Living Hope Thoughts

“THERE GOES THE NEIGHBORHOOD!”

2010-12-18T23:06:00.001-08:00

December 18, 2010

We must have resembled a scene out of the Beverly Hillbillies. Our minivan was packed front to back, floor to ceiling, with furniture, boxes, and suitcases. More boxes were strapped to the luggage rack on top. A fake fichus tree took up the passenger seat next to me blocking my view to right. The only thing missing was Granny sitting in her rocking chair on top. We were in the midst of a cross-town move from north to south Phoenix, a move we were attempting to undertake all by ourselves.

My wife, Babs, was following me in our station wagon, equally packed with various belongings. Upon arriving at our new abode Babs parked her car, hopped out and began calling out directions in order to assist me in backing into our new driveway. I had temporarily stopped in the middle of the street awaiting Babs’ directions when, in perfect timing, our new neighbors (you know, the ones with whom we’d really like to leave a good first impression) backed out of their own driveway and pulled up directly behind me not realizing what we were attempting to do. Instantly Babs sprang into action running up to the driver’s window of our neighbors’ car in order to explain to them that we were trying to back our over-stuffed van into our driveway. In her excitement, however, her unfortunate choice of words conveyed an entirely different scenario.

“You’d better get out of the way,” she shouted loud enough for everyone up and down the street to hear. “My husband can’t see very well—he’s loaded!”

As I desperately tried to conceal myself with the leaves of a fake tree I watched in the rear-view mirror as our new neighbors abruptly turned around and sped off in the opposite direction. I can imagine them muttering to themselves something like, “There goes the neighborhood!”

The memory of this embarrassing moment came to mind when I read a description of another move, one with eternal consequences.

“The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood.” – John 1:14 (The Message).

I love the contemporary wording of this famous verse because it paints a profound picture of the incarnation of Christ. God left behind the “ivory towers” of heaven and moved into the blighted neighborhood of planet earth. He is Emmanuel, “God with us,” not somewhere out there looking down on us from a distance, but living with us in our messed-up world, right in our own “hood.” Yet for those of us who have accepted Christ as Lord, the incarnation is even closer. Through the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit the Word continues to become flesh and blood, living out His life in and through us.

Yes, the miracle of the incarnation of Christ is a daily occurrence, and as we move about our neighborhoods at work or play, the “flesh and blood” of Jesus is revealed for the world to see. It is a wonderful blessing to let our neighbors see Jesus in us. But at times, due to other items we might have packed for the journey, our living demonstration of Christ could be a little embarrassing. While Babs and I were unpacking from a more recent move, this one accomplished through the aid of professional movers, we were amused to discover that they had carefully wrapped up one of our trash baskets, still filled with trash!

Is there any baggage other than Jesus we carry around that might be a little less desirable to exhibit? When others look at us do they see the Lord or are we so jam-packed full of worldly possessions that He remains hidden from view? Do some of the things we treasure actually cover the incarnated “flesh and blood” of Christ with trash? It is one thing to ask the Lord to dwell in our hearts, to take up residence in the neighborhood of our lives; it is quite another thing to allow Him to renovate the premises, tossing out items that get in the way of His ministry, bringing in new furniture with which He is more comfortable.

“But now you must rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator…Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.” – Colossians 3:8-14.

There is yet another chapter to this story of the continuing incarnation of Christ. The Word has become flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood of planet earth. The Word daily incarnates Himself in the flesh and blood of His followers. And the Word compels His followers to move out into their neighborhoods carrying Jesus with them as they go. In so doing our neighborhoods are once again invaded with the flesh and blood of Christ.

It is the aim of the simple church movement to leave behind the steepled, stained glass towers of the institutional church and move into the sin-blighted neighborhoods that surround us. As we do so we carry with us the compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience, forbearance, forgiveness, and love of the Lord. Through our Christ-like actions the flesh and blood of the Lord is again incarnated into planet earth, and those who are touched by our love will proclaim, “The Word has become flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood!” So we take Jesus with us and have church everywhere we go, at home, at school, at work, at the local coffee shop, even at the pub down the street. Even now I can see the devil reversing course and high-tailing it away from us. Even now I can here him muttering to himself as he glares at us in his rear-view mirror, “There goes the neighborhood!”

As we celebrate this very special season let us not only praise God for becoming flesh and blood and moving into the neighborhood of planet earth and taking up residence in our hearts, let us also ask Him to help us find ways to continue His incarnation through us into our own neighborhoods. Thank you, heavenly Father, for Emmanuel, “God with us,” Christ in us, Christ through us, and, we pray, into our neighbors as well.

Bill, a child of God, and part of His continuing incarnation

“TERROR ON MT. TOLL”

2010-11-20T12:47:00.001-08:00

“This is where it starts to get fun,” I said while munching on a bite of energy bar, “and a whole lot more difficult.”

We had already been hiking for two hours and covered three miles with an elevation gain of over a thousand feet. Although I was already somewhat exhausted and light-headed from the altitude, I had no idea just how difficult this endeavor would prove to be. My nephew, Rich, and I were enjoying a day trip to the Indian Peaks Wilderness Area just south of Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado. We were attempting to climb to the summit of Mt. Toll. It wasn’t supposed to be all that challenging, or so we thought, just a few hours of mild adventure hiking in this beautiful wilderness. Mt. Toll had always intrigued me due to its distinctive shape (steep, rugged, with sheer cliffs on two sides) and its location directly on the continental divide. I had always anticipated that the view from the summit must be spectacular, hoping one day to see it for myself.

Stopping for lunch at Blue Lake, a picturesque alpine gem still partially frozen over in early July, we planned our route ahead and rested up for the most grueling part of our climb. We were already sitting at timberline, just above 11,000 feet. But our goal was almost 2,000 feet higher! Across the lake Mt. Toll rose above us like an armed sentry, rigid, unyielding, and equipped to repel any intruder. Its east face resembled a steeply sloped pyramid that had been sheered off leaving a near vertical precipice a thousand feet high. Our strategy was to climb to the base of the summit pyramid and then traverse around to the southern slope which was a longer trek, but far less steep and much less dangerous. What we didn’t count on was snow. The slopes above timberline were still buried in it. Apparently a harsh winter had made for a late snow melt. Adding to our difficulties, from this point on there would be no trail. We would have to blaze our own pathway scrambling over rocks, picking our way through patches of thick brush, and crossing perilous snowfields. Progress would be slow, hard fought, and even more exhausting.

By mid afternoon we had made our way to the base of the summit pyramid. We decided to head toward a rock chimney which was filled with snow and ice. If we could negotiate our way up the chimney we could save a great deal of time. Unfortunately, we didn’t realize how steep the chimney truly was. After a few steps onto the ice we realized how dangerous of a predicament we were in. Without ice axes or rope we were at the mercy of the snow and ice. One slip and we could slide for a thousand feet only to be stopped by some jagged rocks, or worse, fall off a cliff. Reluctantly we worked our way back down losing valuable time in the process.

Returning to the route we had originally planned we soon discovered that it was also covered with snow and ice. This time of year a snowfield can be quite dangerous. With repeated daily freezing and thawing, the surface might look stable but could be hiding deep holes and cracks underneath waiting for the unwary hiker to fall in and break a limb. Unfortunately, the snow covered the entire southern slope almost to the summit. The only way forward from here was to climb up the steep, rocky ridge in between the snowfield to the left and the sheer cliff to the right. It was already 4:30 pm. I had originally said that wherever we were on the mountain, by 5:00 pm we needed to turn around and head back down. Perhaps we can extend that deadline to six o’clock and still make it down the mountain before it gets too dark, I thought. But we had no idea what still lay ahead for us.

The ridge was perilously steep and we were forced to use our hands as well as our feet to maneuver our way upward. This was not exactly the kind of adventure we were expecting. However, once we got started we realized it was actually less dangerous to continue climbing than it would be to go back down. Inch by inch, hand over hand, gasping for breath in the rarified air, we engineered our way up the final thousand feet to the summit.

The view from the top was indeed spectacular. To the east we could see all the way to downtown Denver and beyond. To the west we could see all the way to the setting sun. The setting sun!? Pulling my watch out of my pocket I gasped with unbelief at what it showed. It was 7:30 pm. We had maybe an hour and a half of daylight remaining.

“Let’s take a few pictures and get out of here!” I shouted above the wind which was blowing furiously at 13,000 feet. “We’ve got to get back down to the lake and find our trail before nine. Otherwise, we might be spending the night on this mountain.”

I knew that with darkness would come freezing temperatures, and the higher on the mountain we were, the colder it would get. With our light jackets we were ill equipped to bivouac for the night. We had to lose altitude, and fast! Our cell phones were useful only for taking pictures. We were some thirty miles away from anyplace with a decent signal assuring that calling for help would be futile. Everyone else that had been on the trails below had long since gone home. Other than God, we were the only ones left on the mountain.

By nightfall we were still a few hundred feet above the lake and a good mile away from the start of the trail. Rich fumbled around in his pack and eventually pulled out a flashlight which was sorely in need of fresh batteries. Still, it gave us some degree of illumination and allowed us to move on. The terrain was a glacial moraine, piles of rocks that were dumped by the retreating glaciers of the last ice age. Every step was treacherous. After reaching lake level we still had to traverse around the lake and find a way to ford the outlet stream on the far side. Swollen by snowmelt, the stream resembled more of a river than a creek. Finding a way across proved to be tricky and quite time consuming.

At last we arrived on the east side of Blue Lake near where we had eaten lunch many hours before. Unfortunately, with no moon and in pitch darkness, everything looked entirely different. With one dim flashlight we were unable to find the trail. Above timberline there is no way to blaze the trails. About every fifty yards or so, someone had piled up a small mound of rocks to mark the path. Okay, so we were in the middle of the Rocky Mountains looking for a pile of rocks, in the dark! For nearly an hour we crisscrossed the landscape hunting for a small pile of rocks, searching for the pathway that would lead us back to our car and home. Although I had been praying silently all the way down the mountain, in desperation I now called out to God with my full voice.

“Father, we need to find the trail. I know our families are worried sick about us and we’re still much too high up to think about spending the night. Please, Lord, help us find the way home!”

Within two minutes of my prayer we were back on the trail rejoicing in our merciful Father. We still had three miles of trail to hike in the dark, however, before we would get back to the trailhead where our car was parked. Holding the flashlight as high as I could above my head I was able to cast a dim light on the trail beneath our feet as well as see a short distance ahead. If I kept the light too low on our feet we would often wander off the trail. If I shined the light too far ahead we would often trip over rocks and tree roots. For two more hours we stumbled our way down the trail finally reaching our car by about 1:30 in the morning. We had been hiking for nearly fifteen hours. Exhausted doesn’t even begin to describe how we were feeling! We walked through the door of the home where we were staying in Colorado at 2:30 am to find our wives still anxiously waiting up for us. Yes, we were in trouble (I doubt if Rich and I will ever be allowed to go on another hike together), but thank God we were safe!

So what’s the point in my sharing this tale with you? I believe that God often speaks to us in our circumstances and I have definitely heard His voice over this experience. No, He didn’t speak to me about being better prepared or turning back before it gets too late. Those lessons were obvious. The message was all about faith, and I learned that faith is spelled r-i-s-k! God usually has a much higher goal in mind for us than we imagine. Often that goal will involve getting off the beaten path, moving away from the well worn trail that previous generations of Christ followers have carved out of the mountainside. Venturing off the established trail forces us to place our trust in God and not just rely on doing things the same way everyone else has done in the past. Without listening to God this is suicide. But if we are in tune with His Spirit, we will hear when He says “This is the way; climb up this slope.” “Go back; this way is too dangerous.” “Be careful; a trap lies here just below the surface.” “Don’t give up now; you have almost reached your goal.” “Hurry; you are running out of time.” “Talk to me; I can see what you cannot.” “Don’t be afraid of what lies ahead; my light will lead you home.”

“We live by faith, not by sight.” – 2Corinthians 5:7. If only that could be true every moment of every day! I have at least discovered what the Psalmist meant when he wrote: “Your word is a lamp to my feet (to keep me from stumbling) and a light for my path (to keep me from straying off the trail).” – Psalm 119:111.

Where would living by faith lead you? What summit would God have you reach for if you were willing to risk stepping off the familiar path? Remember, His goal for your life is likely much higher than you realize. Perhaps He has already been hinting at some new direction for your life but you have delayed stepping out for fear of the risks involved. Yes, blazing a new trail can be a lot more difficult, but it also can be a lot more fun. For my wife Babs and me, venturing off the established trail has meant walking away from the traditional church and becoming simple-church missionaries. It has been an adventure filled with many dangers, including physical (during our first year “off road” Babs was diagnosed with breast cancer), financial (most of our income no longer comes through ministry), and relational (we have experienced the loss of some Christian friends who have turned their backs on us and others who are convinced we have strayed from the faith). Yet I can honestly say it has been the most exciting, rewarding, and faith-building time of our lives—not to mention going beyond exhaustion! And through it all, thank God, He has kept us safe!

“It has always been my ambition to preach the gospel where Christ was not known, so that I would not be building on someone else’s foundation.” – Romans 15:20. This Scripture has become a lot more meaningful to me these days. Being a trailblazer puts one in good company. The Apostle Paul knew more than most what it means to walk away from the established trail. But Jesus knows better than anyone. “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it.” – Luke 9:23-24. The way of the cross is the way of faith, and the way of faith requires risking it all, even facing the terror that may be waiting for us on the mountain.

Bill, a child of God hiking off the established trail

"BE FRUITFUL AND MULTIPLY"

2010-09-29T11:52:00.000-07:00

“BE FRUITFUL AND MULTIPLY”
September 25, 2010

“We’re at ten centimeters!” Babs blurted out excitedly. “The doctor has been called in and they say this may take anytime between five minutes and two hours.”
I drew in a quick cleansing breath and attempted to gather my thoughts. My wife and I had driven 650 miles from our home in Northern California to Vancouver, Washington in order to be with our daughter as she gave birth to her first child, our third grandchild. Because the baby was past due and our daughter is rather petite, her doctor had decided to try and speed up the process. We had been with Trisha in the hospital since mid morning watching her slowly progress over the course of several hours from light, early labor to more productive and intense contractions. It was now mid afternoon and the last examination by the nurse measured her cervix at five centimeters, just halfway to delivery. Sensing this might go on for quite some time I decided to take the elevator down to the parking lot and retrieve a book from our car. Stepping off the elevator on my way back up to our daughter’s room I bumped into Babs bursting with excitement over the news that Trisha had progressed from five to ten centimeters in less than an hour.
“Perhaps this isn’t going to be such a long ordeal after all,” I replied sinking into a comfortable position in a chair in the waiting room and opening my book to the page I had previously marked.
We had barely become settled when Babs received a message on her phone. The message came in the form of a picture taken by our son-in-law, Alex—a picture of Trisha cuddling a brand new baby. Apparently, our daughter had chosen to deliver her child in five minutes rather than wait the two hours we were told it might take. With a squeal of delight Babs raced to the delivery room with her husband close on her heels. Unfortunately, we were kept out of our daughter’s room for an agonizingly long time while little Ava Michelle received her first meal and her mom received the care she needed.
While the minutes dragged on, my thoughts travelled back in time to another delivery room some twenty eight years earlier. Trisha is our second child and she came into the world in a lightning fast, one hour delivery including a frantic rush to the hospital and a desperate call to her doctor who just barely arrived in time. Somehow, the last twenty eight years has seemingly gone by just as fast.
At last the door to the delivery room opened and we were allowed to view the fruit of Trisha’s womb. I cannot possibly describe to you the joy that comes from holding your daughter’s daughter. There is something deeply satisfying about being a grandparent, about realizing your own fruitfulness has given birth to a new generation, and about the hope that even more fruit may lead to more distant generations in the future. Twenty nine years ago a seed of love was planted which God graciously, miraculously caused to bear fruit. Now, thanks to the planting of another “love seed,” that same fruit is bearing more fruit which, in turn, has the potential of bearing even more fruit. It is an unfathomable wonder of God’s miraculous creation, and an indescribable blessing to be a part of it.
“Be fruitful and multiply…” – Genesis 1:28. This was the first commandment our heavenly Father ever gave to mankind and I am beginning to understand the reason He gave it such a high priority. After all, God is a grandfather, several billion times over, and therefore is well acquainted with the thrill of watching His creation bear fruit. I can also, although in an infinitesimally small way, begin to comprehend the joy He must have felt when He watched Mary give birth to His only begotten Son, and the unbearable pain He must have felt when He allowed His Son to be crucified. Yet in so doing, our heavenly Father planted a seed of love which gave birth to a movement which, in turn, has given birth to countless generations who all bear the name of His Son. How thrilled He must be over each individual who is born again into His family!
“Be fruitful and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it…” This is a command which has never been revoked, although it has taken on a much more spiritual dimension. “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” – Matthew 28:19. “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit—fruit that will last.” – John 15:16. In reality this is still the same command mankind first heard back in the Garden of Eden. And wonder of wonders, it is to be implemented in the same manner, by planting seeds of love and asking the Father to bless them that they might bear fruit.
New births are conceived through intimacy and spiritual births are no different. Intimacy with God’s Son is absolutely essential if we ever want to bear fruit. “I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” – John 15:5. Intimacy with Christ will fill us with “love seeds” which we are to sow everywhere we go and with everyone we meet.
What, exactly, do I mean by “love seeds”? Seeds of love are sown by doing acts of kindness. Over the years we have learned to bless people by being generous tippers, calling waitresses and bank tellers by name, complementing others when they are serving us, and offering to pray for their needs. Whenever possible we try to meet the needs of others in a physical or financial way making sure they know we are doing so in the name of Christ. We inquire about their health and that of their family members. We let them know we genuinely care about them. Do seeds of love always bear fruit? As our Lord taught us, the soil is not always conducive to bearing fruit. But we are learning to be prolific in scattering our seeds. “Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously.” – 2Corinthians 9:6.
When our seeds of love fall on good soil, people fall in love with Jesus, disciples are made, churches are started, our Father’s family multiplies, and the kingdom of God expands. Sometimes a new birth will happen quickly. Other times we may spend years laboring in the delivery room. Though I much prefer the more rapid deliveries, any new birth in Christ is a miracle from Father God. Words cannot express the joy of witnessing seeds of love we have sown bearing fruit, of watching new babes in Christ being born. But greater still is the thrill we feel when these “love children” begin to sow their own seeds of love and a new generation of Christians is born.
Around fifty years ago a seed of love from Christ, planted by my parents, found good soil in my heart and God’s love was reborn in me. Around twenty years ago that seed of love was replanted in our daughter, Trisha. It is our hope and prayer that this seed will again find good soil in little Ava Michelle and, in turn, be replanted in her children. But the Lord has also blessed us with many spiritual children and we pray that they, too, will be fruitful and multiply generation after generation after generation until the day we all stand before our heavenly Father and see for the first time the spiritual family that has been born from the love seeds we have planted. That day will truly be an unfathomable wonder of God’s miraculous grace, and an indescribable blessing for those of us who will be a part of it.

Bill, a child of God sowing seeds of love

"IT'S OKAY, I'M WITH THE BAND"

2010-07-24T18:01:00.000-07:00

“IT’S OKAY, I’M WITH THE BAND”
July 1, 2010

“Come on everyone, it’s time to sing!” announced one of the leaders of the simple church.
Suddenly the place was filled with commotion as kids emerged from throughout the house and made a beeline for the family room. Eagerly I retrieved my guitar from its case in an adjoining room, checked the tuning, and prepared for what I hoped would be some inspirational worship. To my horror I soon realized I wasn’t the only one readying an instrument to play. We were visiting one of our house churches in the Central Valley of California, a mixed race group comprised mostly of two families, each with an impressive herd of young, active, and noisy children. I was hoping that a few minutes of quality worship and praise would help to corral the young ones and focus our attention on the Lord. However, what transpired resembled more chaos than choir, more warfare than worship, more mayhem than music, more pandemonium than praise.
While I had been pulling my guitar out of its case the group’s leaders had been distributing their own instruments. Noisemakers of all sorts were hastily retrieved from a box by tiny, eager hands. Maracas, ratchets, tambourines, and wood blocks were quickly claimed and pressed into service. One child brought out a junior version of a trap set and began banging with all his might on the drums and cymbals. Another child placed the strap of a department store electric guitar over his shoulder and plugged the instrument into a nearby amplifier. As he cranked up the volume it soon became apparent that he knew no chords; he was just enthusiastically strumming the open strings. As each kid tested out their chosen instrument the decibel level rose to a deafening roar, roughly akin to an explosion in a ball-bearing factory.
While the praise leader counted off the beat for the first song I was praying for a miracle. Sadly, my plea was drowned out by the beginning of world war three, commencing with the shock and awe of an instrumental introduction that will live in infamy. Little hands everywhere sprung into action making as much noise as possible. My own guitar and voice were completely overwhelmed by the chaotic clamor. A quick glance at my wife, Babs, revealed her panicked attempt to find a way to politely cover her throbbing ears. You’ve got to be kidding! I thought to myself. How can anyone call this worship? How can you present this deafening din to the Lord and claim that we’re honoring Him?
But then I caught a glimpse of the faces of the children. They were singing their hearts outs, totally enraptured in praise to their heavenly Father. Suddenly it dawned on me that the only real sour notes were coming from my attitude. Who was I to pass judgment on their ecstatic worship? Indeed, they were playing to a much higher audience than me, one who is much more able to look past the imperfections of our feeble attempts at worship and graciously judge the hearts of the performers. For years we had been wrestling with how to involve children more in our simple churches. Now the answer was shouting back at me through the agency of these children’s unorthodox yet heartfelt praise.
For generations the church has practiced segregation according to age. While adult worship was taking place in the “sanctuary,” we committed the children to the basement where they could do their thing without disturbing our “more genuine” worship upstairs. This arrangement allowed adults to pursue uninterrupted, quality praise and worship with professional musicians, resulting in a church service that was more dignified, reverent, and “worshipful.” But what have we taught the children? And what have we missed by their absence?
In children’s church our kids learn that worship means playing games, singing fun songs together, hearing a Bible story, and eating yummy snacks. They are encouraged to ask questions and everyone is urged to take an active role in worship. When they graduate to junior church the games get more sophisticated and the songs change to reflect the appropriate age. The Bible story may be a bit longer but the pattern remains essentially the same. On through high school our kids experience roughly the same thing. Worship involves games (Come to youth group this week and bring your Super Soakers!), age appropriate songs, a Bible time when everyone is free to ask questions and make comments, and food (Bring your favorite toppings and we’ll make our own pizzas!).
Tragically, when our kids graduate from high school, they are thrust into adult worship where they are forced to sit still in rows facing forward while the professionals do all the worshipping on stage. The play time is done away with, the interaction is missing, the Bible story has morphed into a thirty minute monologue, the worship becomes more subdued (we shouldn’t upset all the old folks) and snacks are relegated to coffee and doughnuts in the foyer before the service begins (except for that tiny sliver of a cracker and thimble full of grape juice we ironically refer as the Lord’s supper). Is it any wonder that 92% of children who grow up attending Sunday school leave church when they leave their parents’ home?
On the way home from our boisterous house church worship adventure I recalled a T-shirt I once saw when I was a professional musician employed by the Phoenix Symphony Orchestra. In large letters across the front of the shirt the message read: “It’s Okay, I’m with the Band!” For a musician the humor lies in the fact that this saying is a well known excuse for gaining access to the stage area in order to hobnob with the celebrity performers. I found myself wishing we had those t-shirts to hand out to all the children who frequent our simple church gatherings.
One of the most often asked questions regarding simple church is, “But what do you do with the children?” The answer is we let them on stage with all the other performers, meaning they are an integral part of what we do. We play games with them, interact with them, eat a meal with them, and sing with them. While we are enjoying a potluck meal together we ask everyone to share any “God sightings” they have witnessed since we last met. Our children love talking about experiences in which they believe God was actively involved. Some of our most deeply touching worship gatherings have occurred when the Lord has spoken to us through a child. As many others have often said, God doesn’t give children a junior Holy Spirit.
When it comes time to sing we often hand out noise makers to the kids. The music may not be as aesthetically pleasing (to our ears anyway) as it would be if only the adults took part in the praise time but it is a wonderful blessing to see entire families, young and old alike, worshipping the Lord together. And yes, we often sing children’s choruses—complete with all the motions. It’s amazing to see how much fun adults can have remembering the songs they used to sing in children’s church. Yes, I agree with those who argue that God deserves our very best, including when it comes to our worship. But do we honestly think, when surrounded by the heavenly host and all the music heaven has to offer, that God is all that impressed with our Sunday morning stage productions? As others have well said, God is not so much concerned with the state of our art as He is with the state of our heart! “From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise…” – Psalm 8:2.
So what do we do when the discussion gets too deep or becomes inappropriate for the little ones? We have another room where they can play with toys, watch a Christian video, or listen to a Bible story from one of the adults. But our aim is to involve them as much as possible in all we do in our gatherings. When one of our more lively kids gets a little out of hand he or she quickly learns that they have many parents in our church family and all adults are to be given respect. Younger or more inexperienced parents receive good advice and practical demonstrations of effective disciplinary procedures. Our children learn that they are free to ask questions and that their opinions are highly regarded. Perhaps most importantly, these children are growing up observing their parents passionately worshipping their heavenly Father and earnestly praying for one another. I can only imagine the spiritual dividends this will bring later in their lives.
“At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, ‘Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?’ He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: ‘I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me.’” – Matthew 18:1-5.
“People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.’ And he took the children in his arms, put his hands on them and blessed them.” – Mark 10:13-16.
I can just see Jesus, after discovering that His disciples were preventing the children from “disrupting” His ministry, saying to one and all, “Let the kids come up here on stage with me. It’s okay; they’re with the band!”

Bill, a child of God thrilled to be in His band

"THE DAY IN BETWEEN"

2010-04-05T00:52:00.000-07:00

“THE DAY IN BETWEEN”
April 4, 2010

Friday was awful; Sunday was awesome. But in between there was Saturday. I was thinking today how absolutely brutal the day after the crucifixion must have been for Christ’s disciples. They were in between the death and the resurrection, in between the agony and the ecstasy, in between the horror of the cross and the glory of the empty tomb, in between the knowledge that all was lost and the realization that everything was gained, in between the sting of death and the victory of life, in between the curse of Adam and the blessing of Christ, in between the tyranny of the grave and the freedom of grace, in between the horror of hell and the hope of heaven.
Fortunately, Christ’s original followers only had to endure one day in between Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday. Believers today all live on the other side of Sunday. We know about the glory of the empty tomb, the victory of life, the blessing of Christ, the freedom of grace, and the hope of heaven. We know that “…Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.” – 1Corinthians 15:20. We know that God “…has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade…” – 1Peter 1:3-4. We know that “…because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions…” – Ephesians 2:4-5.
So if we know all this, why do we still live as though death was this all powerful enemy to be loathed and feared? Why do we still waste so much time and energy complaining about the state of the world, the state of our finances, the state of our health, and acting like we’re on our way to a funeral? Why do we so often find ourselves devoid of the joy of the Lord? Why do we so often act as though we were stuck in Saturday?
When Jesus gathered with His disciples on the night He was arrested He knew that their faith in Him was about to be shaken to its core. They were about to experience the worst two days of their lives. Not only would they witness the agony of His death on Friday, they would also experience the total absence of Christ on Saturday. For the first time in three years they would be completely removed from His presence. They were about to live through the “in between.” So He prayed to His Father on their behalf saying: “I am coming to you now, but I say these things while I am still in the world, so that they may have the full measure of my joy within them.” – John 17:13.
If Jesus’ final requests included an immeasurable amount of joy for His followers why do we so often allow the things of this world to rob us of His joy? Can financial stress, unemployment, poor health, sour relationships, failing businesses, political turmoil, or shattered dreams compare to the riches of eternity with Christ in heaven? “Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior.” – Habakkuk 3:17-18. “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” – James 1:2-4. “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” – Hebrews 12:2. “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” – Philippians 4:4.
The answer to the Saturday blues is to keep your focus on Sunday. Whenever you find yourself in between your dilemma and His solution, in between your defeat and His victory, in between your sorrow and His joy, in between Good Friday and Easter, imagine yourself among the women who went to a tomb early one morning to anoint death but were instead surprised by life. Listen as they were told by two angels, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen!” – Luke 24:5-6. Imagine what it was like to have one incredible dawn obliterate the worst day of your life. Imagine having the darkness of your Saturday eclipsed by the brightness of His Sunday. And then realize that we are already living in Sunday!

Bill, a child of God rejoicing in Sunday

"THE MANIFOLD GRACE OF GOD"

2010-04-05T00:45:00.000-07:00

“THE MANIFOLD GRACE OF GOD”
March 28, 2010

“Never purchase a diamond after it has already been fixed in its setting,” explained the white-haired jeweler as he stared at me over his thick reading glasses. “You must examine it outside its setting, under a bright light, under a magnifying glass. Come; let me show you what to look for.”
The aged proprietor of the best known jewelry store in my hometown led me over to a counter and motioned for me to sit down on a high wooden stool. It was late summer and after several weeks of visiting my family and working summer jobs I would soon be returning to Arizona State University to resume my music studies. But before I made the trek back to school I had one monumental, life-changing task to accomplish. I had made the decision to pick up an engagement ring for my future bride. Because I knew almost nothing about purchasing a diamond ring I was advised to seek out the counsel of a certified gemologist.
The grizzled old gentleman sat down on a squeaky, well-worn stool on the opposite side of the counter from me. After unlocking a display case he reached in and produced several solitary diamonds placing them on top of the counter on a black velvet cloth. After schooling me about the color, the carat weight, and the clarity of the stones he talked about how the stones were cut.
“When a diamond is cut properly it will cast a perfect shadow; no light can penetrate,” he explained as he invited me to look through a large magnifying glass at a stone he was holding with a pair of locking tweezers. To emphasize his point he placed a clean sheet of white paper under the stone and slowly rotated the diamond under a bright light. The experienced jeweler was correct. At every angle the diamond cast a perfect shadow; no light was able to pass through it. “No matter which way I hold it this stone will perfectly reflect the light,” he proclaimed admiringly. “The many facets in the stone act like tiny mirrors bouncing the light back toward the source and radiating it in manifold directions. When a stone is cut right, its brilliance will be enhanced. Just look at how the lustrous beauty of this stone is brought to life and magnified under the light!”
I was hooked. The old man proved not only to be an experienced gemologist but a pretty good salesman as well. Forty years later my wife still wears the same diamond and all the wear and tear of four decades worth of washing dishes, sorting dirty laundry, changing diapers, cooking and cleaning, raising three kids and keeping a husband in line has not been able to dim its brilliance.
The distant memory of the time I bought that ring popped back into my mind the other day when I read this verse of Scripture. “As each one has received a gift, minister it to one another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.” – 1Peter 4:10. It was the phrase, “the manifold grace of God,” that triggered the memory of how a diamond is cut. Just like a multi-faceted diamond is cut to be a perfect reflection of the light, the Church is also designed to be a perfect reflection of Christ. But I wonder how well we live up to our design. Are we actually enhancing the brilliance of our Maker or do we cast imperfect shadows across the landscape of our neighborhoods?
We Christians have a habit of gathering together with those who look, think, and act just like ourselves. Not only does this lead to ethnic, economic, political, and philosophical segregation, but this tendency also gives rise to denominationalism. We usually prefer fellowshipping with those who possess the same ministering gifts we exhibit. Consequently we see churches who display an overabundance of one or two particular spiritual gifts. Those who are gifted as teachers will congregate in a church which emphasizes Bible study. Others possessing shepherding gifts will be drawn toward churches which have an emphasis on reaching out to the poor in their community. Others who have a passion for reaching the lost will search for a church with a strong evangelistic program. Those who employ the so called “charismatic gifts” will gather in charismatic churches.
It’s not that any of these emphases are wrong. Indeed they are all a part of the manifold grace of God. But that’s the problem; they’re just a part of His grace. By themselves these groups cast imperfect reflections of Christ. From one direction they may look terrific. But rotate them just a little and their luster fades. This is what happens when we allow imperfect stone-cutters (meaning human) to chisel away at the body of Christ and attempt to make it into our own image. Instead of mere humans doing the cutting, we need to place our trust in the Master Gemologist. Only He can cut the stone in such a way as to provide the greatest brilliance. Only He can bring together every facet of His manifold grace in a way that brings glory to Him no matter which way the stone is turned. Only He can place each stone in the proper setting in order to enhance the beauty of the whole piece of jewelry.
“As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him—you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For in Scripture it says: ‘See, I lay a stone in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone, and the one who trusts in him will never be put to shame.’” – 1Peter 2:4-6.
I am sickened by the fact that throughout the history of the church human stone-cutters have broken up the kingdom of God into thousands of imperfect stones none of which comes anywhere close to perfectly reflecting the glory of our Cornerstone. We may see tiny glimpses of His grace here and there, but just think how glorious it would be if we all surrendered our hammers and chisels and allowed Christ to do the cutting! How much of our human programs, pride, and prejudices would have to be cut away before we became a stone which perfectly reflected the brilliance of the source of our light? What would have to be chipped away before those outside the kingdom would be able to look at us, from any angle, and see a perfect reflection of the manifold grace of God?
I don’t believe the simple-church movement has all the answers to these questions, but I love the concept of simply following Christ into the harvest field and allowing Him to gather together the people He chooses, organically, rather than directing people into an already existing group which may or may not be the proper setting to display their gifting. I continue to marvel at the individuals God has gathered together in our various simple churches. The church at table number two amazes me the most right now. At a local coffee shop on Tuesday evenings in our home town you are likely to see around ten very different individuals crowding around a corner booth sharing food, reading Scripture, and praying for one another. Included in this group is an African American, an Asian, two older white men, two Hispanics (one of whom speaks almost no English), an older woman of mixed race, and two unwed mothers in their early twenties.
There is no way any human stone-cutter could have come up with such a gem. Only God could have brought together this diverse of a group. I am so glad we gave up trying to be just a men’s accountability group and allowed Christ to shape us into His own image. Because we gave over our hammer and chisel to the Master stone-cutter, the glory of God shines forth from that restaurant every Tuesday evening. All we do is show up and ask God who He wants us to shine upon that evening. To our amazement He keeps bringing us into contact with individuals we never would have imagined gathering together into a church. As God continues to polish this gem the light has begun to radiate outward. Additional gatherings have sprung up and more ministries are about to be birthed.
I have a feeling God isn’t finished shaping this gemstone. But after all we are a “living stone” and as long as we are willing our Master Gemologist will continue to cut away what doesn’t belong and polish what does. He does so in order that we might not absorb any of His glory but rather mirror it back to a world lost in darkness. He does so in order that the beauty of our stone might be enhanced and the light of Christ might be magnified. He does so in order to help us become a greater reflection of the manifold grace of God.

