Last Saturday, February 22, the Florida Gators Men’s Basketball team beat the LSU Tigers 79-65. At halftime, LSU led 37-31 and extended that lead to as much as eight points in the second half. One of the Gator players, Thomas Haugh, said that the Gators coach, Todd Golden, “gave us a nice little pep talk at halftime – I can’t really say what he said.” I can imagine.

In a post-game interview, Golden said, “They (LSU) punked us. At halftime we had to recalibrate and make sure that we got back to defending, rebounding, taking care of the ball and doing the things that don’t require talent.” (Emphasis is mine).

Each believer possesses at least one spiritual gift. Too often a believer will shy away from kingdom work by saying they don’t have the gift of evangelism, or preaching, or administration – name the gift. That is true but each believer should be using what the Holy Spirit has given them. Golden’s comment points to a mandate for all believers, regardless of giftedness – do the things that don’t require talent. Certainly, not all basketball players can shoot 3-point shots with accuracy, and not all are good ball handlers. But to Golden’s point there are things each player can do that require no talent: guard your man, look for the rebound, don’t be careless with the ball.

So, what can a believer do that requires no talent?

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord. Colossians3:23

‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the great and foremost commandment. The second is like it, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ Upon these two commandments hang the whole Law and the Prophets. Matthew 22:37-40

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. Galatians 5:22-23

Paul tells us in Colossians that whatever we’re doing, whether it requires a special talent or skill or none at all, we should do to honor God.

Jesus tells us in Matthew to love. It’s that simple, yet that difficult – love. Love God and love your neighbor. Your neighbor is anyone and everyone. Loving some people requires grace, patience, and self-control, but it does not require talent.

Grace, patience, and self-control are listed among the fruits of the Spirit in Galatians, along with love, joy, peace, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and gentleness. These are fruits of the Spirit, meaning a believer has these traits present within himself or herself, although they may not always be evident in our actions. They are not talents.

There are people who have never won a game of HORSE and who routinely bounce basketballs off their feet, but they can stay close to an opponent, and they can fight for a ball that bounces their way. There are believers who would stumble and bumble if placed behind a pulpit or asked to manage church activities, but they can love, they can be kind, they can be gentle. So, all you no-talent hacks out there – do the no-talent stuff day in and day out. Love others and you will hear your coach say post-game, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Christmas is in the rearview mirror. Decorations are packed away (mostly).  School is back in session. Cold weather seems to have settled in as we face the sometimes dreary days of January. It is easy to forget the joy and warmth of the Christmas season as we move into a new year. However, we are encouraged to keep the Christmas spirit throughout the year. We recall the words of Vince Guaraldi’s Christmas Time is Here from The Charlie Brown Christmas Special: “Oh that we could always see such spirit through the year.”The poet Henry Van Dyke wrote a poem entitled Keeping Christmas that contains the line, “And if you can keep it [Christmas] for a day, why not always?”

During December, I read through Winter Fire: Christmas with G.K. Chesterton, written/compiled by Ryan Whitaker Smith. Smith prepared Advent devotions based on Chesterton’s writings and included some of Chesterton’s poetry, essays, short stories, and even recipes. One poem, Gloria in Profundis, spoke of how profound it was for God to “fall” to earth to become a babe. Building on the theme of God “lowering” Himself (Philippians 2:6-7) the fourth and final stanza begins with the line, “Glory to God in the Lowest.”

I was struck by this line, which apparently has had an impact on other people as there is a children’s Christmas musical by the same name, as well as book by a pastor/author who used it as a metaphor for describing his views of Israel’s treatment of Palestinians. No political discussion here, but it is quite an unusual line: “Glory to God in the lowest.” We, of course, sing Glory to God in the Highest and rejoice in the beauty and glory of angels appearing in the night sky over Bethlehem with the wonderful news of Christ’s birth. Many carols rightfully exalt the birth of the Savior, and we paint our mental images of Christmas with the peace of Silent Night, the promise of Joy to the World, the tenderness of Sweet Little Jesus Boy, and the hope of Love Came Down at Christmas. Yet Chesterton gives us “Glory to God in the Lowest.”

