and the words were flowing through my mind even as they spilled out onto the keyboard. I tried to not "elaborate" the song anymore than Tim's original vocal version, but the more I played, the more the message came through my heart: When God unfolds the rose, He always gets it right...
Those who know me personally know that, for a couple years now, I have gone through a period of "waiting"; holding a secular job here in the Austin, TX area, trying to be faithful in the little things, feeling as though I had somehow made God mad at me. I even voiced my feelings in an email by telling some close friends "I feel like I've been fired by God." If you're called of God into any sort of ministry, and you've gone through this period of waiting, you can relate to my anguish.
As I played this song, the message of Hope, the promise that "the gifts and the calling of God are without repentance", rang through each note, each chord, each progression. I suddenly realized that, even in the subdued darkness of my little living room, the Anointing of God was flowing freely, moving on my heart, flowing through my hands, speaking to me (and, I suppose, to my wife who sat listening in the darkness), reassuring me that He's not finished with me.
The Anointing of God...something that I have always craved, whether in my preaching, or ministering in music. Nothing else matters, for nothing else can replace that awesome Touch of God's hand, when a holy God reaches down to touch an undeserving man, and suddenly Heaven and earth meet, and we are ushered into a supernatural realm where Promise becomes reality.
Surely when Bro. Spell sings, he must feel what I felt that evening; as I played the final chorus, the key modulation became the introduction to a crescendo of chords that I spilled my heart into. Although he was hundreds of miles away, has never met me, and knew nothing of what I was feeling, Bro. Spell's voice rang loud and clear in my mind, and I gave the song a voice: the piano sang the melody, felt the passion, and proclaimed the promise: When God unfolds the rose, He always gets it right...
When I came to the close of the song, and the final note had faded away into silence, I turned to my wife, tears on my face, and said, "You mean like that?" She was sitting in the darkness, her back to me, but I heard the tears in her own voice when she quietly replied, "Yeah...something like that."
God has been so good to me. I am never comfortable talking about my own music, my own gifts and abilities, but I do know that God has blessed me with an extraordinary gift to play skillfully unto the Lord. It may sound strange, I know, but I tell you before God, there are times that I watch my own hands, listen to the music that is flowing, and can only weep in a combination of humility and awe, because I know it's God that's doing it.
When the anointing flows, everything else is forgotten. In the quiet darkness of my own living room, I was once again ushered into His Presence, and blessed beyond measure to feel His hand on me again.
I only hope I blessed Him as much as He blessed me.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Just To Walk With Him...
I sat down at the piano here in my living room a few nights ago. My wife was at her computer in the office, and the girls were busy playing some game on their computers. It was quiet, and I was alone...
Sat down at the piano, and began to play the old chorus:
Just to walk with Him means everything to me
Just to know He's real, His Hand is leading me.
Let this world go their way
Pass me by, let me be;
Just to walk with Him means everything to me.
As I played, I realized that I had stopped pursuing that dream. When I was pastoring, I was so hungry for it, it consumed me. It was all I thought about. I felt like I was finally learning His heartbeat, drawing near to Him.
When I was evangelizing full-time, I felt it. I played and sang and ministered and preached in so many churches---yes, even though it may've been one, maybe two services a weekend---but there was an anointing that came over me, a passion to minister to people in the Spirit. And that passion bled through (at least, I believe it did) in most, if not all, of the churches that I was privileged to minister in. I walked with Him during the week; I walked with Him alone in the hotel rooms; I walked with Him while seated at a piano, while preaching, while reaching.
And then, a few months ago, I found myself back in the secular workforce. The brook had dried up evangelistically, and I was making a decent living, trying to support my family. Good job, good money, long hours, hard work...but I was content here if this is what God wanted.
And I realized that I had lost the passion.
I was content to live for God, but I wasn't hungry to know Him. I wasn't craving His heartbeat like I used to.
I am being transparent, and perhaps this will close doors, turn someone off to inviting me. But I am being honest.
There is a difference in living for God, and walking with Him.
Consider the difference between a servant and a slave. Both live to serve their master, yet one does it without the chains of servitude. What holds him to his master's beck and call is an ear pierced with a mark of love and loyalty: "I love my master...I will not go out free." The other does what is expected, yet perhaps there lies within his heart a hint of bitterness, resentment: "This man saved me from certain doom when he purchased me from the auction block; yet all my life I will be forced to do what he asks, and never what I would do for myself."
Oh God, that I might discover the heartbeat of a servant, a "love-slave", if you will, once again!!! I sit here and I am crying, because somewhere, Shubert came back to life, and the carnal nature was found trying to weave its own way back into the picture...
Bring me again to Calvary's cross; let me kneel in the shadow of that ugly old tree, let my eyes once again view the brutality of Your death, and my ears hear the mocking of the crowd, the screaming of the multitude, and Your voice through it all. Let me once again realize that, in this beautiful relationship that I enjoy, I have given so little, and You have given so much.
Let me once again find my place at Your feet, and close my ears to the siren song of the world, of the carnal nature that says, "Do your own thing for once in your life." Let me realize again that this really is about You, not because You are some narcissistic Saviour, some self-serving master that demands toil and servitude, but because You gave everything for my salvation.
You alone, the God of all creation, the Holy One, the King of all Kings and the Lord of glory...You gave up Your throne, your righteous robes, your Majesty, to condescend to my level, to reach out to me when I would not reach out to You.
How could I have ever forgotten?