Bill, a child of God and a steward of His manifold grace

"PASSING THE BATON"

2010-03-06T00:57:00.000-08:00

“PASSING THE BATON”
March 5, 2010

“Keep your eyes on those green hills that stretch on forever, Frank,” I said over the rhythmical hissing of his ventilator and the incessant beeping of his heart monitor. “You’re going to be dancing across those hills very soon.”
These were the last words I ever spoke to my friend. I’m not entirely sure that he heard them since he had been fairly comatose for the past several days. But I’m guessing that he did and that it helped him focus on what lay ahead for his spirit. Frank had been imprisoned in a wheel chair for years with progressively deteriorating muscle movement that was gradually, day by day, siphoning the life from him. Now, that life had been almost completely drained from his body. Burdened by a lifetime of muscular dystrophy and years of battling other various ailments, Frank’s body had all but shut down. His kidneys were failing, his lungs were filling with fluid, his extremities were swelling up and he was virtually unresponsive to any verbal stimulation. His ventilator was the only thing keeping him alive. At 78 years of age Frank had lived a long time for someone with his degree of disabilities. But all the signs were pointing to the unmistakable fact that his earthly struggles were coming to an end.
Earlier that day, in conference with a consortium of doctors and hospital staff, his wife had agreed to remove Frank from his respirator. The decision was based upon Frank’s request written beforehand due to the likelihood he would eventually end up in such a condition. Frank’s wishes were clear; he didn’t want to be left imprisoned in a helpless body kept alive only by means of artificial life support. So, late on a chilly February evening, his wife and four other close friends gathered in his hospital room to say goodbye to a brother in Christ and usher him into eternity.
When earlier that week I had heard about the possibility of this happening I was uncertain as to God’s will in the matter. Was this really Frank’s time to go? Did God want to heal this man and allow him to linger in our presence a little while longer? But then, two nights before his departure, I had a dream which I believe came from the Lord.
In my dream I was carrying an aging dog in a cage to the vet in order to have him put to sleep. The veterinary clinic seemed to be out in the country, in the middle of nowhere. Stepping out of the car with the cage in hand I noticed the surrounding countryside. I was completely surrounded by rolling green hills as far as the eye could see. This dog would love to be set free here, I thought to myself. He could run all over these hills exploring every gopher hole and rabbit burrow and have the time of his life free from any restraints. But then I noticed there were no fences anywhere in sight. What if he got lost and couldn’t find his way back? No, I better keep him in the cage.
At this point in my dream I woke up thinking how stupid it was to keep the dog caged up for his protection when he was headed for his demise anyway. Realizing this dream might be a message of some sort from the Lord I asked Him what it meant. “Open the cage and let him go free.” The words popped into my mind in such a way that I had no doubt they were of divine origin. The next day I shared the dream and its message with Nancy, Frank’s wife, and shared it again the next evening with Frank and the others who were gathered in his room to say farewell. It is difficult to describe in words the peace that came over us as we let the message of the dream minister to our grieving souls.
The dream brought with it a surreal sense of joyous celebration in the midst of the sadness of saying goodbye to a friend. Just two years earlier we had witnessed Frank placing his trust in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior so we had no doubt as to what was in store for our brother. So we anointed him with oil, read Scriptures which spoke of heaven and the resurrection, sang Amazing Grace, and prayed. As we did so the attending nursing staff increased the flow of his drugs while simultaneously decreasing the flow of his ventilator. Slowly, peacefully, Frank’s body was allowed to take its rest. After about two hours of traveling through this process the door to the cage swung gently open and Frank’s spirit was set free. I am convinced God sent the dream to bring comfort to us all, including Frank as he drifted off to sleep in a morphine haze with visions of rolling green hills on his mind, only to awaken with the realization that the dream had become a reality.
During our farewell gathering, the divine presence in that hospital room was overwhelming. I got the sense that we were on one side of the great divide lifting up our brother’s spirit and passing it off to a host of waiting angels on the other side who joyously, triumphantly, carried him off to his reward. It reminded me of a relay race in which we were passing off the “baton” from one existence to another, from the hand of man, to the hand God. It gives one a whole new meaning for the phrase, “passing on,” and makes one wonder why those who belong to the Lord would ever look upon death with such fear and loathing.
“For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: ‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’ ‘Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?’ The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” – 1Corinthians 15:53-57.
“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.” – 1Timothy 4:7-8.
“Then I heard a voice from heaven say, ‘Write: Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.’ ‘Yes,’ says the Spirit, ‘they will rest from their labor, for their deeds will follow them.’” – Revelation 14:13.
I believe it is vital to make certain that you are “in the Lord,” that you are involved in the great relay race. And it is also important to gather around you those who are helping to prepare you for the baton exchange; those who will help you mature in Christ, who will partner with you in ministry, bear with you through life’s failures and triumphs, and support you in your heartaches and struggles. Then we can look forward to the baton exchange with joyful anticipation rather than fear and dread. For unless the Lord returns beforehand, there will come a time for each one of us when the Lord says, “Open up the cage and set his spirit free.” When that happens to you, I pray that you will awaken to find that your greatest dream has become a reality!
Bon-voyage, brother Frank. Enjoy dancing across those green hills!

Bill, a child of God, grieving and rejoicing at the same time

"PRESSING INTO HIM"

2009-12-24T16:15:00.000-08:00

“PRESSING INTO HIM”
December 24, 2009

There are times when I get so upset at him I feel like twisting his elongated body into a pretzel, and last night was one of those times. I had just returned from a thoroughly exhausting day of Christmas shopping, a task which rates near the very top of my list of most loathsome activities (somewhere between paying taxes and being boiled in hot oil). I had stashed my packages in a closet out of site from inquiring eyes and settled down for a relaxing dinner. A few minutes later when I returned to the closet to begin wrapping the presents, I discovered a sickening mess. Jaba, our pet miniature Dachshund, had managed to find the stash and tear into a box of chocolates. I honestly wanted to murder the gluttonous beast. It was the perfect exclamation point on an absolutely horrendous day. Fortunately for his sake, my wife Babs came to the rescue of the thieving mutt and carried him away from my fury.
Today, he is once again sitting at my feet whining for attention as if nothing had happened the previous evening. He is without doubt the most loving animal I have ever known. He insists on being next to Babs or me constantly. Not content to merely be in the same room or even on the same couch, he will press into us making sure his fur is rubbing against us. I am convinced he would crawl under our skin if he could. Though his pandering for attention is sometimes a little unnerving, his loving nature makes it pretty difficult to stay upset at him for any length of time.
His continual thirst for intimacy with Babs and me is a marvelous image of how our relationship should be with Christ. Even though I’m quite certain there are many times during each day when our less than holy actions are exasperating to our Lord, He will never refuse our thirst for intimacy with Him. After all, He is the one who continually pursues intimacy with us. “We love because he first loved us.” – 1John 4:19. He has gone to the greatest length possible, even death on a cross, to open up a pathway to our hearts. “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son…” – John 3:16. Christmastime is the season when we celebrate how our heavenly Father pressed in so close to us that He actually did crawl into our skin.
“All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: ‘The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel’—which means, ‘God with us.’” – Matthew 1:22-23.
For many people this is the most stressful time of the year. This year it doesn’t help that we are in a period of extreme economical distress and our society seems to be more divided than it has been in decades. Around the world Christians as a whole are experiencing more persecution right now than we have seen since the first century. Many will celebrate Christmas while hiding in darkened rooms for fear of reprisal from an oppressive government or zealous religious fanatics. Yet even in the midst of such trauma, the peace of Christmas is still available to those who are determined to press into Jesus, those who persist in demanding an intimate relationship with Christ.
I recommend you take a hint from our wayward little pooch and insist on pressing into your Master. Don’t let anything get in your way, not even your many indiscretions. I am confident that He will accept your offer of love and allow you to experience the peace and warmth that comes from intimacy with Him. This season is not about the perfect gifts, the best decorations, the tastiest food, or the warmest gatherings. It’s all about Jesus!
May you experience the full measure of His peace and joy this season even as you press into Him!

Bill and Babs, children of God learning to press into Him

"MISPLACED HOPE"

2009-12-19T23:47:00.000-08:00

“MISPLACED HOPE”
December 13, 2009

It was one of those life-lessons you’d certainly rather see deleted from the curriculum, at least postponed until after the holidays. But this one surprised us on the first day of December, a sucker punch from the Christmas Grinch that stole our holiday spirit and threatened to destroy our hopes for the coming year. In a terse email notice from our mortgage company we learned that the application for refinancing our home had been denied. Last June our five-year, adjustable-rate mortgage adjusted and our house payments suddenly increased dramatically. One month prior to the scheduled adjustment we began negotiating with our bank to refinance our loan never dreaming it would take so long. After seven months of wrangling with bankers and underwriters we were unceremoniously discarded in four short sentences.
The news came particularly hard since only a week prior to the notice we had been assured that everything looked great and our loan would be closing by the end of November. There would be no need to make a December mortgage payment and future payments would be five hundred dollars less than they had been. The bank even sent us a sample closing statement with a generous cash-back offer asking if we thought the amount was too much.
“Let’s leave it the way it is,” I replied relieved to have the long ordeal finally coming to a close. Anticipating the extra income Babs and I began to plan an anniversary get-away to make up for a couple of years without a vacation together. It’s about time we had some fun together after living like paupers the last few months and barely getting by, I thought to myself. “How would you like to spend a week at Disneyland?” I asked my wife.
It was shaping up to be one of the greatest Christmas seasons ever. But then we received the heart-wrenching email that burst our holiday balloon and I was instantly cast into a pit of despair, self-pity, and anger.
“How dare these arrogant, greedy bankers pass judgment on my finances,” I cried. “For the past six years we haven’t missed a single payment, nor have we even been late on a payment. If they think we’re a poor risk for a new loan how do they think we’ll be able to continue to pay them the hundreds of dollars more each month we currently owe? I don’t think they ever intended to approve this loan. They’ve just been stringing us along month after month content to be squeezing more money out of us. I can’t believe people could be so cruel as to dangle the prize in front of our eyes within our grasp, and then yank it away at the last minute.”
The more I thought about the injustice of it all the more angry I became. My fretting over the situation increased to the point where it became difficult for me to pray. I knew the Lord wanted me to give it up and allow Him to work things out in His perfect timing and in His perfect way, but I was too full of rage and depression to surrender to His will. I had a good mad on and I wasn’t about to lay it down. It took the better part of a week before the Lord succeeded in breaking through my inconsolable attitude. My daily Old Testament reading brought me to Psalm 37 and my sickened heart was pierced by His powerful, two-edged sword.
“Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him; do not fret when men succeed in their ways, when they carry out their wicked schemes. Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret—it leads only to evil. For evil men will be cut off, but those who hope in the Lord will inherit the land.” – Psalm 37:7-9.
As I broke down and repented before the Lord, His Spirit began downloading into my heart heaven’s perspective on the painful life-lesson I was experiencing. I was suffering from a bad case of misplaced hope. I had foolishly placed all of my hope for a joyful Christmas and a prosperous New Year in a group of human financiers and their approval of our new mortgage. How utterly senseless! How could I have so easily fallen into the enemy’s trap? I was granting people and circumstances power over my joy rather than looking to Jesus for all of my hope.
The more I dwell on this issue the more I am convinced the problem of misplaced hope has become an epidemic among Christians. Instead of trusting in the Lord we place our hope in doctors, or investment schemes, or employers, or bank accounts, or real estate, or friends, or spouses, or technology, or politicians, or scientists, or our own strength and skill, or pastors, or even the church. It’s not that these things are necessarily bad. Indeed there is a potential for much good in them all. They’re just not Jesus, and only Jesus can make our hope secure. “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” – Hebrews 6:19.
My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness; I dare not trust the sweetest frame, but wholly lean on Jesus’ name.
When Darkness veils His lovely face, I rest on His unchanging grace; in ev’ry high and stormy gale my anchor holds within the veil.
His oath, His covenant, His blood support me in the whelming flood; when all around my soul gives way, He then is all my hope and stay.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand—all other ground is sinking sand; all other ground is sinking sand. – Edward Mote
I have decided to place my hope in Jesus rather than in banks. Since He holds the true deed to our home and since all our income ultimately comes from Him, He possesses every right to determine where we live and how much we pay for the privilege. Besides, He has promised that “…those who hope in the Lord will inherit the land.” Why should I be so concerned about one small house?
I am determined not to let people and circumstances rob me of the joy of this season. I sincerely invite you to join me in this resolution.

Bill, a child of God placing my hope squarely on Him

"BRINGING JESUS TO A PUB"

2009-11-21T18:42:00.000-08:00

“BRINGING JESUS TO A PUB”
November 21, 2009

“Hey, do you guys know anything about a place called Evie’s?” asked Berm on his cell phone. “I had a dream last night about this name. Just now as I was on my way home from Starbuck’s and had stopped at the light on the corner, I looked across the street and saw a sign with this name above the door of what I think is some sort of restaurant. Anyway, I think you guys should check it out.”
The call came while Danny, Dave, and I, fellow organic church planters, were still sitting at a small table in Starbuck’s coffee shop finishing up our discussion and prayer time. We had been meeting there for the past few weeks on Sunday mornings talking and praying over strategy on how to advance the kingdom of God in our city. We had invited Berm, a Korean Christian friend of ours with a prophetic gift, to join us that day in order to help us listen more intently to the Holy Spirit. It had been a productive meeting reviewing images and thoughts from the prayer walk we had taken the previous week. But nothing specific leaped out and grabbed us as being from the Lord—nothing, that is, until Berm’s phone call shortly after he left our table. But was that message really from the Lord?
On the way home from the coffee shop that day I drove by Evie’s. From the street it appeared to be just some sleazy, hole-in-the-wall bar. Visiting a place like that, especially on a Sunday, would certainly not be on my list of fun things to do. Planting a church there was no where near my radar scope. I figured someday we should check the place out but right now we were all convinced God had called us to gather at Starbuck’s where we were already getting to know some of the barristers and regular customers. In fact, since we were engaged in some significant ministry there, we were humorously referring to our Sunday morning gathering as “The Church at St. Arbuck’s.” For several weeks we ignored the message from Berm and continued meeting at the coffee shop every Sunday morning. But then God confirmed the word He had given concerning Evie’s.
Berm and his family had been staying in our home for a few weeks while they were preparing to move to China for a job opportunity. On Saturday evening before their plane was to leave the next day, Berm and his wife along with Babs and I sat on our living room floor and prayed for each other. Following our prayer time Berm spoke up.
“While you were praying, Bill, I saw a vision of a pub with an ‘oikos’ inside.” (The word “oikos” is Greek for “house” or “household” and refers to an intimate group of extended family members and friends.)
“Oh, that’s kind of like the TV show, ‘Cheers,’” replied Babs.
“I suppose we ought to pay a visit to Evie’s,” I commented with resignation and not the slightest hint of enthusiasm.
I had not been feeling well and the thought of going to some bar was not at all appealing to me. However, the next day while meeting at Starbuck’s, the feeling that we should visit Evie’s was overwhelming. So reluctantly two of us, Dave and myself, drove across the street and parked in the rear of the establishment since the front parking lot was filled. Why is this place so busy on Sunday afternoon? I wondered. But as soon as we walked through the rear entrance the reason became clear.
It was football season and the walls of the pub were dominated by no less than ten TV screens all tuned to various games in progress. Many of the patrons were decked out in jerseys representing their favorite team. Occasionally a cheer would erupt from a few excited fans accompanied by groans from others. Along one wall a shelf was filled with several crock pots and bowls filled with homemade food. Chile, bread, pasta dishes, and pumpkin pie along with the usual tavern libations were in the process of being enjoyed by the hungry patrons. Everyone seemed to know each other and they were all having a great time, unless their team wasn’t living up to expectations.
We took a seat at the only empty table and surveyed the scene. Although the inside was much cleaner and nicer compared to what I had imagined still, all things considered, the place was just a bar. Silently I hoped no one who might know me as a local pastor would recognize me. As Christians involved in organic church planting we felt very much out of place and wondered what we would say if anyone inquired as to who we were and what we were doing there. A few minutes later a waitress approached us and asked us what we wanted to drink. After ordering soft drinks we inquired as to the food.
“Oh, this is stuff people bring to share on Sundays during football season,” she replied. “You are welcome to whatever you want.”
After our drinks arrived we settled down to watch our favorite game and prayed that God would connect us with whomever he wanted. Since He had brought us to this unique place we figured there must be at least one person He wanted us to meet. We didn’t have long to wait.
“Wow, you guys are just about the last people we would ever expect to meet here!” shouted a female voice coming from halfway across the room.
If I could have crawled under the table and disappeared I would have instantly done so. My worse fears were suddenly coming true. Someone had recognized us. How were we ever going to explain what we were doing there? But in a flash my fears were relieved and my faith in God was elevated to a new height.
Turning around we were greeted by two of the waitresses with whom we have built a friendship at the Church at Table #2 in Carrow’s Restaurant. Evie’s was apparently an old hangout for them when they used to work at the restaurant on Sunday mornings and would stop by to relax together before heading home. A strange set of circumstances had resulted in them sharing the same shift once again and they had decided to drop by the pub for old time’s sake. Neither one of them had been to Evie’s for months.
“This was our favorite place to come and have a leisurely drink,” they shared. “But since neither of us drink much anymore (They are both new mothers) and our schedules never allow for us to share Sunday mornings together we have stopped coming. Today was just a fluke! So what on earth would bring you guys here?”
We had an interesting time explaining to them that God had called us to be there, but since we already enjoyed a spiritual relationship with them and they were familiar with the concept of organic church planting, they understood our motive. Once our embarrassment over having been caught in a bar began to subside, the conversation turned to this unique pub. The two young women began to point out different people we might want to get to know.
“That’s Evie,” one of them proclaimed pointing to the woman behind the bar. “She’s the owner and she insists on keeping this place spotless. She knows everyone else and makes us all feel at home here. You need to take the time to get acquainted with her.”
After sharing information about the rest of the staff and a few of the patrons, the girls excused themselves and headed home. Dave and I were left to ponder in amazement what had just happened. Through Berm’s prophetic gift God had obviously, supernaturally, led us to this pub at this very time to reunite us with two individuals who were already intimately familiar with the place. Their testimony about the pub confirmed the fact that God has something in mind for our ministry there. Gradually, the progression of how the Lord of the harvest was leading us began to take shape in our minds. Two years ago our men’s accountability group which met every Tuesday evening at Carrow’s Restaurant was transformed into The Church at Table #2 as God showed us how to witness to the staff and customers. That gathering led us to other forays into the harvest and helped us understand that planting simple churches isn’t about inviting people to come to our home, but rather about inviting ourselves to go to theirs, or to their place of business, or school, or some other place where they feel comfortable.
As the Lord’s harvest workers we have learned that we can’t just open the barn doors and expect the wind to blow the wheat inside. The crop won’t harvest itself! It requires laborers to actually go into the fields and do the work. God will then bind the sheaves together into whatever gathering He desires, whether in large barns or small sheds, open fields or fenced yards, living rooms or mega churches, restaurants or even pubs. “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations…” – Matthew 28:19. Nowhere does it say we are to stay in one place and expect disciples to form around us. “…on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.” – Matthew 16:18. Building the church is strictly the Lord’s responsibility. We dare not remove this vital task from His capable shoulders no matter how much we may be convinced we know what the church should look like.
This outward focus led us to gather at Starbuck’s on Sunday mornings, a place where many people in our community love to hangout, a time when people, who are not going to church, like to go for a latté. But we never dreamed that following the Lord into the harvest would lead us to a bar. It certainly makes a lot of sense, however, when you consider that we aren’t exactly looking for saints. The following week, while sitting at Starbuck’s before venturing across the street to Evie’s, the Lord led us to read the Scripture passage which describes the calling of Matthew. After Matthew decides to leave his tax collector’s booth and follow Jesus it seems like the very next thing the Lord does is to go to Matthew’s house in order to connect with a few of the new disciple’s friends.
“While Jesus was having dinner at Matthew’s house, many tax collectors and sinners came and ate with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they asked his disciples, ‘Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?’ On hearing this, Jesus said, ‘It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick…For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.’” – Matthew 9:10-13.
That week at Evie’s we watched as the owner walked around the tables and stopped to visit with each patron. She was doing exactly what I used to do as a pastor of an institutional church at every potluck dinner we held. Evie was shepherding her flock. The only thing missing was Jesus. We now know why the Lord has brought us to this unlikely spot to do church. We are there to simply supply what is missing, to bring Jesus to the pub.

Bill, a child of God venturing even further into the harvest field

"LETTING GO"

2009-11-07T15:23:00.000-08:00

“LETTING GO”
November 7, 2009

We stood on the sidewalk in front of our home and watched in silent agony as our daughter’s sports car turned the corner and disappeared out of sight. After swallowing hard in order to stifle a tear, I slowly turned around and headed back indoors. Our little girl was gone. Okay, at twenty-seven years of age she wasn’t so little anymore, and ever since she got married three years ago and moved out of the house, we hardly ever saw her. But this time she was moving to another state, some twelve hours away by car. It seemed as though a significant, life-essential organ was being ripped away from my body.
Her mother, Babs, retreated into a heavy fog of depression while I was left to sort through some conflicting emotions. As a parent, after investing so many years in the life of your offspring, it is unbelievably painful to see them grow up and move away. Yet along with the hurt I was also feeling a hint of pride and accomplishment. After all, this is why we raised her, why we sacrificed so much on her account, why we spent so much time praying over her and pouring our love into her. The academy award for parents is the joy of knowing your children are able to survive on their own. Failure to realize this joy can lead to a far greater pain than separation.
As I was pondering these mixed feelings I was reminded of a passage of Scripture where Jesus is preparing His disciples for His departure. “I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father.” – John 14:12. I have struggled over this passage in the past wondering what His disciples could possibly do that could be considered greater than the Lord’s accomplishments. But now the Spirit was giving me a fresh insight into what was taking place. The Master was about to do the most important thing He could do for the future ministry of His disciples—leave!
For some three and a half years the disciples had grown accustomed to the physical presence of the Lord. Together they had witnessed some pretty amazing miracles. Water became wine; the lame walked; the blind received sight; those with diseases were cured; even the dead were raised. But it was always Jesus performing the miracles while the disciples watched in wonder. In addition they were able to absorb the greatest teachings the world had ever heard. But now Jesus was returning to His Father. Could the disciples survive without His dominating presence? Would the ministry continue without its Founder?
In truth, the disciples would never have been able to begin the Church had Jesus remained on earth. They would have been far too dependant upon Him and far too reluctant to launch out into new ministries. Yes, I realize He gave them His Spirit to empower them and to give direction. But physically He left, and He did so just days before the opening Sunday service of the new Church. I can well imagine the heartache of separation Jesus experienced as He ascended into heaven. How He must have longed to stay with them and help them through the next few critical weeks and months! Yet I bet there was also a hint of pride and accomplishment. For three and a half years He had been preparing them for this moment, teaching them, praying for them, and pouring His love into them. Finally the time had come to see if they could survive, and the ministry thrive, without His physical presence. Only then could Jesus’ ministry be judged as completely successful.
Thankfully, empowered by the Holy Spirit, the disciples went on to do the “even greater things than these” by carrying the Gospel throughout the known world and planting churches everywhere they went. I believe there is a message here for would-be apostles and church planters today. “Therefore, holy brothers, who share in the heavenly calling, fix your thoughts on Jesus, the apostle and high priest whom we confess.” – Hebrews 3:1. Taking our example from Jesus, the greatest Apostle in history, perhaps the greatest thing we can do for those we are discipling and the churches we are planting is to leave!
Obviously we must rely on the Holy Spirit to reveal to us the best timing for our departure, and in this modern world we can still stay connected and visit occasionally when we feel the need is warranted. But if we fail to leave we run the risk of making people dependant upon us. If they continue to feel dependant upon us they will never launch out on their own and begin to accomplish the ministries for which God has gifted and called them. And our own ministry will be drastically limited in its scope.
I believe that all of the spiritual gifts can and have been abused. A careful reading of Paul’s letters to the troubled church in Corinth will back up this belief. The gifts are abused when more attention is focused on the gifted than the Giver. “There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but the same God works all of them in all men. Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good.” – 1Corinthians 12:7. When the gifted steals away the glory meant for the Giver abuse is inevitable. All gifts are meant to be directed outward, to build up the church, to bring glory to God, not to build up the stature of the one using the gift.
This is especially true for those gifted individuals who make up the five-fold ministry team. “It was he who gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers, to prepare God’s people for works of service so that the body of Christ may be built up…” – Ephesians 4:11-12. Far too many individuals who are gifted apostolically continue to gather others around their ministry, fulfilling their personal need to be needed, rather than equipping and releasing the saints to follow the Lord of the harvest wherever He leads. It is a failure to leave when it’s time to leave, to send forth when it’s time to send forth. This is an abuse of the apostolic gift, one which vastly limits ministries and stifles the growth of the church.
I shamefully remember the times when as an institutional church pastor I stood behind the pulpit and exhorted our parishioners to get involved in the ministry. “Every Christian believer is ordained by God and gifted to fulfill a ministry,” I would proclaim. Yet because I also encouraged them to return Sunday after Sunday to listen to me expound from the Scriptures I was inadvertently causing them to become dependant upon me rather than equipping them to follow the Lord and put to use the gifts He had given them. Tragically, I was enabling the very thing I was preaching against!
Letting go is one of the most difficult things to do in the ministry. It is bound to cause pain and heartaches. Yet witnessing those whom God has brought to us to teach and disciple failing to fulfill their potential in Christ is a far greater pain than that of separation. The calling of an apostle, like that of a parent, involves backing away from the spotlight and allowing our “children” to take center stage. It is a rite of spiritual passage, a building up of the next generation to take our places. It is a calling to receive the wounds of distancing ourselves from those we love. But it is also the privilege of knowing the joy of watching them do “greater things than these,” of knowing that the ministry will continue to grow long after our departure. And it will only happen if we learn to let go.

Bill, a child of God learning to let go

"BARKING AT SQUIRRELS"

2009-10-10T16:59:00.000-07:00

“BARKING AT SQUIRRELS”
October 10, 2009

The instant I opened the patio door he tore into the backyard like a Tasmanian devil barking furiously and running as fast as his little five-inch legs could carry him. A few yards in front of him a grayish brown squirrel thought it best to postpone burying a walnut in the lawn and quickly scampered up a nearby apple tree. While madly circling the trunk of the tree the miniature dachshund kept barking repeatedly in as threatening a voice as he could muster pausing occasionally to leap into the air in a vain attempt to scale the wooded refuge and capture the rogue rodent. I stood in the doorway laughing out loud at the futile actions of our clueless puppy.
“Jabba” has been a member of our household for just five months yet this scene has been replayed perhaps a hundred times. Every day he will sit at the patio door and stare through the glass until the enemy appears. When a squirrel has been sighted Jabba will whine and growl until I come and open the door for him. Never in his sojourn with us has the hapless pooch come any closer than ten feet to one of the elusive varmints. Yet he remains undeterred and continues his daily vigil in hopes that some day he may actually be able to catch one. In order to preserve the peace of our home, not to mention that of our neighbors as well, we have been forced to outfit him with a specialized collar which will give him a good jolt of electricity whenever he barks; the louder the bark, the more intense the shock. Thanks to the collar we have managed to mitigate the barking, but the whining and frenzied frustration continues.
In the last few weeks Jabba has taken his sentry duty to our living room window and now equally divides his time between patrolling the front yard and the rear, always maintaining his vigilance and alerting me with frenetic whining any time an evil, bushy-tailed intruder comes too close to our home. His favorite lookout position for observing the front battlefield is perching atop the back of our living room couch. I’ve seen cats maintain such a position for hours but never a dog. However, since his legs are so short, finding a high vantage point from which to pursue his quest seems to make perfect sense, although he does look a trifle silly.
For the past few days once every morning, almost like clockwork, a squirrel will appear outside the front window. Upon catching sight of Jabba faithfully observing the scene from his chosen lookout post, the squirrel will stop in its tracks, rise up on its hind legs, and stare back mockingly at the beast behind the glass. I am convinced the scheming rodent is fully aware of the chaos it is causing inside our home. Jabba will go absolutely nuts at the audacious actions of the furry menace and begin running back and forth through the house at top speed while whining as loudly as he dares. When he finds me, usually sitting in front of the computer in my office, he will jump at my legs trying desperately to get my attention. Don’t I understand that the greatest disaster ever to face the planet is occurring just beyond the window glass? When I make no move to allow him access to the front yard in order to chase away the tiny terrorist, he just looks at me incredulously and then scampers off to check on the whereabouts of the enemy.
Eventually, long after the squirrel has disappeared, Jabba will grow tired of maintaining his lookout vigil and slowly saunter into my office and lie down at my feet with a defeated sigh. If I could possibly read his mind I’m quite certain he would be wondering why I have so little concern for the squirrels of the world and why I don’t fully appreciate all he is doing to keep our home free from such unwelcome pests. However, glancing down from my computer screen, I just shake my head at him and laugh.
“Why do you always go so berserk over a stupid little squirrel?” I asked him the other day after another such episode of insanity. Reaching down to his miniature dachshund height I took his head in my hands and gave him a reassuring rub. “I know you get upset over the squirrels,” I told him hoping somehow he could understand me. “The next time one of those pesky creatures gets into our yard come to me first and we’ll talk about it. I’m not all that concerned about them. I’m actually bigger than the squirrels and I could vanquish them if I wanted to. It’s not that big of a deal. I am truly more concerned about you than about them. The squirrels can run faster than you, they can climb a tree and you can’t, and you will probably never catch one. So why do you bother to sit perched on the couch waiting and watching and going nuts over something that you can’t do anything about?”
“He looks every bit as silly as you!” proclaimed a familiar voice speaking into my spirit. “Are you all that much different from Jabba when you sit in front of the television ranting and raving about what you see on the news every night? Do you realize how silly you look going berserk over all those news websites you have a habit of visiting daily on your computer? There you are day after day perched upon your couch in front of the TV or stationed at your lookout post in front of your computer whining at what is taking place beyond the glass. Do you suppose all your frenetic complaining will result in any positive change? Don’t you think the enemy knows what gets you profoundly upset and uses this as a ploy to fill you with anxiety, tear down your faith, and distract you from spending more time with me?”
“Do you honestly think I am totally ignoring you if I don’t seem quite as upset as you when you cry out to me over some trial that has raised your blood pressure and sent you into a fit of frenzy? Don’t you understand that I allow adverse situations to come near you in order to draw you back to me and to teach you that barking at squirrels accomplishes nothing? Can you trust me to take care of you, to watch out for threatening intruders invading your life, or will you continue to insist on manning the observation post by yourself and going insane at the first sight of trouble? When you see a trial approaching are you willing to make your first move sitting at my feet for a while and allowing me to give you my perspective on what might be about to happen? Oh, and by the way, I am much bigger than any squirrel, or any trial threatening your existence or the wellbeing of your country! I could vanquish them all in a heartbeat if I so wished. But in truth, I am far more concerned about you than about them.”
Ouch! It certainly isn’t pleasant getting reprimanded by the Lord, especially when He uses my dog to get through to me. Which is why I’m passing this one on to those of you who, like me, have a problem with getting a little too anxious about circumstances over which we have little to no control. Judging from the overwhelming amount of angst I’m hearing about coming from within the kingdom, I’m convinced I’m not alone in my anxiety. Are you in the habit of barking at squirrels?
It’s not that we don’t have anything to be worried about. Lately the economy seems to be getting flushed down the toilet and millions of jobs have gone down the drain as well. The value of the dollar is plunging along with the value of our retirement funds. Just as the war in Iraq seems to be quieting down the conflict in Afghanistan is heating up. Iran is on the verge of becoming a nuclear threat to world peace. We live under the constant threat of terrorism. The political climate in this country may be more divided than it’s been since the civil war. We continue to be inundated with prophecies concerning an approaching natural disaster. And some people are convinced that human life on this planet is headed toward extinction due to irreversible climate change. How’s that for a brief list of things that might make us a little anxious!
The Lord has spoken to me about this in the past and has even fitted me with a restraining collar (the Holy Spirit) to warn me when my barking gets too loud. But I still manage to get a little insane at times and whine at all the squirrels I see coming too close for comfort. In truth, other than pray, write my congressman, and vote, I can do almost nothing about the things which concern me the most. So what good does it do to expend so much time and emotional energy going nuts over this stuff? “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” – Matthew 6:27. “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” – Matthew 6:34.
I’m not saying that we should completely drop out of society and simply wait for Christ to return and rescue us from all these tribulations. Indeed, God expects us to do what we can to make a positive difference in the lives of others around us, many of whom are suffering far more than we are. It’s just too tempting, however, to get so caught up in worldly affairs that we spend all our time chasing after squirrels rather than seeking after Christ.
For decades believers in this country have been passionately petitioning the Lord to bring revival upon this land. As the hoped for revival tarries we have blamed the delay on the fact that so many here are living in luxury. People simply do not feel the need for God to rescue them. The soil is just too hard to penetrate with the Gospel. Perhaps this is the reason God has allowed all these trials to strike our nation. Are we experiencing a tilling of the soil? Is this an answer to our own prayers? Are more people finally feeling the need of a Savior? If so, what should be our response? “Sow for yourselves righteousness, reap the fruit of unfailing love, and break up your unplowed ground; for it is time to seek the Lord, until he comes and showers righteousness on you.” – Hosea 10:12.
So what should be our primary focus? “But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” – Matthew 6:33. Jesus never bothers to tell us what to seek second. There is no need. If our main focus is on serving the King and expanding His kingdom then we will truly be making a positive difference in the lives of others and in our society as a whole. We can either go crazy focusing on what is going wrong in the world or we can be filled with the peace of Christ and focus on bringing the kingdom of God to the world. We can either go chasing after elusive squirrels or we can go searching after lost sheep. We can either maintain our fruitless vigil in front of the glass waiting for the next villain to appear or we can sit at the Lord’s feet and listen for His perspective on the world. We can either act like Martha who, being upset at her sister for spending time with Jesus and overwhelmed with the stuff of life, whined “Lord, don’t you care…?” or we can heed the Lord’s answer: “Martha, Martha…you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” – Luke 10:40-42.
The picture I want to leave you with is Jabba sitting at the feet of his master after giving up the chase. Our own Master is calling us to take our attention off of the trials of this world; to give up barking at squirrels. He is inviting us to sit down at His feet, put our trust in Him, and rest in His peace. “Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.” – Colossians 3:1. “Be still, and know that I am God…” – Psalm 46:10. “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” – John 16:33.

Bill, a child of God giving up barking at squirrels

"THE BIG PICTURE"

2009-09-13T00:27:00.000-07:00

“THE BIG PICTURE”
September 12, 2009

I used to love putting together jigsaw puzzles. These days I rarely have time for such leisurely pursuits, and if I did I would prefer reading, hiking, surfing the net, or enjoying friends and family. But I still fondly remember the thrill of finding that elusive piece that finally filled up a hole in Mt. Shasta, or allowed me to connect the fishing boat to the dock of the coastal village in Maine, or completed the rose garden beside the English cottage. And then there was that enormous sense of accomplishment when, after hours of back-straining, neck-creaking, and eye-straining effort, the last piece found its home and the picture was complete.
Let the celebration begin! Never mind the fact that I could barely move from my chair and would suffer back pain for weeks. Never mind the fact that all my hard work would soon be ripped apart and returned to the box from which it came. Never mind the fact that I had just wasted a significant portion of my life on such an inconsequential undertaking. The important thing was that the puzzle was finished and every piece fit together exactly as it was created to do. Somehow the world seemed a bit more manageable after such heroics.
My strategy was always the same. First, find all the “edge” pieces and put together the border. Once the area of the puzzle was clearly defined I would go to work assembling parts of the picture that contained sharp contrasts, or straight lines, or similar colors that marked them as belonging together. The more difficult parts of the puzzle were left to the last when searching for the right piece required sifting through fewer other pieces. By carefully referring to the picture on the box I could usually determine the general location of just about any piece. My proven strategy was defeated once, however, when some clever, if not evil, Christmas shopper presented me with a completely round puzzle, a picture of a pepperoni pizza! With no straight edges, no way to determine the borders, no straight lines, and an entire picture that looked exactly the same, assembly was next to impossible. I found myself longing for a pair of scissors in order to custom fit each piece into the location I desired. After about an hour of fruitless effort I gave up and called the pizza delivery service. If you can’t beat it, eat it!
Here’s a puzzle for you. You might want to purchase a larger card table; this one has millions of pieces. Though it is filled with many contrasting parts it has no readily discernable borders, and its shape is continually changing. And get this; there is no picture on the box, only some vaguely worded descriptions on its assembly instructions. The title of the puzzle is, “The Kingdom of God.” Are you ready to start putting it together?
“But Bill,” I can hear you all saying, “no one but God knows how to fit all the pieces of His kingdom together. For a mere human to attempt to do so would be sheer lunacy.”
I totally agree with you. But then why do so many people make that attempt?
For the past week I have been trying to unpack all that took place during the latest house church conference I attended over Labor Day weekend in Dallas. For some reason this one has taken a little longer for me to digest. What the Holy Spirit was trying to download to us wasn’t immediately clear, at least to me anyway. Now after a week’s worth of pondering I believe I know what the Lord was getting at. He was giving us a little glimpse of the picture on the box, a fleeting glance at a portrait of the kingdom. And the picture is much larger than I once imagined.
For the first time the conference included elements of both the simple church movement and certain mega churches. It was billed as a meeting of the micro and the macro, “the rabbit and the elephant.” The ability of rabbits to reproduce is legendary. Unfortunately, they are also known for their unruly, uncontrollable nature. They usually want nothing to do with elephants and have a habit of getting sidetracked by running down doctrinal rabbit trails. Elephants, on the other hand, can move mountains with their strength and size. They can produce huge piles of rich resources, and are capable of carrying much of the kingdom on their backs. Unfortunately, they have a nasty habit of stepping on rabbits, change directions extremely slowly, and take years to reproduce.
What happens when you put them both in the same room? You might think it was total chaos. Instead, guided by the Spirit, we were able to discern some tangible ways of how we can fit together in the kingdom puzzle.
We listened, amazed, as one mega church pastor talked of their vision for planting a million house churches world-wide. Others talked of their outreach into Muslim communities in America by planting simple churches and how that has led to doing the same in Turkey. Since we are experienced and understand how to plant indigenous, house churches cross-culturally, could we in the simple church movement partner with them and assist them in their vision? Would they be willing to help train and finance some of our own people to enter the mission field?
Other mega churches have responded to God’s direction and used their staff and facilities to create resources for the simple church movement by providing children’s ministry materials and producing videos for us, giving away these tremendous resources just to bless our ministry. We also heard from one of the many churches in this country who are in the process of transitioning from macro to micro in order to promote more intimate fellowship and provide the means of reaching into neighborhoods and people groups that would likely never attend a larger gathering. Again, since we have expertise in planting small, intimate fellowships, could we not help them in this process?
I would be untruthful if I painted a picture devoid of controversy. I did hear some grumbling at the conference over this year’s emphasis. Sadly, some people don’t seem to get it. It’s not about the micro vs. the macro, the rabbit vs. the elephant. It’s about the kingdom! Jesus mentioned the word “church” on only two occasions. He spoke about the kingdom dozens of times.
When He first burst on the scene he preached about the kingdom. “From that time on Jesus began to preach, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.’” – Matthew 4:17. He sent out His disciples with the same message. “As you go, preach this message: ‘The kingdom of heaven is near.’” – Matthew 10:7. One of His favorite subjects was describing the kingdom. “The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field.” – Matthew 13:24. “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed…” – Matthew 13:31. “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast…” – Matthew 13:33. “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field…” – Matthew 13:44. “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls.” – Matthew 13:45. “Once again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was let down into the lake…” Matthew 13:47. Is the picture on the puzzle box becoming clearer?
We are told to “seek first his kingdom…” – Matthew 6:33. The Bible never tells us what to seek second. When we pray we are to say “Your kingdom come…” – Matthew 6:10. I’m now beginning to understand more of what that prayer is actually about. And we are waiting for the day when “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he will reign for ever and ever.” – Revelation 11:15.
It seems fairly obvious to me that the puzzle of the Christian life is all about the kingdom. The picture on the box is huge and encompasses far more than any single church, or denomination, or movement. It includes both micro and macro and everything in between. Why then do so many of us try to make it all about a tiny piece of the puzzle? Why would anyone draw their own arbitrary borders of the puzzle and exclude others with whom they disagree? Is it just a vain attempt to make the puzzle more manageable, more controllable, more comprehensible? If we make the picture smaller will our own piece seem larger? Are we guilty of trying to take a pair of scissors to other pieces in order to custom fit them where they really don’t belong, next to us in our mini-puzzle?
The kingdom of heaven has only one King, and we would do well to let Him establish His own borders and connect the pieces of the puzzle as He desires, as only He can. It is not a matter of micro or macro, but of building up His kingdom. Within the institutional church as well as within the simple church movement there are some individuals who are kingdom-minded, and some who are minding their own kingdom. The former are my heroes, no matter where they serve, and I am open to partnering with them for the advancement of the kingdom. After all, we still have a lot of work to do. I’m afraid we are a long way from celebrating the completion of the puzzle. There are far too many pieces yet to be found, too many holes yet to be filled, too many unreached people groups and neighborhoods yet to be connected. “And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come.” – Matthew 24:14.