Women have given birth in a variety of places and circumstances. It certainly seems lowly to give birth in a stable and lay a newborn in a feeding trough. While Chesterton was writing about the physical circumstances of Jesus’ birth, he was also alluding to the fact that Jesus didn’t come on the clouds in a blaze of glory, but in a lowly, humble, unexpected way.

As I strive to keep the Christmas spirit alive in my heart, I need to focus on “Glory to God in the Lowest.” To me this means when circumstances are hard and I am at my lowest, I need to give glory to God. It is counter-intuitive, but it is necessary. As believers we must take the long view; we know our future. Romans 8:18 states, For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us. We should look upward but also look forward. Joy may be found in suffering when we consider eternity.

God is sovereign in the suffering. He is not surprised. He does not think, “Boy! I didn’t see that coming.” Hard times provide an opportunity to draw closer to God. The very fact that He became one of us to break the curse of sin and death proves His love and desire for us. Bad things happen in a broken and fallen world but those things, that suffering, does not change who God is.

Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 12:9-10, And He [Jesus] said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore, I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, wit h difficulties, for Christ’s sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong. To be honest (which is an interesting phrase because shouldn’t we always be honest?), I don’t always like these verses or other verses about suffering, but such verses have spoken to me and sustained me at low points in my life.

The low points in life can be transformative. If we glorify God and trust Him in the suffering, He will use it to shape us more into the image of Christ. Is it fun or enjoyable? No, but anything that produces spiritual growth and a stronger relationship with God is to be welcomed, as odd as that sounds.

I could write pages about suffering and the low points of life, but I won’t. I’ll finish with a simple encouragement to give glory to God in the lowest points of life. If you can do that you will find such sweetness when you give Him glory in the high points. And let me be the first to wish you Merry Christmas this year…

In “Peter Pan” you will find the following two quotations:

“To live will be an awfully big adventure!”

“To die will be an awfully big adventure!”

The latter is said when Peter has made a sacrifice to save Wendy and expects to die. He does not, of course. The first quotation closes the book/play and is said by the narrator to note what Peter might say if he chose to leave Neverland and return with Wendy to London.

I have had many adventures in my life but I have to agree with JM Barrie (the author of Peter Pan) on both quotations. Life itself is an awfully big adventure and I would not trade mine for anything. Of course there have been valleys and peaks, but I have experienced love, joy, laughter, peace, and the assurance that faith brings. 

Marrying someone is a awfully big adventure. Committing one’s life to be joined to another “til death do us part” is an incredibly challenging thing; yet, it can be, and has been for me, an incredibly rewarding thing.

Having children is an awfully big adventure. These little creatures you helped produce require a tremendous amount of care. They bring joy and frustration but they also awaken a profound sense of love that is the only thing on earth that begins to approach the nature of the love God has for us.

Trusting God in the midst of life is an awfully big adventure. There have been times in my life when I could neither understand nor explain what was happening. In my finer moments (all too rare) I simply trusted God to lead me on the path through the darkness. Faith is an adventure because you are giving up control of your life to Him. It can be terrifying and exhilarating, but it is always the right choice, even if suffering ensues.

Death will also be an awfully big adventure because, for the believer, it will bring an end to the sufferings and miseries of this world, and the joys of this world will be magnified beyond our current comprehension. To live forever in the presence of God trumps all other adventures and, while I am looking forward to it, I would prefer to have a few more adventures in this world with my loved ones.

I recently read an article by Carrie McKean titled “I’m Estranged from My Parents. I Still Love Them.” It is a beautiful and poignant message of God’s grace in the midst of heartbreak and broken families. Two sentences resonated with me:

After ten heartbreaking Thanksgivings, here’s what I have learned: Empty chairs always take up the most space. Empty chairs always shout the loudest.