Remind me...
And let me walk with You again.
And may I always listen.
For someday, somewhere, sometime...Your voice, that sweet, gentle voice that has spoken peace to so many storms, that has calmed so many of my fears, that has reproved and instructed me on so many occasions...
That voice will issue not a command, not a request...but an invitation:
"Come, for all things are now ready."
Sat down at the piano, and began to play the old chorus:
Just to walk with Him means everything to me
Just to know He's real, His Hand is leading me.
Let this world go their way
Pass me by, let me be;
Just to walk with Him means everything to me.
As I played, I realized that I had stopped pursuing that dream. When I was pastoring, I was so hungry for it, it consumed me. It was all I thought about. I felt like I was finally learning His heartbeat, drawing near to Him.
When I was evangelizing full-time, I felt it. I played and sang and ministered and preached in so many churches---yes, even though it may've been one, maybe two services a weekend---but there was an anointing that came over me, a passion to minister to people in the Spirit. And that passion bled through (at least, I believe it did) in most, if not all, of the churches that I was privileged to minister in. I walked with Him during the week; I walked with Him alone in the hotel rooms; I walked with Him while seated at a piano, while preaching, while reaching.
And then, a few months ago, I found myself back in the secular workforce. The brook had dried up evangelistically, and I was making a decent living, trying to support my family. Good job, good money, long hours, hard work...but I was content here if this is what God wanted.
And I realized that I had lost the passion.
I was content to live for God, but I wasn't hungry to know Him. I wasn't craving His heartbeat like I used to.
I am being transparent, and perhaps this will close doors, turn someone off to inviting me. But I am being honest.
There is a difference in living for God, and walking with Him.
Consider the difference between a servant and a slave. Both live to serve their master, yet one does it without the chains of servitude. What holds him to his master's beck and call is an ear pierced with a mark of love and loyalty: "I love my master...I will not go out free." The other does what is expected, yet perhaps there lies within his heart a hint of bitterness, resentment: "This man saved me from certain doom when he purchased me from the auction block; yet all my life I will be forced to do what he asks, and never what I would do for myself."
Oh God, that I might discover the heartbeat of a servant, a "love-slave", if you will, once again!!! I sit here and I am crying, because somewhere, Shubert came back to life, and the carnal nature was found trying to weave its own way back into the picture...
Bring me again to Calvary's cross; let me kneel in the shadow of that ugly old tree, let my eyes once again view the brutality of Your death, and my ears hear the mocking of the crowd, the screaming of the multitude, and Your voice through it all. Let me once again realize that, in this beautiful relationship that I enjoy, I have given so little, and You have given so much.
Let me once again find my place at Your feet, and close my ears to the siren song of the world, of the carnal nature that says, "Do your own thing for once in your life." Let me realize again that this really is about You, not because You are some narcissistic Saviour, some self-serving master that demands toil and servitude, but because You gave everything for my salvation.
You alone, the God of all creation, the Holy One, the King of all Kings and the Lord of glory...You gave up Your throne, your righteous robes, your Majesty, to condescend to my level, to reach out to me when I would not reach out to You.
How could I have ever forgotten?
Remind me...
And let me walk with You again.
And may I always listen.
For someday, somewhere, sometime...Your voice, that sweet, gentle voice that has spoken peace to so many storms, that has calmed so many of my fears, that has reproved and instructed me on so many occasions...
That voice will issue not a command, not a request...but an invitation:
"Come, for all things are now ready."
Thursday, December 20, 2007
The Competition Syndrome
Do you have children? If not, do you spend much time around them?
Listen to them, especially siblings; they often display something I call the "One-Up Syndrome", otherwise known as "trumping". Whenever my youngest daughter talks about doing, reading, going, or accomplishing something, her older sister has this incredible need to "one-up" her.
It is an embarassment to say that preachers are no different.
We are fiercely results-oriented, because we've been taught that a preacher who experiences little or no results in his/her ministry is scarcely worth walking across the street to listen to. Therefore, we---as preachers ourselves---have bred an entire generation (or two or three) of preachers who have virtually no self-identity when it comes to preaching style, especially in the Pentecostal genre of preaching. (There are two exceptions that immedietly come to mind, but they are the only two anomalies I can think of.)
It has troubled me for quite some time now that this "competitive" mindset is eating through our ranks like some hidden cancer, yet as obvious as it is to every one of us, few dare to tackle it head-on. We get up and preach---in our best Pentecostal voice, no less!---that "God didn't call me to be so-and-so", yet we try our best to preach like them, because they are the marquee speakers of the hour.
Someone recently made a statement that a particular preacher "...can outpreach almost anyone with his age and/or experience". In response, my mind immediately asked the question, "When did delivering a message from God become a competitive sport?"
It is not only preachers, but musicians, singers, choirs, youth pastors, outreach directors, etc. that struggle with this beast. This elusive, insidious spirit of competition is weaving its way through the ranks of Pentecost, eating us from the inside out. It causes discord, bitterness, jealousy, envy, and ultimately lying. Remarks are made, or tallies given, that are far from the truth, yet preachers (and the others as mentioned above) feel it necessary to make such statements with scarcely a thought because, from all we've been trained to believe, "results" are all that matters.
This past weekend, I was privileged to minister in a small church here in the South Texas region. What an incredible move of the Holy Spirit we had...not because of me, but (truth be told) probably in spite of me. I didn't take revival---or a move of the Spirit---with me, but rather, I was blessed because there were hungry souls in that service who worshipped God's Presence into the place.