Bill, a child of God with his eyes on the big picture

"RECALIBRATING"

2009-08-29T19:28:00.000-07:00

“RECALIBRATING”
August 29, 2009

The concertmaster strolls across the front of the stage, stops in front of his chair, turns toward the audience and acknowledges them with a bow. A smattering of polite applause rises from the midst of Symphony Hall. Their lack of enthusiasm is understandable. After all, this guy is just one of the musicians. The real maestro has yet to appear and the concert has not even begun.
Turning to his fellow musicians assembled on stage the concertmaster nods in the direction of the principle oboist. The oboist reaches down to the floor beside her chair and strikes a tuning bar. A note resonates; the pitch is precisely A-440. The oboist then plays the note on her instrument matching the exact pitch of the tuning bar. The concertmaster, in turn, lifts his violin to his chin and tunes it to the pitch he is hearing from the oboist. Once he is satisfied that his tuning is perfectly matched with the oboe, he nods to the rest of the musicians who begin tuning their own instruments.
Suddenly, Symphony Hall comes alive with the sounds of pure chaos. String players are adjusting their tuning pegs. Woodwind players are lengthening or shortening the joints on their flutes, clarinets, and bassoons in order to match the standard pitch. The brass players are adjusting their tuning slides in order to make certain they are precisely tuned to the rest of the orchestra. Even the percussion section is busy checking the intonation of the tympani and harp. Of course, the only way to be sure your instrument is in tune is to play it, and that is what every musician does. For several minutes the audience cringes as they endure the total dissonance of a hundred different musicians doing their own thing, making their own kind of music, attempting to squeeze in one last practice session of that difficult passage coming up in the first piece.
To the novice concert attendee it may seem like total anarchy. Couldn’t all this have been done ahead of time, backstage, out of earshot of symphony patrons who have coughed up a pretty penny to hear quality music performed by professionals? Unfortunately, fine instruments, when exposed to varying environments and strenuous playing, will constantly go out of tune and be in almost continuous need of adjustment. Without the final pre-concert tuning regimen, a performance by a professional symphony orchestra could resemble a high school band concert.
Speaking of a high school band concert, I remember attending one not too long ago in our hometown. At the end of the performance I was asked by a member of the audience what I thought about how well the students had played.
“I have good news and bad news for you,” I replied. “The bad news is a third of the band was comprised of percussion instruments which drowned out most of the rest of the band. The good news is a third of the band was comprised of percussion instruments which drowned out most of the rest of the band.” After a hearty laugh I went on to explain that the instruments were terribly out of tune and it adversely affected what might otherwise have been a nice concert.
Being in tune with all the other musicians is critical in a symphony concert. And the only way to ensure that everyone’s intonation is synchronized is to have everyone tune to a standard pitch. Otherwise, the chaos heard during the pre-concert tuning will likely continue throughout the performance. Uniformity of intonation also requires the highly sensitive ears of dedicated musicians who have been trained to recognize when an instrument is in tune, and when it is not.
Last Sunday evening during our home gathering someone brought up the subject of the necessity of regularly recalibrating our spiritual lives. My wife, Babs, talked about her experience working in a county laboratory where one individual was charged with the duty of periodically recalibrating all the lab test equipment. Without carefully adjusting the equipment to exact standards the results of various medical tests, including HIV and STD detection, would be in doubt. Others talked about how various engineers had to recalibrate their instruments and airplanes had to periodically have their instruments fine-tuned. That’s when I called upon my experience as a professional musician and shared about how a symphony orchestra “recalibrates” its instruments just prior to a concert.
It’s easy to draw the analogy of the necessity for Christians to regularly recalibrate their lives to the standard of Jesus Christ. Our daily devotions, our weekly gatherings, our prayer groups, participating in the Lord’s Supper, and even our casual conversations with one another all provide opportunities for us to fine-tune our spiritual lives. To ignore the need for frequent recalibrating in our personal lives is to ignore Scripture and our own faulty intonation. “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” – 1John 1:8-9. But it was my daughter, Trisha, who elevated the conversation to a higher plane and carried the analogy one step further.
“It’s not just our own lives that need to be periodically recalibrated,” she offered. “The church as a whole needs to be recalibrated, and isn’t that sort of what the “simple church movement” is all about?”
“Wow, Trisha!” I replied admittedly somewhat surprised that something so profound had emanated from my daughter. “That comment was right on. I think the Holy Spirit has just spoken to us tonight.”
“Does that mean we’re going to read about this in one of your upcoming newsletters?” asked someone else precipitating a round of laughter from everyone.
Okay, so our house church knows me all too well and now you know the source of the inspiration for this devotional thought. Please bear with me as I try to elaborate on my daughter’s comment. Over the last few days I’ve been chewing on this subject, trying to digest what I believe the Spirit was saying to us through Trisha. Does the Church really need to be recalibrated? The answer to that question is a resounding yes! And why is that, you ask? I’m afraid the Church as a whole, particularly here in western culture, has grown terribly out of tune.
All too often we have shown ourselves to be more concerned with making our budget than making disciples; more concerned with building temples than building bridges into the community of the unsaved; more concerned with spending the Lord’s precious resources on ourselves than on meeting the needs of those outside the walls of the church; more concerned with increasing membership than increasing intimacy with the Lord and with each other. The bad news is the percussion of our daily lives and the frenetic drumbeat of our seemingly endless programs is drowning out the music of Jesus Christ. The equally bad news is those who need to hear His music the most, the lost and hurting souls living in the community around us, are often more aware of our dissonance than we are.
Before you decide to burn me at the stake for heresy please notice I said the Church as a whole is out of tune. I am well aware that many individual congregations are diligently trying to maintain their intonation in keeping with the standard of Jesus Christ. However, tragically, almost from the very beginning of the Church, the body of Christ has been in near constant need of recalibrating. The epistles in the New Testament are attempts by the Apostle Paul and others to recalibrate a Church that had gone out of tune. The reforms of Luther, Calvin, John and Charles Wesley, John and Alexander Campbell, and many others over the last several centuries were more attempts at recalibrating the Church. In this country the “Back to the Bible Movement” and the Charismatic Movement were more attempts at bringing the Church back in tune with the Holy Spirit. The first and second “Great Awakenings” were spontaneous, Spirit-led, recalibration movements.
I believe the “simple church movement” is another in a long line of recalibration attempts by the Holy Spirit to bring us back in tune with the standard of Christ. We are attempting to simplify our way of doing church so that practically anybody could do it. We meet in small intimate fellowships in homes, restaurants, conference rooms, lunch rooms, or parks rather than gather in large groups in elaborate church buildings. We are implementing a shared leadership style based upon our gifting rather than relying on seminary-trained, professional clergy. We try to maintain our missional dynamism in following the Lord into the harvest field rather than insist on attracting nonbelievers to our own static, same-time-same-place-same-content gatherings. We have discovered that simple structures facilitate reproducibility which, in turn, stimulates the growth of the kingdom. But mostly we just advocate a return to following hard after Jesus and listening to the direction of His Spirit.
If you listen carefully you can hear the tuning bar ringing clearly throughout the New Testament. “For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ.” – 1Corinthians 3:11. “And God placed all things under his feet and appointed him to be head over everything for the church…” – Ephesians 1:22. “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!” – Matthew 17:5. “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” – Matthew 28:18. “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” – John 10:27.
You might call the Holy Spirit the “principle oboist” of the Church. One of His main functions is to periodically strike the tuning bar and call us to recalibrate to the perfection of Christ. But are we listening carefully for the right pitch or are we too busy playing our own instruments to hear? In the Church, as in a symphony orchestra, two things are required in order to obtain perfect intonation: 1) the presence of an accurate standard, and 2) the highly sensitive ears of dedicated Christ-followers who have trained themselves to distinguish the correct pitch.
I have no doubt but that the Holy Spirit is calling the Church to recalibrate. For some of you, that may involve remaining in the institutional church and working toward individual and corporate re-tuning. Others, like us, once in tune with the Spirit, may be directed outside the walls of the church to impact our communities with the music of Jesus. I’m not trying to tell you how to tune your instrument but rather nodding in the direction of our “principle oboist” and encouraging you to listen. I’m not trying to tell you which string on your instrument is sadly out of tune but rather attempting to help you improve your hearing. And unlike a concertmaster I have no desire to evoke even the slightest smattering of applause. My aim is to help the symphony orchestra of Christ to recalibrate and, beginning with my own instrument, to re-tune itself to the standard of perfection found only in our Maestro.
Don’t be surprised if the recalibration process gets a little messy. When the Spirit calls us to re-tune, our theaters of ministry may come alive with the sounds of pure chaos. Just remember the tuning regimen is essential in order for the upcoming concert to be critically acclaimed. For one day soon, when He is satisfied that His musicians are in tune with Him and with each other, our Conductor will mount the podium and issue the downbeat on the “greatest awakening” the world has ever known. Even now He is waiting in the wings. Even now the Spirit is striking the tuning bar. Are we listening?

Bill, a child of God still recalibrating

"THE CRUCIFIED COMMUNITY"

2009-08-15T18:39:00.000-07:00

“THE CRUCIFIED COMMUNITY”
August 15, 2009

I just kept thinking how improbable the events of that day truly were and how blessed Babs and I were to be invited to share in them. Earlier we had witnessed our dear friend, the cook at Carrow’s Restaurant where the “Church at Table #2” is located, getting married in a small, civil ceremony in a nearby city. Now the extended family was gathered in his backyard in the East Bay community of San Pablo for a festive barbecue and celebration. Babs and I were the only non-family members present. Yet even though the party was held in honor of the new bride and groom, we were treated as their special guests. Making the occasion even more incredible was the fact that three of the family members spoke little to no English. Neither Babs nor I spoke Spanish. Consequently, conversations were continually being translated back and forth. Despite the awkwardness of our communications, the love seemed to flow freely in both directions.
Since that gathering last Monday afternoon I have taken the opportunity to reflect upon all that led up to this remarkable scene where Babs and I were virtually being adopted into a family from another culture. For two years we had been following the Lord into this bountiful harvest field, cultivating a growing friendship with this family and sharing Jesus with them. At times we had wondered if our efforts would ever bear fruit. Now we were celebrating not only a wedding for which we had been lobbying since we first met them, but also the salvation of four members of their family. Our love for each other had conquered the cultural divide between us.
Over the course of our strengthening relationship we have freely blessed them with some badly needed furniture, assisted them in the renewal of their immigration status, and shared our knowledge of God’s Word with them during church gatherings in their home. We have prayed with them, counseled with them, shared each other’s cooking, stumbled over learning songs from two very different backgrounds, and marveled as God knit together the hearts of our two dissimilar families. Have we been experiencing some freak anomaly of the nature of human relations or have we stumbled upon some principle of kingdom expansion? My vote is for the latter for which I also place into evidence exhibit number two.
For the last two years Babs and I have been meeting regularly for simple church with a Singaporean couple in San Ramon, the community just to the north of our hometown of Dublin. Their daughter is one of my piano students and our growing relationship led to them inquiring as to how we do church in the home. “Could we do church in our home?” they asked after hearing my brief explanation of the benefits of house church and, of course, we gladly accepted their invitation. To begin with they invited only their churched friends to our fellowships. But as most of these strong Christian families fell away from participation they began to reach out to their substantial circle of friends who were nominal believers or non-Christians. Now they have a good mix of veteran believers and seekers who meet together every Friday evening.
This San Ramon group is predominantly Asian, so how did Babs and I manage to bridge another cultural divide? Once again, over the course of two years, we have been patiently growing a love relationship with them. Many of these now dear friends I met because the original couple recommended me as a music teacher for their children. We have discovered that blessing someone’s kids provides a wide open door into the hearts of the parents. It seemed only natural to invite them to the Friday evening church gathering.
Babs and I have spent many months discipling the host couple who are rapidly growing into seasoned spiritual leaders. Already this year we have baptized five individuals from this gathering. Now this group is growing in numbers to such an extent we feel the need to split into two gatherings. What has led to the success of this simple church? Babs and I have opened up our hearts and allowed the love of God to flow freely, unhindered, at flood stage between us. In this case love meant spending time, lots of it. But we are seeing a spectacular harvest as a result. Let’s move on to exhibit number three.
Earlier this year I received a call from a friend ours with whom we ministered some fifteen to twenty years ago in the North Bay. He asked if we could come to their home and help them start a simple church with some of their neighbors. The main sticking point was one of logistics. They live in the community of Olivehurst, some forty miles north of Sacramento and a two hour drive from our home. Yet, prompted by the Holy Spirit, we have been making the journey at least once a month to connect with these families who are intent on drawing closer to the Lord and reaching out to their neighborhood. This gathering is mostly African American, yet the color of our skin has been forgotten in the midst of our passion for God. Once again, the love of Christ freely flowing through us, even to the extent of driving over two hundred miles to meet together, has crumbled the walls dividing our cultures. But wait; there’s even more.
Several months ago, in obedience to what we were hearing from God, Babs and I opened up our home to a mixed race family from Philadelphia. They needed a place to stay for three months until they learned how permanent the father’s new job would be. Compounding the difficulties of joining two diverse families under one roof was the fact that this family had seven members, including a two-week old baby girl. Their passion for simple church had led them to seek out a host family who was already engaged in organic church planting hoping to learn from them.
During the course of our stay together something totally unexpected occurred, something that could only be wrought by the working of Divine hands. Instead of a growing frustration over having too many people sharing life together under the same small roof, we experienced a growing love for each other until our two families became one. In the process God forged an apostolic partnership between us that has already greatly blessed our ministry. In a most unusual turn of events God miraculously answered one of my most heartfelt prayers, not just for workers for the harvest, but for apostolic partners who would be able to assist us in reaching the overwhelming size of the harvest field in this area. Once again the breakthrough occurred because we were willing to sacrificially love people, in this case complete strangers, in order to see the kingdom of God advance.
So what are the principles for kingdom expansion we have learned over the past two years as we have seen our ministry take off? The Lord of the harvest continues to confirm to us the truth that the lost are rarely going to wander into our church gatherings. We need to discover ways to get out into the harvest field. We met the cook at Carrow’s because we were already meeting there for a men’s Bible study and were reaching out to the restaurant staff offering to pray for them. Rather than invite the cook to our Sunday evening gathering in our own home, we opted to take him up on his invitation to do church in his house. Our San Ramon gathering came as a result of getting out into the community through teaching private music lessons. Once again, instead of inviting them to our home we went their direction and planted a church in their place. For the church at Olivehurst we had no alternative but to follow the Lord deep into the harvest field and trust him for the results. “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field. Go! I am sending you out…” – Luke 10:2-3.
In each case the Lord led us to an individual who invited us into their life and opened up their home to do simple church. “When you enter a house, first say, ‘Peace to this house.’ If a man of peace is there, your peace will rest on him; if not, it will return to you. Stay in that house…” – Luke 10:5-7. But how do we encourage “people of peace” to open up their hearts and homes to us? Scripture tells us to first bless them. If they are a “person of peace” our blessing them will link us together. And how do we bless them? We do so by allowing the overwhelming, all-pervasive, self-sacrificing, culture-bridging love of God to melt down the barriers between us. “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” – John 13:34-35.
The strategy is to build community with those God brings to us, who appear to be “persons of peace.” That very community, based upon sacrificial love, will bridge any cultural chasm and melt the hardest of hearts. It is a community reflective of our triune God, who exists in community as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It is a community which, wonder of wonders, through the grace of our heavenly Father and the sacrifice of His only begotten Son, we have been invited to join. It is a community which we now open up to share with others. And it is a community for which Christ prayed the night before He was crucified. “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” – John 17:20-21.
What kind of community are we talking about? It is a community of the cross where sacrificial love flows from Christ into His body compelling us to pass it on to others. It is a community where individuals surrender their own needs and desires in order to advance the cause of Christ. “For Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again.” – 2Corinthians 5:14-15. “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” – Galatians 2:20. “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” – Luke 9:23.
What kind of community are we talking about? It is a community of sacrifice, one in which members daily pick up their cross and follow Jesus into the harvest field. It is a community in which we sacrifice our time, our finances, our homes, our hearts, and yes, even our lives. It is a crucified community, led by our crucified Lord and obediently followed by His children who are crucified with Him for the sake of the harvest. And when the crucified community is extended beyond the walls of our churches and home gatherings, it becomes a community whose gravitational pull is nearly irresistible.

Bill, a child of God and member of the crucified community

"WAITING FOR THE RAIN"

2009-08-08T18:55:00.000-07:00

“WAITING FOR THE RAIN”
August 8, 2009

“See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop and how patient he is for the autumn and spring rains.” – James 5:7.
“My brother has a question,” ‘Juan’ interrupted just as I was about to pray. “He wants to know if there is anyplace in the Bible where it talks about the exact day for the end of the world. Some of his friends in Mexico have been talking about some code in the Bible that will lead to discovering the exact time.”
Suddenly the focus of our simple church gathering changed. Earlier I had given a new Spanish language Bible to Juan’s little brother, ‘Jorge’, and also one to their mom. Together with Juan’s fiancée, ‘Maria’, and her family we had been engaged in a study regarding their upcoming wedding. We had just wrapped up the hastily prepared, informal, pre-marital counseling session when the Holy Spirit took us in an entirely new direction. No surprise here; I have learned to expect this sort of mid-course correction during our gatherings, especially with our San Pablo church.
This simple church was begun in the home of the cook from the restaurant in our hometown of Dublin where we meet as the “Church at Table # 2.” For nearly two years we have been regularly making the hour’s drive to Juan’s northeast Bay Area community and enjoying a growing relationship with his wonderful family. Recently, however, it has become increasingly difficult to find a time to meet due to Juan’s work schedule. After months of thwarted attempts we finally managed to arrange a gathering in his home in order to see his mom and meet his little brother, both of whom were visiting from Mexico.
Back in January of this year the Lord made it clear to us that this family was to be a highway through whom many people would reach the Lord. In a stunning example of divine direction, Juan’s future mother-in-law had asked about a verse of Scripture which had been previously prophesied over our ministry. “Pass through, pass through the gates! Prepare the way for the people. Build up, build up the highway! Remove the stones. Raise a banner for the nations.” – Isaiah 62:10. We have taken this improbable circumstance (How could this woman randomly pick this particular verse out of the hundreds of thousands in the Bible?) to portend an important role for this family in reaching the Hispanic community. However, not since early March have we been able to gather together. During the ensuing weeks I found myself often whining at God about the delay. Was something going wrong with this family? Had we worn out our welcome? Had we not heard the Lord correctly regarding this “highway”? Was our own involvement with them one of the “stones” which needed to be removed? Now, four months later, we had graciously been invited back into their company.
During our time together we learned about the decision Juan and Maria made to get married while his family was visiting from Mexico. This announcement brought us to our study topic of the evening. During our discussion of the definition of Christian love, an attribute absolutely essential to a lasting marriage, we naturally put forth Christ as the supreme example, explaining how His sacrificial love moved Him to go to the cross on our behalf. In the midst of our group discussion on Christian marriage, without our even being fully aware of it, the Lord directed the conversation to include an informal sharing of the Gospel with all those who were listening, most specifically, to Juan’s brother, Jorge, who apparently was listening intently. The Holy Spirit then prompted him to ask the question concerning the time of Christ’s return.
“The Bible tells us that no one knows the day or the hour of His return,” I replied. “However, I believe we may be getting close. Regardless of when the end of the age is scheduled to occur, the truth is the end could come at anytime for us as individuals. My wife and I could be killed on our way home tonight. Then again, we may both live to be a hundred. Not many of us will ever know the exact time of the end of our earthly life. But I think you are asking the wrong question.”
At this point I paused briefly for Juan to interpret for Jorge who knew very little English. I also took advantage of the time to listen for the Spirit’s okay to proceed in the direction I was headed. Feeling a renewed boldness I decided to continue.
“The ‘when’ question is not nearly as important as the ‘who’ question,” I declared. “Who will be ready when He comes? This is the question each of us must ask.” Then, looking straight at Jorge, I asked, “Are you ready?”
“N-n-no,” he responded in English following the interpretation. Nervously he glanced first at his brother, then toward his mother; then he fixed his gaze back on me.
“Would you like to be ready?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied again in English, without hesitation.
The firmness in his voice told me this young man was sincere. After explaining what he needed to do we shared a prayer of repentance and Jorge surrendered his life to the Lord.
While I was driving home that evening the Spirit began to download into my mind what had just transpired that day and what had been occurring over the past several months. God was busy working! In fact He had been working all along. While I was wondering if God had been delaying any action toward the construction of the “highway,” He had been busy setting up the events of that evening. Since we first met we had been suggesting to Juan and Maria that they needed to get married. We talked about this extensively the previous time we met together last spring. The seed we had planted in their minds was finally sprouting. Their unwed relationship was one of the “stones” which needed to be removed in order for the “highway” to be opened. Once that particular stone was removed traffic was already beginning to flow. I believe Jorge is just the beginning of the traffic jam which is to follow.
For some reason, when we don’t see any outward evidence of God working on our requests, we mistakenly conclude He is denying our petitions, or delaying them due to some problem on our part which needs to be corrected or a lesson which needs to be learned. While personal problems and spiritual lessons may very well be included in the mix, it is incorrect to assume God is inactive. He is continuously at work in and around us to bring about His will in our lives and our ministries. “Jesus said to them, ‘My Father is always at his work to this very day, and I, too, am working.’” – John 5:17.
In an awesome display of His impeccable timing, God arranged for Juan’s little brother, an individual upon whom He had obviously been working for some time, to be at the gathering in San Pablo (The first and only time he has been in this country) at precisely the time when we would be discussing Juan’s upcoming wedding, a ceremony I didn’t even know was in the offing until earlier that evening, a ceremony the timing of which was prompted by the very fact that Jorge and his mother would be visiting. But wait, there’s more!
The morning of the day of our church gathering in San Pablo, before I even knew we would be meeting, I sat in my office having my daily quiet time. My reading in God’s Word included these verses. “Be patient, then, brothers, until the Lord’s coming. See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop and how patient he is for the autumn and spring rains. You too, be patient and stand firm, because the Lord’s coming is near.” – James 5:7-8. These verses leaped off the page at me and I paid particular attention to them, meditating upon them and asking Jesus what they meant for me and my ministry. Before the day was through Jesus had answered my question.
Last spring we planted a seed. Even though we were unable to do anything about it other than fervently pray, God had been faithfully watering the seed as well as irrigating another seed thousands of miles away in a neighboring country. Now, barely a month from the beginning of autumn, additional rain had led to the harvest of a valuable crop. The message is one of patience. Allow God the time He desires to miraculously grow His crop, to bring it to maturity. It’s all about His harvest, not those charged with tending His fields. “…This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. All by itself the soil produces grain…” – Mark 4:26-28.
The job of a church planter is to plant seeds and pray for rain. Often there is little more we have opportunity to do. Sometimes God, in His infinite wisdom, prevents us from doing anything else to the seeds while we wait for the time of harvest, learning patience, allowing God to pour out both the autumn and spring rains, assuring that all the glory for the crop is directed toward the Rainmaker.
“You heavens above, rain down righteousness; let the clouds shower it down. Let the earth open wide, let salvation spring up, let righteousness grow with it; I, the Lord, have created it.” – Isaiah 45:8.

Bill, a child of God waiting for the rain

"MINISTRY UPDATE"

2009-08-01T15:42:00.001-07:00

MINISTRY UPDATE
August 1, 2009

Since this little communiqué is entitled “Living Hope Update” I thought it might be a good idea to actually give you a current update on our ministry. God continues to amaze us as He leads us in the expansion of our “simple church” ministry. Our Sunday evening gathering has grown to average between 15-20 individuals with several seeking God’s will as to when and how best to launch out on their own and start up additional simple church gatherings. This group is kind of our “flagship” church and was the original simple church we planted over 6 years ago in our home, the remnants of our traditional church plant “Living Hope Christian Fellowship” which was started back in 2000.
We have already sent out one family, Danny and Edie Mileto, who have begun several ministries of their own including a workplace chaplaincy in which Danny is currently involved. We are praying that others from our house church will soon follow the call of God into the harvest field. Since people keep coming into our fellowship and going out to serve it gets a little difficult to quantify what all God is doing. We believe this is all by God’s design as He leads us to simply disciple individuals, whom the Spirit in turn directs into whatever ministry for which they are best suited. Some of these individuals choose to continue to hang with us on Sunday evenings while others, like Danny and Edie, become so busy with their own ministries that they rarely get an opportunity to fellowship with us. We are learning that this ministry is not about numbers. God knows the greater kingdom picture. Our task is to simply obey Him in reaching out to those He brings within our sphere of influence.
The “Church at Table # 2” continues to flourish and reach out to the restaurant workers and patrons of Carrow’s, a coffee shop in our community. Every Tuesday evening we gather at the same booth, ask the Lord to allow His “living water” to flow freely through us to reach whoever might be thirsting that night, and then watch in amazement as He brings people to us needing prayer and encouragement. We usually end up praying with 8-10 individuals (one of whom doesn’t even speak English) who pull up chairs to our table, tell us their needs, absorb our counsel, and wait patiently as several in our core group take their requests before the throne of God.
In recent weeks we have been connected with several waitresses who share a common predicament; they are young, unwed mothers trying to care for their newborns while attempting to earn a living through working at the coffee shop. We are doing what we can to support them spiritually and financially. We give very generous tips and assist them in finding other help that is available. Since the restaurant staff changes from time to time we get to connect with new people nearly every week. In recent weeks we have sat spellbound as many individuals we haven’t seen for months return, pull up a chair, and begin to share their life with us again just as though no time had passed since we last met together. We pray that God continues to grant us favor in the eyes of the restaurant management so that the “Church at Table #2” can continue to thrive. While we are meeting at the coffee shop, my wife Babs gathers with several women for a fellowship, prayer and study time at another local restaurant. This group is also growing in numbers as well as spiritually. One of these women, Karen, comes all the way from Modesto and is seeking God’s will about starting a simple church gathering in her home town.
Carlos, the cook at Carrow’s Restaurant, has led us to other families (Hispanic) he knows who are in desperate need of assistance. With God’s help our small network of churches has been able to assist them with financial help as well as spiritual guidance. A couple of years ago we began meeting for church with Carlos’ family in their home in San Pablo, about an hour’s drive away from our home. We have seen three members of his family accept the Lord as their personal Savior and we are praying that more will respond to the Gospel. Because of the distance and the fact that Carlos works two different jobs and is busy nearly every evening we have found it difficult to connect with his family on a regular basis. We pray that God will open up the doors so that we can do church with them more often. We also are asking God that He would use this family as a gateway through whom we could reach many others in the Hispanic community.
Our Friday evening gathering in San Ramon, a community just north of Dublin, is also growing. We meet in the home of Kevin and Kylie Goh, a Singaporean family who have allowed us to make inroads into the Asian community. While at first this group consisted primarily of friends of theirs from a local institutional church, it now contains many non-churched families. Both Kevin and Kylie are growing in the Lord and gaining more understanding about what simple church is all about. They are eager to see this group grow and hopefully give rise to many other similar gatherings. Earlier this year we baptized 5 people during one of these gatherings.
Once a month we try to attend a simple church gathering we helped to start in Olivehurst, about 30 minutes north of Sacramento. This group is comprised of an African American family and a mixed-race family who are anxious to reach out to their community and see their neighbors come to faith in Jesus. This gathering has many children attending, all of whom love to make noise on various instruments while we sing. We always have a very spirited (not to mention loud) worship time together. We are praying that, in God’s timing, this group will expand to include more of their neighbors.
We also connect with the South Bay Luke 10 gathering which meets twice a month on the first and third Thursdays. This group is made up mostly of seasoned Christians more familiar with the simple church concept. They are interested in encouraging each other and praying for each other as well as learning together what God is doing in the Bay Area and how He might be leading us in the future. Another such group will be meeting for the first time this month in the East Bay.
In addition to all the above gatherings I also meet occasionally with other pastors from the area who are being led into the simple church movement. God seems to keep connecting me with burned out, tossed out, discouraged and depressed Christian servants who are looking for a way to serve God outside of the politically charged, highly stressed world of the institutional church. I currently meet for coffee with two such individuals on Friday mornings in Fremont, a few miles south of Dublin. I also meet with two other guys on Sunday mornings over coffee in order to pray and strategize about reaching the community of Dublin. Of course there is also this newsletter which is now sent out to nearly 200 addresses. God has blessed this little communiqué far beyond what I ever imagined. To God be the glory!
As you can tell, God has Babs and I very busy with gatherings and meetings nearly every day of the week. What does He have in store for us in the future? While we are learning to take things one day at a time, we are also sensing that God is leading us into an even more mobile ministry. With the addition of several strong leaders into our network we are being freed up for the possibility of starting more churches and spending time discipling more individuals. This is a difficult step to take yet it is necessary in order for our ministry to grow any more. If we insist on being a part of every gathering we currently have then we have already reached our maximum growth. Please pray for us as we seek God’s heart concerning when and how to leave some of these gatherings behind and launch out even further into the harvest field.
Speaking of prayer, I must give thanks to God for how so many of you have been faithfully lifting us up in prayer. I am absolutely convinced the success we have seen is a direct result of your prayer support. Thank you for partnering with us in this ministry! God is awesome! And so are you!

Bill, a child of God thrilled to be in His service

"I WAS A STRANGER..."

2009-07-18T16:14:00.000-07:00

“I WAS A STRANGER…”
July 18, 2009

The email request was forwarded to us by Ross, a close associate in the local simple church movement. One of his acquaintances from Philadelphia was in need of housing for up to three months while the man worked at a temporary job near our home. The job market in his hometown had dried up and this position had become available, but he needed a place to stay while in California. “I’m not twisting your arms,” Ross wrote, “just making you aware of a need.” The request mentioned that the young man’s family might come out a few weeks later, something we took as meaning only a for a brief visit.
After praying about the matter both my wife and I concluded that the Lord wanted us to offer our home to this brother in need. Since our children had all grown up and left home we should have no problem housing one more body. A day after we responded to his email saying we would love to have him stay with us, he replied that we were an answer to prayer! Then he added the bombshell that has transformed our lives over the past several months. Not only would he be staying with us but his entire family would soon be arriving to stay as well including their four children ages three through fifteen. Oh, and one more thing, his wife was nine months pregnant with their fifth child. Suddenly our empty-nest, shrunken family of two grew into a community of nine individuals all sharing the same space.
So how have we all managed to survive? Extremely well, thank you! I must admit when David and Heidi and their five kids moved into our home I spent a few anxious moments (okay, make that days) asking the Lord why He wanted to destroy the peace and quiet (not to mention the house and yard) of two of His more seasoned servants. “What have we done to deserve this?” I whined. “Instead of being able to focus on building our simple church ministry we’re forced to concentrate on entertaining a houseful of strangers.”
But of course, God knew exactly what He was doing. Not only was He providing housing for some of His needy children, He was educating a couple of weary, over-burdened servants about trusting Him and sharing kingdom resources, and He was enlightening us on the blessings which flow when we simply obey what He tells us to do.
Thirteen years ago when we first moved into our present home we were amazed at how all the pieces to the puzzle came together to allow us to live in a dwelling large enough for our own family of five plus room for others to visit. Looking back at it now I realize that was the only time in our family’s history where we could actually qualify to purchase such a home. After we had moved in we gathered our family in a circle in our living room and dedicated the house to God.
“We recognize this has all come from you, Lord,” we prayed. “So we pledge to you that whenever you have a need for this home we will open our doors to your request. This house belongs to you, to your kingdom. Just help us to be good stewards of your home.”
Over the years we have held hundreds of Bible studies in our home, sheltered abused wives and pregnant teenagers, housed many traveling missionaries, counseled many weary pilgrims, held a wedding in our backyard, hosted many organic church leadership meetings, and for the last six years we have used our home for our simple church gathering every Sunday evening. Yet I’m quite certain God still has in store many more opportunities for this home to be used. So Babs and I were not at all surprised when the request came last March to open our home to someone else in need. We were, however, a little overwhelmed at the magnitude of the request once we learned how many would be staying with us. But God always showers us with blessings when we are obedient to His call. And this time the blessings have been manifold.
David and Heidi were hosting a simple church in their home in Philadelphia so when the Spirit seemed to be moving them to California for a season they looked for a network of simple churches with which to connect. They were also looking to learn what the Lord is doing in this corner of world in terms of organic church so they might apply the lessons to their own ministry. They have been overjoyed at what they have witnessed happening around here. At times we found ourselves attending a different gathering nearly every evening. David and Heidi have been profuse in their gratitude over all they have learned in the past three months. But the benefits have been flowing in both directions as they have also proven to be a blessing to us in our ministry.
For years I have been praying the Luke 10:2b prayer. “…Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.” Even more specifically I have been praying for apostolically minded people to partner with me in the harvest in this area. I just never expected the answer to my prayer would come from three thousand miles away and be temporarily living in my own home. David and Heidi have prayed with us, strategized with us, prayer-walked with us, traveled with us around Northern CA as we visited various house churches, and attended various conferences with us. They have proven in every way to be partners with us in ministry. Had we not been obedient to God about taking in these “strangers” we would not have received the blessing of experiencing the answer to our prayers.
“…I was a stranger and you invited me in…Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” – Matthew 25:35, 40.
Aside from the blessings to our ministry, there have been the blessings that come from sharing with others the resources with which God has blessed us. Heidi has proven to be an excellent cook and has prepared most of our meals over the past two months. The children are amazingly well behaved and a delight to be with. Even the baby has been marvelously well behaved and hardly ever fusses. In addition, the extra finances they have provided for us in return for their room and board have gone a long way to boost an overly stretched budget. As for our various house churches, the addition of this new family with five kids has been a source of great encouragement to us all and enabled us to connect with and better relate to other young families who have young children.
“Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” – Luke 6:38.
Perhaps the greatest blessing we have received is just the rich Christian fellowship we have enjoyed continually. Whether we are sitting down to a meal together, cleaning up the house together, relaxing together after a hard day’s work at our separate jobs, or traveling together to another simple church gathering, everyday has become another church experience. In fact, we have enjoyed almost continuous church since they have arrived.
I’m not advocating a communal lifestyle, but I do think we citizens of the kingdom need to move toward a more intimate fellowship with other Christians. For the most part we in this culture have learned to put on our Sunday-go-to-meeting facades when we gather together and seldom really explore the heart issues that lie cleverly concealed within each of us. Yet transparency in our relationships is essential before we can truly learn how to best minister to and pray for one another. Nine people living together in close quarters are going to learn all kinds of things about each other, some of which we’d just as soon not know. It’s fairly difficult not to air your dirty laundry when it’s lined up in piles awaiting your turn with the washing machine. But such intimacy has brought about a deep-rooted friendship which would not be possible otherwise. And out of this friendship we are seeing each other grow in our relationship with the Lord, and watching in stunning amazement as He causes the kingdom to grow through our collective ministry.
“And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” – Hebrews 10:24-25. “My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” – John 15:12-13.
This weekend David and Heidi and their family are moving out of our home to their own rented house about a mile away. I find myself struggling with two opposing emotions. It will be nice to enjoy a little privacy accompanied by some peace and quiet for a change. But on the other hand I will truly miss connecting with this family on an intimate basis every day. It is surprisingly difficult to have them leave our home even though I know in my heart our close friendship will not diminish. However, they need to start developing their own ministry and indeed are already connecting with their new neighbors. And Babs and I have an empty home ready for the next ministry assignments, in other words, guests. We have no idea when the next “strangers” will appear in need of a place to stay, but our ears are attuned to the Master of the house and we are busy preparing the guest rooms.