Neither Michele nor I experienced estrangement from our parents and, so far, our daughters haven’t written us off. We are a loving and close family although some physical distance separates us. But we will have some empty chairs this Thanksgiving. Our parents have passed and just this summer, we lost a nephew. One of our sons-in-law has lost both of his parents. Michele and I remember Thanksgivings in our childhood with many other relatives who have moved on from earthly existence. Each of us, at some point, will deal with empty chairs and, greater still, hearts that feel emptiness in the absence of a loved one.

How do we cope with empty chairs? We typically deal with them in the five stages of grief originally identified by Elizabeth Kubler Ross: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. The common denominator in each stage is, as she noted, grief. Whether a loss may be very fresh and we still can’t believe it happened, or we have moved into the acceptance stage perhaps years down the road, an empty chair is still an empty chair and grief is still grief.

In the book of Job, we encounter a man who lost nearly all his family, his possessions, and his health. In chapter three he states that he wished he had never been born. In verses 24 through 26 he says, “For my groaning comes at the sight of my food, and my cries pour out like water. For what I fear comes upon me, and what I dread befalls me, I am not at ease, nor am I quiet, and I am not at rest, but turmoil comes.” In very poetic language Job simply states that he is heartbroken and grieving.

Many people can quote the shortest verse in the Bible which is John 11:35: Jesus wept. What they often do not realize is that he was grieving the death of his friend Lazarus. Jesus knew He would raise Lazarus from the dead, yet he still grieved for the sorrow the family was experiencing, and for the idea of death itself, something that was never intended in the original creation.

Each of us has many reasons to be thankful, yet many of us have reasons to grieve, to feel sadness when we see the empty chair. Years ago, I was participating in a small group while on a retreat, I referred to an empty chair and said we should picture Jesus sitting there since He promised to be present when we gathered in His name. I said it half-jokingly, but it resonated with the group, and I have thought of it often since in large and small group settings, and even when I’m alone sitting in a room with an unoccupied chair. As a believer, knowing you are always in the presence of God can be intimidating but it can and should be comforting.

Grief often leads to anger. We question why things happen and, ultimately, the goodness of God. Many believers will accept the bad that happens for a short period of time, praying and trusting that God will see them through this season. But days can become weeks and weeks can become years.  We’re isolated and we lose hope that things will get better. Depression sets in. There is a new normal, a new reality, and we can choose to remain angry and bitter, or we can choose to accept life for what it is, even if the hurt does not go away this side of eternity. This is not fatalism. It is accepting God’s grace – My grace is sufficient for you. God’s grace is not an escape mechanism to get away from the pain; it is a way to cope with the pain.

Nothing I write will necessarily assuage grief, but I can point you to the one who is well acquainted with grief (Isaiah 53:3). Job cried out for God and says, “Oh that I knew where I might find Him!” (Job 23:23). God does not forsake us in our grief, but in grieving we can be numb to His presence. The Psalmist tells us in Psalm 56:8, “You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?” God know every tear you have shed, and I believe He has shed them with you. I encourage you to read Psalm 102. It addresses anger with God directly, but also recognizes who He is and what He promises.

Whatever Thanksgiving looks like for you this year, whether there are 40 people squeezed into a home, or just you and a spouse, or you eat at a restaurant with friends, I encourage you to leave an empty chair at the table. It may bring some tears but, hopefully, it will bring precious memories as well. And remember who is present with you. I pray you have a wonderful and peaceful Thanksgiving.

Please ignore this if you receive an email. I’m updating and correcting some things on the site.

Jon

Are you a good citizen? How do you define that? Voting? Paying taxes? Obeying laws?

Hebrews 11 is known as the “Faith Hall of Fame.” The writer of Hebrews defined faith in verse 1, then described faith initially using the lives of Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, and Sarah. Abraham was a citizen of that land of Ur, but was a stranger in a strange land seeking the country God had promised him.  Abel was one generation removed froth the Garden and his parents were literal exiles. These men and women died never fully having received the promise God made in verse 12, but they looked to the future and trusted God. Their desire was to pass through this world without taking on its character.  Psalm 84:5 tells us: “How blessed is the man whose strength in in You, in whose heart are the highways to Zion!” As believers, we have got to keep that path in mind.