I didn't actually "preach" (as far as taking a text, etc), but only spoke for a short time from my heart on what I felt God was leading me to say; however, in my closing comments, I made the statement: "We don't have an altar full of people seeking God, no one has received the Holy Spirit, and we haven't seen any miraculous healings today. However, this service has been what I consider a 'success' because God came into this house. If anyone leaves without whatever they came needing today, they've no one to blame but themselves, because the Giver of gifts is here today."
I'm sure there are those who will consider me haughty, pompous, arrogant, or worse; however, I have learned---through painful experience---that God is not impressed with my "works", nor with my "results".
When I step into a church, my goal for that particular service is to connect with God, to usher His Presence into the place. I cannot meet anyone's needs, answer anyone's prayer, or calm anyone's storm. But if I can somehow tap into the Majesty of the Almighty, and connect people with God through music, song, worship, or the Word, He can do whatever needs to be done.
If we can ever grasp this concept---that it really isn't about us, or our so-called "results---then God can move through us, and do what needs to be done in every service.
I am convinced that this is what is separating us from the Acts of the apostles.
They would do anything for the cause of Christ; we, on the other hand, will do practically anything for the promotion of Self.
I'm sure this particular post won't win the "Most Popular Blog" award. However, if we don't somehow attack---and crucify---this spirit of competition that rules our ministerial life, we are every one of us doomed to accomplish nothing for His Kingdom.
Listen to them, especially siblings; they often display something I call the "One-Up Syndrome", otherwise known as "trumping". Whenever my youngest daughter talks about doing, reading, going, or accomplishing something, her older sister has this incredible need to "one-up" her.
It is an embarassment to say that preachers are no different.
We are fiercely results-oriented, because we've been taught that a preacher who experiences little or no results in his/her ministry is scarcely worth walking across the street to listen to. Therefore, we---as preachers ourselves---have bred an entire generation (or two or three) of preachers who have virtually no self-identity when it comes to preaching style, especially in the Pentecostal genre of preaching. (There are two exceptions that immedietly come to mind, but they are the only two anomalies I can think of.)
It has troubled me for quite some time now that this "competitive" mindset is eating through our ranks like some hidden cancer, yet as obvious as it is to every one of us, few dare to tackle it head-on. We get up and preach---in our best Pentecostal voice, no less!---that "God didn't call me to be so-and-so", yet we try our best to preach like them, because they are the marquee speakers of the hour.
Someone recently made a statement that a particular preacher "...can outpreach almost anyone with his age and/or experience". In response, my mind immediately asked the question, "When did delivering a message from God become a competitive sport?"
It is not only preachers, but musicians, singers, choirs, youth pastors, outreach directors, etc. that struggle with this beast. This elusive, insidious spirit of competition is weaving its way through the ranks of Pentecost, eating us from the inside out. It causes discord, bitterness, jealousy, envy, and ultimately lying. Remarks are made, or tallies given, that are far from the truth, yet preachers (and the others as mentioned above) feel it necessary to make such statements with scarcely a thought because, from all we've been trained to believe, "results" are all that matters.
This past weekend, I was privileged to minister in a small church here in the South Texas region. What an incredible move of the Holy Spirit we had...not because of me, but (truth be told) probably in spite of me. I didn't take revival---or a move of the Spirit---with me, but rather, I was blessed because there were hungry souls in that service who worshipped God's Presence into the place.
I didn't actually "preach" (as far as taking a text, etc), but only spoke for a short time from my heart on what I felt God was leading me to say; however, in my closing comments, I made the statement: "We don't have an altar full of people seeking God, no one has received the Holy Spirit, and we haven't seen any miraculous healings today. However, this service has been what I consider a 'success' because God came into this house. If anyone leaves without whatever they came needing today, they've no one to blame but themselves, because the Giver of gifts is here today."
I'm sure there are those who will consider me haughty, pompous, arrogant, or worse; however, I have learned---through painful experience---that God is not impressed with my "works", nor with my "results".
When I step into a church, my goal for that particular service is to connect with God, to usher His Presence into the place. I cannot meet anyone's needs, answer anyone's prayer, or calm anyone's storm. But if I can somehow tap into the Majesty of the Almighty, and connect people with God through music, song, worship, or the Word, He can do whatever needs to be done.
If we can ever grasp this concept---that it really isn't about us, or our so-called "results---then God can move through us, and do what needs to be done in every service.
I am convinced that this is what is separating us from the Acts of the apostles.
They would do anything for the cause of Christ; we, on the other hand, will do practically anything for the promotion of Self.
I'm sure this particular post won't win the "Most Popular Blog" award. However, if we don't somehow attack---and crucify---this spirit of competition that rules our ministerial life, we are every one of us doomed to accomplish nothing for His Kingdom.
Monday, October 08, 2007
The Wounded Church
This post stemmed from Ron Wofford's outstanding commentary on WordShare regarding "The abomination we never preach about". This is not to take anything from him or his words; they are truly worth reading...
I have watched this forum for a couple weeks now (having been gone for some time), and the fallout of the advertising resolution has left me wondering if the passing of this resolution really added any damage to a body that was obviously already fractured and wounded.
Isa 1:5-6 "...the whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint. 6 From the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in it; but wounds, and bruises, and putrifying sores: they have not been closed, neither bound up, neither mollified with ointment."