Bill, a child of God and a steward of His home

"A NEW ADDITION"

2009-07-12T22:51:00.000-07:00

“A NEW ADDITION”
July 12, 2009

He was adopted into our family last April and has been a source of near constant irritation ever since. You think I would have learned after previous such adoptions led to heartache and frustration. But no, I had to try it one more time.
“We just can’t put up with him anymore,” my daughter explained over the phone. “With a six-year-old son and a daughter entering the ‘terrible twos’ I don’t need another little one following me around the house vying for my attention. After he dug up my strawberry plants for the second time we came to the decision that he needs to go. I feel sorry for the little guy but I never really bonded with him. Would you and mom consider taking him in? At least that way the kids would get to see him occasionally when we come to visit you. I know they will miss him terribly.”
Reluctantly, against my better judgment, we agreed to the exchange and our family added one new member. I’m speaking of a ten-month old puppy, a reddish-brown, miniature dachshund named “Jabba” (as in “Jabba the Hut”). My grandson, a Star Wars fan, named him. He is two feet long not counting his tail but stands only eight inches high at the shoulders. His out-of-proportion body looks as though someone dropped a heavy weight on his back and his four legs all telescoped in on themselves. I admit that his comical appearance adds to his cuteness factor. Unfortunately, we also have to deal with the nuisance factor.
On his first evening with us he managed to poop in our living room, tear into the trash cans in four different rooms, and escape outside the front door which precipitated a ten-minute chase through the neighborhood. Once he was finally captured he decided to whimper all night until my wife, Babs, finally gave up and slept with him downstairs on our couch. Jabba’s first night with us left me wondering why my daughter took so long to get rid of the incorrigible beast. I pictured her in her home laughing fiendishly at the thought of pawning off her worst nightmare onto her unsuspecting parents.
A few days later Jabba managed to ingest something toxic in our backyard which forced us to rush him to the emergency vet hospital. A few hours and $1,600 later he seemed to be fully recovered. My nerves and our family budget, however, are still suffering from the shock. Meanwhile, the unruly border has shredded our patio screen door, chewed up multiple socks and shoes, vomited on our bedroom floor, and bitten my finger. To top it all off he seems to have an insatiable appetite devouring anything in sight he is able to chew up and swallow.
So why do we still persist in keeping him around? I’ll admit there certainly have been times when I asked myself that question. The only answer I can come up with is, unlike my daughter, Babs and I have both bonded with the little guy. There is a definite tug on your heartstrings when you arrive home to find him absolutely beside himself with joy at your arrival. He whines for us when we’re gone, waits for us expectantly until we return, and lavishes unabashed love upon us when we’re reunited. He begs to jump into our laps, rests at our feet, and insists on being continually in our presence. Being totally attuned to our voices he runs to us when he is called and wags his tail at the touch of our hands. Along with all of the aggravation he has brought into our lives he has also brought an unfailing source of love.
Last night as I fumed in anger over the second time in a matter of hours Jabba managed to get into the bathroom trash my thoughts turned to another Master who is forced to continually deal with a bunch of unruly, undisciplined, incorrigible adopted members to His family. How does God manage to put up with us? We consistently stick our noses into all sorts of garbage even though we’ve been scolded time after time when we do so. We also have a tendency to chew on things not meant for our consumption and to swallow toxic beliefs and unhealthy doctrines which has cost God dearly. And when someone leaves a door open anywhere we are prone to wander away from home.
We have pooped all over God’s creation and the foulest language frequently gets spewed from our mouths. Our lives are spiritually out-of-proportion, long on worldliness, short on godliness. Our appetites for sin are seemingly insatiable. When we don’t get our way we whine. When another family member from another pack gets too close we bark. And when things go wrong in our lives we blame God and lash out at the hand that feeds us. So why does God still persist in keeping us around? He certainly has far more patience with me than I exhibit with Jabba. The question of God’s unfailing grace is all the more puzzling when we consider the extravagant price which was paid for our adoption. Adding Jabba to our family cost us nothing up front. That certainly wasn’t the case when God added us to His family.
“For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your forefathers, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect.” – 1Peter 1:18-19.
I’m not saying that we are merely pets in God’s eyes kept around for His amusement. Indeed, we are highly treasured by Him and adopted into His family as children and full heirs. “For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, ‘Abba, Father.’ The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ…” – Romans 8:15-17.
Our Master purchased us and accepted us into His family knowing ahead of time how unruly we would prove to be. Realizing this makes me desire to be as unashamedly loving toward God as our new puppy is toward us. Unlike Jabba we have many ways in which we can express our love to the Master. We have the privilege of communicating with Him directly, although we don’t often avail ourselves of the opportunity. Sometimes I picture Satan laughing fiendishly at how God gave up so much for a pack of rebellious, sin-prone, spiritually ungainly, too often ungrateful humans. But then Satan never bonded with us. For some inexplicable reason, God has.
“This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” – 1John 4:10.
Could it be that God’s primary motive for lavishing His love upon us is to elicit our love in return? Why else would He put up with so much abuse from His adopted children? Yet how well are we actually returning His love? Are we beside ourselves with joy when we come into His presence? Do we yearn for Him, wait expectantly for Him, and shower Him with unabashed love when we are united with Him? Do we beg Him to allow us to sit in His lap or rest at His feet? Do we insist on being continually in His presence? Are we attuned to His voice and run to Him when He calls? Do we lift our hands to Him in praise when His Spirit touches our heart? Along with all the aggravation and grief we cause the Almighty do we also bring to Him an unfailing source of love?
When Jesus was asked which is the most important commandment, is it any wonder He answered with the command to love the Lord? “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.” – Mark 12:30. We spend so much time and effort attempting to obey all the other commands and directives found in God’s Word and yet we fail to come close to accomplishing His highest request. We try so hard and fail so miserably at keeping our behavior in line with Scripture. I wonder why we don’t put forth as much effort at simply loving God.
To be sure, Jabba’s actions are nowhere close to being disciplined. But his love has found a way into our hearts. I hate to be chastised by a four-legged, recalcitrant beast, so I figured I would pass along this canine candor to you. May we all learn to exhibit as much unrestrained, unabashed love for our Master as Jabba displays toward his.
“As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God? – Psalm 42:1-2.

Bill, a child of God panting for His Master

"ON MISSION"

2009-07-03T21:24:00.000-07:00

“ON MISSION”
July 3rd, 2009

“My boss is really out to get me,” “Sam” revealed at one of our simple church gatherings. “She is demanding the impossible and making me stay later and later to do work I detest. She ridicules me in front of the other workers. She never has anything good to say about me, yet she has praise for other employees even though their numbers are no better than mine. She is forcing me to work harder than anyone else and punishing me when I don’t live up to her expectations—which happens nearly every day. I can’t stand going to work; I dread getting up in the morning because I know I will have to face that woman. I would give anything to be able to quit, but there is no other job available.”
After pausing to choke off some tears he continued. “How am I supposed to react to her when everything within me wants to confront her but I am afraid of losing my job?”
“Have you been praying for her,” I asked. “Have you asked God what you might be able to do to bless her?”
For awhile Sam was speechless. Then, reluctantly, he revealed he hadn’t prayed for her at all. “I’m sorry,” he confessed, “but I’m finding it very difficult to think about asking God to bless this hurtful woman.”
“I’m going to challenge you not only to begin praying for her everyday, but also to tell her you are doing so,” I responded. “And when you tell her, ask her if there is anything specific you can bring before God on her behalf.”
I wasn’t sure how Sam would react to my challenge. He was a relatively new Christian who was personally experiencing a severe financial meltdown. The likelihood of bankruptcy loomed in the near future along with the certainty of losing his home. After being without work for over a year he had finally landed a job with a major bank in a nearby community. Though he wasn’t making nearly the income he had been accustomed to as a mortgage broker, at least the bank was providing a little something for himself, his wife, and their two young children. At last something positive was beginning to happen. But then he was stationed at a branch where the manager seemed to be doing everything possible to discourage him and make him want to quit. I prayed that Sam would have the courage to speak and that God would break up the hard ground and allow the love of Christ to soak into his difficult boss.
A few days later at another simple church meeting Sam had a rather surprising report.
“Bill, guess what?” he gushed excitedly. “I told my manager we would be praying for her at our gathering tonight and asked if there was anything specific she wanted us to pray for. I didn’t want to do it. I fought against doing it all day, but I knew God was prompting me to act. Finally, she stopped by my desk to grill me about how poorly I was doing and as she turned to leave, the Spirit told me now was the time. After I spoke she seemed a little stunned, but she mentioned that I could pray for her son who was having a job interview the next day. Then, after walking away a few steps, she turned around and said, ‘I believe in it, you know. I believe in prayer.’”
“That was awesome!” I replied. “Now, whenever you talk to her, ask how her son is doing and if there is anything else she would like you to pray about.”
Over the next couple of weeks Sam not only was able to talk to his boss frequently about prayer, but he began to notice a rather drastic change in her attitude toward him. The daily episodes of berating began to subside. One day she opened up to him and explained that her own supervisor was treating her unreasonably, demanding the impossible from her branch, and she was having a great deal of difficulty handling it. Gradually, my friend’s attitude toward her began to change from anger and resentment to empathy and compassion. Others in the bank have begun approaching him with their own personal problems and opportunities are opening up to witness to them about His Lord and even to explain what simple church is all about. And, wonder of wonders, God has actually been blessing him with better numbers.
In the span of about three weeks, my friend’s attitude about work has completely changed. Now he actually looks forward to getting up in the morning and going to the bank. What has made such a dramatic difference in such a short time? He has come to understand that he doesn’t work for the bank, nor does he labor for an unscrupulous manager. In reality, he works for the Lord and is under the management of the Holy Sprit. He may receive his paycheck from an earthly institution but his primary employment originates from heaven.
“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men. Since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” – Colossians 3:23-24.
Awhile back this same friend designed a fabric bracelet consisting of yarn in military camouflaged colors tied together with thousands of knots. He and I as well as a few others in our simple church circle are now wearing these “commando bands” on our wrists to remind ourselves that we are members of an elite corps of special forces, dropped off behind enemy lines, and charged with the mission of bringing down opposition strongholds and rescuing those who have been held hostage by the devil. No matter who we are, no matter what we may be doing, no matter where we may find ourselves, we are on mission for our Commander and Chief 24/7. The inspiration comes from Paul’s second letter to Timothy which amounts to his last words written shortly before his martyrdom. “Endure hardship with us like a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No one serving as a soldier gets involved in civilian affairs—he wants to please his commanding officer.” – 2Timothy 2:3-4.
Being on mission continually for Jesus means we are always on the lookout for opportunities to bless people, to be a witness for the faith, to share the love of Christ, and to expand the kingdom. Whether we are a banker, a music teacher, a student, or a homemaker, as Christians we have enlisted in the Lord’s army and He commands our primary allegiance. “Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity.” – Colossians 4:5.
Being on mission with Christ 24/7 makes all the difference in life. Whether you love your job or hate it, the Lord has you there for a reason, and it’s not just to receive a paycheck. Whether you love your neighborhood or hate it, the Lord has you there for a reason, and it’s not just to complain to your neighbors about their loud parties and the unkempt appearance of their homes. Whether you love your school or hate it, the Lord has you there for a reason, and it’s not just to get good grades and receive an education.
We all need to maintain communication with our headquarters and rapidly obey any command we are given. We need to be prepared to act at a moment’s notice, ready and eager to follow our King into battle. Underneath our humble, unsuspecting exteriors we are warriors, battle-hardened, Spirit-gifted, Bible-trained, armed and dangerous. “The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds.” – 2Corinthians 10:4. And we are prepared not only to fight for our King, but to die for Him as well. “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” – Luke 9:23. “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” – Galatians 2:20.
Once the current skirmish is finished we return to our worldly identity as bankers, music teachers, homemakers, mild-mannered earthlings, not necessarily incognito, but just blending into the natural camouflage of life, patrolling whatever sphere of influence in which the Lord has us stationed. But always we are on mission, waiting—waiting for the next opportunity to strike, even if striking means simply to ask an unreasonable boss how we might pray for her—waiting for the that triumphal day when the war is over, the victory is won, the Kingdom of our Lord is established, and all His soldiers will be called home.
“The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he will reign for ever and ever.” – Revelation 11:15. “They will make war against the Lamb, but the Lamb will overcome them because he is Lord of lords and King of kings—and with him will be his called, chosen and faithful followers.” – Revelation 17:14.

Bill, a child of God on mission

"A SIMPLE FAREWELL"

2009-06-20T14:33:00.000-07:00

“A SIMPLE FAREWELL”
June 20th, 2009

“I’m feeling extremely overwhelmed by all of this,” I sighed while sinking deeper into a couch during our Friday simple-church gathering. “I’ve just been asked to take care of all the music for the funeral service Sunday morning. They want me to play my guitar and lead the singing on top of delivering the message. There’s no way I can do this with so many songs, seven of them, several of which I’m very unfamiliar with, given only two days to prepare. There’s just not enough time to do both the music and prepare the message. Besides, I really don’t want this to be the Bill Hoffman show. In addition, Karl’s wife Karen is attempting to pull off the reception entirely on her own. She’s in mourning and shouldn’t even have to think about doing this. I’m sorry to dump this on you but I honestly don’t know what to do.”
Following my frenetic cry for help those in attendance began to discuss what they could do to help. In an institutional church with any history at all, such things as memorial services and receptions are handled by an army of volunteers and paid staff who all chip in to ensure everything happens just the way it should. But in our simple, organic churches there are no paid staff, and the army of volunteers amounts to a tiny squadron of four or five individuals, most of whom have no experience in attempting anything this large.
The deceased was a member of our home group and a close personal friend. He was well known and highly thought of by many people all around the Bay Area and Central California. We had no idea how many people would show up for his funeral but we knew for certain it could not be held in a home. The family opted to have the service in a mortuary and to set up the reception in a VFW hall not far away. Unfortunately for us, the man lived in Modesto and the mortuary they chose was in Turlock, about an hour and a half’s drive away from our home. How can a small house church conduct a funeral and host a reception over eighty miles away?
“The first thing we need to do is pray,” I suggested, and then I led everyone in a heartfelt plea to the Almighty for help. At the conclusion of my prayer one of our members spoke up.
“I believe Jesus is telling us all to let our gifts fall into place,” he announced. “We just all need to move in our various gifts.”
Immediately after he spoke another attendee chimed in. “I’ve done receptions like this before. Let me just give Karen a call to find out what she’s already done, what she envisions happening, and what still needs to be accomplished.”
“Why don’t we just put all those songs on a ‘CD’ and play that for the service?” asked another member. Within moments he was off to his home to retrieve his computer which had the necessary software to download music and burn our own “CD”.
By the end of the evening, plans were well in place and we all knew our own personal tasks. Most of our group would drive over to Turlock the next day to help decorate and set up for the reception. Some of us would remain there overnight to purchase the food and continue to prepare. I would be able to return home and work on my message for the following morning. Remarkably, the stress factor which had earlier been off the charts was now approaching the level of manageable.
On Sunday both the funeral and the following reception went off like clockwork. Everyone was thrilled, the grieving family was grateful, and God was glorified. Sunday evening we gathered in our home back in the Bay Area for our usual house church meeting. Though we were all completely exhausted it was a “good tired,” a healthy fatigue born out of everyone’s opportunity to put their various gifts into practice in order to pull off something we had once thought impossible. We were amazed at what God was able to accomplish with so few people.
So what have we learned through our first simple-church memorial? First of all, especially when the task ahead is anything but simple, it’s a good idea to approach the Almighty for assistance. “Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete.” – John 16:24. As we discovered, God already had the necessary pieces to the puzzle in place, not in material possessions or carefully thought out plans, but in gifted Christ-followers who were eager to pitch in and lend a helping hand. “Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good.” “All these are the work of one and the same Spirit, and he gives them to each one, just as he determines.” – 1Corinthians 12:7,11. “It was he who gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers…” – Ephesians 4:11.
As I look back on the events of last weekend I can recognize many gifts which God’s people freely put into service. In addition, I can also recognize all five of the ministry gifts spoken of in Ephesians 4:11 in operation. The woman who organized and led the task of putting together the reception showed the gift of apostleship. The brother who heard from the Lord following my prayer Friday evening was using the gift of prophecy. My memorial message turned out to be solidly evangelistic, and several of us were used by God in a pastoral way to bring comfort to those who were bereaved. And the teaching gift, where was that revealed? Well, that began occurring Sunday evening as we gathered in our home church and shared what we had learned over the past three days.
Perhaps the greatest lesson learned is simply that God “is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us…” – Ephesians 3:20. We were also reminded of the fact that ministry is a team sport, a function of the entire body of Christ and not a one man show. Our simple farewell for Brother Karl, although anything but simple, was a combined effort of several hard-working, gifted individuals. It was not the Bill Hoffman show I had feared, but rather the Jesus show as was plainly evident. And all the glory went to Him! “The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ.” “But in fact God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body.” – 1Corinthians 12:12,18-20.
It was fascinating to observe several of our members functioning in gifts which were new to them. Either such gifts had remained latent within them and been left unused until now, or the Spirit just called forth a temporary gifting to accomplish the task set before them. Since the Holy Spirit is certainly the power behind all of His gifts, and since He indwells every believer in Christ, it follows that He is perfectly able to use any Christian to accomplish any necessary task whether or not an individual has exhibited such gifting in the past. “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” – Philippians 4:13.
A week ago we were all wondering how a small organic church can pull off a simple farewell when the task ahead appears to be anything but simple. We now have the answer. Gather the church together whether it’s a large assembly or a small handful of believers, begin with prayer, listen to what Jesus tells you to do, then do what He says—even if that means attempting something which is entirely new for you. Come to think of it that’s pretty good advice when we’re facing any seemingly impossible task whether it’s putting together a memorial service on extremely short notice, helping a new widow face life in the absence of her loving husband, assisting families who are suffering mightily in the midst of a downturn in the economy, or even attempting to kick-start a church planting movement in Northern California.

Bill, a child of God still listening and learning

"TWO HOUR SAINTS"

2009-05-16T01:19:00.000-07:00

"TWO-HOUR SAINTS"
May 16, 2009

It promised to be the perfect getaway. A few years ago, shortly after the birth of our first grandchild, my wife, and I decided to take the long way home after having just spent several days visiting with our children and new grandson in Paso Robles, California. At last we were getting to enjoy some time for ourselves. Babs and I had made reservations at a quaint, but upscale lodge in the seaside community of Cambria on the central California coast. It was one of those package deals, one night's lodging with dinner and breakfast included all at a very reasonable price; so reasonable, in fact, that we were a little skeptical about what we would find upon our arrival. So we were pleasantly surprised to discover they had placed us in a rustic, but comfortable, stand-alone cabin with all the normal modern conveniences.
This romantic hide-away came complete with a fireplace and some firewood; you know, one of those pressed-wood, self-starting logs. The only problem was the weather. It was simply too warm an evening to want to build a fire. By the time it finally cooled off enough to make a fire enjoyable it was already 10:00 PM. We were concerned that starting a fire this late might keep us awake. A glance at the label on the log revealed that it would burn for "up to four hours."
"These logs never last as long as they advertise," I reasoned. "It will probably burn out in two hours. Let's light it anyway."
Come midnight the log was still burning brightly, filling the room with light and the joyful sounds of crackling wood. By 2:00 AM when the log, as advertised, should have been totally consumed, the fire continued to blaze sending eerie shadows dancing across the ceiling and disturbing any attempt at slumber on my part. Babs, on the other hand, had fallen asleep hours earlier which only added to my bleary-eyed frustration. I suppose I could have easily doused the flames and put an end to my pyro-induced insomnia, but I had become intrigued with the longevity of this fire fueled by one small log.
4:00 AM came and went and still the hungry flames voraciously pursued their feast on the stubborn hunk of pressed wood. 5:00 AM saw the room still awash in the flickering glow of the persistent fire. At 6:00 AM the final tongue of flame spent its last gasp and surrendered to the inevitable, just as the first light of dawn began creeping through the curtains on our window. Amazingly, the four-hour log had doubled its life span lasting the entire night. In peaceful satisfaction, knowing we had received an ample return for our vacation dollar, I slipped into fitful slumber, right about the time Babs awoke with a desire to get an early start on a day of antique shopping in the quaint stores of this picturesque community.
In case you might be thinking I am a total "air-head" for giving up an entire night's sleep to keep watch over a fire, allow me to share some of the thoughts I gleaned from that restless evening. We all know many Christians who have begun their walk with the Lord shining brightly, lighting up their homes and neighborhoods with the light of Christ and the joyful sounds of blessings and praise. Later, however, due to the persistent darkness of the surrounding world and the daily pressures of life, their fire has gone out, in the middle of the night, when their warmth and illumination were most needed. They failed to live up to their label. They turned out to be "two-hour saints."
These fizzling flame-outs have taken their places alongside the five foolish virgins of Matthew 25, visibly present at the door of the wedding banquet but without sufficient oil to keep their lamps burning until the Bridegroom arrived (Matthew 25:1-13). They took up membership in the same church as the Christians in Ephesus who worked hard at their religion and displayed all the outward signs of an impressive, on-fire faith, yet inwardly were empty, cold, and passionless, having forsaken their first love (Revelation 2:1-4). A careful examination of many church rolls will show that they are riddled with "two-hour saints." Some of these burned out clinkers have quietly faded away showing up only occasionally on Christmas and Easter. Others may still attend worship gatherings but have long since cooled below their flash-point and are ineffective at giving warmth to their brothers and sisters and incapable of disturbing the Biblically-blind slumber of their non-Christian neighbors.
What's the answer? How can we light a spark to spent fuel long ago grown cold? How can we make certain our own fires continue to burn? I recently discovered a powerful verse of Scripture in a part of the Bible we normally like to skip over in our daily devotions. In an Old Testament passage describing the duties of the Levitical Priesthood I found this command: "The fire on the altar must be kept burning; it must not go out. Every morning the priest is to add firewood..." – Leviticus 6:12.
Every morning the priest is to add fuel to the altar. How does this translate into the New Covenant? What is this fuel that can remain lit throughout the trials of everyday life and burn throughout the restlessness of our darkest night? Perhaps Scripture can once again enlighten us. "Your Word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path." – Psalm 119:105. "'Is not my Word like fire,' declares the Lord...?" – Jeremiah 23:29. And what is the spark that can ignite this highly flammable fuel? "He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire." – Matthew 3:11. It is the responsibility of every Christian to "fuel up" on God's Word every morning and ask the Holy Spirit to set fire to the altar of our hearts. But since as members of the New Covenant every baptized believer is an ordained priest of God, we are also responsible for keeping the fires lit for our brothers and sisters in the Lord.
"Every morning the priest is to add firewood..." "All Consuming Fire," consume me with eternal passion for you, for your Word, and for stoking the fire in others, for I do not wish to forsake my first love. "Light of the World," help me remember to add fuel to my altar every day, for I do not wish my oil to run out or my lamp to grow dark. "Spirit of Fire," keep fanning the flames of your Word in my heart, for I do not wish to become a "two-hour saint." And please, Lord, teach us how to add firewood to each other's altars.
Excuse me while I put another log on the fire.

Bill, a child of God, still burning

"TRAINING WHEELS"

2009-04-25T14:39:00.000-07:00

"TRAINING WHEELS"
April 25, 2009

It was a day that would go down in history. I was certain that the events of that afternoon would someday occupy a major chapter in my biography written by some future historian attempting to chronicle the major turning points in my life. My six year old body was trembling with the excitement of knowing that today I would cross a major threshold of maturity. I was about to enter a new era of my life, an era that belonged to the athletic elite. It would be "one small step for a little boy, one giant leap toward manhood." It was the day the training wheels would be removed from my bicycle.
Grasping the handlebars with a mixture of excitement and sheer panic I could already imagine the exhilaration of blasting off into the unknown world with the wind whistling through my hair, free to follow my dreams (at least around the block), unshackled from the embarrassing, encumbering stigma that had been attached to me for so long. It seemed like I had waited an eternity for my legs to grow long enough to reach from the bicycle seat to the ground. But now at last the wait was over, the day had come, the hour of triumph was upon me.
My older brother, David, was selected to be the guide for my launch into a new life. At long last there I was, perched upon the captain’s seat of my new spacecraft with the despised restraints cast unceremoniously on the lawn. With my brother holding the rocket ship upright I pushed the ignition switch with my foot and propelled myself forward into adulthood. I had slipped the surly bonds of earth and was headed skyward to investigate unexplored worlds. Unfortunately, while attempting to break through the earth’s atmosphere, I immediately encountered some extreme turbulence.
No one had bothered to tell me that riding a bicycle is not a skill with which we are born. What had appeared to be so easy with the training wheels attached was now proving to be exasperatingly troublesome. Time after time I weaved and wobbled my way back and forth along the narrow sidewalk in front of our home with my brother running along behind holding onto the bike. Each time I began to fall or veer too close to the edge of the sidewalk my brother was there to grab the bike, push it upright and set me back on course. It was a great feeling knowing he was right behind, helping me through this critical period of my life. Well, it was a great feeling until the time I turned around and discovered he was no longer there. In fact, he was several yards behind me, waving goodbye—and laughing!
"DAVID!!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs! Unfortunately, when I screamed I turned my head around, and when I turned my head around the bike turned with me, rolling off the sidewalk, over the curb and into the street where it came to rest on top of my smarting ego (not to mention my bruised backside). After barely lifting off the ground my spaceship had crash landed back on earth. Knowing he was likely risking his life just to approach me, my brother rushed to my side, picked me up, and congratulated me on how well I was doing. Then, without waiting for me to object, he placed me back on the bike, set me back on the sidewalk, and gave me another shove.
I had just survived my first fall managing to escape with just a few bruises, a skinned knee and a sore throat from screaming at my brother. Although at the time I was certain he was trying to kill me, David was only attempting to help me learn to keep my balance and negotiate the narrow sidewalk by myself (at least that's what I'd like to think). He also was teaching me another valuable lesson in life: Falling does not necessarily mean failure. In fact, it may be the best teacher leading us to our eventual success. And persevering through difficult situations is the best tutor for learning how to achieve anything worthwhile.
Learning to master the Christian life can be a similar experience. How exhilarating it is racing through our new life with Christ, following our Godly dreams, unshackled from the embarrassing sins that use to slow us down, released from the lack of faith that had previously prevented us from soaring with the wind. Unfortunately, we immediately encounter turbulence. As we struggle to remain upright in our new life weaving and wobbling down the pathway, we can't help but wonder how something that looked so simple could be so difficult. Yet how comforting it is to know that the Lord is running along beside us, ready to grab us if we start to fall or veer too close to the edge of our faith! In response to our heartfelt plea He is eager to push us upright and set us back on course. It's a great feeling until the time comes when we start to fall, cry out to God for help, and discover He's stepped away from the bike.
As we come crashing to earth our tendency is to get angry with God. “Why have you let me fall?” “Why have you allowed this near-impossible circumstance at this inopportune time?” “Why have you stepped away from me right when I need you the most?” At the time we may think God is some kind of sadistic prankster who enjoys watching us suffer and make a fool of ourselves. But perhaps, like my brother David, He just wants us to grow up and learn to keep our balance while negotiating our way down “the narrow road that leads to life.” “...My son, do not make light of the Lord's discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines those he loves...No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.” – Hebrews 12:5-6, 11.
Did that say, “…trained by it”? Wow, come to think of it, the Lord's discipline makes a pretty good set of spiritual training wheels. Even when He allows us to fall, the Lord is always with us and will rush to our side to pick us up, bind up our wounds, encourage us, and send us off again in the right direction. Through these times of intense pain and discouragement we need to learn a lesson from cycling. Falling does not mean failure. In fact, it is often the best way to learn how to stay upright. And learning how to persevere while struggling through troublesome, difficult, and seemingly impossible situations, is the best way to grow in our Christian faith.
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” – James 1:2-4.
It occurs to me that the church has often served as inappropriate training wheels for its members. It is wonderful for a group of disciples to come around a new believer and hold them up as they begin their walk with Christ. However, there comes a time when we must step aside and allow the growing Christian to launch out on their own, to struggle in their faith, and yes, even to fall. Such difficulties are necessary for them to fully mature. This doesn’t mean we are to totally abandon them but rather encourage them to grow. And this means rather than insisting they remain in the womb of the assembly we need to help them discover their gifts, help them learn how to use them, and then assist the Holy Spirit in launching them out into the harvest field to reach new people for the Lord, make new disciples for Christ, and plant new ministries. To fail to do this is tantamount to leaving their training wheels attached, stunting their growth, and preventing them from becoming the effective minister Christ has called them to be. It also prevents the kingdom of God from expanding.
As the body of Christ we need to realize that our goal should not be to have the largest assemblies on the planet, but rather to do our best to help people mature in Christ. “We proclaim him, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone perfect in Christ.” – Colossians 1:28. In order to accomplish this we must determine when each individual needs to have their training wheels removed and then we must release them out into the world, to explore new communities yet unreached by the Gospel, to fulfill the role in the kingdom Christ has determined for them. “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” – John 20: 21. “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations…” – Matthew 28:19.
As a fellow cyclist, one who has taken more than his share of tumbles, allow me to offer some hard-learned advice. Traveling with your training wheels attached will stifle your growth and limit your exhilaration and joy in the Lord. Let this be the historic day when you cast them aside and propel yourself fully into the adventure of becoming the disciple Christ has created you to be. Is it frightening? Absolutely! Will you fall? Yes, of course you will. But each time you fall the Lord will be there to pick you up, encourage you, set you back on course, and shove you down the pathway once again. The best way to maintain your balance, on a bike or in the Christian life, is to keep your eyes looking forward and keep on pedaling. “...forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on...” – Philippians 3:13-14.

Bill, a child of God, training wheels removed, still pedaling

"SURPRISE PARTY"

2009-04-11T15:49:00.000-07:00

"SURPRISE PARTY"
April 11, 2009

"Shhhh, they're coming! Everybody be quiet."
Quickly we all scrambled to our hiding places waiting for the pivotal moment. The party had been planned for weeks, a 50th birthday celebration for a close friend of ours. Dozens of expectant revelers, eager for a good laugh and a chance to honor a loved one, had gathered at the palatial home of one of her many friends. The invitations had come via stealth emails from the birthday girl's conniving husband. "Be careful not to let her know about this," he wrote. "It's a surprise!" To avoid tipping her off as to our presence we had all parked a few miles away and were taken to the party location in a van pool. The guest of honor and her husband, under the pretense of coming for a quiet, intimate dinner engagement, were to show up about half an hour after we had all arrived.
Finally the moment had come. The reluctant fifty-year-old arrived in front of the house wearily dragging her feet up the walkway, burdened with life and not at all thrilled to be reaching such a significant milestone. She could not have imagined what was waiting for her. The doorbell rang and a houseful of secret guests tried valiantly to suppress their giggles. The door opened and the birthday girl walked into the waiting ambush. "SUPRISE!!!"
The whole house trembled like it had just been hit by a violent earthquake. Shouts came from every direction followed by a stampede of people rushing to the entryway to congratulate the guest of honor. Our friend was dumbfounded. I'll never forget the look of utter shock on her face. Disbelief gave way to amazement which turned into tears of joy. She was overwhelmed that we had gone to such an extent to show how much we cared. Suddenly, turning 50 wasn't such a bad deal. It must have been especially sweet to realize she had so many friends who were willing to walk through this trial with her.

The pre-dawn darkness hung like a shroud around a small group of women as they wound their way through the streets of the sleeping city toward a lonely cemetery just outside the city walls. On their heads they carried heavy jars of spices. In their hearts they carried an even heavier weight of grief. The spices were meant to anoint the dead, but nothing could sweeten the smell of their loss. Three days earlier they had watched as their fondest dreams, their highest hopes, and their greatest joys were nailed to a cross, ripped apart, and destroyed. Prevented by Sabbath restrictions from doing so earlier, they came now to perform a final act of love, to prepare the body of their Lord for burial.
With eyes red and swollen from weeping and with hearts aching from unimaginable sorrow they wearily made their way, step after painful step, toward the tomb. They wondered aloud if the guards would move the stone and allow them entrance to fulfill their gruesome task. Despite the likelihood of being turned away they were determined to try. They also wondered silently how they could even go on living after so profound a loss. Why bother to continue breathing when hope itself had died? But none of them could have imagined what was waiting for them.
Surrounding the tomb, hiding behind their spiritual veils, a group of the heavenly host was waiting for the pivotal moment. "Shhhh, they're coming! Everybody be quiet." This encounter had been planned for ages. It would be a celebration of life that would change the course of history and forever destroy the fear of the grave. All of heaven was watching, eager to see the moment when a new faith would be born, when the power of sin would be crushed, when death would be dethroned and a gateway opened to eternal life.
Finally, after centuries of planning and waiting, the moment had arrived. The small group of unsuspecting women was approaching the tomb. The secret guests hiding in the cemetery tried valiantly to suppress their giggles. Suddenly the signal flashed from the throne room of heaven. Death had been defeated; victory was achieved; the Son was alive! A violent earthquake shook the ground, the huge stone that had been placed in front of the tomb rolled away, and the guards shook with fear and became like dead men.
"SUPRISE!!!" "He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples..." – Matthew 28:6-7.
Don't you wish you could have been there to see the expressions on the faces of these women? I'm sure they were all dumbfounded. Perhaps disbelief gave way to amazement which turned into tears of joy. I can imagine that the jars of spices came crashing to the ground as they ran back down the path to the city. Death would not be anointed today. Joy had returned; hope itself had been resurrected. The burden had been lifted from their heads as well as their hearts. I suspect they were all overwhelmed that God had gone to such an extent to show how much He cared for them, indeed for all mankind.
Perhaps you are wearily winding your way through a period of darkness in your life, your mind burdened with despair, your heart filled with loss. Maybe you have just watched your fondest dreams, your highest hopes, and your greatest joys ripped apart and destroyed. Is there a giant stone that stands between you and your goals that has you wondering how you can go on? Has hope itself died for you?
At the risk of giving away a secret I'd like to let you in on something. You may not realize it now but you are walking into a surprise party, one that God has been planning for some time now. And you are the honoree! "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'" – Jeremiah 29:11. "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him." – 1Corinthians 2:9.
To be sure, there is a surprise party being prepared for the day when we finally complete our earthly sojourn and step into glory. But there are likely other joyous celebrations waiting for us along the journey as well, just up the road apiece, concealed from our immediate view, hidden behind the stone of impossibility and those who would in vain guard the power of God from reaching our need. Praise the Lord; we serve a God who delights in surprising His children with grace! “What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?” – Romans 8:31-32.
What's the message? Don't stop on your way to the tomb. Don’t give up before you reach the glorious resolution to your dilemma. No matter how impossible the situation, no matter how large the stone, no matter how fierce the guards, no matter how burdened your footsteps, keep moving forward. You are not alone in your despair. Heaven is watching, and for all you know there may be a surprise party waiting for you around the next bend. Is that the sound of giggling I hear? Anybody feel an earthquake?