These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. Hebrews 1:13-14

These folks knew they didn’t belong to the world. They were strangers and exiles here. It is as if they had a homing instinct within them – they knew they were supposed to be somewhere else. Not necessarily a land of their own, but something better that God had promised. They lived in the light of promises God had made to them; promises they knew would never be realized in their lifetimes.  We are in the same state, living with the promise of eternity.  We must trust God while walking the path on earth, knowing He will keep his promise to us.

We learn in verses 15 and 16 that this better country is a promise of Heaven. God honors the faith of the faithful and has prepared this better country for them. I wish I could describe Heaven, but I believe it is indescribable. It is sufficient to say the faithful will be in the very presence of God and experience the fullness of His love. Everything will be pure and there will be no sin and rottenness.

Philippians 3:18-19 tells us that the unfaithful (enemies of the cross of Christ) walk a path that leads to destruction, their minds set on their needs and earthly things. Paul reminds us in verse 20, “But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.”

We are citizens of earthly governments, and the Scriptures tell us we are to be good citizens, but our loyalty, our allegiance, belongs to God. I spent a great deal of time in Laredo, Texas several years ago. Laredo is a border town with Mexico. One hotel I stayed in backed up to the Rio Grande River. I saw people walking from Mexico to the US early in the day and back across in the evening. I learned that many of them held dual citizenship, and that Laredo and Nuevo Laredo (in Mexico) are almost considered one city because of the close relationships.

In a sense we are dual citizens.  There is deliberate tension in this; we live in this world while representing another. As citizens of Heaven, God expects us to have an impact on this world we live in. In Matthew 5:14-16 Jesus said, “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden; nor does anyone light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven.” We cannot isolate ourselves from the world, but neither should we delve deeply into its mess as if this world and its politics are all that matter. We must be intentionally citizens of Heaven while simultaneously serving as citizens of the world. Your American citizenship comes with certain rights, protections, and responsibilities. Your heavenly citizenship comes with great responsibility.

Many years ago, I stood in front of a crusty Coast Guard Master Chief and said, “I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.” Some time later, I stated very similar words as I was sworn in as an Ensign. Years before that, my father stood over me and said, “I baptize you my son in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

The oaths were important to me and governed my behavior for 25 years of my life.  But the words of my father and pastor, though not an oath, were symbolic of the promise I made to Jesus when I accepted him as my Savior, and of His promises to me.  Those words represent an eternal impact.

We live in a world of loudness, of many voices trying to drown out each other in the name of individual rights and justice, often with diametrically opposed views of what those words mean. Here are your rights:  All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; the wages of sin is death.  But here is your privilege: But the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Depending on your point of view, you are elated or discouraged by the results of yesterday’s election. Let me remind you that when you ultimately arrive in that wonderful place where your true citizenship lies, this election will be immaterial, except in ways yet unknown that bring people to Christ; and those ways will not happen on a national or international stage but through people sharing with people. I certainly encourage you to be good Americans and citizens; to be patriots.  But God commands your allegiance as citizens of His kingdom. That is a much higher calling and commitment where there is neither red nor blue but the spotless glory of a loving God.