I preached a message from this text some time back entitled The Wounded Church; this passage in Isaiah is, sadly, directed at Israel, God's own chosen, yet from His observation of them, they were filled with brokenness, wounds, injuries of all sorts. The gist of the message God had lain on my heart for that particular time: it is small wonder we are seeing such limited power in our churches now, because a body that is wounded, full of injuries, soreness, and putrefaction can scarcely be expected to operate in a strong, healthy manner.
I suppose it would be vain for me to attempt to share online what I felt so powerfully in that particular service, but let me at least share a handful of what the Spirit gave me on that weekend:
"Wounds" refer to an injury that severs, such as a deep cut from a sword or a knife; the only way a "wound" can heal is if it is wrapped tightly ("bound up") and the flesh begins to heal itself. This is much the same as our modern-day "stitches"; they do not actually heal the wound, but merely serve to bring the divided parts back together so that the body---and the blood flowing through it---will regenerate and heal itself.
"Bruises" refers to an injury beneath the surface. This is an injury that may never break the skin, but is a result of a direct (or indirect) blow that damages blood vessels and tissue underneath. The result is a mottled, discolored patch on the surface that is caused by a blood clot inside. While a bruise, at first glance, may seem to be more of a nuisance than a bona-fide "injury", the fact remains that the hurt is very real. Not only that, but bruises often take far longer to heal because they are so often overlooked or ignored. However, anyone who has ever experienced the pain of a deep bruising can testify that all it takes is an inadvertent bump from someone to bring the throbbing pain back to reality. An anointing of oil applied directly to the bruised area was used to restore blood flow to the clotted area, as well as to relieve the pain.
"Putrefying sores" are open injuries that have been left untreated. Today we would refer to these as gangrenous, or rotting. The only way to treat these was with direct cleansing, usually a very painful process that removed the dead or dying surface tissue, in order to allow new tissue underneath to grow and restore itself.
I suffered an injury during my time in Desert Storm, and as a result, every morning for two weeks, I had to allow the medics to scrub---with a stiff, unyielding brush---that open wound before they would apply the ointment and wrap it tightly to protect it against the grit, sand, and other contamiants of the atmosphere. I am not ashamed to say that I sat in that metal chair every morning with tears silently running down my face; the medic was always apologetic, yet he and I both understood that, without the scrubbing, without the removal of the previous day's scabbing and congestion, the underlying new flesh would be unable to breath, to grow, to heal.
The wounds that have afflicted our movement are not the result of the passing of one particular issue. If anything, that particular decision only served to jar the injuries that have been underlying for some time. The pain some have felt, as a result of seeing others walk away from certain truths or standards, has long been throbbing within, yet these hurts have gone unnoticed and/or unannounced, perhaps because---as with any physical bruise---it seemed like it would heal itself if just given time.
It has not.
If anything, the wounded body, which is the UPCI, has been allowed to remain fractured, broken, hurting. It is as if we choose to be satisfied with a limited amount of strength and power, rather than to take the necessary steps for healing to occur. Such steps require pain and sacrifice which we count as unneccesary for us to continue our supposed mission.
Am I saying that one side should concede to the other? That one opinion is right, and another wrong? That one should apologize for the division, and the other should feel smugly justified?
Absolutely not.
This body did not wound itself; we are a part of the Body of Christ, and God is not into self-mutilation. The wounds have been the result of a calculated attack by an enemy that is insidious, hateful, and ruthless in its onslaught against the Church. Yet, instead of recognizing the enemy, and joining forces to combat his assault, we have instead chosen to turn against each other, allowing the wounds to further decay, hurt, and degenerate. As a result, we further weaken the Body, which now causes us to be satisfied with "good church" instead of "apostolic power".
There needs to be a prayer among us, a prayer for healing within the body. I cannot---and will not---say that one "side" is right, and the other "side" is wrong; we are brethren, joined to one Body, united by the blood of Jesus Christ, yet that blood flow seems to have been stymied, and the healing process is slowing to a stop. And until the body is allowed to come together and be united in bonds of strength and healing, I fear that we will never truly see a demonstration of what God can actually do with a sound, strong, body that is whole.
I do not believe the UPCI is the Body of Christ; I do believe that it is a part of that Body. And if there are those who feel so strongly against a particular issue---whether it be advertising on television, or something else entirely---that they feel the need to withdraw from one particular organization, I choose to remain in fellowship with them, and to allow them to remain in fellowship with me (hoping they choose to do so) that the Body---as a whole---will be strengthened by our unity, and not weakened by name-calling, side-choosing, or misunderstood motives.
Despite the doomsday prophets saying that modern society is too far gone, too decadent, too filthy to ever experience an apostolic revival, I believe that America can---and will---be turned upside down by a Church that is strong in its beliefs, sound in its doctrine, and unified in its vision to reach the lost.
We believe God can heal our bodies; is it time, once again, for the cry to be "Physician, heal thyself" ?
I have watched this forum for a couple weeks now (having been gone for some time), and the fallout of the advertising resolution has left me wondering if the passing of this resolution really added any damage to a body that was obviously already fractured and wounded.
Isa 1:5-6 "...the whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint. 6 From the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in it; but wounds, and bruises, and putrifying sores: they have not been closed, neither bound up, neither mollified with ointment."