Bill, a child of God expecting a party

"A MIDWINTER'S DAYDREAM"

2009-04-04T14:45:00.000-07:00

"A MIDWINTER'S DAYDREAM"

Nuts! I can't believe it's already that time again. No, I'm not talking about the dreaded credit card bills that are coming due after our holiday spending binges. And no, I'm not referring to that most anticipated of all time periods in this blessed republic known as tax season. I'm bemoaning the arrival of something even less welcome. For those of us who live in the bay area of California and have any deciduous plants and trees surrounding our homes, the first six weeks of the year provide the best window of opportunity for pruning. Every year at this time I question the sanity of previous occupants of our property who apparently nurtured a love affair with trees and planted them everywhere, dozens of them in numerous varieties and all sizes, some of them bearing fruit, some of them bearing tiny seeds which blow in the wind and seasonally make a mess of our neighborhood, and all of which grow far too rapidly and require periodic thinning.
However, I cannot blame all of our wooded woes on our residential predecessors. A family of brown squirrels has taken up homesteading in our backyard forest and regularly contributes to the proliferation of growth by burying walnuts, acorns, and a plethora of seeds, usually in the most unwelcome places. Every spring we are plagued with new trees sprouting all over our yard, in our garden, too near our home, and too close to other mature vegetation. By late summer our home begins to resemble a jungle hide-away, and every winter I am obliged to become a temporary lumberjack.
My personal deforestation campaign began a week ago on a cool, dreary, overcast Saturday afternoon. I could no longer put off the inevitable chore since some trees were already showing signs of budding. After a few tedious, back-breaking hours of sawing, chopping, clipping and whacking, I wearily stood in the midst of several mountainous piles of tree trimmings. I was ready to collapse from exhaustion when out of the corner of my eye I spotted something small and brown dashing across one of the few remaining uncluttered portions of my lawn. Undeterred by the logging operation which threatened his very existence, a squirrel was busily picking out a choice spot to bury a prized walnut, a seed which would likely be forgotten and consequently added to my removal chores twelve months later. I tried to muster enough energy to throw something at the furry insurgent but found myself instead marveling at his amazing persistence. I had spent eight years attempting to discourage his haphazard planting scheme but come every winter I was again faced with uprooting his handiwork.
In frustration I slumped into a lawn chair and began to dream of having my home surrounded by magazine-cover landscaping, professionally designed and meticulously maintained, something similar to what graces my neighbors' homes on both sides of our property. All right, I will admit to a twinge of curb-appeal envy, but you would think the squirrels would share their sowing labors equally amongst all of the yards in the neighborhood. Why was only I so richly blessed?
In my daydream I began to visualize what the perfectly designed, beautifully styled, low maintenance yard would look like. All of the trees would be carefully planted in large wooden boxes or decorative clay pots. Then they could be strategically placed to provide the correct amount of shade in the right area and be aesthetically pleasing increasing the value of the property. The planter boxes and pots would add to the delightful decor and prevent the trees from growing too rapidly. All of the fruit would be consumed before it fell to the ground, took root, and sprouted a new plant. Of course the yard would be regularly maintained and meticulously manicured by qualified professionals. No new vegetation would be allowed to remain that wasn't pure-bred, nursery-born, and growth-controlled by its placement in a container. And the squirrels would be banned from digging in the soil and planting seeds. They would be safely, humanely, interred in the tree-tops where they would remain cute, playful, amusing, and completely harmless.
As I thought about my dreams of squirrel containment my mind drifted to images of the oak-forested hills surrounding our community. I love to hike the trails that meander through these lush woods. It occurred to me that these beautiful woodlands, which stand in such stark contrast to the California deserts, were all planted by natural means, including the accidental, haphazard, absent-minded actions of squirrels. Somehow in the wild, without the help of man, God manages to make every plant fit together perfectly to achieve a magnificent garden, much more aesthetically pleasing than our vain attempts at landscaping. Unarguably, God is vastly more adept at playing God than we are. Perhaps I should just let God, nature, and the squirrels have their way, I thought, but then, what would my neighbors say?
Suddenly my daydream took a decidedly more serious turn and I became haunted by a most disturbing image. A vision involving the Church transformed my idle dream into a nightmare. The yard became the church universal and the trees, plants, and shrubs represented individual congregations of numerous varieties and all sizes, some of them bearing fruit, some of them bearing seeds blowing away in the wind, and all of them struggling to grow in their own way. In our arrogant haste to control our ministries, and in our burning desire to grow something aesthetically pleasing (at least in our own eyes), we have carefully sown this vegetation in handmade, wooden planter boxes and beautifully decorated clay pots. An emphasis on external design (property, programs, and size) has fostered a spirit of competition. A truthful introspection would cause many of us to admit to a twinge of curb-appeal envy. The planter boxes and pots, while adding to the pleasing decor, provide an effective way of controlling our growth. The roots of our faith can only grow so deep and the size of our branches is limited by such things as budgets, buildings, and bureaucracy. Most of the fruit is consumed by our individual programs before it is allowed to fall to the ground, take root, and sprout new growth.
In our traditional, centuries-old, generationally-preserved mindsets, we are convinced the Church and its numerous programs must be regularly maintained and meticulously manicured by qualified, seminary-trained professionals. No new congregations are allowed to flourish unless they are doctrinally pure (according to our own creeds), denominationally-born, and growth-controlled by their careful placement in a suitable container. And the Holy Spirit (Forgive me, Lord, for comparing your Spirit to a squirrel) is largely banned from digging in the soil and planting new seeds. He has been safely interred in our steeples where we sing of His power and amuse ourselves with His gifts, but He remains largely harmless.
"But Bill," I can hear the doubters complaining out there, "you can't just let new churches and ministries spring up anywhere. They might appear in places unsuitable for proper growth like inner cities, or hostile political climates, or in the shade of other mature congregations. And you can’t just let anyone and everyone plant new churches. Who will ensure that the church planters have the necessary training to start doctrinally sound, denominationally pure congregations? You just can't grow the Kingdom without adequate human controls and oversight."
Allow me a brief rebuttal to this argument. Exhibit A: The first one hundred years of the Church saw no seminaries and few if any buildings, yet growth has never been as rapid or effective—never, that is, until the recent explosion of house churches seen in countries like China, India, or parts of Africa. Exhibit B: The last seventeen hundred years of the Church has seen the rise of the professionally landscaped, denominationally gardened congregation and growth has been neither rapid nor effective. Could it be that the Church today in this culture has become too professional, too groomed, too carefully cultivated, too contained?
"Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously." – 2Corinthians 9:6. "I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful." – John 15:1-2. "I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow." – 1Corinthians 3:6-7. “This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. All by itself the soil produces grain—first the stalk, then the head, then the full kernel in the head.” – Mark 4:26-28. "Do not put out the Spirit's fire." – 1Thessalonians 5:19.
The diminishing light of approaching nightfall aroused me from my daydream. It was time to get back to the task at hand. My neighbors are expecting me to maintain the proper community image. But when it comes to the church, I have decided to smash the clay pot and surrender to the Spirit's will. Let the neighbors turn aside in worldly wonderment. I prefer to dwell in the forest. How do I know that's right for me? A little squirrel told me!

Bill, a child of God, still chasing after a squirrel

"HIGHWAY CONSTRUCTION"

2009-03-21T02:11:00.000-07:00

“HIGHWAY CONSTRUCTION”
March 21st, 2009

“I’m hearing the words, ‘build up, build up.’” “I think that’s from a verse of Scripture.” The young woman looked up from her prayer posture and waited for an acknowledgment from me.
“Yes, I believe I remember reading that somewhere in the Bible,” I responded. Being somewhat new to the concept of receiving a “word of knowledge” from God I was both skeptical and curious as to what she believed she was hearing. As she closed her eyes and continued her prayer for me, my mind began exploring what those words might mean. After nearly two years of exploration God is still teaching me their full impact.
I was praying with a young couple from Minnesota when I first heard those words. We were attending a house church conference in Denver a couple of years ago and they had earnestly requested that I pray for them and their ministry. When they offered to return the favor and pray for me I gladly accepted welcoming all the help I could get. For four years my wife and I had been transitioning toward a simpler, more organic concept of doing church but we had struggled at how to multiply our ministry beyond our own weekly home gathering. The words, “build up, build up,” resonated in my spirit and somehow I knew God was attempting to communicate with me.
Upon returning home, however, I quickly became immersed in trying to earn a living and grow a ministry. Spending time searching for the Scripture verse containing the words which were pronounced over me in Denver was relegated to a lesser priority. A few months later while I was reading in the Old Testament during my morning quiet time I came across the very words in a passage from the book of Isaiah.
“Pass through, pass through the gates! Prepare the way for the people. Build up, build up the highway! Remove the stones. Raise a banner for the nations.” – Isaiah 62:10.
Immediately my mind was transported back to that prayer time in Denver. “What are you trying to tell me?” I asked the Lord, feeling certain now that He was intent on downloading something of prime importance into my spirit. “Speak, Lord; your servant is listening,” I prayed, imitating Samuel’s response when he first heard God talking to him. Immediately, profound thoughts began pouring into my mind, thoughts I’m convinced came from the Spirit of God. What follows is some of what I have learned as I have listened to the Lord speaking into my heart through this Scripture.
“Pass through the gates!” We need to get out of our house and into the community. God has people on whom He is working scattered all around us. He will show us with whom He wants us to connect. “When you enter a house, first say, ‘peace to this house.’ If a man of peace is there, your peace will rest on him; if not, it will return to you. Stay in that house, eating and drinking whatever they give you, for the worker deserves his wages. Do not move around from house to house.” – Luke 10:5-7. We must open our eyes, our hearts, and see the people through His eyes. When we find the “people of peace” we are not to insist that they attend our own home group. Instead, we are to gather their friends and family around them in their homes and build a new church there. We are to bring them to Christ, disciple them, build them up, show them how to do the same with others, and then release them into the harvest.
“Prepare the way for the people. Build up, build up the highway!” Our ministry is to build a highway, a two-way thoroughfare, for the people to come to Jesus, and for Jesus to come to them, a highway reaching out into the world far beyond our home. There are many souls who will never be reached through the traditional church. We must prepare a way for them. In actuality, Jesus is the way. “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” – John 14:6. We need to be building up Jesus in the eyes of those we encounter. But in another sense, Jesus is also in the process of building up His church as a highway through whom others will be able to find their way to Him. To be sure, He is building us in ways which many of us find unfamiliar as to how we’ve always experienced church in the past. But since He is the head of the church, He is also the architect of these retrofit blueprints. “…I will build my church…” – Matthew 16:18. We are a part of His holy construction project. As we seek to build up Jesus, He is working to build up a highway through us. We must let Him do His work in us, even though the demolition of our old ways of doing church may be painful.
“Remove the stones.” We need to take away the barriers that stand in the way of people coming to Jesus and engaging in effective ministries. The following are just a few of the “stones” which our Construction Foreman has informed us are in need of removal: Racial, economic, and gender discrimination which bar far too many people from full participation in the body of Christ; the complicated structures found in institutional churches which prevent them from being easily reproduced; concentrating on church growth rather than kingdom growth; focusing all our energies upon one weekly event in one central location rather than ministering house to house, 24/7; spending too many resources on buildings and salaries rather than on ministering to peoples’ needs; and the separation between paid clergy and the rest of the body of Christ which enables most of the church to be apathetic pew-sitters.
We also have “stones” and “potholes” in our own lives, barriers which may be preventing people from clearly hearing our message and finding Jesus through our ministry. Our Foreman will show us the stones which need to be removed and the holes which need to be filled in our daily lives. I’m guessing that improving these individual highways will require a lifetime construction project.
“Raise a banner for the nations.” Our ministry must reach beyond our own ethnicity. In the Bay Area we are surrounded by people from many different cultures. God loves them all and so must we. We need to discover ways of building up the highway cross-culturally. “…his banner over me is love.” – Song of Songs 2:4. The banner of love can build a bridge across the widest cultural chasm.
Our ministry has changed dramatically since we began the construction on this new highway. At present we have seen four additional churches spring up along the highway as we have “passed through the gate” of our home and reached out into the surrounding communities. Each of these has brought us face to face with different cultures. So far we have seen at least eight people find their way to Jesus through this new highway, despite the constant construction. We have learned to expect the unexpected and be ready at a moment’s notice, as the Spirit directs, to take the highway into new territory. Each time this has occurred we have experienced our own faith being built up as well. But I was overwhelmed a few weeks ago when our Construction Foreman sent us a mind-blowing re-affirmation of the highway blueprints.
We were meeting with our Hispanic gathering in San Pablo, about an hour’s drive north of our home. This church was started in the home of the cook from a restaurant in our hometown of Dublin. A few days after I had begun receiving our construction plans for the highway while meditating on the passage from Isaiah, the Lord planted a unique church in this coffee shop around the night manager. She introduced us to the cook who, in turn, invited us to his home. Now we were regularly doing church with him and his extended family. As we had often done in the past, we asked those who had gathered if they had any questions about what they were reading in their personal Bible study. After the host and his wife admitted they hadn’t taken the time to read the Bible since our last visit, the wife’s mother began thumbing through her Spanish Bible. This is a woman who speaks almost no English, who only recently began reading God’s Word because we were able to give her a Spanish translation Bible. Everything we spoke during our gathering had to be interpreted to her in her own language, and everything she said had to be translated to us in English.
Through her daughter’s interpretation the woman said she had encountered a passage of Scripture she found hard to understand. She opened her Bible to the book of Isaiah and began to read. When her daughter told me the reference I nearly fell off my chair. She had just read Isaiah 62:10. Of all the Scriptures in the Bible she had picked the very one which had indirectly led us to their home.
“What does this mean?” she asked through her daughter. “What is the highway?” “What are the stones?”
After regaining my composure I explained to the group the significance of the verse and what it had meant to our ministry. “The highway is being built up to provide a way for you, your family, your friends, and your neighbors, to find their way to God through Jesus Christ,” I explained. And then, choking up with emotion, I told them, “Because the Holy Spirit placed that verse of Scripture on your heart and prompted you to share it with us, I believe He is telling us something. He is saying that this highway goes through your house. In fact, it goes through you, all of you. That is the Lord’s plan and He is in the process of building that highway even as we speak. Each one of you must ask yourself what is standing in the way of the highway going through you. What stones need to be removed in order for Christ to use you as a highway to reach others?”
This family was overwhelmed at what I shared with them that evening. But they have begun to ask the Lord how they are to proceed and we are starting to see the telltale signs of construction work commencing in their lives. I am anxious to see how the Lord brings this construction project to fruition.
Perhaps there is an even larger application for this revelation which was given to me nearly two years ago and since has made such a profound difference in our ministry. In a wider sense, all of us who follow Christ have been called to build up a highway to reach out to others with the message of His grace and mercy. The blueprints for these highways may not always include planting simple, organic churches. Our Construction Foreman will likely design a highway specifically geared for us and those who He wants to reach through us.
Regardless of what the plans reveal, there is a construction zone ahead. The blueprints will likely require some demolition of old behaviors, filling in some gaping potholes of unrighteousness with more fertile soil, and possibly even some detours around unfruitful ways of doing church which used to occupy our time. My advice is to listen carefully to the Architect of the highway and diligently follow His plans. As in all construction projects it’s bound to get a little messy. However, once you see the highway being used and people are finding their way to Jesus through you, it will be well worth all the hard work and sacrifice.
In the Old Testament Isaiah prophesied about the construction of this highway as a prelude to the Lord’s coming. “In the desert prepare the way for the Lord; make straight in the wilderness a highway for our God.” – Isaiah 40:3. Two thousand years ago John the Baptist came with this same message preparing the way for the coming of the Lord. Today we are hearing the same cry. “Build up, build up the highway!” The Lord is coming. Let the construction begin!

Bill, a child of God building up the highway

"DISPELLING THE DARKNESS"

2009-03-14T17:49:00.000-07:00

“DISPELLING THE DARKNESS”
March 14, 2009

As soon as I turned the car onto my home street my heart sank. The entire neighborhood was dark. No houselights, no porch lights, no streetlamps; only the faint flicker of a candle emanating from a few windows gave any indication that the community was inhabited. Oh no! I thought to myself. There go my evening’s plans down the drain. I had rushed home from giving my last piano lesson in order to catch my favorite show on television. A two-hour, double-header episode was scheduled which I had looked forward to watching for days. In the show the fate of the entire nation had been hanging in the balance for the last week. Now I would likely never find out what happened. My mood was hovering somewhere between anger and depression. Not even any moonlight was visible to cheer my gloom.
An eerie, thick blackness had descended upon our small community as though every house had been draped in a death shroud. The power had obviously gone out. But why was it only affecting our small neighborhood? The rest of the city was ablaze in light. Just beyond our backyard fence everyone seemed to be enjoying all the power they desired. The same was true one block to the east and one block to the west. Only a few dozen homes, including my own, were suffering from the outage. What have we done to be cursed like this? I wondered.
As I pulled into our driveway I noticed that our house, at least our living room anyway, seemed to be filled with light. Once inside I discovered why. My wife, Babs, had used the darkness as an excuse to light nearly every candle we owned. I lost count at sixty. She has always had a fondness for candles but this was a bit overwhelming.
“Why don’t we light our gas fireplace and extinguish a few of these candles,” I suggested. “I think it might be a little safer.”
“There’s nothing to do but read,” she replied. “We need all this light to see the print. But we can go ahead and light a fire in addition to all the candles and that will brighten up the room even more.”
I gave up trying to convince her of the impending danger with so many flames burning all at once and soon settled onto our couch with a good book. It was difficult for me to concentrate on reading, however. I kept wondering what had happened to knock out our power. Why were only a few houses involved in the outage? And why was it taking so long to restore our electricity? Every clock in our home was stuck on 4:45 pm. I finally gave up and went to bed around 11:30 with still no power available. Finally, at 3:15 am, the lights came on again startling us both out of our slumber. After adjusting our bedroom clocks and resetting our alarms to make certain we would wake up at the proper time in the morning, we turned the lights off and once again climbed into bed. But I found it difficult to go back to sleep.
I was curious if God might be trying to tell me something. The circumstances surrounding the power outage and a house filled with candles were unique enough to cause my spiritual ears to perk up. During the remainder of that evening and the next day I sensed that God was indeed attempting to communicate. I don’t think He caused the electrical outage, although as yet I haven’t discovered the reason behind it nor why it took over ten hours to restore. But I do believe the Lord was using the events of that evening to pass along some hints at what might be in store for us in the near term and how the body of Christ should respond. In turn, I am passing these along to you as well.
I am afraid that this region (perhaps the entire country) is in for a prolonged period of intense darkness. Indeed it has already begun and will likely last far longer than most are predicting. The darkness includes our present economic crisis but is probably not limited to financial matters. Just as our power outage only affected our small neighborhood, this darkness will affect some segments of our society far worse than others. It will even threaten the demise of many churches. However, this is not a time for the church to cower in fear or limit its ministries. Neither is it a time for hording our resources while others nearby are suffering in the darkness. It is a time, rather, for us to prepare to take advantage of every opportunity to reach out to those who are being swept away in the gathering storm. Against the black backdrop of intensifying darkness the church has a unique opportunity to shine ever more brightly.
During our blackout Babs had ingeniously placed a dozen small candles on each of two cooking sheets and set them out on TV trays in our living room. Together they added a great deal of light to the room. As I was extinguishing the blazing inferno before retiring that evening I noticed that several candles from each tray had burned completely down while others had barely lost half an inch off their height. There seemed to be no reason for the disparity. Was this the result of some obscure law of thermodynamics or was there another message hidden here?
In meditating upon this oddity I was reminded of how brightly lit one room of our house was with all sixty candles burning at once. Yet the rest of the house was in total darkness. When I needed to use the bathroom, however, I could take one candle with me and have plenty of light. Likewise, Babs was able to take two candles with her into the kitchen and have enough light to grill a couple of cheese sandwiches for our dinner. Were we wasting some of the candles by placing them all together in one room? Were we exhibiting poor stewardship of our existing light?
“You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.” – Matthew 5:14-16.
During times of adversity it is the nature of Christians to huddle together for mutual warmth and fellowship. It is essential for us to gather regularly in order to practice all the “one another” ministries we read about in Scripture. But at this present time of impending crisis God is also calling us out of our comfortable, well-lit church gatherings in order to penetrate the darkness, to take the light of Jesus into the surrounding communities and dispel the stormy night of economic hardships, despair, faithlessness, lawlessness, hopelessness, and sin which blacken the world outside the walls of the kingdom. It’s not that we Christians are hiding our lights under a bowl, but rather that we are corralling all the lights in one room.
I believe many churches will not survive the coming darkness. They will likely be the ones which expend all or the vast majority of their resources in the process of illuminating that which is already well lit. They will simply succumb to their own poor stewardship of the light and burn themselves up shining on each other. I also believe there are many pastors, as well as other gifted Christ followers, who have been called to penetrate the darkness with their light but are instead being held captive behind the stained glass of their churches. It is high time we release these “called out ones” into the sin-stained, spiritually dark world which surrounds us before they burn themselves up in a ministry where they don’t belong.
Every church community and every believer needs to reassess their stewardship and ask the Head of the church where He would have them distribute their resources. I’m not advocating that we close the doors to our houses of worship. We just need to follow the Lord of the harvest into the darkness and shine the light of Jesus upon those who are truly in need. “Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates his brother is still in the darkness. Whoever loves his brother lives in the light…” – 1John 2:9-10. “If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth.” – 1John 3:17-18. There are many people in various segments of our society right now who are hurting terribly. Their plight will only become more desperate as the darkness intensifies. As we shine the light of Jesus upon them their hearts will be opened to the Gospel and the kingdom of God will increase.
“I will also make you a light for the Gentiles, that you may bring my salvation to the ends of the earth.” – Isaiah 49:6. “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.” – Isaiah 9:2. “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light…” – Ephesians 5:8. “And do this, understanding the present time. The hour has come for you to wake up from your slumber, because our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed. The night is nearly over; the day is almost here. So let us put aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light.” – Romans 13:11-12.
Open your eyes and look around you. The world is growing increasingly darker, suffering from a spiritual power outage. God has given you the light of Christ. What will you do with it? Will you place your candle next to scores of others who are shining brightly and burn yourself up giving light to that which is already well lit, all the while cursing the darkness outside? Or will you use your light to penetrate the darkness and dispel it?

Bill, a child of God penetrating the darkness

"SIMPLY WONDERFUL"

2009-02-28T14:25:00.000-08:00

“SIMPLY WONDERFUL”
February 28, 2009

“Are we all done wrapping presents now?” asked my very weary son, Travis. “I just want to go to bed and sleep ‘til noon.” Our usual late-night, marathon, Christmas Eve, gift-wrapping session was nearing completion and we were all showing signs of being overcome with stress and fatigue.
“We have just one more thing to do,” I replied with a sigh. “We still have to put your sister’s gift together.”
“Wonderful!” answered Travis with all the enthusiasm of a convicted murderer being led to the gallows. “Knowing our history in putting stuff like this together we’re probably going to be up all night.”
“No way,” I responded with feigned confidence. “We’re only dealing with a bookcase. How hard could it be? We should have this finished in a couple of hours, tops.” Inwardly I was filled with dread at having to face another set of confusing instructions. Travis was right. We both had a well deserved reputation for taking the apparently simple and transforming it into the extremely complex. Our manifold struggles in putting anything together, no matter how simple the instructions, were the stuff of legend. One only had to mention the toy oven, or the miniature shopping cart, or the Daisy Big Wheel tricycle to send thoughts of sheer panic racing through our minds. Would this be another in a long and inglorious list of assembly misadventures?
With feelings of resignation and foreboding we ambled into the garage and began collecting our tools. “Don’t forget the chain saw and sledge hammer,” I mentioned with a chuckle trying to cheer up my dejected son. Travis’ silence told me he was in no mood to tolerate my attempts at humor. Standing in front of a large cardboard box I read aloud the simple, yet dreaded notice that sent a fresh wave of terror cascading through our minds. Some assembly required. No tools needed.
“We’re doomed!” groaned Travis. “Why don’t we just stick a bow on the box and go to bed?”
“We’d just have to put the thing together tomorrow,” I answered. “Besides, you know how much your sister wants something on which to display her sculptures. This is one of the few things she passionately asked for this year. Let’s give this our best shot and see if we can get it done tonight. Just think of how surprised she will be when she sees this behind the tree tomorrow morning.”
Reluctantly, Travis began tearing into the box. In a couple of minutes we were standing in front of a pile of nicely stained wooden boards and one sheet of paper covered in tiny print. “Hand me the instructions and let’s find out how to proceed,” I requested. Step One: Stand the unit on end and swing the side pieces outward. As I slowly read the instructions out loud Travis carefully performed the actions indicated. As he swung the side boards of the bookcase outward we were surprised to hear a rhythmic “plop, plop, plop.” One by one all three shelves of the unit fell into place on already fixed hinges. In one step, in less than a minute, the entire bookcase was fully assembled.
Travis looked at me and triumphantly proclaimed, “Looks good to me!”
“I’m satisfied,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders in astonishment. “Let’s stick a bow on it; this baby’s finished!” As we carried our trophy into the house and placed it behind the Christmas tree, we congratulated ourselves on our meteoric ascension to becoming perhaps the world’s greatest assembly engineers. “Look at this!” we bragged. “And it was done in record time!” Of course, inwardly, we both knew our success was actually due to the expertise of the original design engineer who had made our task a slam dunk. For once in our lives we had stumbled upon an assembly project that was simply wonderful.

“Welcome to the Source; please come in,” politely beckoned the voice on the other side of the door. Ross, Mike, and I (three veteran church planters) walked into the living room of the small condominium and sat down on a comfortable leather couch. A young woman was playing some soft, meditative music on a keyboard. It allowed us to catch our breath from the long commute and open up our hearts to whatever God was about to do in, around, through, and to us that evening. It was eight o’clock on a Friday night and the three of us were taking a break from a weekend, organic church conference in the LA area in order to visit a group of Christians who had been meeting together regularly for a little over a year. Somehow we sensed the evening would be transformational for us. Through a Bay Area connection we had been invited to share our hearts in this gathering of faithful Christ followers.
As the worshippers began to arrive, we initially harbored feelings of being out of place. They were predominately Asian (about two dozen in total) and almost all were still in their twenties. Yet as their sincere, passionate worship began to fill the room we completely lost sight of our differences and were caught up in the glory of the presence of God. As Ross later commented, they truly know how to use heartfelt worship to woo the Holy Spirit. God graciously and miraculously responded to their courting. A young man played the guitar and led the worship connecting the hearts of everyone to the heart of our Father. After a while some individuals began sharing passages of Scripture in between the worship songs. Others shared what they felt the Lord was saying to us.
The worship lasted for well over an hour and grew steadily more intense. Eventually, one of us was asked to share for a few minutes about what we were learning concerning organic church planting. Then a young man sat down in the center of the room and led a Bible study on being a child of God. After this we were divided into two groups. Those who were in need of ministry (prayer, healing, counseling, etc.) were told to remain downstairs while those who were interested in learning more about how to plant organic churches were directed to escort us to an upstairs bedroom. In this smaller venue we shared for a couple of hours about following the Lord into the harvest, searching for the “person of peace,” and planting simple churches. They listened intently asking many questions. It seemed that the only thing they had been lacking in their fellowship was expertise in turning their outreach adventures into opportunities for planting churches. When the Spirit revealed this lack to them a few days earlier they were led to invite us to join them that evening in order to provide what they were missing.
We closed our part of the gathering by offering a prayer of blessing over them and their ministry. Then it was their turn to pray for us. For an additional hour they gathered around us, laid their hands upon us, and lifted us up before the throne of God. The passion and zeal spewing forth in their prayers was consistent with what was evident in their worship. These young believers define sincerity. Finally, around one o’clock in the morning, we managed to tear ourselves away from their loving fellowship and head back to our hotel still aglow with the presence of the Spirit.
Since that evening when we gathered with the Source we have been attempting to unpack what we experienced. The worship was among the most intense and awe-inspiring I have ever witnessed. The supernatural presence of God was powerfully evident. There was no order of worship yet the assembly flowed seamlessly from one focus to the next. The leadership structure appeared to be flat. Many different people took turns ministering to the group, sharing as God had gifted them. They spoke often of how the Lord had been leading them out of the comfort of their homes and into the surrounding streets and bars to witness and bless others. And the love of God was abundantly flowing from person to person.
In short, they were practicing what we preach. They were engaged in doing what we have been espousing for years, though I’m guessing few if any of them had ever heard the terms simple church or organic church. I personally have been on this journey nearly six years while the Source has been in existence only a little over one year. To the best of my knowledge they have not read any books about house churches nor have they attended any seminars or conferences regarding our movement. They have simply sought passionately after the heart of God, listened intently to His voice, and obeyed faithfully what they heard. This is truly a supernatural phenomenon, an immaculate conception born not of a denomination’s will but birthed from the womb of the Holy Spirit.
What is God trying to show us through these remarkable Christian servants? It would seem that planting vibrant, missional churches is far less complicated than most people, including many within the organic church movement, have imagined. But isn’t this what Scripture teaches us? “This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. All by itself the soil produces grain…” – Mark 4:26-28. “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.” – Ephesians 3:20-21.
Somehow we have managed to make church planting so impossibly complicated that it takes a team of enormously talented, seminary-trained professionals to pull it off backed up by a denominationally sponsored church planting organization. Most traditional church plants require about eighteen months of planning, demographical research, targeted marketing, resource gathering and an exhaustive volume of labor-intensive ground work. The church planter is expected to compose a comprehensive project proposal complete with power-point presentation and then raise hundreds of thousands of dollars (in some cases millions) to fund the first two years. The fact that a great many of these church plants fail in the first few years should come as no surprise. Truly we have a well deserved reputation for taking the simple and transforming it into the extremely complex. Is there a better way?
To the weary and faint of heart, to those who shudder at the very thought of being involved in planting a new church, to those whose history of attempting anything for God is less than stellar, I have good news. Though the task ahead appears daunting, you might be surprised to learn how simple the assembly truly is.
I suggest you carefully read and follow the proven instructions. Step one: continuously, diligently, passionately, seek God’s heart; listen intently to His voice; obey faithfully what you hear. Then just stand back and be amazed as everything falls into place. Although we might be tempted to take some of the credit for any success, everyone around us will know the glory goes to the original Design Engineer. Church planting is meant to be a supernatural phenomenon, a Spirit-empowered strategy toward impacting our surrounding communities and advancing the kingdom, a vitally necessary tactic which is open to all, experienced professional or novice child of God, who would truly yield themselves to the Lord of the harvest. And best of all, it can be simply wonderful.

Bill, a child of God simply following His directions

"A LOVE DUET"

2009-02-14T00:51:00.000-08:00

"A LOVE DUET"
February 13, 2009

"Is there anything I can do?" he pleaded as he met me at the front door of his home.
The distressing look in his eyes testified to a high level of frustration. His normally effervescent countenance was hidden beneath a mask of anxiety. I knew immediately something had gone terribly wrong. He was one of my more gifted piano students, a ten year old boy normally high on excess energy and consumed by a strong desire to master the instrument. For a couple of years I had been traveling to his home in a neighboring city and giving music lessons to his entire family. His parents, who were home-schooling their kids, had been graciously employing me as a piano teacher in order to help support my ministry and pad the meager income of a church planter. In the process I had grown to love them all and thoroughly enjoyed watching them progress in their musical skills. So it was with deep disappointment that I discovered the reason behind this boy's request. He was wearing a t-shirt, the right sleeve of which hung limp, lifeless and empty. Lifting up his shirt he revealed his missing right arm, imprisoned in a sling.
"I broke my collar bone," he said glumly. "I was running in church and slipped and fell. The doctor says I may have to wear the sling for six weeks. I can only raise my arm about four inches before it starts to hurt.” As he spoke he lifted his arm slightly and grimaced with pain. “How can I play the piano with only one hand? Is there anything I can do?”
"Of course there are things we can do," I answered reassuringly. "We can do our scales and exercises with only one hand. Just think how strong and coordinated your left hand will be after six weeks of getting all the attention."
His half-hearted attempt at a smile told me he could see through my false enthusiasm. Scales and exercises are far more drudgery than joy for most musicians. They are the means to an end, necessary evils on the way toward the goal of making music. But with the ability to make music temporarily withheld, the motive for the grunt work was all but nonexistent.
“Why don’t we sit down at the piano and discover what we can still do?” I offered trying to sound as positive as I could. Reluctantly, the boy plopped down on the piano bench and began working through some scales, but it was obvious his heart wasn’t in it. After watching him labor dispassionately for a few minutes over some one-handed keyboard calisthenics, I decided on a different approach.
"Let's have some fun together!" I announced. We had previously learned some simple, three-note chords and I surmised that now was the perfect opportunity to put that knowledge into action. After reviewing and numbering the chords, I explained to my wounded protégé that I would call out a number and he was to play the corresponding chord in rhythm and continue playing it until I called out a different number. Intrigued by the new approach to his piano lesson the boy’s demeanor seemed to improve slightly.
Once we had a few practice measures behind us I began playing some simple melodies over his left-handed accompaniment. The room was filled with the sounds of “Jingle Bells,” “Ode to Joy,” “It’s A Small World After All,” and “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” The results by any standard were crude, but my intentions were rewarded with a huge smile and a giggle from my student as he realized what we were able to accomplish together. I provided the right-hand melody, he provided the left-hand chords. Together we were making music. Did it sound all that great? Not really, but it impressed my student enough to keep him practicing while he only had use of one arm. Could I have played the music better all by myself? Of course, but that wasn't the point. My aim, my joy was in enabling him to become successful in spite of his brokenness. Since that day I have taught all my piano students using this same method realizing that partnering together motivates them toward greater achievement.

We stand before our Master in a state of sin and brokenness, our souls imprisoned by a sling of frustration. We have tried to do great things for Him only to slip, fall, and fail. Everything we have taken upon ourselves to accomplish for Him seems to have fallen far short of perfection. In our hearts we know there is something missing; something has gone terribly wrong.
"Is there anything I can do?" we plead, searching for an answer to our desire for significance and longing to be whole.
“Of course there is," answers the Master Teacher. “You can always read and study Scripture and draw near to Me through prayer and meditation. Just think how much closer the two of us will become! Prayer and Bible study aren’t just the means to an end; they are not just the way to become better equipped to serve. Intimacy with Me is the end; it is your primary goal!”
“But I want to accomplish something truly great for You,” we whine.
“Nothing done in My name is insignificant in God’s eyes,” He replies. “But now that you have discovered how difficult success is without allowing Me to work through you, let's have some fun together. I will call out a direction; you follow and continue following until I call out a different direction. Listen carefully to My instruction and obey what you hear. Over your accompaniment I will play the sweet melody of my will. Together, we will make beautiful music and accomplish more than you can dream."

What's the message? Ministry is not for soloists. Not only does it require a group of committed, faithful believers partnering together to advance the kingdom, it also requires the hands of the Master Teacher. Without Him we are broken, handicapped, powerless, and hopeless. We might as well try to serve Him with one hand. But when we join in a love duet with Him, allowing Him to lead, He "is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine according to his power that is at work within us." – Ephesians 3:20. Will the results bring critical acclaim? Perhaps not in this world, however all of heaven may very well erupt in thunderous applause. Could He do it better all by Himself? Of course, but that isn't the point. His aim, His joy is in enabling us to become successful in spite of our brokenness. He knows that partnering together will motivate us toward greater achievement.
“Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed…continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose.” – Philippians 2:12-13. “If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” – John 15:5.
Let's not be discouraged over our inabilities, for it is when we admit our brokenness that Christ says to us, "Let's have some fun together!" "'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses so that Christ's power may rest on me." – 2Corinthians 12:9.
So He composes the music as we play. He leads, we follow. He plays the right hand; we accompany His melody with our left. It is a blessed partnership bringing satisfying significance and sweet success for us, and for Him, an opportunity to display His grace and power. What a thrill it is to play alongside the greatest musician of all time! What a blessing it is to be in concert with the Almighty! Together, we have a love duet of eternal joy. Together, we can make some awesome music!