12/1 Worship Psalm 95

12/2 The Light Psalm 27

12/3 Care for the Poor Psalm 41

12/4 Born to Die Psalm 22

12/5 Joy Psalm 98

12/6 The Great I Am Psalm 2

12/7 Faith Psalm 27

12/8 God With Us Psalm 46

12/9 They Treat Me Mean Psalm 12

12/10 This Child is the Messiah Psalm 110

12/11 Troubled Minds Psalm 85

12/12 Bitterness Psalm 73

12/13 The Gift of a Heart Psalm 139

12/14 Gladness Psalm 100

12/15 Peace Psalm 4

12/16 No Fear Psalm 23

12/17 Sing! Psalm 96

12/18 Proclaim! Psalm 96

12/19 Wake Up, God! Psalm 44

12/20 A Stranger Psalm 39

12/21 Dwelling With God Psalm 84

12/22 Reconciliation Psalm 103

12/23 Love Psalm 136

12/24 Waiting in Silence Psalm 62

On September 11, 2001, I was serving on active duty at Coast Guard Headquarters in Washington, DC. At the time, the Coast Guard was headquartered in the District near Fort McNair, so it was across the Potomac River from the Pentagon. I was working with the group that coordinated Coast Guard missions and activities with the Department of Defense and I was in fairly regular contact with folks in the Pentagon. That morning I was waiting for a call to tell me when to head over to the Pentagon for a meeting.

Our team worked in a secure space with no windows. Someone with the cyber lock combination to our door stuck his head in and told us a plane had just hit the World Trade Center. Like so many folks we first thought something must have happened to the pilot to cause such a horrific accident. We turned on the TV and, like many of you, watched the horror unfold.

If you were keeping up with events that morning, like me you experienced the realization that one plane could have been an accident, but two planes, then three, then four, were part of a coordinated attack on our country. When the Pentagon was hit, we rushed across the hall to an admiral’s office and saw the smoke and flames rising over the Potomac. I will never forget that sight.

My day was spent trying to locate the Coasties who served in liaison roles in the Pentagon. It took some frantic phone calls, but all were located. One man had stayed home that day but had not yet phoned in to let anyone know; we thought we had lost him. Another, a Reservist like me, was an EMT in civilian life. He was a hero that day treating injured survivors. I had the honor and privilege of calling his family to let them know he was okay. I can still hear the relief in his sister’s voice as, through her tears, she relayed to everyone that Mike was okay. I may have teared up a bit myself.

Civilian workers at nearly all government agencies were sent home, which caused a traffic jam that was epic even by Washington standards. Rumors were rampant that another attack was imminent, that a plane was spotted heading for the White House, another for the Capitol. Of course, the planes stopped crashing, but the day remained surreal. I drove home (to a hotel in the District) late that night. The streets were deserted except for a few roving patrols. The nearly constant noise of aircraft approaching or departing Reagan National Airport was missing. It was an eerie feeling. I spent the next few days on a watch rotation serving with the Department of Transportation, the Coast Guard’s boss at the time. Things obviously settled down, but Washington remained a ghost town for several days.

Of course, life went on and returned to a “new normal.” The Coast Guard’s new boss is the Department of Homeland Security, an agency born of 9/11 and one that most Americans would have never envisioned a need for. Planes stopped flying for a while, but eventually took to the air again, albeit under drastically changed security rules. Americans began adjusting to a world we had not previously known where attacks on our homeland were not only possible, but potentially devastating. A “War on Terrorism” was coming, we all knew it, and those battles are still being fought today.

Nearly one quarter of the US population is under the age of 18. That means over 730 million Americans have no memories of that day. Certainly they live with the aftermath, but they do not know a world where terrorist-flown planes have not crashed into buildings killing people. I am sure many people have learned much in response to the events of 9/11/01. From military leaders to corporate security officials to first responders to travelers – we have all adjusted and learned and implemented those lessons. But there is one lesson from 9/11 that was not new, but perhaps was driven again home that day. In all circumstances we should turn to God. The Psalmist says it best: “Whom have I in Heaven but You? And beside You, I desire nothing on earth.” (Psalm 73:25). Where else would you turn?

It should not take a tragedy to cause people call upon the Lord, but it often does. Church attendance spiked in the months after 9/11, but soon fell back to normal levels. Some people cried out to God; others questioned how God could allow such a tragedy. Despite the attacks, despite the confusion, despite the changes, God was always God.

There can be benefits to a tragedy if it brings someone into relationship with God, but we don’t like to think that way. We want to avoid tragedy (naturally) and definitely don’t want God to get our attention through pain and suffering. Unfortunately, too many of us don’t live in strong relationship with God when there is no pain, no suffering, no tragedy. We might even feel like hypocrites turning to Him in our hour of need when we ignore him the rest of the time.