I preached a message from this text some time back entitled The Wounded Church; this passage in Isaiah is, sadly, directed at Israel, God's own chosen, yet from His observation of them, they were filled with brokenness, wounds, injuries of all sorts. The gist of the message God had lain on my heart for that particular time: it is small wonder we are seeing such limited power in our churches now, because a body that is wounded, full of injuries, soreness, and putrefaction can scarcely be expected to operate in a strong, healthy manner.
I suppose it would be vain for me to attempt to share online what I felt so powerfully in that particular service, but let me at least share a handful of what the Spirit gave me on that weekend:
"Wounds" refer to an injury that severs, such as a deep cut from a sword or a knife; the only way a "wound" can heal is if it is wrapped tightly ("bound up") and the flesh begins to heal itself. This is much the same as our modern-day "stitches"; they do not actually heal the wound, but merely serve to bring the divided parts back together so that the body---and the blood flowing through it---will regenerate and heal itself.
"Bruises" refers to an injury beneath the surface. This is an injury that may never break the skin, but is a result of a direct (or indirect) blow that damages blood vessels and tissue underneath. The result is a mottled, discolored patch on the surface that is caused by a blood clot inside. While a bruise, at first glance, may seem to be more of a nuisance than a bona-fide "injury", the fact remains that the hurt is very real. Not only that, but bruises often take far longer to heal because they are so often overlooked or ignored. However, anyone who has ever experienced the pain of a deep bruising can testify that all it takes is an inadvertent bump from someone to bring the throbbing pain back to reality. An anointing of oil applied directly to the bruised area was used to restore blood flow to the clotted area, as well as to relieve the pain.
"Putrefying sores" are open injuries that have been left untreated. Today we would refer to these as gangrenous, or rotting. The only way to treat these was with direct cleansing, usually a very painful process that removed the dead or dying surface tissue, in order to allow new tissue underneath to grow and restore itself.
I suffered an injury during my time in Desert Storm, and as a result, every morning for two weeks, I had to allow the medics to scrub---with a stiff, unyielding brush---that open wound before they would apply the ointment and wrap it tightly to protect it against the grit, sand, and other contamiants of the atmosphere. I am not ashamed to say that I sat in that metal chair every morning with tears silently running down my face; the medic was always apologetic, yet he and I both understood that, without the scrubbing, without the removal of the previous day's scabbing and congestion, the underlying new flesh would be unable to breath, to grow, to heal.
The wounds that have afflicted our movement are not the result of the passing of one particular issue. If anything, that particular decision only served to jar the injuries that have been underlying for some time. The pain some have felt, as a result of seeing others walk away from certain truths or standards, has long been throbbing within, yet these hurts have gone unnoticed and/or unannounced, perhaps because---as with any physical bruise---it seemed like it would heal itself if just given time.
It has not.
If anything, the wounded body, which is the UPCI, has been allowed to remain fractured, broken, hurting. It is as if we choose to be satisfied with a limited amount of strength and power, rather than to take the necessary steps for healing to occur. Such steps require pain and sacrifice which we count as unneccesary for us to continue our supposed mission.
Am I saying that one side should concede to the other? That one opinion is right, and another wrong? That one should apologize for the division, and the other should feel smugly justified?
Absolutely not.
This body did not wound itself; we are a part of the Body of Christ, and God is not into self-mutilation. The wounds have been the result of a calculated attack by an enemy that is insidious, hateful, and ruthless in its onslaught against the Church. Yet, instead of recognizing the enemy, and joining forces to combat his assault, we have instead chosen to turn against each other, allowing the wounds to further decay, hurt, and degenerate. As a result, we further weaken the Body, which now causes us to be satisfied with "good church" instead of "apostolic power".
There needs to be a prayer among us, a prayer for healing within the body. I cannot---and will not---say that one "side" is right, and the other "side" is wrong; we are brethren, joined to one Body, united by the blood of Jesus Christ, yet that blood flow seems to have been stymied, and the healing process is slowing to a stop. And until the body is allowed to come together and be united in bonds of strength and healing, I fear that we will never truly see a demonstration of what God can actually do with a sound, strong, body that is whole.
I do not believe the UPCI is the Body of Christ; I do believe that it is a part of that Body. And if there are those who feel so strongly against a particular issue---whether it be advertising on television, or something else entirely---that they feel the need to withdraw from one particular organization, I choose to remain in fellowship with them, and to allow them to remain in fellowship with me (hoping they choose to do so) that the Body---as a whole---will be strengthened by our unity, and not weakened by name-calling, side-choosing, or misunderstood motives.
Despite the doomsday prophets saying that modern society is too far gone, too decadent, too filthy to ever experience an apostolic revival, I believe that America can---and will---be turned upside down by a Church that is strong in its beliefs, sound in its doctrine, and unified in its vision to reach the lost.
We believe God can heal our bodies; is it time, once again, for the cry to be "Physician, heal thyself" ?
Friday, August 10, 2007
Whatever Happened To Lingering?
Recently, I had the pleasure of breaking bread with a fellow minister; we sat in the restaurant for close to 3 hours, enjoying our time of fellowship and getting better acquainted. It was merely a time of fellowship, a time for he and I to get to know each other a bit better, yet it lasted almost three full hours.
A couple weeks ago, I met another friend at a well-known coffee house; we sat there over a cup of coffee and killed two hours. The only reason we parted ways was because we both had kids in school, waiting to be picked up.
It is not uncommon, in Pentecostal churches at least, for fellowship to last upwards of an hour after service has ended. Ironically, we'll stand around in the foyer (or parking lot) talking for a half-hour about where we're going to go fellowship for the next hour and a half.