Bill, a child of God in the midst of a love duet

"THE CANYON OF DOOM"

2009-01-30T14:26:00.000-08:00

“THE CANYON OF DOOM”
January 29, 2009

Hand in hand the two young girls looked down at the expansive chasm in front of them. The floor of the canyon was too deep to comprehend. To fall would mean certain destruction, yet they knew they couldn’t stay where they were. The opposite edge of the cliff was some ten feet away. How could they possibly jump that far?
“It’s too far; we’ll never make it!” they cried.
“Give it your best shot,” I replied. “Salvation is waiting for you across the canyon. Somehow you have to find a way to get to the other side.”
After taking a deep breath the two glanced at each other and then leaped out into space. Tragically, they failed to make it even halfway. Their bodies had barely slammed into the ground before one of girls groaned frustratingly and tossed a bitter complaint in my direction.
“See, I told you it was impossible!”
“No, it’s not,” I answered. “Look at me; I’m standing right in the middle of the canyon and I’m not falling. You have to know the secret; you have to know where the bridge is. Come back to your starting place and I’ll tell you the secret.”
We were in the midst of a very special gathering of one of our house churches. In a few minutes we would be baptizing three adults, but they had asked us if it would be okay to immerse their daughters as well. The girls were only nine years old but had been active in church for years and seemed to really be intent on surrendering to Christ that evening. I decided it would be advantageous to endeavor to present the Gospel to the girls in a way which would be easily understood in order to make sure they new what they were doing and had the right motives. I figured it also wouldn’t hurt for the girls’ parents to hear the story of grace one more time before they were buried with Jesus.
On the wooden floor of the family room where we were gathered I marked out an area which I called, with great dramatic flair and a fake echo, the “Canyon of Doom.” I described the abyss as being incredibly deep and made certain that the edges of the canyon were too far apart to jump across. Placing the girls on one edge of the gulf I pointed to the other side and explained…
“That is heaven, God’s home. He loves you more than you can possibly imagine and He desperately wants you to be with Him on the other side so you can live with Him forever. However, you are separated from Him by this canyon. The ‘Canyon of Doom’ isn’t His idea, it’s ours. We dig this great pit when we sssssssssssssin.” As I spoke that word I did my best imitation of a hissing snake.
“We sssssssin when we do something God has told us not to do, or when we don’t do something He has asked us to do,” I continued. “In fact, if we even think about sssssssinning the Bible says it’s the same as actually sssssssssinning. Have you ever done something you knew you shouldn’t have, or even just thought about doing something bad?”
The sheepish look on the girls’ faces told me they knew they were guilty. “Then you have both helped to dig out this canyon,” I declared dramatically. It was at this point that I asked the two to attempt to jump across the abyss. After they had failed miserably and been dashed to pieces upon the ground far below I explained what they had just learned.
“You were partially correct when you said this is impossible. There is no way we can get to the other side by ourselves. But fortunately, we don’t have to depend on our own abilities to get us there. God has made a way for us. He loves us so very much that He sent His only Son, Jesus, to build a bridge across the ‘Canyon of Doom’ for all those who want to live forever with God in heaven. The Bible says that everyone who sssssssins must die. That was God’s rule which He set up when He first created man. And ever since then, from Adam and Eve all the way down to you and me, every single person has sssssssinned; everyone, that is, except Jesus.
“The ‘Canyon of Doom’ has existed almost from the very beginning of time and every one of us has done our part to dig it. We all deserve to die because we have broken God’s rule. Jesus is the only one who doesn’t deserve to die, but He died anyway, willingly. He was nailed to the cross and died, not for His own sins because He wasn’t guilty of anything, but for our sssssssins. The good news is He didn’t stay dead. He came back to life and now lives with Father God in heaven. Jesus died for our sssssssins so we would have a way to get across the ‘Canyon of Doom’ and live forever with Him in heaven.”
As I was speaking I grabbed a couple of large beach towels that had been brought out for the baptisms and placed them on the floor in the shape of a cross. I then instructed the girls to walk on the cross from one side of the canyon to the other. As they did so I quoted this Scripture. “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” – John 14:6.
“There is no other way we can get to heaven,” I further explained. “You can be as good as you think you can possibly be, but just like you couldn’t jump across the canyon, you’ll never be good enough to earn a trip to heaven. The only way to get there is through the cross of Jesus. Passing through the cross of Jesus means passing through His death. Our old life which was filled with sssssssins must be done away with, put to death and buried, so that our new life with Jesus can begin. That is what baptism is meant to represent. Going under the water pictures our old self dying and being buried just like Jesus died and was placed in the tomb. When we come up out of the water it pictures our resurrection, just like Jesus came out of the tomb alive. Now, is this still what you both want to do?”
They were both enthusiastically positive. We talked for awhile about what it means to trust fully in Jesus, to follow Him wherever He leads and to obey whatever He says. Then we prayed and both girls asked Jesus to be the Lord of their lives. A few minutes later we walked out to the backyard hot tub and witnessed five people being buried with Jesus in baptism. It was especially touching to watch a brand new Christian father whom I had just baptized, turn around and immerse his own daughter. A few moments later another family was likewise united in their new faith with the mother doing the task of laying her daughter beneath the water and raising her up again. The “Canyon of Doom” was robbed of five souls that evening, and heaven was surely rejoicing!
Since that glorious night it has occurred to me that other canyons of doom lie in wait to gobble up unwary pilgrims. These great chasms are also of our own making and, tragically, they separate us from one another. But unlike the canyon which separates us from God, we can actually do something in our own strength to cross this abyss. I’m talking about the gulf that exists between the Church and the unbelieving world.
Just beyond the reach of our media-enhanced sermons, just out of earshot of our professional praise bands, just outside the limits of our dynamic youth programs, in the shadows of our stained-glass temples, and next door to our house churches exists a world of people who, for whatever reason, will likely never attend our gatherings. They may be as close to us as the cubicle next to our own work station, or the customer across the check-out counter, or the coach of our children’s little league, or the fan sitting next to us at the ball game, or the neighbor on the other side of our fence. Yet a tremendous gulf exists between them and the body of Christ. It is a canyon partly of their own making, but also largely of our own doing. It is a canyon which must be bridged or else millions of souls will fall, perishing with their sssssssins and become forever shut out from heaven.
We have divided up the Church into tightly fused, homogeneous gatherings, both large and small, whose members seem to spend the bulk of their ministry time enjoying the rich fellowship we have in Jesus. In so doing we have acquired a habit of neglecting those outside the Church who are falling into the great “Canyon of Doom” at an alarming rate. We have a tendency to look upon our gatherings as a safe haven around which we manage to dig a culturally unique moat that effectively separates us from the ones who have not yet found the way to God through Jesus Christ. It’s not that our church culture is so terribly wrong; it’s just so terribly different from the world that it requires a translation in order for those on the other side to comprehend our message.
It is high time we lower the drawbridge, cross over the moat, and find ways of connecting with the lost community that surrounds us. If God so loved the world that He sent His Son to be the bridge across the “Canyon of Doom” shouldn’t we reflect that same sacrificial love and strive to build bridges across the chasms that have been created between the Church and our communities? If we are striving to be like Christ shouldn’t we, like Christ, be sacrificing our lives in order to reach out to those who are doomed to perish, who don’t know how to cross the gulf that separates them from salvation?
Six years ago when we began the transition from a traditional church into a home gathering I struggled over the loss of my identity as a Pastor and the loss of income I had relied upon for much of my life. I felt in my heart that we were being obedient to God but I often complained to Him about the sacrifices we were making. Forced to find a way to make a living I fell back on my earlier training as a musician and began teaching private music lessons. One day the parents of one of my piano students, a Singaporean couple, began asking questions about our house church. Intrigued, they asked if it would be possible to start a gathering in their home. We were, of course, delighted to help them and soon a new church was planted.
At the first gathering of this new church I met another couple and their young daughter, all friends of the host family who had invited them. Less than a year later this second family, a mom and dad and their daughter, and my piano student and her father, were all baptized into Christ in a hot tub in the backyard of the second family’s home. It is their story I shared with you earlier in this article, a story which would not have occurred if God had not forced me out of the comfort of our own church gathering and into the community, out of the familiarity of being a member of the professional clergy and into the risky, uncertain world of self employment.
Looking back at it all now I am amazed at the wisdom of God and feel wonderfully blessed to be a part of His plan to spread the Gospel to people from a completely different culture, people I would never have met had I not escaped the confines of our own church. As we were toweling off from those baptisms the other night, we prayed that they would be just the first fruits of many who would come to Jesus through this new church. Only God knows the legacy of fruit that will be born from bridging this cultural chasm.
God has also led us to begin a church gathering in the home of a Hispanic family which has led to several of them accepting Christ as their Lord and Savior. This new church is unique in that some of them speak no English and I speak no Spanish. Love, however, seems to be a universal language which is capable of bridging the widest gap. Love needs no translation! Again, these are people who never would have been reached had we not broken through the walls of our own church and crossed over a cultural divide.
The Master Bridge Builder has been teaching us to open our eyes and look at the other side of the chasm. It is filled with people yearning to find a way across, a massive harvest waiting to be brought to the Lord. Yet between us and all that potential fruit there exists a great gulf, a “Canyon of Doom.” It is a canyon because there is so much that separates the Church from the harvest, and it is doom because if we fail to bridge the gap the harvest will be lost. Even now people very near to us are falling into the great abyss. Even now the Lord of the harvest is begging us to pray for more workers to be sent out from the safety and comfort of the barn into the harvest field.
“Do you not say, ‘Four months more and then the harvest’? I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest.” – John 4:35. “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.” – Luke 10:2. “Then he said to his servants, ‘The wedding banquet is ready, but those I invited did not deserve to come. Go to the street corners and invite to the banquet anyone you find.’ So the servants went out into the streets and gathered all the people they could find, both good and bad, and the wedding hall was filled with guests.” – Matthew 22:8-10. “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.” – Matthew 28:19-20.

Bill, a child of God bridging the canyon

"A LEGACY OF FAITH"

2009-01-17T13:23:00.000-08:00

“A LEGACY OF FAITH”
January 16, 2009

With undying determination, a spirit of adventure, and an unshakeable faith in their Lord, William and Eliza Huntington packed their earthly belongings into a covered wagon and headed west across the Oregon Trail. After what must have been a harrowing journey they settled a few miles up the Cowlitz River from where it flows into the mighty Columbia in what is now Washington State. In the shadow of Mt. St. Helens and next to a large outcropping of rock resembling a castle, they began farming the land, planted an apple orchard, and set about carving a community out of the wilderness. William became the postmaster for the area and named the small community Castle Rock. Later, he became a county commissioner, a territorial representative, a senator, and was eventually appointed to be a U. S. Marshal for the territory by Abraham Lincoln.
Okay, so he was a great man who lived a long time ago. But why am I telling you all of this? William and Eliza just happen to be my great, great grandparents. Who I am today in Christ and whatever God is able to accomplish through me in His ministry is due in part to their legacy of faith.
“Why are we getting off the freeway here?” asked my wife sleepily as she awoke from a nap and raised the back of her car seat up to a more vertical position.
“This is Castle Rock,” I replied as I steered the car onto Huntington Avenue. “Some of my ancestors were Huntingtons. I believe I have some roots here in this town and I’ve always wanted to stop and explore the place. We’ve never had the time to do so before now, but if you don’t mind I’d like to at least drive around the community awhile. I remember coming here as a small boy when we’d visit Uncle Johnny and Aunt Lida. They had a large house near an apple orchard, or at least it seemed large to me at the time. I think I remember my brother saying the house was torn down but I’d like to check it out just the same.”
We were driving from our home in the San Francisco Bay area to visit my siblings and their families in Olympia, Washington for Thanksgiving when a powerful urge compelled me to exit the highway and do a little searching for my roots. Entering the town of Castle Rock is like passing through a time warp and ending up in the 1950’s. Except for a school and a nearby church, it seems as though the entire community took a vote and decided not to advance with the rest of the world. After crisscrossing the quiet streets for a few minutes I couldn’t see any house that looked familiar. It was then that my wife discovered a little museum which doubled as the office for the local chamber of commerce.
“Why don’t we stop and see if they have any information about your heritage,” suggested my wife. “As long as we’re here, let’s do some more exploring.”
After a little coaxing I turned the car around and parked in front of a small storefront labeled “Exhibit Hall.” Inside an elderly woman greeted us and, upon learning I was related to the Huntington family, urged us to look around the museum. There on the wall near the front desk was a picture of William and Eliza Huntington along with a short biography. After reading the small print I exclaimed with a mixture of joy and pride…
“These are my great, great grandparents! These pictures were donated to the museum by my uncle Jesse Moon. He mentions they are his great grandparents so for me we can just add one more “great.”
Immediately, the elderly curator began treating us like royalty insisting we see all the other exhibits in the place. As we looked through the historical artifacts and marveled at the pictures of destruction from the eruption of Mt. St. Helens she told us what she knew about the Huntington family. Not only was William the first postmaster and a successful politician, he was also instrumental in planting the first church in the area and served as its preacher for several years. Suddenly it dawned on me why the Spirit had urged me to take a small detour from our trip. There was something more than just a familial ancestry waiting to be discovered. These intrepid pioneers had also contributed to a legacy of faith which had been passed down through the years as well.
The house I played in as a small boy no longer existed. Apparently the property was sold to the school district and the house was torn down to make room for a new school. However, the curator mentioned that we should stop by and see the Huntington memorial at the south edge of town. Happily we agreed to do so.
Resting next to the rock which gave the town its name a granite memorial stands in tribute to William and Eliza and their family. I carefully brushed the leaves from around its base in order to read the full message carved into its face.

HUNGTINGTON PIONEERS
1852
James & Maria Benjamin & Jerusha
Jacob & Susan William & Eliza

These brothers with their families selected the Cowlitz on which to make their abode and convert a wilderness into homes for their loved ones. Loyal and devoted to their Lord and country they left a lasting example of courage and self reliance for which all following generations may well be proud. II Chron. 15:7

The text went on to mention that the memorial stands on the north portion of William’s donation land claim and states that he gave the town its name and served as its first postmaster. The memorial was presented to the city by the Huntington family in 1952 one hundred years after William and Eliza first arrived in the area.
After returning home I have been thinking about this pioneering family and the legacy of faith which they left behind. I know nothing about their immediate children but one of their grandchildren, Bessie Huntington, married a handsome young, circuit riding preacher named Everard Moon who often came by to preach at the Christian Church in Castle Rock. Bessie graduated from Castle Rock High School in 1908 (Her graduation picture is on display at the museum). She got married the same year and spent her honeymoon traveling with her groom to Africa to engage in pioneer mission efforts in the Congo. After serving in Africa for many years they also ministered in Jamaica.
Right where the Congo River crosses the equator, at the Bolenge Mission Station, Bessie gave birth to my mother, Eleanor Moon. A couple of decades later back in this country at a college in Indiana where her father was teaching missions, Eleanor fell in love with and married a young divinity student named Don Hoffman. Together they ministered in churches in Indiana, Ohio, and Idaho where I was born. Later, Don and Eleanor also entered the mission field in England.
I had heard vague stories about Uncle Billy (William Huntington) coming out west in a wagon train but I never remember hearing about his faith. Now that I know more of the history of this great man I am humbled to think that my own faith was handed down to me through at least four generations. Were it not for William and Eliza’s dedication to the Lord my own faith history might be completely different. In fact, the faith of these two has opened the door for hundreds and probably thousands of people from across Africa, Europe, the Caribbean, and throughout this country to come to Christ. Tragically, they both died without seeing how their faith has continued to spread like a virus through generation after generation. But I have a feeling they might be well aware of their legacy now as they receive the grateful accolades of their beloved Lord in heaven. The Scripture reference on the Huntington memorial seems to be most appropriate. “But as for you, be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded.” – 2Chronicles 15:7.
Do you find this as encouraging as I do? I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been to carve out a living on the American frontier. Yet William and Eliza did so with their faith intact, advancing the kingdom of God and leaving a lasting legacy of faith for future generations. And they did all this without having a clue as to what their legacy would be. It makes my trials seem like child’s play in comparison. My complaints about the difficulties of ministering in the Bay Area don’t seem to carry much weight any more. I am, however, rededicating myself to passing on the legacy of faith handed down to me. Realizing how hard past generations in my family have labored for the Lord makes me want to double my efforts to make certain the legacy doesn’t stop with me. I hope and pray that long after I have left this earth people who have been touched with the message of Jesus Christ through me, both my immediate family and my extended faith family, will be passing along the same legacy of faith to others.
“He decreed statutes for Jacob and established the law in Israel, which he commanded our forefathers to teach their children, so the next generation would know them, even the children yet to be born, and they in turn would tell their children.” – Psalm 78:5-6. “One generation will commend your works to another; they will tell of your mighty acts.” – Psalm 145:4. “Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them.” – Deuteronomy 4:9. “And the things you have heard me say in the presence of many witnesses entrust to reliable men who will also be qualified to teach others.” – 2Timothy 2:2.
By the way, everyone who has read this article has just become a part of a legacy of faith stretching back over a hundred and fifty years, all the way to William and Eliza Huntington. Whether your own faith heritage can be traced back for generations or it has begun with you, hundreds and perhaps even thousands are waiting for the legacy to be passed on to them. As many have often said, the Christian faith is always just one generation away from extinction. However, just as a small object when placed in front of a light source can cast an ever-widening shadow, one individual with undying determination, a spirit of adventure, and an unshakeable faith in the Lord can cast an ever-widening influence of belief across many generations and indeed around the world. The challenge is this: Don’t let the legacy die with you!

Bill, a child of God passing on a legacy of faith

"FEAR FACTOR"

2009-01-16T21:02:00.000-08:00

"FEAR FACTOR"
January 9, 2009

"There's someone walking around in the kitchen!" Tiffany whimpered. Her statement was subdued but there was no hiding the fear in her voice.
Startled out of my slumber I glanced at the clock on my nightstand...12:30 am. Sleep would have to be postponed. My daughter needed me to come to her rescue, to provide peace, comfort and protection in the midst of her anxiety. Usually late night interruptions would annoy me, but not this time. I jumped at the opportunity to play dad, relishing in my mind the thought that she needed me once again. It had been nearly two years since I had walked her down the aisle and given her away to another "protector." Now she had returned home for a few days to help refurbish my office and rekindle a relationship that time and distance had allowed to cool.
Since my office now occupied her old bedroom (one of the perks of having children move away from home) she had been sleeping on the futon in our family room, just a few feet away from the kitchen and the terrifying sounds of an intruder. So who, or what, had awakened my daughter and created the panic that took her upstairs to be in the presence of her father? No matter, beast or burglar, I was there to protect her. Grabbing my flashlight and stepping into my slippers I bravely led my daughter back downstairs, creating as much noise as possible and flipping on light switches as we went. Perhaps we could convince the intruder that I was a 250 lb. linebacker and thus frighten our adversary into running away. Okay, so it was a stupid idea, at least all the noise and bright lights made us feel more courageous.
A quick check of the windows and doors found them all securely closed and locked. A further detailed, room by room search of the downstairs came up empty. No burglar, no murderer, no vicious animal...nothing! My fatherly duty had been accomplished; it was time to call it a night.
"It was probably just a mouse," I said matter-of-factly. Oops, wrong answer! I had forgotten that to Tiffany, murderers and mice are equally feared. Having planted the thought in her mind I had only to wait another fifteen minutes before my little blunder bore fruit. She appeared in our bedroom once again, this time carrying her pillow and planning to stay.
"There's a mouse in the kitchen!" she proclaimed. "I heard it scratching and running across the floor!"
Once again I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, reached for my flashlight, donned my slippers and headed downstairs. This time we carefully searched all the kitchen cupboards, along the baseboards, and behind the fridge looking for any tell-tale signs of rodents. As before, this search also turned up nothing.
Rather than call off our quest, we decided on a new tactic. Turning off all the lights we sat down and waited...and waited...and waited. Sure enough, after about twenty minutes of darkness and low whispers, our patience was rewarded with a tiny sound, a faint shuffling across the linoleum.
"Did you hear that?" whispered my daughter.
I sprang into action and shined the flashlight in the direction of the kitchen trash can. And there, scooting across the floor, looking ever so threatening, was a ferocious, man-eating..................MOTH!!! Without hesitation, with total disregard for my personal safety, and with all the courage I could muster I reached for my weapon of choice, a trusty fly swatter, took aim, and let the heinous intruder have the full measure of my wrath. In a split second the fire-breathing dragon lay slain on the battlefield and my damsel-in-distress was gloriously saved. As she gratefully swept up the remains of the vanquished enemy I flushed with pride over my stunning victory. Well, truthfully I nearly died laughing over wasting so much time worrying about something so tiny. Nevertheless, it was gratifying being able to come to the aid of my daughter. Isn’t that what fathers are supposed to do?
Why is it that our fears most often prove to be vastly out of proportion when compared to the reality of the dangers we actually face? Is it because we let our imaginations run wild? Or is it the result of watching too many frightening movies and TV shows? Or do we just have too little faith? I suspect all three reasons are probably true, but lack of trust in our Lord may be the greatest cause of irrational fear, or any fear for that matter.
“Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” – Matthew 10:28-31. "The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?" – Psalm 27:1.
I guess it is pretty easy to be apprehensive about the future these days. With war escalating in the Middle East, India and Pakistan on the verge of a nuclear holocaust, terrorism on the march, the persecution of Christians on the rise throughout the world, a severe economic crisis in full swing, global climate change threatening our very existence, political upheaval in this country, and riots breaking out here in the Bay Area, it’s understandable that we might find ourselves entertaining a little anxiety. Yet the Bible makes it clear that faith and fear cannot coexist.
“You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” – Matthew 8:26. “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” – John 16:33. “…for everyone born of God overcomes the world. This is the victory that has overcome the world, even our faith.” – 1John 5:4.
What should we do when we find ourselves overcome by fear? Take a hint from my daughter and take your panic upstairs. Spend some time in the presence of your heavenly Father. Bring your pillow and plan on staying awhile. No other protector will do. Far from being annoyed He will jump at the opportunity to play dad and take joy that you are counting on Him to come to your rescue, to provide peace, comfort, and protection in the midst of your highest anxieties. He will also shine His light on your fears revealing how unfounded they really are. And He's certainly bigger than a 250 lb. linebacker!
“Strengthen the feeble hands, steady the knees that give way; say to those with fearful hearts, ‘Be strong, do not fear; your God will come, he will come with vengeance; with divine retribution he will come to save you.’” – Isaiah 35:3-4. "For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you." – Isaiah 41:13.
So, sleep well tonight. No murderer, mouse, nor moth; no dragon, economic downturn, nor medical diagnosis; no terror in the night, termination of employment, nor trial of our faith dare threaten our peace. Our Dad stands ready to come to our aid! Isn’t that what dads are supposed to do?
“…because God has said, ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.’ So we say with confidence, ‘The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid.’” – Hebrews 13:5-6.

Bill, a child of God resting in His peace

"SEAGULL SERMONICS"

2009-01-03T10:39:00.000-08:00

“SEAGULL SERMONICS”
January 2, 2009

Okay, I didn’t actually hear it speak, but the message came through loud and clear just the same. It was a heavenly homily delivered in pantomime by way of an indifferent, unflappable, nearly motionless seagull perched contentedly about five feet from where I sat. The fowl expositor was magnificently robed in grey and white feathered vestments, a stunning figure silhouetted against a sparkling clear azure sky. The sermon was profound in its simplicity and penetrating in its power, the envy of any serious Bible college student. I can still remember my homiletics professor from seminary often repeating his sage advice, “The fewer words you can use to get your point across, the better.” This closed-beak elocutionist would have definitely earned high marks. As the only congregant in attendance to witness this inspiring silent discourse I sat spellbound before the rocky pulpit of the nonchalant yet mesmerizing preacher absorbing every moment of its Sunday morning lecture. Fortunately, I took some detailed notes of the sermon in order to share the winged wisdom with you.
My wife, Babs, and I were taking advantage of an after-Christmas lull in our schedules to get away for a couple of days in order to celebrate our wedding anniversary and rest up after the hectic holiday season. A two-night stay at a quaint bed and breakfast on the beautiful Monterey Bay Peninsula was a perfect cure for our weary souls. On Sunday morning, the last day of our mini-vacation, we decided to spend some time at the beach hoping to squeeze every ounce of relaxation out of our brief stay in paradise. Finding a spot where a sea-worn outcropping of rocks jutted far out into the bay, I took to exploring the tide pools while Babs stayed behind taking photographs.
The mid-morning sky was perfectly clear and the temperature was in the high fifties although a stiff northerly breeze found me zipping up my jacket to stay warm. Climbing atop a large rock near the water’s edge I sat down to enjoy the dynamic spectacle of the surf violently pounding against the shore. It was an idyllic setting, one which called up a fresh surge of love from my heart for the Creator. Before long I was singing praise songs to the Lord, thoroughly enjoying the impromptu worship service, content to know that God was the only one who could hear my exultation, or so I thought.
Turning around to check on my wife I was startled to discover a seagull standing about five feet away from me. I was amazed that it was perched so close to my position. Apparently it was totally undaunted by my presence and undisturbed by the breakers crashing into the rocks a few feet away. Looking again out toward the ocean I asked the Lord if He had any word for me. I longed to hear something from Him, a message of hope and cheer, of inspiration and direction, yet the only answer I received was silence. The pounding surf seemed to drown out everything else, including the Holy Spirit.
The violence of the waves breaking upon the jagged rocks just in front of where I sat reminded me of all the turbulence in our lives at the present time. Our own financial situation has taken a turn for the worse along with our nation’s economy. The New Year is bringing with it a cut in my wife’s hours at work which means we are losing our insurance benefits. Our retirement funds have been grossly depleted with the falling stock market. Our five-year adjustable rate mortgage is about to come due which will lead to our house payments increasing substantially. And we are just two among millions who are struggling to get by in this recession. Our government is going through tremendous upheaval with the change in administrations. War is heating up in the Holy Land. Many other conflicts are raging out of control around the world. Wave after wave of strife seems to be crashing down upon us just like the mighty breakers continue to pound against the shore. Please God, don’t you have a word of encouragement for your weary servant?
Once again I was moved to turn around and stare at the seagull perched so calmly nearby. Incredibly, it had tucked one of its legs up underneath its belly and closed its eyes. Amidst all the surrounding turbulence this amazing bird had gone to sleep. Why is this bird so undisturbed by the pounding of the surf? I thought to myself. Why is it so unconcerned with the breakers crashing so close to us? I am scared to death to take my eyes off of the waves for fear one will surprise me and wash me off this rock and into the sea. How can this bird be so unafraid?
Suddenly a passage of Scripture came to me from the book of Job. “Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from the womb, when I made the clouds its garment and wrapped it in thick darkness, when I fixed limits for it and set its doors and bars in place, when I said, ‘This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt’?” – Job 38:8-11.
Finally the silence was broken and the Spirit began to download His message. The seagull was unconcerned about the waves because it knew the Creator had set a boundary for the sea. Instinctively it knew where it was safe from the turmoil. In the same way, God has also set a boundary for the turbulence in my life. He has declared, “This far you may come and no farther…” I can rest secure in the knowledge that no violence, no upheaval, no waves of adversity can sweep over me that haven’t been given permission to do so by my Creator. “You set a boundary they cannot cross…” – Psalm 104:9.
I had been looking in the wrong direction. Rather than staring at the fierce breakers with increasing apprehension, I needed to focus on the seagull, asleep amidst the chaos. Rather than dwelling anxiously upon all the turmoil surrounding me I need to fix my eyes upon Jesus and rest secure in the knowledge that He has established the boundaries for adversity in my life. “The seas have lifted up, O Lord, the seas have lifted up their voice; the seas have lifted up their pounding waves. Mightier than the thunder of the great waters, mightier than the breakers of the sea—the Lord on high is mighty.” – Psalm 93:3-4. “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” – John 16:33.
Back in our car on the way home I shared the seagull’s sermon with Babs. “It was amazing,” I explained. “He had his tail toward the violent breakers which were crashing just a few feet away from us and his head was pointed in the opposite direction, into the wind. In the midst of all the chaos and turmoil he was sleeping.”
“Do you know why he was facing the wind?” she asked.
“I suppose it’s because he’s more streamlined that way and the wind is less likely to blow him off the rock,” I answered.
“He faces the wind because he’s ready to fly,” she responded. “Seagulls will take off into the wind; it takes less effort for them to get airborne. The stiffer the wind, the easier it is for them to soar.”
“Wow!” I exclaimed. “There is more to the seagull’s message than I first thought. God is telling us not to cower in fear when the winds of this troubled world are blowing against us. Instead, we need to face the adversity. Trials are not a sign that God has abandoned us, but rather a signal for us to be ready to take off. When the time is right the Lord will tell us to spread our wings and fly. The stronger the winds are blowing against us, the less effort it will take to get airborne and the easier it will be for us to soar.” “He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” – Isaiah 40:29-31.
That’s not a bad sermon considering it was delivered by a seagull, and very timely since we are entering into a New Year filled with uncertainty. Only God knows what the next twelve months will bring. To be sure they will be filled with chaos and turmoil. We can choose to focus on the breakers crashing around us or turn our attention to the bird sleeping in the midst of the upheaval. We can choose to be overwhelmed by the trouble throughout this world or fix our gaze upon the Lord who sleeps in the back of the boat in the midst of the storm. We can put our faith in our own feeble ability to dodge the waves, or we can place our trust in the One who set the boundary for the sea.
When the wind seems to be against us it isn’t time to panic or question the goodness of the Lord. It simply means we need to face the wind and be ready to fly. Faith is born from adversity. The stronger the wind, the higher we can soar. “…for everyone born of God overcomes the world. This is the victory that has overcome the world, even our faith.” – 1John 5:4.
I must admit to being a little envious of a seagull who can deliver such an inspiring homily, especially considering he did it without opening his beak. My prayer is that I will be able to pass along the same message, not in words, but in following the example set forth by that feathered pulpiteer of peace.

Bill, a child of God, ready to soar

"A LIVING NATIVITY"

2008-12-20T00:19:00.000-08:00

"A LIVING NATIVITY"
December 19th, 2008

"Did you get the message?" announced my mother as I burst through the front door of our home fresh from school and ecstatic over completing the last day of classes before Christmas break. "The casting director from the church youth group has called. It's your turn to be in the living nativity scene. What part will you be playing tonight?"
All of a sudden a cloud of doom was cast over what had promised to be an evening of joyful abandon with my friends celebrating the beginning of a two-week vacation from the drudgery of high school. It's not that I was totally devoid of the Christmas spirit, but standing outside for two boring hours in the frigid Idaho winter just wasn't the most exciting way for a teenager to spend the holidays. Unfortunately, as the preacher's son, it was pretty much expected that I would be a part of all the youth group activities, and this particular activity had been a tradition for the youth of our church for years. The only redeeming element in a night of pure torture was the possibility of playing "Joseph" and sitting next to "Mary" whose role on this night was being played by the most alluring girl in the youth group. But, as fate would have it, I was chosen to play the part of a lowly shepherd. Resigned to suffering through an evening of discouragement and tedium, I grudgingly donned my sack-cloth and rope costume and took my place in the back of the scene while the "upfronters," decked out in regal splendor, received all the attention and my best friend reveled in the coveted position of "Joseph." Sometimes life has no semblance of fairness.
The manger scene was crudely constructed with bails of straw for the walls and a roof of canvas that was stretched over unfinished wooden poles. “Joseph” and “Mary” sat on a bail of straw behind a makeshift, wooden manger. “Jesus” was played by a cheap, plastic doll, imprisoned in a tightly wrapped blanket and barely visible in a pile of straw. Due to the extreme cold the actors all wore ski parkas underneath their costumes, giving the entire ensemble the appearance of needing a few months of faithful attendance at "Weight Watchers." The amateur quality of the production was clearly evident as "Joseph" had to be constantly reminded to remove his eyeglasses and the three wise men all had sneakers protruding beneath their royal robes.
Adding to the emphasis of a live show, a local farmer had loaned us the use of a donkey, named Jenny, and a sheep. Jenny was incorrigibly stubborn and refused to be moved anywhere unless we held a handful of hay in front of her nose. The sheep was very old, totally blind, and could be moved only by grabbing her backside by her thick fleece, lifting her hind legs off the ground, and pushing her forward. Getting the animals positioned correctly was a major undertaking. Keeping them in place was next to impossible. Filling out the scene was a chicken-wire and papier-mâché camel, much smaller than the donkey and missing one side of its nose due to an accident in transit from its storage. A dime-store, tree-top star placed above the roof completed the scene which was staged outside the church building next to one of the busiest streets in town. A loud speaker blaring Christmas carols helped to attract attention from passing motorists.
As actors we passed the time cracking jokes, trying to stay warm, listening to the local rock 'n roll radio station on earphones hidden underneath our head scarves, and wondering if the director would ever come to tell us our time was up. It certainly wasn't the most spiritually meaningful part of the season for those of us in the youth group. But I have often wondered if, in our sloppy, haphazard, unprofessional production of a living nativity scene, we actually made a difference for those whose hectic holiday schedules brought them in their stress-filled hearts and package-laden automobiles to spend sixty seconds idling at a stoplight watching a living portrayal of the reason for the season.
That crude production of the Christmas story has been on my mind during the current season's controversy over public displays of the religious meaning of the holiday. Our culture seems to be sharply divided over this issue. For some reason the true meaning of Christmas seems to be offensive to a certain small minority of seasonal "Grinches" who are using the courts to force their secular will upon the majority. But why should we be so surprised over this phenomenon as though it was something new? From an unsympathetic innkeeper and a murderous king Herod up until the present anti-Christian climate in our courts and schools, there has always been a group of Christmas scrooges eager to rain on our holiday parade. While I certainly applaud those who are determined to stand up to such attacks on our religious freedom, allow me to suggest another, perhaps more effective course of action.
I propose we all determine to become a living nativity scene, not seasonally staged at a local church, but continually displayed in our everyday lives; not decked out in first-century costumes, but attired in humble acts of kindness; a fully portable, walking, talking, breathing picture of Christ's coming to earth. Such a scene could be taken with us wherever we went, on public property or private, in local schools or shopping malls, at the office or in a city park. This take-it-wherever-you-go crèche would be far more difficult to litigate against and, in my estimation, vastly more powerful in broadcasting the true meaning of Christmas to a truth-starved world.
Which roles would we all play? Actually, as Christians, we are directed to play them all. We can be a beast of burden bearing the load which others cannot carry by themselves, but our service must be the real thing not a scaled-down imitation full of holes, and we must be led by the Spirit not stubbornly intent upon following the gratification of our own desires. Since we know what it's like to be sheep, blind to the ways of God and resistant to His prodding, we should make wonderfully caring shepherds who with empathy and compassion can lead others to find their places in the scene. As wise men, rightly discerning God's Word, we can guide others who are searching for the light, as long as our "sneaker sins" don't distract them and our footing is well grounded in the truth. Like Joseph, we know the grace of being chosen to play a role in the family of God for which we have no real claim. Like Mary, God has placed in us the seed of ministries we can barely fathom as we look forward to the birthing of Spirit-impregnated, holy dreams.
Whether we serve as an "upfronter" or take our place in the back of the scene we all have many roles in this production, including that of Christ. In fact, we may be the only Jesus our neighbors ever see. Are they witnessing a cheap, plastic, motionless, mostly-hidden Christ, or do they see in us a living, active picture of loving kindness, mercy, peace, sacrifice, and grace? "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me." – Galatians 2:20. "...for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose." – Philippians 2:13.
Perhaps our message would receive more encouraging reviews if we spent less time agonizing over how our secular society has removed Christ from Christmas, and more time wondering how we can be Christ to our secular neighbors—less time fretting over how the ancient symbols of Christmas are being attacked, and more time being concerned about how we can make these symbols come alive in the present—less time looking back at God's miraculous incarnation in the Christ-child two thousand years ago, and more time dwelling on His no less miraculous, continuing incarnation through Christ living and ministering daily in us.
Phillip Brooks' timeless Christmas anthem says it well. "O holy Child of Bethlehem! Descend on us, we pray; Cast out our sin, and enter in; be born in us today." Whether we are fully aware of it or not, the Church comprises each year's nativity display, living and dynamic. We may believe our individual scenes are amateur at best, but when the attention is directed toward Jesus, the results can be heart-rending and powerful. "May the God of peace...equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen." – Hebrews 13:20-21.
Did you get the message? The Casting Director has called. It's your turn to be in the living nativity scene. What part will you be playing today?