But He wants us to turn to Him, regardless of the motivation. His arms are strong and His love is overwhelming. And there will be pain. It is part of life in a fallen world among sinful creatures. But in the pain is the constancy of God. He does not change with the pain, and He does not change with the circumstances of our lives. He gave His name to Moses … I am. The very words “I am” give comfort because they guarantee the constancy, the permanence, and the everlastingness of God. He is there and He wants to be with us in every moment of our lives.

To me, the ultimate lesson of 9/11 is one I seem to need to be reminded of every day: Turn to God.

Jonathan Smith was 93 years old when this daguerreotype was taken on October 20, 1854. When he was 14 years old, he enlisted to fight in the American Revolution. He eventually joined a church in the free state of Rhode Island, became a lay preacher, and was ordained to the ministry. Jonathan buried two wives, married a third, produced a number of children and grandchildren, and had this photograph taken for one of his granddaughters. Joseph Bauman produced a book entitled Don’t Tread on Me: Photographs and Life Stories of American Revolutionaries where Jonathan’s story, and seven others, may be found along with their photographs. Those photographs may also be found in this Time magazine article from 2013.

It is amazing that we have photographs of men that fought in the Revolution. What is even more wonderful to me is that we do not have photographs of the Declaration signers, members of the Continental Congress, or the leaders of the army; we have pictures of ordinary men who signed up to fight for freedom. Jonathan Smith’s face is truly the face of independence.

The photograph has been colorized, but it still speaks volumes. Those eyes saw harshness and those hands labored long. Jonathan’s hands built fortifications and likely held a musket as he fought in the Battle of Long Island and the Battle of  Rhode Island, but those hands also held the Scripture as he proclaimed the Word of God.

As believers, we have had heroes of the faith for 2,000 years. Baptist preachers who stand out in this pantheon include Charles Spurgeon and Billy Graham. But Jonathan Smith was a  Baptist preacher who labored in obscurity. We would probably never have heard of him except for this photograph, and therein lies the beauty of unsung heroes.

The heroes of the faith are those like 14-year-old Jonathan Smith, the ones who dug the trenches,  who carried the muskets and ammunition, who suffered bitterly cold winters and often wondered where their next meal would come from. Heroes of the faith labor without recognition, know they are serving a higher cause, an eternal cause, and that the momentary afflictions of this world are immaterial.

The American Revolution looms large in our country’s mythos, and rightfully so. But we must never forget that it was fought by the Jonathan Smiths of the world. And while megachurches and mega-preachers capture much of Christendom’s imagination, it is the Jonathan Smiths of the faith that carry the Word forward. It is the Jonathan Smiths, preacher and lay folk alike, who might be  recognized and appreciated by a few, but who will labor mostly in obscurity. And it is the Jonathan Smiths of the faith that will ultimately hear their master say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Thank you for your service, Jonathan Smith, for your country and for your Savior.

Soldiers’ feet, marching smartly in unison on level streets,
faltering into discord as they struggle up the steep incline.

Mobs roaring in waves quickly reduced to murmurs as the street narrows so only two or three may stand in ranks and come face to face with him.

A terrified child crying in heaving gasps as the bruised and battered man stumbles past.

Women wailing in great dirges of mourning:
professionals weaving their chords into an eerie tune;
true grievers spilling out their pain in inarticulate noise.

The rough, barely hewn tree bumping on the cobblestones then dragging through the dust, mixing heavy thumps with muted scraping.

A maul pounding a rusty spike through flesh into wood,
its steady beat torn by anguished screams.

Muffled sobs interspersed with mocking laughter,
an ill-matched duet of sadness and scorn.

Huge claps of thunder coupled with the sharp cracking of stones as graves are broken open.

No one hears the faltering beat of a burdened heart,
no one except his father.

A final cry – the coda … yet also the overture.