I can enjoy a meal with my family, and when the last bite is finished, and the last plate pushed away with a contented sigh, sit there and continue the conversation for hours. And this is before it dawns on me (or someone else) that the livingroom furniture is more comfortable so "why don't we go on in there and talk for a spell?"
So why do we have such problems lingering in the presence of God? Whatever happened to lingering?
I can recall those services where the glory of God seemed to fall right close to the end of the altar service. No, nothing spectacular may have occurred during the course of the service, and there may have been no miraculous in-filling of the Spirit to an unsaved person, but there was a "lingering" that called us to just hang around for a few minutes longer. No rush to get to the restaurants, no hurry to get the kids in bed (although chances are, they'd go home and dawdle about that, anyway), no thoughts of 5:00AM coming early so I need to rush home and get to bed...
No, there was just that quiet, drawing Spirit that called us to just hang around...don't rush out, don't be in a hurry to leave. It was similar to that comforting feeling of hanging around the table after Thanksgiving dinner, or savoring a cup of coffee with a friend.
What a Friend we have in Jesus...
So why don't I prolong my time with Him?
What has happened to those services where we want to hang around, where we're more interested in what's happening right there in the sanctuary of God? Is it maybe because we've stopped realizing what a sanctuary His Presence really is? Is it possible that we've become so engrossed with everything else in life that we cannot even slow down to realize that, in His Presence, there's fullness of joy?
I know that I'm not the only one affected by this malady of misdirection, but I cannot change anyone other than myself. I am responsible for my own relationship with God, and the words that I write this evening are directed at my own heart. Call it introspection, if you will, but I have come to realize how precious His presence is to me.
What a fellowship, what a joy divine...
Oh what peace we often forfeit, oh what needless pain we bear...
There is absolutely nothing like the Presence of God, and it is in those times that we stand in His Glory and majesty that it becomes almost overwhelming to realize that, one of these days, if we remain faithful to Him, we will enjoy that inexplicable peace for all eternity. It is more than the human mind can fathom.
So why don't I linger more? Why am I always in such a hurry to get things done, to move on to the next service, the next weekend, the next midweek Bible study?
Why is it that suddenly---in the last few years, I suppose---that life has become so demanding? I have said for years, and will continue to believe, that those whom the enemy knows he cannot turn back, he will try to turn aside. If Satan cannot get a child of God to turn back to a life of sin, then his next biggest threat is to get them distracted, looking in all directions but the one that really matters.
With all of our calendars, Day-Timers, planners, pocket PC's, etc, we have managed to schedule our time so much more efficiently that we have almost scheduled God out of the picture. Pardon me if this sounds abrupt, but are we guilty of "penciling God in for an hour on Friday"? What would happen to my day---stop and think about this concerning your own schedule---if I actually got lost in the spirit of prayer and fellowship with God, and spent eight full hours with Him, instead of rushing about doing everything I'm trying to do? Would the world collapse? Would the church go bankrupt?
Or would I discover God in a way that I have yet to know Him? Would I become more closely acquainted with Him, as I did with my minister friend over a three-hour lunch a few days ago?
We need a revival of lingering in our services. I realize that we cannot force God's hand, we cannot make His Spirit sweep through our altar services, causing us to want to hang around. But pardon me for being a bit blunt...I wonder sometimes if God desires fellowship more than we do? Is it possible that I leave Him standing there wondering where I rushed off to?
"Could ye not tarry one hour?"
Is He still asking me the same question that He posed to His other disciples?
A couple weeks ago, I met another friend at a well-known coffee house; we sat there over a cup of coffee and killed two hours. The only reason we parted ways was because we both had kids in school, waiting to be picked up.
It is not uncommon, in Pentecostal churches at least, for fellowship to last upwards of an hour after service has ended. Ironically, we'll stand around in the foyer (or parking lot) talking for a half-hour about where we're going to go fellowship for the next hour and a half.
I can enjoy a meal with my family, and when the last bite is finished, and the last plate pushed away with a contented sigh, sit there and continue the conversation for hours. And this is before it dawns on me (or someone else) that the livingroom furniture is more comfortable so "why don't we go on in there and talk for a spell?"
So why do we have such problems lingering in the presence of God? Whatever happened to lingering?
I can recall those services where the glory of God seemed to fall right close to the end of the altar service. No, nothing spectacular may have occurred during the course of the service, and there may have been no miraculous in-filling of the Spirit to an unsaved person, but there was a "lingering" that called us to just hang around for a few minutes longer. No rush to get to the restaurants, no hurry to get the kids in bed (although chances are, they'd go home and dawdle about that, anyway), no thoughts of 5:00AM coming early so I need to rush home and get to bed...
No, there was just that quiet, drawing Spirit that called us to just hang around...don't rush out, don't be in a hurry to leave. It was similar to that comforting feeling of hanging around the table after Thanksgiving dinner, or savoring a cup of coffee with a friend.
What a Friend we have in Jesus...
So why don't I prolong my time with Him?
What has happened to those services where we want to hang around, where we're more interested in what's happening right there in the sanctuary of God? Is it maybe because we've stopped realizing what a sanctuary His Presence really is? Is it possible that we've become so engrossed with everything else in life that we cannot even slow down to realize that, in His Presence, there's fullness of joy?