Bill, a child of God and a grateful member of the cast

"THE DEATH OF JOY"

2008-12-13T14:15:00.001-08:00

"THE DEATH OF JOY"
December 13, 2008

A soft knock on my bedroom door barely roused me from a mid afternoon nap. With a frustrated groan and a full body stretch I reluctantly answered the door and was immediately ushered into full alertness by my youngest daughter, Trisha, peering at me pitifully through two of the saddest, eleven-year-old eyes I have ever beheld. At her side was her older sister, Tiffany, supporting her with a two-armed hug of consolation and comfort. Trisha's trembling, cupped hands lovingly caressed a tiny ball of gray, lifeless fur.
"Joy's dead," she sobbed in a halting, high-pitched squeak. "I thought he was sleeping but when I took him out of his cage to play with him he didn't move." Reliving her painful discovery was all it took to open the spillway and release a reservoir of tears which cascaded down her quivering cheeks.
Joy had been a much loved member of our household for almost a year, a long life span for a hamster. When the energetic ball of fluff first came home with us as a gift for Trisha from her school I knew in the back of my mind there would be a day all too soon when we would have to deal with saying our goodbyes. "What will you name him?" I asked.
With a sparkle in her eyes and a giggle of delight Trisha announced, "His name is Joy!" Although we suggested that Joy was a girl's name and might not be appropriate for a male hamster, Trisha would not be dissuaded. Once we saw the extreme pleasure Joy brought to her life we all agreed this special animal was aptly named.
But now Joy's brief sojourn with our family had sadly come to an end and looking at my grief-stricken daughter I wondered if joy would ever again be a part of Trisha's life. We did our best to console her. I mentioned that when she felt ready we could go down to the pet store and pick out another Joy. But to her, Joy was irreplaceable, a one-of-a-kind, treasured friend that was forever lost. Tiffany talked about losing one of her pet goldfish. "It took awhile but I got over it," she offered hoping to stem the flow of tears. Trisha, however, was not convinced and remained inconsolable.
"What do we do now?" I wondered to myself. For Tiffany's goldfish we had arranged a solemn, yet simple ceremony culminating in a "burial at sea.” In other words, we flushed it. Such a ceremony seemed unfitting in this case, especially given the size of the deceased and the tendency of our plumbing to back up. We opted for a shoebox coffin and an interment in our backyard garden. After a tearful eulogy and a family prayer, we laid Joy to rest beneath a maturing redwood tree, a symbol of eternal life, which in years to come would engulf the remains of Trisha's beloved pet. Death would be swallowed up by life.
It comes to mind that Trisha's encounter with the death of Joy is an oft-repeated experience for most of us as we journey through life. It's not that we all have pets named Joy who pass away. But we do have this tendency to attach enormous significance for personal happiness onto earthly possessions, the loss of which can bring us spiraling into an abyss of despair and threaten to forever bury our joy. We place an inordinate amount of hope upon current circumstances which can suddenly turn unfavorable and leave us grasping a handful of empty dreams. And we have a habit of depositing our joy in other people who will eventually, invariably disappoint us. Things, circumstances, and people comprise an unholy trinity of assassins bent on finding any door we leave open, breaking into the inner sanctuary of our heart, and ravaging our joy. At no time is this evil triumvirate more active than during the holiday season.
"Joy is dead," we announce as we grieve over our favorite football team's loss in the playoffs, or the loss of a career that has been "pink-slipped" into oblivion by a down turn in the economy, or the loss of a high percentage of our retirement savings in a bear market. “Peace on earth good will toward men? Bah, humbug!” we proclaim through mounting anger after being unfairly reprimanded by a boss, or haggling over the price of a sweater with an uncompromising salesclerk, or quarreling with an unreasonable spouse. "Will we ever know joy again?" we wonder to ourselves as we walk out of divorce court faced with living the rest of our life alone, or as we hear the word "malignant" coming from the lips of our oncologist, or as we watch a loved one being lowered into their grave.
This is the time of year when we should find ourselves singing “Joy to the World.” But how much joy is the world really experiencing these days? We are facing a global recession, corruption in politics, reports of a growing climate crisis, famine, pestilence, warnings of overdue earthquakes, and the war on terror which still rages out of control. Does it seem to you that this year’s Christmas caroling is a little less passionate than in years past? Many people cling to their dreams of the ideal Christmas—peaceful family gatherings, a spectacular pile of gifts under the tree, festive holiday decorations, and the perfect Christmas dinner—only to have reality fall far short of what they envisioned.
My wife has been enjoying watching all the holiday programming on television, especially the mini-dramas on the Hallmark channel. They all seem to end with the main characters joyfully singing around the perfectly decorated Christmas tree, their every concern having just been gloriously resolved, their every conflict having just been miraculously transformed into peace, while snow gently begins to fall outside the picture window. Tragically, life does not always provide us with a happy ending and the holidays seldom live up to our idyllic dreams. In fact, for most people, the Christmas season is by far the most stressful time of the year.
The problem isn't that we latch onto people, circumstances, and things with such passion or embrace the Christmas season with such idealism, but rather that we depend on them for our primary source of joy. Basing all our happiness on this conspiring trio of “joy thieves” sets us up for a nightmarish roller-coaster ride through life filled with breath taking climbs into ecstasy followed by gut wrenching dives into heartache. We become the marble on an emotional roulette wheel bouncing around from one passion to another until the eventual futility of it all drags us down into a slot of despair where our joy is gambled away while someone else walks off with the happiness we crave.
Is there any remedy for this emotional instability? Is there any hope of getting through this life, or even the holiday season, without burying our joy in the backyard? Yes, but only through Jesus. He is the safety strap that keeps us secure through the wild carnival rides of life, the sure bet on the fickle gaming tables of our emotions, the “peace plumber” who keeps the water of life flowing through our lives and labors at trying to prevent our happiness from being flushed, the “heart sheriff” who guards us from that which is determined to rob us of our joy. Placing our hopes on Him and Him alone is the only prescription that leads to everlasting joy. Keeping our focus upon Christ rather than Christmas is the only answer to stave off the holiday blues. What does the Lord of joy have to say about all this?
"I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." – John 10:10. "Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete." – John 16:24. "If you obey my commands, you will remain in my love…I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete." – John 15:10-11.
It seems obvious that Christ yearns for us to be filled with joy—continually, even throughout the Christmas season. "Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!" – Philippians 4:4. Jesus alone can be fully trusted to never leave us or forsake us. Only He can save us from the fleeting emotions of worldly passions. Only He can bring our lifeless joy back from the grave. Much more than a symbol, He is the real "tree of life" that swallows up the death of our joy. Much more than a season, He is the eternal Prince of Peace who continually enables us to bear any burden, endure any circumstance, and suffer any loss without losing any joy.
“The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces..." – Isaiah 25:8. "Everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away." – Isaiah 51:11. “Death has been swallowed up in victory!” – 1Corinthians 15:54. “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.” – Luke 2:10-11.
Trisha, I've got good news for you. Joy is alive and well!

Bill, a child of God, filled with His joy

"EIGHTEEN CANDLES"

2008-12-06T02:31:00.000-08:00

"EIGHTEEN CANDLES"
December 6, 2008

"For the hurt of the daughter of my people I am hurt. I am mourning; astonishment has taken hold of me." – Jeremiah 8:21.
One by one they are set ablaze, lit from the single "Christ candle" on the altar. Eighteen candles, eighteen children, eighteen tiny lives taken before they saw the light of day, ushered from the womb directly into the arms of their heavenly Father. The darkness of the church sanctuary this evening cannot extinguish the light of eighteen candles. The darkness encompassing the hearts of eight women cannot dim the hope of eighteen flickering flames. For weeks these hurting souls have gathered together to re-open chronically raw wounds of the past and expose them to the healing power of an infinitely compassionate and merciful God. Tonight they are ready, ready to pack up years of depression and despair, ready to turn their backs on anger and bitterness, ready to walk away from self-condemnation and shame. Tonight they have gathered to say goodbye to eighteen candles.
Lovingly, prayerfully they have chosen names, eighteen names for eighteen candles – eighteen names that will never grace the pages of any official documents – eighteen names that will never appear on a signature – eighteen names that will never graduate, make a scientific discovery, compose a song, preach a sermon, get married or bear children – eighteen names that will never answer on earth when called.
Tenderly, gently they hold on to eighteen candles with eight pair of grieving hands – hands that will never change the diapers of their missing children – hands that will never tuck them into bed – hands that will never soothe their hurts, calm their fears, applaud their achievements, braid their ponytails, tie their shoes, pack their lunches or lead them to their first day of school – hands that ache to caress what they cannot touch, long to feel the warmth of an embrace they will never know, reach for tiny fingers they will never grasp – hands that instead cling to the tragic reality of eighteen candles.
Mournfully, wistfully eight pair of eyes stare into the flames of eighteen candles and fill with tears – tears of regret for years of mothering that will never be, and tiny lives which will never grow up – tears of remorse for the burden of knowing their own decisions have led to this tragedy – tears of grief for their own lives which have suffered overwhelmingly with physical complications, the break up of marriages, mental and emotional instability, and self punishment by not feeling worthy of marriage or having more children or being loved by anyone including themselves. And there are tears of anger – anger over spouses, parents, doctors and well-meaning friends who talked them into a decision they will eternally regret – anger over those who never told them the truth about what they were doing – anger over being caught up in the world's most horrific holocaust – anger over eighteen candles.
"Oh, that my head were waters, and my eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people!" – Jeremiah 9:1. “A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because her children are no more.” – Jeremiah 31:15.
But there are also tears of release – tears that well up from the deepest recesses of their souls and, moved by the Spirit of the God of mercy and grace, wash away a raging torrent of anger, bitterness, self-condemnation and shame leaving behind an ocean of peace – tears that reflect the joy of knowing their darkest secrets, their most wicked sins, have been forever removed (“as far as the east is from the west" – Psalm 103:12) and forgotten by the God who gave His only Son to bear our sins in His body and suffer death on the cross in our place – tears that touch the heart of the God who is "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief" (Is. 53:3), who keeps an account of them (Ps. 56:8), and wipes them away with His everlasting love (Rev. 7:17).
Slowly, deliberately, with the calm assurance of knowing their lives are forever redeemed, miraculously transformed and joyously renewed, eight women rise to their feet and walk to the front of the sanctuary carrying in their trembling hands eighteen candles. One by one with a tearful farewell and with the certain knowledge that they will one day be joyfully reunited with their children, they extinguish the flames of eighteen candles into the one flame representing the light of Christ.
The memorial service has finished. Burdens have been lifted. Divine healing is well underway. Eight women are walking taller, smiling more profusely, making plans more confidently, and basking in the warmth of God's unfailing love, a love they have not allowed themselves to fully enjoy until now – a love they have never fully understood until now – a love they would not have fully known were it not for eighteen candles – eighteen reminders of how great was their sin – eighteen reasons to rejoice that God's grace is greater. Yet even now they cannot possibly comprehend the full measure of His love. Even now the brightness of God's presence cannot diminish the light of eighteen tiny flames freshly raptured from an earthly sanctuary and now dancing upon an altar of gold, frolicking in celestial clouds of glory, flickering in the gentle breath of the Almighty, reflecting in the pure water of the "crystal sea."
Suddenly, myriads of angels cease their winging. Cherubim and Seraphim hush their singing. All heaven turns toward the throne in reverence and awe marveling to see the Father, with His head in His hands, weeping – weeping over eighteen candles.

Bill, a child of God, privileged to be called to mourn for our lost children

"THE ACCOMPANIST"

2008-11-22T01:15:00.000-08:00

"THE ACCOMPANIST"
November 21st, 2008

"I think I'm in trouble!" he announced as I entered his home and began preparing for his weekly piano lesson. "I volunteered to play the piano for our church's Christmas program,” he continued, his voice betraying a mixture of both fear and pride. “Can you help me with the music?"
He stared at me wistfully through a pair of very eager, twelve-year-old eyes, his hands holding up a crowded folder of sheet music. It was clear his young ego had been seduced by being asked to perform for the yearly children's pageant. He appeared to be more than a little nervous but he was also obviously excited by the prospect of being on stage. Although he realized this experience would dramatically test his musicianship he seemed fairly confident that he could handle this important task. After all, hadn't I told him how talented he was? Hadn't I bragged to his parents and others about his potential? So why was I searching my mind for a delicate, tactful way of suggesting he might be in over his head?
Over the last three years I had watched as he rapidly progressed from an absolute beginner to an impressive, intermediate student capable of playing both classical and contemporary pieces including transposing some works by ear to a number of different keys. Among those I was currently teaching he undoubtedly exhibited the most talent. Yet as I leafed through the music for the children’s program I quickly realized it was considerably more advanced than his level of expertise. I had enough confidence in his ability that I felt with a few adjustments we could probably find a way to make it work. But something inside me brought forth a reluctance to agree to his request for my help.
Why was I so uneasy about encouraging him to accompany the Christmas production? Being an accompanist may be the most difficult task in the world of music. There are only a small handful of virtuosos who can perform a difficult composition in a way that always elicits enthusiastic applause from an audience and rave reviews from the critics. Yet there are even fewer musicians who are capable of accompanying such performers in a way that actually makes the virtuosos of the world sound even better. While every musician dreams of one day being the soloist who brings down the house in some great concert hall, not many aspire to being the lowly accompanist. Even though they are absolutely essential to a concert and their performance can make or break the way a soloist is received, the accompanist is fortunate if he or she gets one token bow and their name spelled correctly at the bottom of the third paragraph in the critic's column. For the most part they remain in the background, anonymous and under-appreciated. Remaining in the background and helping someone else sound good and get the applause does not come naturally to most musicians, nor does it come easy to most people in general, for that matter. However, realizing that my young student's church was very small and likely didn't have any other young person who could do an adequate job, I reluctantly agreed to help coach him through the performance.
"Remember," I told him often over the next several weeks, "the accompanist is not the star.”
“But I thought the piano player is sort of like the leader and that everyone else is supposed to follow him,” complained my young protégé one day.
“Your concept of leadership is highly flawed,” I responded. “As the accompanist, you must always follow whoever is singing, whoever is on stage. If they speed up, so do you. If they slow down, so do you. If they skip a measure, change the tune, forget the lyrics, or fall off the stage your job is to make everything sound like it was intentional. You exist to make them look good. At the end of the performance if the singers get a thunderous round of applause you have done your job well. If people applaud you more, you have likely failed."
Yes, the role of an accompanist may be the most difficult job in the world of music. But it strikes me that the role of a follower of Christ is very similar. Like an accompanist, we exist to help make the real virtuoso, Christ, appear to perform as flawlessly, minister as graciously, and relate to others as lovingly as possible. And like most musicians, being a servant does not come naturally to those of us in the church. Our egos crave the spotlight and hunger for applause. Yet we should count it as the richest blessing if others even briefly take notice of our efforts done for Christ. For the most part, Christian accompanists remain in the background, usually anonymous, almost always under-appreciated. "Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves...Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant..." – Philippians 2:3-7.
Incredibly, Jesus came to earth to be our accompanist, to make our performance better, to make us successful, to make us appear perfect in the eyes of our admiring audience, namely, God. Now we have been asked to play the part of an accompanist to the Accompanist, a servant to the Servant. How much more "in the background" could we be? And yet our Lord has chosen to make much of the success of His church dependant upon our performance. What an amazing honor, and what an amazing opportunity for failure. All it takes to destroy the concert is for us to control the stage, to dictate the tempo, to overshadow the Soloist, to drown Him out with our own music, to covet all the applause.
“But Bill,” others have complained to me, “what about the leaders in the church, you know, those whose job it is to stand before the congregation and preach or teach or lead worship or make decisions? Don’t they have the authority? Aren’t we supposed to follow our spiritual leaders?”
In many gatherings of the faithful, the concept of leadership is highly flawed. In the church, leadership should take on the mantle of servanthood. We are not to be the stars! Instead we are to sacrifice ourselves in order that others might be acclaimed; we are to yield the spotlight so others might receive the applause. We are, in fact, the accompanists for the accompanists of the Accompanist, the servants for the servants of the Servant. Jesus, Himself, is the perfect example of servant leadership. “You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” – Mark 10:42-45.
Does this mean Christian leaders are unnecessary? Are we better off without them? Of course not; otherwise, why would Scripture mention the spiritual gift of leadership (Romans 12:8)? Christian accompanists are essential to a concert and their performance can make or break how the true Soloist is received. The problem, tragically, is that true servant-hearted leaders are rare. Far too often the accompanist ends up stealing the spotlight away from Christ. Leadership in the church involves training up others to be accompanists, not soloists. That, of course, places leaders one more step further removed from the applause, as accompanists for the accompanist of the Accompanist.
My advice to my young student rings true on this stage as well. Remember, the accompanist is not the star; that billing always belongs to Christ. As the accompanist, we must always follow the Soloist. If He speeds up the tempo, so do we. If He slows it down, we match His pace. If He transposes to another key, we meet Him there. We must modify our playing to match His voice. If He changes the music in any way, we must follow Him and keep on playing no matter what. He is the composer, the conductor, the maestro, and the chief musician. The glory belongs entirely to Him. We exist to make Him look good! And leaders exist to help others make Him look good! "And whatever you do, whether in word or in deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus..." – Colossians 3:17.
At the Christmas pageant my talented young piano student did an admirable job accompanying all the other children. It wasn’t totally flawless, but he performed as I had taught him. He made the entire program sound better and kept the focus on stage, not on himself. As for me, I sat in the audience, anonymous and very proud of my student. It was reward enough for me to receive a hearty hug and a heartfelt “thank you” from the boy and his parents.
At the end of the performance if Jesus gets a thunderous round of applause, we have done our job well. If they applaud us more, we have likely failed. If our own identity is obliterated amidst the clamor of adoring fans rushing the stage to heap praise upon the Master for a performance we helped to accompany, then we are truly great in God’s eyes. But let us not complain about our anonymity. Instead, rejoice, my fellow accompanists, for a time is coming when we will walk out on the greatest stage ever created, bow before the largest audience ever assembled, and receive a long over-due standing ovation, along with the following words coming from the throne: “Well done, good and faithful servant!” – Matthew 25:21.

Bill, a child of God and just another lowly accompanist

"LOUDER PLEASE"

2008-11-15T00:59:00.000-08:00

"LOUDER, PLEASE!"
November 14, 2008

The momentary respite was a welcomed relief from the monotony of the flat, straight, desert road bisecting an endless sea of beige sand and lifeless gray shrubs. Long road trips are difficult enough to endure, but when you add summer temperatures and three small children to the mix you end up with a recipe for near insanity. Our family was traveling from Phoenix to Southern California when a roadside diner, the dinner hour, and three bored-to-tears, hungry, sweaty children all combined to demand a pit stop. The restaurant was clean, the menu was inexpensive and, of highest importance, the place was air-conditioned. I was pleased.
"Daddy, it's my turn to thank Jesus," announced Trisha as our food arrived at the table. Her four-year-old enthusiasm was gladly rewarded and we all bowed our heads, closed our eyes and waited for her prayer. However, unaccustomed to praying in such a large, noisy setting, she folded her hands in front of her face and with head bowed, spoke in a soft whisper audible only to herself and God.
"Louder, please," I interrupted. "No one can hear you."
It was then that Trisha proceeded to teach us a very valuable lesson about prayer and thanksgiving. She did exactly what I had requested; she spoke so that everyone could hear...EVERYONE! Her hands unfolded to form a megaphone for her mouth and with uplifted face she shouted at the top of her lungs. "DEAR JESUS, THANK YOU FOR THIS WOOONNNDERFUL FOOD! AND THIS WOOONNNDERFUL PLACE! AND THESE WOOONNNDERFUL PEOPLE! IN JESUS NAME, AAAAA...MEN!!!"
I must admit to opening my eyes during Trisha's prayer and looking around the room. I was profoundly embarrassed by her outburst and wanted to gauge everyone's reaction to determine how best to apologize to the other patrons. I could only guess that they must have been terribly disturbed. My wife buried her head in her hands and began laughing uncontrollably. Trisha's older sister was sinking out of sight in a desperate attempt to disappear under the table. Her two-year-old brother, with eyes twice their normal size, actually stopped moving for a few seconds (I'm not sure that has happened since).
But the reaction of the other diners was not at all what I expected. All over the restaurant conversations suddenly ceased and heads bowed in reverent silence. At the close of her prayer, several other "Amens" were heard along with some applause. In an instant, with her childlike exuberance and naiveté, Trisha had transformed a roadside diner into a cathedral of praise and a crowd of strangers into a church of prayerful worshippers. For one brief moment we were all collectively mesmerized by the divine inspiration of a child, she the impassioned preacher shouting out her thanksgiving, and we the surprised congregants suddenly, unexpectedly finding ourselves assembled together at the throne of grace and reminded of the benevolent love of our heavenly Father.
At what age do we lose that childhood enthusiasm, that unashamed boldness, that natural piety, that passion for the Divine? More importantly, how can it be regained? Why are we adults so subdued in our thanksgiving, so inhibited in our praise, so stifled in our witness? Unlike Trisha we are all too aware of the sensitivities of those around us and choose to express our faith with extreme caution so as not to offend anyone. After all we wouldn't want to disturb the unbelieving world with our too-exuberant praise and cause any embarrassment (mostly for us). But I wonder why our inhibitions seem to flee when we are extolling the virtues of our favorite sports team and cheering them on to victory. And why is it perfectly acceptable to shout for our favorite political candidate, but not for our beloved Lord? Interestingly, I know of no passage of Scripture where we are encouraged to "whisper a prayer" or "speak softly our thanks."
“Clap your hands, all you nations; shout to God with cries of joy.” – Psalm 47:1. "Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation. Let us come before him with thanksgiving..." – Psalm 95:1-2. "Shout with joy to God, all the earth! Sing the glory of his name; make his praise glorious!" – Psalm 66:1-2. "Shout with joy to the Lord, all the earth...Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise..." – Psalm 100:1, 4.
When was the last time you actually shouted for joy to the Lord in a worship service? How long has it been since you did so at the dinner table? I believe God was well pleased with Trisha's shout of thanksgiving, and likely disappointed with my embarrassment. Thank you, Trisha, for teaching us not to be ashamed of giving thanks, and not to be embarrassed to show the world our faith.
I have always been intrigued by the church’s response to its first major trial. Not long after the church had its explosive beginning, Peter and John were arrested by the Jewish authorities for healing a crippled beggar and using the miracle as an opportunity to preach about Jesus. After they were threatened and commanded not to ever speak or teach in the name of Jesus, the two apostles, upon their release, showed up at a prayer meeting. But what do you suppose they requested of the Lord during their prayer? Had it been me I would have begged the Almighty to rain down fire and brimstone upon those who were opposing our message and then I would have implored God to keep us safe from any harm. Yet what did these early Christian servants actually pray for?
“Now, Lord, consider their threats and enable your servants to speak your word with great boldness.” – Acts 4:29. God’s answer to their prayer is recorded just two verses later. “After they prayed, the place where they were meeting was shaken. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God boldly.” – Acts 4:31. Obviously, God was pleased with their request and the book of Acts chronicles the church’s continued amazing growth.
The message for us is clear; God blesses the efforts of His people when we live out our faith uncompromisingly and witness to others with great boldness. We may very well be entering a time of increased opposition, both from human as well as spiritual forces. Already we are struggling to minister in this region against an enemy which seems to be ramping up its attacks upon the church. I am guessing this rise in spiritual opposition is much more widespread than in just Northern California. How we respond to such adversity will make a huge difference in whether or not the kingdom in this locality, and around the world, is able to grow.
Papa God, consider the opposition we are already facing. In this area we have yet to undergo the severity of the persecution which the church had to endure when it first began nearly two thousand years ago. But nevertheless, we seem to be experiencing trials and setbacks on a daily basis. Papa, do not allow us to cower in fear. We pray for the boldness to speak, to give thanks, to pray, to praise, and to witness no matter where we may find ourselves and no matter who may surround us. Help us not to be intimidated by a world which is increasingly hostile, or to be ashamed of our Lord who boldly went to the cross for our sakes. We pray that the Spirit who led your servants, Paul and Silas, to sing praises in the midst of prison would lead us to give thanks in all circumstances. We pray that the Spirit who shook the place where your servants were praying for boldness, would once again shake up your church and enable us to speak your word with great boldness. And we pray for the wisdom to know when to speak and exactly what to say. For the sake of the growth of your kingdom in this area we implore you, Papa. We pray this in the name of Jesus, amen.
As I write these words we are less than two weeks away from celebrating another Thanksgiving Day in this country. As you gather with friends and family for your Thanksgiving meal, don't forget to give thanks. I recommend you do so with enthusiasm, no matter where you may be dining. Just don't be surprised if your blessing over dinner is interrupted by your heavenly Father saying, "Louder, please. No one can hear you!"

Bill, a child of God, boldly shouting for joy

"IDENTITY CRISIS"

2008-11-08T14:41:00.000-08:00

“IDENTITY CRISIS”
November 8, 2008

With its grayish-green scaled hide, spiked tail, and horned skull, the ferocious beast waddled awkwardly, yet menacingly toward the humble abode of the unsuspecting humans. In the waning darkness of early evening one of the front scales of the sinister serpent glowed eerily making its appearance even more terrifying. Closer and closer, with unmitigated determination, the dastardly dragon trudged toward the hapless inhabitants of the unfortunate home. Just before the beast lifted its paws to break down the walls of the house, the front door opened and a young woman appeared. Instantly she reeled at the sight of the raw, untamed force hungrily staring at her, now barley three feet away. Shrieking in terror the woman reached for something beside her and produced a large plastic bowl. The eyes of the frightening beast glared at the woman, then at the bowl. Suddenly, its mouth opened and out came a spine-chilling roar.
“Twick-er-tweet!”
The woman howled with laughter as she directed the beast to grab a handful of delicacies from the bowl. The beast greedily complied dropping the goodies into a plastic pumpkin-bucket it was carrying.
“Tank oo,” shouted the dragon (or was it a dinosaur?) as it rose to its full height of two feet and waddled off in search of the next victims.
Spending Halloween with our grandkids was a pure delight for Babs and me. But for Veronica, our little dragon, just twenty months old, it was an incredible adventure. For the first time she was experiencing the joy of masquerading as someone other than the sweet little girl we all know her to be—and being rewarded for it all with candy, tons of it. What wonderful fun!
It didn’t take long, however, for her little legs to tire of the sweet crusade. When she began playing with the safety glow-stick hanging around her neck, pulling off her costume and fussing to be carried, we knew it was time to bring the adventure to a close. At her home, with some help from her parents, the dragon skin was quickly shed and her true identity reappeared.
“There’s our Ronnie,” we all declared. “We wondered where you’ve been all this time. Did that nasty old dragon eat you? We’re sure glad he spit you back out. You look much better as a little girl.”
Masquerading as someone else can be a source of great amusement, but it has no place in the church. No, I’m not talking about banning Halloween parties. I’m raising my voice against Christ followers who have a bad habit of disguising themselves as something other than who they are in Jesus. Since the Holy Spirit has been rebuking me on the subject this week I hope you don’t mind if I pass along the criticism.
Some Christians, including me, periodically struggle with an identity crisis, or perhaps it’s a recurring case of spiritual amnesia. At any rate, we all too frequently find ourselves masquerading as someone entirely out of character for a true believer. Instead of shining like saints, we participate in deeds of darkness. Instead of wearing His righteousness given to us freely in Christ Jesus, we attempt to create our own costume of good works. Instead of displaying the joy of the Lord, we cover ourselves with gloom and doom. Instead of revealing a life of faith, we wear a mask of fear. Instead of surrounding ourselves with the glory of His abundance, we immerse ourselves in the false reality of our need. Instead of bearing the dazzling uniform of a conquering army, we wrap ourselves in the rags of defeat.
This Christian identity crisis has come to a head this week as I have been inundated by the gloom of those who have been deeply disappointed by the results of our recent election. To hear some commiserate you would think the Kingdom of God itself has been wrested from our hands. I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth. While I may share some of your concerns about the future of our country, I refuse to don the mask of defeat. As a citizen of the kingdom of heaven, my true identity is not wrapped up in a political party, nor is my joy dependant upon who may currently occupy the white house. My identity, rather, is in Christ and my joy rests in Him alone. “…for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.” – Galatians 3:27. “But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.” – Philippians 3:20.
Therefore, my brothers and sisters, it is high time we tire of this masquerade. I propose we remove our frightening costumes before that nasty dragon consumes us completely. Let the real beast choke on our true identity; make him spit us out of his mouth. With the help of our Heavenly Father and with the authority of Christ, let’s shed our dragon skins. The world has been wondering where the real Christians have been hiding.
So just who are we, anyway? What do we look like in Christ? The following descriptions of Christ followers are all lifted directly from the pages of God’s Word:
We are sons of the living God, joint heirs with Christ, friends of the Master, brothers of the King, servants of the Savior, and citizens of the Kingdom of Heaven. We are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God. We are like living stones, members of God’s household, a holy temple, a sanctuary of the Holy Spirit. We are God’s work of art, a new creation, dearly loved children, Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise. We are born again, bought with a price, redeemed with the precious blood of Christ, and sealed by the Holy Spirit. We are created in His image, predestined according to His plan, made just a little lower than the angels, and crowned with glory and honor.
We have been elected, chosen, adopted, called, justified, sanctified, and glorified. We have been given the mind of Christ, the promise of His presence, the power of His Spirit, the forgiveness of our sins, the assurance of our salvation, victory over death, every spiritual blessing in Christ, and all we need of God’s glorious riches in Jesus. We are inseparable from His love, empowered by His Spirit, filled with His peace, and saved by His grace. We are the sheep of His pasture, the objects of His affection, the apple of His eye, and the praise of His glory. We are overcomers, overly blessed, overjoyed, overflowing with hope, and overwhelming conquerors through Him who love us!
I could go on and on but I think by now you are getting the picture. So let’s have no more identity crisis, no more spiritual amnesia. Throw away the costumes; tear off the masks. It is time we allow the world to see us as we really are. I ask you, since this is our true identity in Christ, why would we ever consider masquerading as anything less?

Bill, a child of God, unmasked

"PRAY AND VOTE"

2008-10-31T13:44:00.000-07:00

I don’t have the ability or the time to send out a lengthy devotional this week but I do want to write a few lines about this upcoming election. No, I’m not going to tell you who to vote for. I am determined to keep this post a politics-free zone. But I am concerned about all the anxiety I see emanating from so many of you…on both sides of the political spectrum. My advice is to focus on the One who sits on the throne, not on whoever may occupy the White House. Administrations come and go; nations rise and fall. But “Jesus is the same yesterday and today and forever.” – Hebrews 13:8. All this talk of change can be very disquieting, but I have determined to place my hope in Christ. “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” – John 16:33.
Scripture doesn’t talk much about how we should elect our leaders. However, it does have something to say about how our Leader elected us! “For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will…” – Ephesians 1:4-5. It also describes our inaugural ceremony. “At that time men will see the Son of man coming in clouds with great power and glory. And he will send his angels and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens.” – Mark 13:36. So what should God’s elect be doing in the meantime? “Therefore, my brothers, be all the more eager to make your calling and election sure.” – 2Peter 1:10.
My recommendation is two-fold: Pray and vote. “Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God.” –Romans 13:1. In this country to a certain extent, we the people have been given authority. We need to use the authority we have been given and do so as God directs. Ask Jesus for guidance and mark your ballot accordingly. In the name of Jesus we have also been given spiritual authority. Let’s also pray for whatever designs the enemy has invested in this election to be thwarted and for God’s will to prevail. Indeed there is much at stake this time around. But no matter what the outcome, we can rest in the knowledge that “…our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.” – Philippians 3:20. And His name will not be followed by an (R) or a (D).
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 4:6-7. My sincere prayer for us all over the next several days is that, no matter what happens, we may know His incomparable peace!

Bill, a child of God, victorious in His election

"STRAINING TOWARD THE SUMMIT"

2008-10-18T15:24:00.000-07:00

“STRAINING TOWARD THE SUMMIT”
October 18, 2008

“How will we know when we reach the top?” asked my climbing partner, Rich, as he struggled to catch his breath in the rarefied, high mountain atmosphere.
At first I thought it was a strange question. But after a few moments of reflection it seemed much more like a reasonable inquiry. My nephew and I were hiking in the Colorado Rockies, attempting to reach the 13,223 foot summit of Mount Audubon. After struggling for hours on the steep, rocky trail we were both exhausted and ready to turn back. To make matters worse, the weather was deteriorating rapidly and threatening clouds began closing in on the mountain. Being completely exposed on the face of the mountain during a thunderstorm was indeed a very precarious predicament. Perhaps it was time to declare we had both reached the peak of our endurance, congratulate ourselves for how far we had come, and head back down to the safety of the forest below. But something made us reluctant to give up so easily. Perhaps it was the thrill of adventure, the challenge of a near-impossible goal, or the encouragement we provided each other. Whatever the reason, we decided not to turn back, not yet anyway.
“We’ll know we’re at the top when there’s no way to go but down,” I responded as we searched for a low place in the rocks in which to hunker down and wait out the storm. No sooner had we settled into a small hollow amongst a few huge boulders than the sky opened up and it began to hail. Fortunately the hail was fairly small in diameter and the storm blew over rather quickly. But now it was getting late in the day and we were still a long way from the summit. Taking the opportunity provided by the storm to rest and eat our lunch, we took stock of our position and planned what to do next.
Consulting a topographical map of the area I had fortunately brought along, I estimated we were about 500 feet below and a half mile from the top of a ridge that should afford us some excellent views if we could manage to reach it. The summit itself still loomed over 1200 feet above us.
“Let’s at least try to make it up to the top of the ridgeline so we can catch a view of the other side,” suggested Rich.
Feeling refreshed by our storm-induced pit-stop and energized by fueling up on a ham sandwich and some raisins (lightly seasoned with a few hailstones), I eagerly agreed. “Let’s go for it,” I shouted lifting my pack upon my weary shoulders and stepping back onto the trail. But that half mile was among the toughest I’ve ever hiked. When we finally reached the top of the ridge we were both totally exhausted. Yet, after taking a few pictures and enjoying the spectacular views, we both turned our eyes toward the summit.
“Is that all the farther it is to the top?” asked Rich.
“What you’re looking at is probably what’s known as a false summit,” I replied. “According to the map we still have another 700 feet to go. I doubt if we can see the true summit from here.”
“What if we just went straight up the mountain rather than following the trail,” asked my climbing companion reluctant to quit when we were this close to victory. “Wouldn’t that make the distance shorter?”
At this point on the mountain the trail consisted mostly of piles of rocks spaced about thirty feet apart. There simply was no dirt left to make any sort of path. Once again consulting my map I showed Rich the contour lines which revealed the elevation levels. When the lines are closer together it shows the slope to be much steeper. Going off the trail definitely meant a far more difficult climb.
“If we continue we’re far better off sticking to whatever remains of the trail,” I explained. “Going straight up the mountain takes us into some pretty steep cliffs. We certainly don’t want to get into a situation where we have to turn around and go back down for awhile searching for a better route to the summit. Every step we have to go downhill is another step we have to recover in order to reach the top.”
“Do you think we have enough time to make it all the way?” asked Rich, and then he added, “I don’t think I could feel much worse than I do now. If I’m going to be miserable I might as well have a victory to show for it.”
“We’d better hurry if we want to make it back down to our car before it gets dark,” I answered checking my watch. “But I’m game if you are.”
After emptying our packs of any nonessential items in order to lighten the load, we set off again. It’s difficult to explain how grueling the climb was from this point. Our own fatigue and muscle soreness coupled with the lack of oxygen at this altitude made every step a test of endurance. Yet we pressed on, determined to reach the top. Step…rest…breathe…step…rest…breathe. We scrambled over several false summits before the climb finally leveled out and we reached the point where the only way to go was down.
“Welcome to the top of the world!” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe we actually made it.”
The view was glorious! It seemed like we could see forever. The air was thin but wonderfully pure and perfumed with the sweet fragrance of success. For a precious few minutes we were in heaven looking down upon a polluted world from our mountain top thrones perched high above all the anxiety, corruption, sin, anger, and violence so prevalent in the world below. But alas, time was fleeting and we were forced to retreat from heaven and return to the real world. By the time we made it back to our car it was completely dark and we were completely spent. Yet we were both thrilled that we had not turned back before we reached the top. In spite of our pain and exhaustion we had persevered. Weariness is sweet when it is born out of victory.
The kingdom of God is filled with weary pilgrims who have turned back from pursuing the summit. What are the reasons for their failure? Perhaps they have been attempting to climb alone without the encouraging companionship of other Christians. “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” – Hebrews 10:24-25.
Some exhausted climbers may have their backpacks crammed full of nonessential items and the burdens may be too heavy for them to carry. They need to learn to lighten the load. “…let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles…” Others have simply run out of energy and turned back before they reached the summit. Or the storms of this life have left them feeling discouraged and defeated. “…and let us run with perseverance…” Others may have strayed from the trail thinking they knew a better route to the top only to discover their chosen path was too steep and they had to turn back. “…the race marked out for us…” And still others have lost sight of the goal, settling instead for false summits. “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.” – Hebrews 12:1-3.
The message, my climbing partners, is not to give up. As long as there is another step higher than where we currently stand our climb is not yet finished. For the Christian there is no retirement in this life. But we must remember not to attempt this ascent on our own. We need to consult our trail map (God’s Word) regularly lest we stray from the course. We also need to daily check our backpacks to see if we are carrying any sins. “Who may ascend the hill of the Lord? Who may stand in his holy place? He who has clean hands and a pure heart, who does not lift up his soul to an idol or swear by what is false.” – Psalm 24:3-4. And when the storms of life threaten to blow us off the mountain we need to hunker down in the hollow of His hands and rest in the shelter of His love.
When the sun shines again it is time to resume climbing, step after step after step, with our eyes fixed squarely on the summit, never turning back, always straining toward the top. “Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 3:12-14.
How will we know when we have reached the top? The answer should be obvious. We will know we have reached the summit when there’s no way to go but down. That is the day when the trail will level out and we will find ourselves standing on top of the world surrounded by His glory. Visions of this polluted world will vanish beneath us and we truly will be able to see for all eternity. We will inhale deeply the purified air of heaven perfumed by the sweet fragrance of the breath of God. And we will take one last step, into His loving arms and into a joyous victory celebration that will never end. Until that day we must continue to climb, step by step, persevering over every obstacle, always gaining altitude, ever moving heavenward, never turning back, without thought of retiring, without settling for failure, with our eyes set squarely on the goal, straining toward the top, pressing on toward the summit. We may certainly at times suffer from fatigue and exhaustion, but weariness is sweet when it leads to victory!

Bill, a child of God, still climbing

"OUT OF BREATH"

2008-10-11T00:31:00.001-07:00

“OUT OF BREATH”
October 10, 2008

“Tell me again, why are we doing this?” I gasped straining hard to suck in enough oxygen to power up my voice.
“I guess it’s so we can say we did it,” came the reply from my equally out of breath hiking companion.
“Perhaps after the pain goes away we’ll look back on this experience and say it was worth it,” I added, stopping between every three or four words to suck in more air. “But right now I just hurt!”
My nephew, Rich, and I were crawling up the last few hundred feet toward the summit of Mount Audubon in the Colorado Rockies. With an altitude of 13,223 feet above sea level, this peak is an imposing pile of rocks located northwest of Denver. An early autumn vacation had afforded the two of us an opportunity to enjoy the rugged beauty of this alpine wonderland. The trail to Mount Audubon is an eight-mile, round trip hike with a 3,000 foot elevation gain. There were plenty of less strenuous hikes available in the area but we had chosen one of the more difficult. Why? I suppose the lure of adventure and the thrill of attempting to conquer the near-impossible proved to be too much to resist. In other words, we were idiots!
There’s nothing technical about this particular climb; it’s just a long hike. But any strenuous activity at such an extreme altitude can leave even veteran mountain climbers gasping for breath. For me, an overweight, middle-aged, chronically out-of-shape, pretend explorer, it was proving to be a daunting challenge. Adding to my misery was the fact that my home in California sits around 100 feet in elevation. Needless to say, my body was under extreme duress from not being acclimatized to the lack of oxygen at this height. For every seven or eight steps I took I would spend one or two minutes standing still in the trail sucking air. It’s difficult to describe how laborious it is trying to do anything under such circumstances, let alone climb a mountain. Altitude sickness can be very serious, potentially life threatening.
After struggling for over five hours we finally stood on the summit thoroughly drained of energy and dreading the fact that we were still four miles and 3,000 feet away from our ride home. We took the obligatory pictures to prove our victory over the elements although the smiles in those photographs belie the pain we were feeling in our cramping muscles and the wooziness from a lack of oxygen. The view was incredible! We could actually see downtown Denver, the mile-high city. Of course we were actually looking down on the city from two and a half miles high. We could only spend about ten minutes enjoying the summit since we had only a little over two hours to make it back to our car before nightfall. After hiking the last mile in near darkness we managed to make it back to the car exhausted, in pain, yet proud of what we were able to accomplish. It wasn’t until several hours later, back down at the 5,000 foot level, that my lips and fingernails lost their purple hue (a symptom of oxygen deprivation) and returned to their normal pink. And it wasn’t until a week later that I was able to walk without pain.
In the days since our lung-bursting adventure in high-altitude climbing, I have been replaying in my mind our conversation near the summit of Mount Audubon. “Tell me again, why are we doing this?” That question can be asked of many endeavors, including the manner in which we do church in this country, and how we persist in living out our Christian lives. We have a tendency to follow our own path, to find the more difficult trail, to conquer the mountain in our own limited strength rather than relying on the limitless power of the Holy Spirit. Jesus Christ is the head of the church and we need to let Him lead the expedition. The Spirit is our oxygen and we need to continually inhale His wisdom, guidance, energy, and strength.
Why do we consistently fail to follow in the footsteps of our Lord and all too often refuse to breathe-in His Spirit? As Rich commented on the mountain, “I guess it’s so we can say we did it.” Then we collapse in complete exhaustion and look with pride at what we were able to accomplish. In the process we burn ourselves out, cause the entire body of Christ to suffer, and steal His glory. Warning—the body of Christ is suffering from Spirit deprivation! As followers of Christ we should know that the easiest trail to follow is always the one blazed by Him, and that it’s far easier to inhale the atmosphere of the Spirit rather than the rarefied air of our own ambitions. Why do we ignore such obvious wisdom and persist in going our own way? It’s simple; we’re idiots! Before you write me off as an oxygen-starved lunatic allow me to point out some symptoms of spiritual altitude sickness.
For the first three centuries of its existence the church never thought about acquiring a building to house its gatherings. There were no building campaigns, no capital fund drives, no finance committees, and no yearly budgets. Yet the body of Christ grew at a faster pace than any time since; that is, until recent years in places like communist China where church buildings have once again proven to be superfluous in promoting growth. In the words of Frank Viola and George Barna, “In the United States alone, real estate owned by institutional churches today is worth over $230 billion. Church building debt, service, and maintenance consumes about 18 percent of the $50 to $60 billion tithed to churches annually.” – Pagan Christianity?
I ask you, is there a better way to spend the Lord’s resources? Why would we labor so hard, spend so much time and energy, and consume so many resources on constructing and maintaining buildings which aren’t even necessary for the advancement of the kingdom (In fact, such expenditures are likely working against it)? “…the Most High does not live in houses made by men.” – Acts 7:48.
Want another example of our idiocy? Look no further than our professional clergy. The role of the modern day pastor in this country would have been completely foreign to the church we read about in the New Testament. The clergy-laity division didn’t appear until the third century and the title “Pastor” did not come into use until the eighteenth century. Perpetuating this division flies in the face of the “priesthood of all believers” advocated in Scripture. “You also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” – 1Peter 2:5. “And God placed all things under his [Christ’s] feet and appointed him to be head over everything for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills everything in every way.” – Ephesians 1:22-23.
Instead of listening to our “Head” we have created a modern day, CEO-type position in the church which is impossible to fulfill, and which detracts from the headship of Christ. By forcing these gifted individuals to climb up a mountain which neither our Lord nor His Spirit directed us to explore, we are burning them out in record numbers. In addition we are also turning the laity into passive consumers rather than partners in ministry. “Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ. From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows ands builds itself up in love, as each part does its work.” – Ephesians 4:15-16.
According to Viola and Barna, of the 500,000 paid pastors serving churches in this country:
*90 percent work more than 46 hours a week.
*80 percent believe that pastoral ministry affects their family negatively.
*70 percent do not have someone they consider a close friend.
*70 percent have lower self-esteem than when they entered the ministry.
*50 percent feel unable to meet the demands of the job.
*More than 40 percent report that they are suffering from burnout, frantic schedules, and unrealistic expectations.
*33 percent consider pastoral ministry an outright hazard to the family.
*33 percent have seriously considered leaving their position in the past year.
*1,400 ministers in all denominations across the United States are fired or forced to resign each month.
Clearly, something has gone tragically wrong. Yet still we persist in burning out these gifted individuals by placing them in impossible positions which have no Biblical precedent, tear apart their family life, destroy their self-esteem and physical health, and arguably fail to contribute in any substantial way to the advancement of the kingdom. But wait; here’s another symptom of our spiritual altitude sickness.
Our Lord’s last request for the church was that we would maintain our unity. “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” – John 17:20-21. Unfortunately, the body of Christ has splintered into tens of thousands of different denominations. There’s no point in asking which group is the right one. The truth is they’re all wrong because denominationalism is, in itself, a sin and runs contrary to the desire of the Head of the church. Yet still we persist in scaling this false peak believing that when we reach the top we will find the perfect church. Only later do we realize that all we have found are broken relationships and heartaches.
I could go on and on about how the church has abandoned the principles and simple structure which produced such an explosive beginning in favor of finding her own way up the mountain, but I didn’t intend this piece to be a slam on all the ills of the wayward bride of Christ. In truth, the church’s Spirit deprivation is born out of a lack of oxygen in our personal lives. That is, we all persist in following our own route up the mountain struggling for breath and quickly growing weary with the hike. Each one of us suffers from time to time with Spiritual altitude sickness. If you are like me, you will often feel burned out in your Christian service. Perhaps that describes your present condition. Tell me again, why are we doing this?
I would like to request that we all stand still in the trail for a moment and take a deep breath. How’s the air where you are? Are you inhaling the oxygen-rich atmosphere of the Holy Spirit or are you gasping for breath? Are you following after Christ or are you attempting to find your own way up the mountain? Do you find yourself struggling just to take another step or do you have energy to spare? If you have found yourself a little short of breath lately allow God’s Word to pump some oxygen into your spiritual life.
“…those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” – Isaiah 40:31. “…I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.” – Matthew 16:18. “‘Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit,’ says the Lord Almighty.” – Zechariah 4:6. “Again Jesus said, ‘Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.’ And with that he breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’” – John 20:21-22.
Okay, let’s do this breathing exercise together. Everybody, exhale and expel all your personal dreams and ambitions along with everything you think you know about the church. Now, inhale deeply and take in the full measure of the Holy Spirit. There, feel better?

Bill, a child of God, catching His breath

"A JESUS PILGRIMAGE"

2008-10-04T02:10:00.000-07:00

“A JESUS PILGRIMAGE”
October 3, 2008

The weather was a bit cool with an intermittent fierce wind, but the sky was a brilliant, cloudless azure, a perfect backdrop for the rugged mountain vistas of the Indian Peaks Wilderness Area northwest of Denver, Colorado. A week long vacation at the home of relatives had afforded this California resident the opportunity to get away by himself and enjoy the wonder of God’s creation. It had been over two years since I had been able to find the time for a hike in this alpine wonderland. Distance and a busy schedule had combined to keep me away. But now at last I was enveloped by the eerie stillness of the dense forest listening only to the occasional chattering of a chipmunk, the babbling of a nearby brook, and the dull rhythmic thud of my hiking boots navigating the rocky trail.
My destination was a stunningly beautiful jewel of alpine scenery, a crystal clear pool of pristine water with an unpretentious name, Blue Lake. Surrounded on three sides by the snow-laden granite cliffs of Mount Audubon, Mount Toll, Paiute Peak and Pawnee Peak, and situated just above timberline at an elevation of 11,300 feet, Blue Lake is unsurpassed in its inspirational grandeur. It is certainly well worth struggling up the three-mile trail just to gaze at its splendor. But for me, Blue Lake has an even more appealing attraction.
Nine years ago, during a time of extreme personal turmoil, I had an amazing encounter with God at this very site. A ministry in which I had labored for over three years was disintegrating and I was having severe doubts as to my calling as a pastor, even to the point of questioning my faith. In addition, I had recently lost my father to a series of severe strokes. The struggles with my ministry at our church had prevented me from spending any time mourning for him. In the midst of this life-crisis God had met me in a profound and personal way, giving me the faith and the strength to continue in His service. Blue Lake will always occupy a special place in my heart. Now, whenever possible, I take advantage of any opportunity to visit this sacred venue. It has become a pilgrimage for me, returning to the place where God spoke, hoping and praying that He will speak once again.
I reached the lake early in the afternoon and sat down next to a large boulder to shelter myself from the icy autumn wind. While taking in the heavenly beauty it was easy to imagine the Creator sitting on His throne in this hallowed spot. “Speak to me, Papa,” I pleaded out loud, “your servant is listening.” But the only answer came from the whistling of the breeze and the windblown ripples splashing against the shore of the lake. For an hour and a half I carried on a passionate conversation with the Lord, at times even singing to Him. But the communication was purely one-sided. I heard nothing but silence from “Papa.”
After a while, knowing I needed to start heading down the trail in order to arrive back at the house before my wife began to worry, I gave up the monologue, lifted my pack onto my shoulders, took one last look at the lake, and began my descent. I was deeply saddened that God had apparently ignored His servant. Didn’t He understand that for weeks I had been looking forward to connecting with Him here in this spot? Didn’t He know how special this place was to me? Wasn’t He pleased with the fact that I had worked so hard and burned so much energy just to climb up to this place in order to speak with Him? Why couldn’t He have given me a message, a sign, something that would have revealed His presence and communicated His love?
After I had trudged a few hundred yards down from the lake with a broken heart and a frustrated spirit, a foreign thought coursed through my mind, a gentle, loving comment with the aura of the Divine. I stopped in my tracks having recognized His voice.
“By the way, Bill,” I heard “Papa” say, “you don’t have to come all the way up here to connect with me.”
That was it. After anticipating this outing for weeks, flying halfway across the continent and spending several hours climbing up to this sacred site, His only comment was a rebuke lasting barely ten seconds! I must admit to being more than a little annoyed over the experience. My pilgrimage, for all the effort it had consumed, had born precious little fruit. Or had it?
As I have pondered over “Papa’s” message in the days since He spoke I have discovered far more truth than I originally thought was there. Something within the human spirit lends itself to affixing great value upon certain locations. We do it with our loved ones. “That’s the place where we first met.” “That’s the hospital where you were born, son.” “That’s the building where I got my first job after graduation.” “That’s the house where we first lived after we were married.” And we do the same with our spiritual experiences. “That’s the church where I came to Christ.” “That’s the church where we were married.” “That’s the church where our children were baptized.” “Peter said to Jesus, ‘Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.’” – Matthew 17:4.
I don’t believe it is necessarily a bad thing to cherish such locations of our spiritual heritage. But I do think we can easily overdo it turning the site into a shrine and placing undo expectations upon our heavenly Father to touch us the same way every time we visit the place. I am reminded of the Old Testament prophet Elijah who ran away from his ministry to encounter the Almighty on the “mountain of God.” Elijah had undoubtedly heard how Moses had encountered God on this mountain. From the burning bush to the giving of the law God had certainly shown a great fondness for this particular edifice. Had not God told Moses to remove his sandals for this was holy ground? Surely Elijah would be able to encounter God here. And he did, although he didn’t receive the message he desired.
“And the word of the Lord came to him: ‘What are you doing here, Elijah?’” – 1Kings 19:9.
I must confess to having a certain affinity to this great prophet. I believe God had given me a similar message under somewhat similar circumstances. We both had engaged in a pilgrimage to a high mountain seeking an audience with God. And we both were gently and lovingly corrected for our erroneous efforts. Just as I discovered around three millennia later, Elijah didn’t need to travel all the way to the “mountain of God” in order to connect with the Lord. Under the Old Covenant God did prescribe pilgrimages to Jerusalem for every man three times each year. In the New Testament, however, no such requirement is found. After the resurrection of Christ we find no mention of regular pilgrimages for His saints. So why do we persist in attaching such sacred value to earthly locations? I suppose it is just human nature to do so, but it certainly isn’t a spiritual requirement, nor is it even a recommendation.
Why do I think this is such a big issue? The name of God is “I Am,” not “I Was.” He is forever contemporary. While we are memorializing our history, He is plotting our future. While we are clinging to the moments when He connected with us in the past, He is trying to connect with us now, in new ways, in new locations, with new revelations containing new directions for our lives. Continuing to make pilgrimages to where God spoke to us in the past might very well prevent us from hearing what He wants to say to us now.
I have nothing against getting away from the rat race of modern life and finding a quiet, inspirational place in which to seek the Lord. Whether our destination finds us sitting by a glacial lake in a natural, outdoor alpine sanctuary or couched upon a pew in a stained-glass cathedral, such retreats can prove to be extremely valuable to our spiritual growth. But when we avail ourselves of such opportunities let’s not carry with us any preconceived expectations from our past. And let’s not turn our spiritual getaway into a pilgrimage during which we beg God to recreate His previous glory. Contrary to popular opinion, God is not obligated to respond to our every beck and call, nor does He promise to live up to all our expectations.
There is, however, a certain pilgrimage which is always appropriate, one which comes highly recommended. I’m not talking about a periodic journey to an earthly location, but rather a daily pursuit of Jesus. He is so much more than a pristine alpine lake. He is the source of “living water.” “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.” – John 7:38.
He is so much more than a mountaintop experience. He is the “Rock that is higher than I” (Psalm 61:2). “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.” – John 6:35. “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies.” – John 11:25. “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” – John 14:6. “I am the Alpha and the Omega…who is, and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty.” – Revelation 1:8. Why would we waste time in any other pursuit?
“…I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ…I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings…Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.” – Philippians 2:8-12.
Pursuing Jesus is the ultimate pilgrimage, not a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity or even something to engage in three times a year, but a daily, continual seeking after Him. No earthly experience could compare with scaling the heights of His glory or exploring the depths of His love. No worldly sanctuary, manmade or otherwise, could ever begin to match the beauty of dwelling in His presence. We dare not settle for anything less.

Bill, a child of God on a Jesus pilgrimage

"GO TO THE ANT"

2008-09-13T23:42:00.000-07:00

“GO TO THE ANT”
September 13, 2008

“Wow, the yard is alive with ants!” I proclaimed as I rushed in the front door of our home in search of a can of bug spray. In the process of dragging a garden hose across the lawn in order to set the sprinkler in precisely the correct spot to cover the greatest area, I had inadvertently disturbed a nest of ants. Within seconds a good chunk of turf was crawling with black fury. It was mass chaos with the miniature varmints scampering in every direction including some who were ferociously attacking the sprinkler head.
Some ten minutes later after I had hunted down the bug spray and answered a phone call I returned to the front lawn to discover an amazing site. The entire colony was mobilized, highly organized, and headed in one direction—toward our house. It appeared as though every single ant had been activated. Some were scouting the way forward, others were still attacking the snake-like intruder, and the rest were packing the belongings of the colony on their backs on their way to a new home. I was thoroughly amazed at how quickly the entire colony had agreed upon a single course of action and was pressed into service to carry it out. Everyone had a role in the crusade and everyone was busy doing it. For a while I was caught up in observing their energy and determination. I felt a kindred spirit with Solomon who was also a keen observer of the ant.
“Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise! It has no commander, no overseer or ruler, yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest.” – Proverbs 6:6-8.
I was almost sad to be forced to terminate these industrious midgets—almost! But I did delay their execution long enough to interview one of their number. I suppose some of you will be skeptical of my ability to communicate with such a creature, but what I’m about to share with you is absolutely true. The ant swore to me that he wasn’t lying. He referred to himself simply as “serve-ant.” I’d reveal his full identity to you but he spoke on condition of anonymity since he wasn’t an official spokesperson, or rather, spokes-ant.
I scooped up the tiny creature with my hand, brought him up to eye level with me and asked him how his colony managed to organize itself so quickly.
“We are all created to fulfill certain roles in the colony,” replied Serve-ant with an attitude of condescension. “When a crisis occurs,” he further explained, “no-one has to think about what to do; we each respond as we have been programmed by nature. In this case, the highly sensitive radar ants were the first to discover the approaching danger. As soon as they felt the vibrations of your gargantuan feet walking across the lawn they relayed the warning to the scout ants who quickly scampered up a blade of grass to survey the land. Upon discerning the reality of the situation by being struck by the first few drops of water from the invading sprinkler, they rallied the colony to attack the intruder. They also asked the radar ants to quickly contact the queen and return with any specific directions. When the order came from the queen to move out to a new location the scouts, who thrive on the adventure of invading new territory, hurried off to determine the best location to begin work on a new colony. The rescue ants, who can’t bear to see anyone lost, set to work saving those who were already being inundated by the flood. The community organizers [apparently their actual titles—no disrespect meant to a currently popular politician] formed everyone into small groups, portioned out to each one enough food for the journey, and encouraged them to do their best for the colony. And the drill instructors made sure everyone was up to date on the latest techniques for colony relocations. Since every single ant was created for a specific purpose and endowed with the natural instincts to act within its given role, the entire colony was able to spring into action at a moment’s notice, the instant the command was received from the queen.”
Serve-ant spoke matter-of-factly, as though what he was sharing was the most basic of knowledge and I was a complete moron for having asked such a simple question. I thanked him for his time, set him back down on our front porch, and stomped on him with my gargantuan feet. I then dispatched the rest of his family with a generous dose of bug spray. Okay, so I’m cruel. But there are a few billion more ants in our neighborhood waiting to take Serve-ant’s place in this never-ending attack against my domicile.
Later, however, I took some time to meditate upon what this brave foe had revealed with his dying words. The ant colony was incredibly efficient; able to rally every single member to action in order to achieve a common goal. On the other hand, in the body of Christ a great deal of energy is released by a relatively small number of members while most of the colony remains dormant. And very little is ever accomplished toward the common goal of advancing the kingdom of God. If only the church could be organized more like an ant hill. But wait; isn’t that exactly what we see revealed as a pattern for the church in Scripture?
“It was he who gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers, to prepare God’s people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ.” – Ephesians 4:11-13.
This is not unlike the organic, natural, gift-based, servant-oriented structure which Serve-ant revealed to me, but it appears to be worlds apart from the man-made, control-based, top-down, hierarchical structure we see dominating much of the body of Christ today. Allow me to translate the description of ant-hill, organic structure, which was passed on to me through the dying words of Serve-ant, into a pattern of organic structure for the body of Christ.
Do we still have apostles (scout ants) in the church today? The answer is, of course, yes but obviously not with the stature or the authority of the original twelve. The word “apostle” is simply the Greek equivalent of the Latin based word, “missionary.” Apostles are the scouts for the expansion of the kingdom. They are gifted by the Spirit to be able to see the big picture. They are usually called to a given geographical area, although they tend not to linger long in any one location, and they thrive on the adventure of planting new works, conquering new territory, and opening up new venues for the Gospel. They often have a unique ability to perceive the identities of the other four members of the ministry team and can rally them into service.
What about prophets (radar ants); do we still see their role active in the church today? At the risk of being branded a heretic by some, I am compelled to answer that question also in the affirmative. I have simply experienced far too much obvious communication from the Spirit through gifted individuals to be able to ignore this vital function. God still speaks to His servants today through His Word, through circumstances, through His “still small voice,” and through certain individuals who are gifted prophetically through the Spirit. However, we must be careful to thoroughly test what we hear from such individuals. Usually, a genuine word of prophecy will be confirmed by several other sources, and it will never contradict the written Word of God. Prophets have a unique ability to be sensitive to the voice of God. The church would be well served to pay more attention to them.
Evangelists are the “rescue ants.” They have a burning passion to find those who are perishing, an ability to feel the heart of God crying out for the lost, and an overwhelming burden to see everyone come to salvation through Jesus Christ. We need to equip these individuals and release them into the world to do what they have been gifted to do. Having them remain cooped up in the church will drive them crazy. However, when new converts are won, the evangelist needs to team up with an apostle in order to plant a new church within the surroundings the new believer. Bringing a new believer back to an already existing church will spoil the opportunity to invade new territory with the Gospel.
Contrary to popular practice, pastors are not the CEO of the local church. Only Jesus should have that role. Pastors are shepherds (community organizer ants) charged with caring for, protecting, and encouraging a small group of believers. They are people-oriented servants who bring a touch of God’s love to the body of Christ. Pastors who have built up larger congregations are probably apostolically gifted servants who have remained trapped in the current, man-made structure of contemporary Christianity.
Teachers (drill instructor ants) are specially gifted by God with the ability to make complex truths easily understood. They usually have the companion gifts of wisdom and knowledge and have an insatiable appetite for God’s Word. They are charged with training and equipping others to fulfill their Spirit-gifted roles in the church.
According Ephesians 4:11-13, we have all been created by God and gifted by the Spirit to fulfill certain roles in the body of Christ. The emphasis is on performing a function rather than holding an office; engaging in humble service rather than striving after titles; allowing the Spirit to lead through empowering gifted individuals rather than controlling individuals through man-made power structures. The result should be an organic structure which enables people to respond to the promptings of the Holy Spirit as they have been programmed to do, rather than an artificial, human-birthed, top-down structure that forces people to engage in activities in which they have no gifting.
For the last seventeen centuries the church in the west has been dominated by pastors and teachers. I have nothing against these essential servants of the church, but they are only two of the five-fold ministry team we see set forth in Scripture. When pastors and teachers comprise the entire team we end up with a church that is focused inward, caring primarily for its own. Believers are expected to spend their entire lives attending worship services and learning more about the Bible. Consequently the church is filled with passive pew-sitters content to pay others to do the work of the ministry and possessing an inordinate amount of Scriptural knowledge. I pray for the day when our emphasis will switch from learning about how to advance the kingdom to actually doing it!
Evangelists are tolerated, but only if they are successful in funneling new converts into our existing churches. Apostles are sent overseas and allowed home only once every two years when we are thrilled by their power-point presentations of natives from distant lands coming to Jesus. At such times we take up an offering to send them back overseas convinced that such kingdom expansion could never happen where we live. And what about the prophets? Well, we treat them like we read about in the Bible; we stone them! Or the more compassionate among us kindly suggest they could benefit from some professional therapy. The result is a church where those who are gifted apostolically or prophetically are not welcome. These gifts are either subdued or are cast out of existing congregations where these spiritual vagabonds end up starting new churches, para-church organizations, or entirely new denominations. And the body of Christ becomes more and more fragmented, and less and less effective in transforming society and advancing the cause of Christ.
My conclusion, and I believe I can also speak for the dearly departed Serve-ant, is that the body of Christ needs to learn how to work together to rally every believer to respond as a single unit, as Spiritually programmed, in order to further our common goal—moving the colony forward. We need to release all five components of our Spirit-given ministry teams and allow the Head of the church to regain the control that rightly belongs to Him.
“Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ. From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work.” – Ephesians 4:15-16.
Why do I feel so passionately about the imperative of the body of Christ enabling all of the five-fold ministry team to work together as the Spirit directs? Well, you might say a little ant convinced me. But more importantly, a succession of “radar ants” has brought word of approaching vibrations. Several of our “scout ants” have surveyed the land and determined the time for action has arrived. Indeed our “Queen” has spoken and called us out of our comfortable tunnels to advance across the land planting new colonies as we go. A crisis is upon us; a challenge is set before us; the call to mobilize the entire body of Christ has sounded. Is this the time when we all decide to move forward together?

Bill, a child of God, answering the call

"ANATOMY OF A MOVEMENT"

2008-09-06T03:13:00.000-07:00

“ANOTOMY OF A MOVEMENT”
September 5, 2008

I thought I’d take a break from my usual devotional thoughts to give you a brief synopsis of where I believe the organic/simple church movement is currently situated and where it might be headed. As most of you know I just returned from attending my fifth National House Church Conference which this year was held in Dallas. It has been truly fascinating to observe how this movement has been evolving over the past five years.
When I first started attending these conferences our collective self-image was that of a group of pioneering mavericks, exiled from normal religious circles, huddling together in order to validate our hope that we were not the only “crazies” out there. Then, two years ago, George Barna gave us some startling statistics compiled from this country alone.
…9% of adults attend a house church during a typical week. That is remarkable growth in the past decade, shooting up from just 1% to near double-digit involvement. In total, one out of five adults attends a house church at least once a month. Projecting these figures to the national population gives an estimate of more than 70 million adults who have at least experimented with house church participation. In a typical week roughly 20 million adults attend a house church gathering. Over the course of a typical month, that number doubles to about 43 million adults.
I have no doubt but that these figures have increased steadily in the last two years. Although some of these house church attendees may also continue to attend a traditional church, a growing number look to their home group as their only church. We are seeing a mass exodus from the institutional church in this country, one million adults per year according to George Barna, all of whom are searching for a more intimate, hands-on expression of worship. Clearly something is happening in the body of Christ.
Around the world the organic church movement is growing at a phenomenal rate. We are familiar with the reports coming out of China where over 100 million faithful now gather in homes and caves and fields to worship Jesus. 25,000 people are coming to Christ every day in that country! But now we are hearing amazing stories of church planting movements in Southeast Asia, India, Africa, and yes even the Middle East. The Chinese churches are committed to sending missionaries to the west across Asia all the way to Israel in their “Back to Jerusalem” project. By comparison the movement is just barely getting started in this country. That may be due to the prevailing culture of the institutional church in this country which is difficult to breach. But even here the walls of institutionalism are coming down. We are hearing of increasing examples of traditional churches transitioning into house church networks. Other institutional churches are partnering with house churches in order to more thoroughly impact their communities. We know of several mega churches which are sending out house church missionaries to plant organic churches in surrounding communities. What only a few years ago was looked down upon as a small cult of radical anti-church malcontents is now considered mainstream.
Early on our conferences were mostly about house church mechanics, how to get started and what to do when you gather together. This year such basics were relegated to one of four tracks in our break-out sessions. The remainder of our schedule revolved around world missions, market place ministries, new ways to reach out into our communities, and building relationships. By far the greatest emphasis was on intimacy with God and with each other. It is exactly where you would expect a maturing movement to be headed. We must learn to hear “Papa’s” voice, as individuals and collectively in community in order to discern His guidance for our lives and for the future of His kingdom.
Along with this increased focus on intimacy with God and with each other we are seeing a loss of focus on our own differences. The Lord of the harvest is gathering saints from virtually every corner of the kingdom and placing them side by side in this movement. Catholics, Anglicans, Presbyterians, Methodists, Baptists, Lutherans, Pentecostals, Charismatics, members of the Church of Christ, those from non-denominational backgrounds, high church, low church, and no church, we are all discovering how easy it is to forget our differences when we focus on the King. Only the Holy Spirit could be drawing together such a diverse group of individuals and showing us how to genuinely love each other and partner together in advancing the kingdom.
Along with an increased emphasis on building relationships and unity within the body, we are experiencing a complete change of direction in our ministry focus. In answer to the Lord’s request in Luke 10:2—“Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.”—we are discovering that we ourselves are being sent out, beyond the four walls of our meeting places, into the surrounding community. It is here that we are colliding with the unsaved world and find ourselves watching in awe as people are won to the Lord and churches are being planted. For 1700 years, ever since the emperor Constantine declared Christianity the official state religion of the Roman Empire, the church has largely been operating in an attractional mode, attempting to attract the world to us. The problem with this approach is that it is also extractional, extracting people from their own homes, families, cultures, and removing them from the harvest field. This may be good strategy if your goal is church growth, but it is devastating if you are seeking kingdom expansion. If you want to experience a great harvest, you need to be out in the harvest field.
Finally, we are seeing a new type of leadership evolve; a servant leadership which operates from underneath, lifting others up and helping them achieve maturity in Christ, rather than from above, controlling and “Lording it over others.” Leadership in this movement is decentralized and based upon one’s gifting, not one’s position or title. Although we are learning to function within the five-fold ministry team described in Ephesians 4:11 (apostles, prophets, evangelists, shepherds and teachers), we tend to shy away from using titles. An individual’s role in the kingdom will become obvious as they begin to function in their own gifting.
So are there any pitfalls lying ahead for the movement? Yes, but such dangers won’t come from the outside. All great movements of the past, every revival the world has seen, have all experienced a limited lifespan. Some have disappeared completely; others have slowly become mainstream and transformed into just another denomination. But primarily, the forces which stalled the forward progress of these movements came from within, and this is where we need to exhibit the most vigilance. We must never allow the emergence of a special clergy class of individuals. The moment this occurs those who are not included in the clergy will cease their labors and become passive toward ministry. The result will be disastrous bringing the movement to a standstill. “…you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood…” – 1Peter 2:5. “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation…” – 1Peter 2:9.
An even greater risk is the tendency to become inward focused, bent on building up each individual church gathering rather than advancing the kingdom. There seems to be a tremendous temptation to strive to organize the outward thrust of the Gospel, to tame the Holy Spirit, to control the forward progress of the Kingdom. If any such attempt is successful this movement will die. Three times in three verses the Lord emphasizes the outward direction we are to take in advancing the Gospel. “After this the Lord appointed seventy-two others and sent them two by two ahead of him to every town and place where he was about to go. He told them, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field. Go! I am sending you out like lambs among wolves.’”—Luke 10:1-3.
This brings us to perhaps the greatest threat of all, the failure to listen to the Lord of the harvest. If we lose our intimacy with Christ and strike out on our own, following our own plans and strategies, this movement is doomed. For whatever reason, we seem to exhibit the tendency to reduce the forward movement of the kingdom to a set of rules, formulas, and strategies. “Just follow the formula set forth in my book and you, too, can plant a church,” we cry. But so far every church we’ve seen planted in this area has begun in a different manner. It would seem the Lord is deliberately keeping us from coming up with an all-encompassing strategy. Besides, the best book on church planting has already been written some two thousand years ago. The only formula we know of involves listening to the Lord and obeying what we hear. “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” – John 10:27.
I am convinced that this movement is far more than just a passing fad. As House2House magazine declares, “Watch out! A tidal wave is coming.” As one who has been engulfed in the wave I invite you to take the plunge.

Bill, a child of God still listening and learning

"THE JESUS DIET"

2008-08-23T02:05:00.000-07:00

“THE JESUS DIET”
August 22, 2008

While much of the world is plagued with drought and famine, people in this country seem to be obsessed with dieting. In many parts of the globe a starving humanity begs for food while infants with bloated bellies desperately try to suck from dry breasts. Yet in this nation we search for ways to keep ourselves from overeating. The apparent disconnect is startling. America has an eating disorder, and so does the church. However, the root of our problem goes much deeper than our out-of-control appetites. Indeed, what we are choosing to consume is resulting in a population plagued with heart disease—spiritual heart disease. Amidst the plethora of diet fads which are currently flooding the market, my wife and I would like to offer something new, although in reality it has been around for centuries. Allow us to introduce “The Jesus Diet.”
A few days ago Babs was meditating on John, chapter fifteen, where Jesus talks about “abiding in me” (verses 4-7). The phrase “abide in me” literally means “to take up residence in.” Since Babs and I are both struggling to lose some weight her thoughts turned toward the subject of food. The following is an excerpt of her personal journal (used by permission) in which I believe the Holy Spirit inspired her thoughts about our spiritual diet.
So, when we are abiding in/residing in Jesus do [we] know where the pantry is? Do [we] know where the fresh fruit and veggies are? How about pre-packaged meals? (Another subject—they are nourishing but nothing like fresh and natural, and [they] often contain ingredients we don’t need or are not healthy for us.) Is there something in the freezer that needs to be thawed out so it can be eaten? [Do we] take [it] out early enough so when it’s time to eat/feast it will be ready? Jesus said to eat what is placed before you [Luke 10:7]. So, feast on what he has set before you and don’t complain about the spices he uses or ingredients you are not familiar with (ethnic foods).
Since Babs has graciously shared her thoughts with me and with others, I would like to add my own musings to the mix making this a sort of spiritual casserole, hopefully healthy enough for your consumption.
“It is written: ‘Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” – Matthew 4:4. Do we truly know where the pantry is? If we do, then why do we so often ignore it opting instead for a worldly diet of television, the internet, computer games, and secular music? How about those pre-packaged meals? I’m talking here of Christian books, devotionals, televised church services, and Christian CD’s. It’s not that these meals are devoid of spiritual nutrition. Indeed they have much to offer. It’s just that they are nothing like fresh and natural, getting into the Word for ourselves and listening to what the Lord has to communicate to us personally.
A steady diet of consuming only pre-packaged meals, or frequenting fast-food restaurants, could lead to some serious spiritual mal-nutrition. Some of these meals contain ingredients which are not all that healthy for us. If these are our only sources of spiritual sustenance our health is in grave danger. Tragically, many of the churches in this country amount to spiritual fast-food restaurants serving up high-fat, high-calorie fare and leaving the patrons over-fed and undernourished. Some churches dish out more healthy meals than others, but even the best can only provide an incomplete diet. If our only source of spiritual nutrition is coming from attending church once a week, whether an institutional church or even a home gathering, we are in all likelihood severely stifling our growth.
I am reminded of the businessman who, pressed for time, decided to have lunch at a local buffet, one which advertised quick service. As he made his way down the buffet line he came across a bowl filled with some type of grayish-brown mush labeled simply, “ABC Casserole.” With an adventurous spirit he spooned a generous portion out and placed it upon his plate. After he had finished his meal, in record time, he asked one of the attendants about the unique casserole.
“We get a lot of business people in here who are very time-conscious,” replied the waitress as she gathered up the man’s dirty dishes. “So we have a crew in the kitchen that chews up a nutritious meal and then spits it out into a bowl. We call it ‘Already Been Chewed Casserole.’”
Now that I have thoroughly ruined your dinner allow me to spew out the analogy. Receiving all our spiritual meals from others who we pay to spend their time chewing up and digesting the Word and spitting it back out for our consumption is tantamount to eating “ABC Casserole.” Digging into God’s Word for ourselves is certainly more time consuming but it will result in far greater satisfaction and much healthier growth (not to mention less contamination from the often biased mouths of others). “Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good.” – 1Peter 2:2-3.
Pulling food out of the freezer relates not just to taking your Bible off the shelf but also to unwrapping its contents and warming up forgotten truths in the oven of your mind. There may be some well known morsels of Scripture which we have long kept in cold storage that the Lord, as our Master Chef, desires for us to thaw out and place on our dinner plates. Doing so early enough so our meal will be well thawed out when we need it refers to beginning each day with preparing our spiritual food. Starting the day with Jesus and His Word allows our feast to be thawing out and slow-cooking in our spirits as its nutrients permeate every living cell of our lives. “He wakens me morning by morning, wakens my ear to listen like one being taught.” – Isaiah 50:4.
What does it mean to eat what is set before us and not complain about the spices the Lord uses to cook up our “daily bread?” I am a firm believer in reading through the Bible rather than staying with well known and beloved passages or opening up the Word at random. Every morning I read from both the Old and New Testaments coursing through the Word systematically in order. In so doing I insure that I am ingesting all of God’s Word, the veggies along with the dessert, the sweet along with the sour, that which tears down my pride along with that which builds up my spirit. I am guaranteed a balanced diet, healthy beyond measure, adjusted to perfectly match my personal calling, and abundantly satisfying.
Amazingly, this same diet is recommended for all, no matter what your maturity level, spiritual health, calling, or ethnicity. The Jesus diet is perfect for everyone and available free of charge. Best of all it is completely heart-healthy. Not only is it good for those who partake, it also produces a growing desire to see that others around the world are able to feast upon its goodness. Properly followed, this diet will take our minds off of our own over-active appetites and motivate us to reach out to those who are truly hungering and thirsting, both for spiritual food as well as physical.
Am I making you hungry yet? Please feel free to start feasting at any time. The Lord’s banqueting table is always set and piled high with food. However, I suggest you not try to devour this recipe in record time but rather take it slow, savoring every bite, allowing the taste of each delectable morsel to be seared in your memory. I wish I could take credit for coming up with this diet, but it was written down ages ago.
“Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.” – Isaiah 55:1-2.
Bon appetit, my friends!

Bill, a child of God, more hungry than ever