I know that I'm not the only one affected by this malady of misdirection, but I cannot change anyone other than myself. I am responsible for my own relationship with God, and the words that I write this evening are directed at my own heart. Call it introspection, if you will, but I have come to realize how precious His presence is to me.
What a fellowship, what a joy divine...
Oh what peace we often forfeit, oh what needless pain we bear...
There is absolutely nothing like the Presence of God, and it is in those times that we stand in His Glory and majesty that it becomes almost overwhelming to realize that, one of these days, if we remain faithful to Him, we will enjoy that inexplicable peace for all eternity. It is more than the human mind can fathom.
So why don't I linger more? Why am I always in such a hurry to get things done, to move on to the next service, the next weekend, the next midweek Bible study?
Why is it that suddenly---in the last few years, I suppose---that life has become so demanding? I have said for years, and will continue to believe, that those whom the enemy knows he cannot turn back, he will try to turn aside. If Satan cannot get a child of God to turn back to a life of sin, then his next biggest threat is to get them distracted, looking in all directions but the one that really matters.
With all of our calendars, Day-Timers, planners, pocket PC's, etc, we have managed to schedule our time so much more efficiently that we have almost scheduled God out of the picture. Pardon me if this sounds abrupt, but are we guilty of "penciling God in for an hour on Friday"? What would happen to my day---stop and think about this concerning your own schedule---if I actually got lost in the spirit of prayer and fellowship with God, and spent eight full hours with Him, instead of rushing about doing everything I'm trying to do? Would the world collapse? Would the church go bankrupt?
Or would I discover God in a way that I have yet to know Him? Would I become more closely acquainted with Him, as I did with my minister friend over a three-hour lunch a few days ago?
We need a revival of lingering in our services. I realize that we cannot force God's hand, we cannot make His Spirit sweep through our altar services, causing us to want to hang around. But pardon me for being a bit blunt...I wonder sometimes if God desires fellowship more than we do? Is it possible that I leave Him standing there wondering where I rushed off to?
"Could ye not tarry one hour?"
Is He still asking me the same question that He posed to His other disciples?
Calvary To A Child
Some time ago, I volunteered to take some old audio cassettes of sermons and preaching and convert them over to MP3 files for a friend of mine. He had discovered these old tapes in rummaging around through his attic, and thought to just discard them (attics, time, and mud wasps take their toll on old cassette tapes) but when I discovered his intention, I stepped up and offered to do this for him.
The job is not difficult, merely time-consuming; plug a cassette tape into the deck, and start recording. Most of the time, I have the volume muted so I'm not distracted by the progess of the recording until the annoying "ker-chunk" of the tape deck lets me know that the tape has reached it's end. I admit that I have probably missed a lot of good material by keeping the sound muted while these tapes are in the process of being recorded.
I have, though, uncovered some preaching gems in these boxes (which is why I volunteered to do it in the first place). Some of these tapes are by men who are/were looked at as giants in our movement, great men of God; some are from years ago, delivered by men who, sadly, are no longer with us, either because of natural or spiritual death. And so this morning, while sitting here at my computer, I kept the volume turned on (albeit at a very low level) while I continued working on my computer.
I'm glad I did.
The husband-wife team who were involved in this particular message are not known as "giants" of our movement. They are childrens' evangelists. It's not a real glamorous ministry, and one that is sometimes viewed as a "cute little thing" rather than being a bona fide ministry. And that in itself is a crying shame, for children are the future generation, and anyone who gives up the so-called limelight of ministerial politics to give themselves to reach young people is probably more of a giant in God's eyes than a lot of those oft-proclaimed "great preachers".
I've listened to a lot of preaching tapes, heard a lot of great "sermons" about God, about the Cross, about the blood of Jesus, and about the saving grace of God. I've heard a lot of good material just in the handful of these tapes that I've listened to thus far, and have little doubt that I'll hear some more before I'm finished.
However, this morning, because a husband and wife commited themselves to reaching children with this message, I saw Calvary in a whole new light.
Calvary from a child's perspective...
Children don't understand why Jesus had to die. Children can't comprehend that, because of the mistake of one man and one woman, we are all born into a life of sin, helpless to change ourselves. They don't understand the word redemption, nor the concept of grace, or the idea of spiritual adoption. The blood of Jesus, to a child, is something that probably should require a Band-Aid, not something to be sung about...
Children look at life so differently, with such innocence, and---because of a tape that I listened to this morning---I finally understood (I think) why the concept of salvation is so difficult for them at times.
Why did Jesus have to die?
He didn't do anything wrong. He made blind people see. He helped deaf people hear again. He touched crippled arms and legs and feet and made them all better. He loved everyone. He helped others. He taught people how to live better, to be nicer to others. He made bad people good. He was never mean or rude. He never told kids to go away and leave him alone. He always had time for children. He always had time for everyone, it seems like.
So why did He have to die? And why did those people do such terrible things to Him?
In today's society, much is said about the terrible effect that social trauma can have on a child. Witnessing parent's argue or fight; watching the effects that drugs and alcohol have on family members; abuse in all shapes and forms; these all take their toll on the hearts and minds of our children.
Can you imagine what a child must have thought while witnessing Calvary's cruelty? Imagine the child that once had been taken into Jesus' arms, sat on His lap, used as an object lesson to a bunch of arguing grown-ups...Can you fathom the shock and horror as he now watches Jesus struggle to draw another breath? Can you see the tears streaming down dusty little faces of children who had once laughed and ran in His footsteps, but now their eyes are wide with fear, not understanding why this kind man---who had always been so nice to everyone around him---was now hanging on a Roman cross, with crowds screaming at him, spitting on him, laughing at him?
I can't imagine it either.
But for one brief little moment this morning, I was taken back to the horror of Calvary, and saw it through the innocent eyes of a little child. And I sat here and I cried.
Sometimes we think we have it all figured out: God's plan of redemption, the purpose of the incarnation of deity into humanity, the sacrificial Lamb slain from the foundation of the world, the restoration of fellowship between God and His own creation. We quote scriptures from Old and New Testament alike, pointing to why all this happened, and we have all the understanding of what God intended from the beginning of time. And we feel smug in our confidence that we have the answers, and having those answers makes our salvation that much nicer.
God take me back to Calvary's hill, but let me look at it from the innocence of a child's eyes. Let me see the horror, the agony, the cruelty beyond imagination, and let me---as a child---wonder again:
"Why did you have to die? Did I do something wrong?"
AMAZING GRACE HOW SWEET THE SOUND
THAT SAVED A WRETCH LIKE ME
I ONCE WAS LOST BUT NOW I'M FOUND
WAS BLIND BUT NOW I SEE.
The job is not difficult, merely time-consuming; plug a cassette tape into the deck, and start recording. Most of the time, I have the volume muted so I'm not distracted by the progess of the recording until the annoying "ker-chunk" of the tape deck lets me know that the tape has reached it's end. I admit that I have probably missed a lot of good material by keeping the sound muted while these tapes are in the process of being recorded.
I have, though, uncovered some preaching gems in these boxes (which is why I volunteered to do it in the first place). Some of these tapes are by men who are/were looked at as giants in our movement, great men of God; some are from years ago, delivered by men who, sadly, are no longer with us, either because of natural or spiritual death. And so this morning, while sitting here at my computer, I kept the volume turned on (albeit at a very low level) while I continued working on my computer.
I'm glad I did.
The husband-wife team who were involved in this particular message are not known as "giants" of our movement. They are childrens' evangelists. It's not a real glamorous ministry, and one that is sometimes viewed as a "cute little thing" rather than being a bona fide ministry. And that in itself is a crying shame, for children are the future generation, and anyone who gives up the so-called limelight of ministerial politics to give themselves to reach young people is probably more of a giant in God's eyes than a lot of those oft-proclaimed "great preachers".
I've listened to a lot of preaching tapes, heard a lot of great "sermons" about God, about the Cross, about the blood of Jesus, and about the saving grace of God. I've heard a lot of good material just in the handful of these tapes that I've listened to thus far, and have little doubt that I'll hear some more before I'm finished.
However, this morning, because a husband and wife commited themselves to reaching children with this message, I saw Calvary in a whole new light.
Calvary from a child's perspective...
Children don't understand why Jesus had to die. Children can't comprehend that, because of the mistake of one man and one woman, we are all born into a life of sin, helpless to change ourselves. They don't understand the word redemption, nor the concept of grace, or the idea of spiritual adoption. The blood of Jesus, to a child, is something that probably should require a Band-Aid, not something to be sung about...
Children look at life so differently, with such innocence, and---because of a tape that I listened to this morning---I finally understood (I think) why the concept of salvation is so difficult for them at times.
Why did Jesus have to die?
He didn't do anything wrong. He made blind people see. He helped deaf people hear again. He touched crippled arms and legs and feet and made them all better. He loved everyone. He helped others. He taught people how to live better, to be nicer to others. He made bad people good. He was never mean or rude. He never told kids to go away and leave him alone. He always had time for children. He always had time for everyone, it seems like.
So why did He have to die? And why did those people do such terrible things to Him?
In today's society, much is said about the terrible effect that social trauma can have on a child. Witnessing parent's argue or fight; watching the effects that drugs and alcohol have on family members; abuse in all shapes and forms; these all take their toll on the hearts and minds of our children.
Can you imagine what a child must have thought while witnessing Calvary's cruelty? Imagine the child that once had been taken into Jesus' arms, sat on His lap, used as an object lesson to a bunch of arguing grown-ups...Can you fathom the shock and horror as he now watches Jesus struggle to draw another breath? Can you see the tears streaming down dusty little faces of children who had once laughed and ran in His footsteps, but now their eyes are wide with fear, not understanding why this kind man---who had always been so nice to everyone around him---was now hanging on a Roman cross, with crowds screaming at him, spitting on him, laughing at him?
I can't imagine it either.
But for one brief little moment this morning, I was taken back to the horror of Calvary, and saw it through the innocent eyes of a little child. And I sat here and I cried.
Sometimes we think we have it all figured out: God's plan of redemption, the purpose of the incarnation of deity into humanity, the sacrificial Lamb slain from the foundation of the world, the restoration of fellowship between God and His own creation. We quote scriptures from Old and New Testament alike, pointing to why all this happened, and we have all the understanding of what God intended from the beginning of time. And we feel smug in our confidence that we have the answers, and having those answers makes our salvation that much nicer.
God take me back to Calvary's hill, but let me look at it from the innocence of a child's eyes. Let me see the horror, the agony, the cruelty beyond imagination, and let me---as a child---wonder again:
"Why did you have to die? Did I do something wrong?"
AMAZING GRACE HOW SWEET THE SOUND
THAT SAVED A WRETCH LIKE ME
I ONCE WAS LOST BUT NOW I'M FOUND
WAS BLIND BUT NOW I SEE.
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