On the day our son was born, somebody shot video of me standing outside the operating room, waiting to go in and be with Paula.  I was nervous and excited and sort of bouncy.  There was a joy in the waiting.

            Almost two decades later, I got a call early on a Monday morning with the news that my mother had experienced a devastating stroke.  I flew home and spent the next week beside her bed in ICU, watching for the final breath.  There was agony in the waiting.

            Sometimes, you wait for something to be born and sometimes you wait for something to die. And sometimes, you’re in-between and you’re not even sure what you’re waiting for.  You’re just in the waiting.

            For the past several months, we have been in a season of transition unlike anything in our lives.  Something has ended—the steady rhythm of vocational ministry that has marked our lives for three decades. At some point, something will begin, perhaps a new ministry.  But right now…well, we’re just waiting.

This waiting has been unlike the others.  There is mystery, not knowing where the journey is headed.  There is often been a baffling silence from God, even while we strain to hear His voice.  There is confusion, as we wrestle to press meaning into this season.  There is a dulling of emotions, a vacancy sign in the window of the Passion Inn.  There is a deep weariness that no afternoon nap can relieve.

Our souls are unsettled.  Like eggs cracked and in the pan, but not yet cooked.  Like a compelling story that comes to the end of a page with the frustrating phrase, “to be continued…” Like a night-time journey down a rural road with no street signs. Unsettled.

Here’s the even more frustrating thing.  I know God is in this.  That’s sort of part of the deal for Christ-followers.  I affirm His omniscient providence and that He knows the end from the beginning.  I agree that my life is a small part of His divine purposes.  I believe that He has marked out all my days before one of them came to be, and that His purposes includes this season of waiting.  But in the waiting, those truths can have steel-cold edges.

I know the Scriptures urge me to “wait for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord.” (Ps.27:14) I can quote the promise in my sleep: “they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” (Is.40:31)  But in the waiting, when my heart is terrified and just crawling is a dream, even precious promises can wear thin.

What’s left? What is there solid to which I can lash my soul when nothing is familiar, nothing makes sense, and everything is odd?

Just this: my Father is very fond of me. 

He has lavished the riches of His grace on me (Eph. 1:7-8), has adopted me (Rom.8:15-17) and calls me His very own child. (1 John 3:1).  My Father loves me the same way he loves His Son, Jesus, who also walked through his own season of waiting, sensing God’s abandonment and pleading for another way to accomplish divine purposes than the excruciating pain of the cross. This Jesus, “the author and perfecter of faith, for the joy that was set before Him, endured (waited through) the cross, despising its shame and sat down at the right hand of the Father.” (Heb.12:2) 

For His Father and by His Father, Jesus made it through.

So can I.  So can you. 

Because no matter how long we have to wait to see what’s next, no matter how confusing or unsettled the future seems, our Father’s gracious love is our one most certain thing. 

Right now, in this moment. In the waiting.

            So, I’m in my hometown the other night to celebrate my dad’s 77^th birthday.  After dinner, we decided to take in a movie.  Well, it’s Halloween weekend, so the choices were fairly limited.  One caught both our eye—The Secrets of Jonathan Sperry.  It starred old guy actors like Gavin Macleod and Robert Guillaume, and had young kids, so it looked like the sort of independent character-driven movie that I’m always drawn towards.

            I knew I was in trouble as soon as the opening credits rolled and I saw Paul Crouch, Jr. listed as the producer.  Paul Crouch is the namesake of the founder of the Trinity Broadcasting Network, which has produced/financed some of the truly awful movies of all time. 

            Here’s the problem: this was a “Christian” movie. 

Now I know that seems like a weird thing for a Christ-follower to say.  We’re supposed to applaud wildly and buy blocks of tickets on opening weekend when faith-friendly, family-safe entertainment shows at the multiplex next to the latest offerings from the godless, liberal Hollywood crowd.  It’s one of our primary cultural battlefields.

But here’s the thing: there’s a huge difference between a “Christian” movie and a movie as story-telling made by Christians from a gospel-formed imagination.   People immersed in our secular world expect, parody and dismiss the first as a transparent attempt to proselytize.  Jonathan Sperry is one of those, and plays into the worst of the stereotypes that often keep Christians out of the larger cultural dialogue.

What are the problems?  Problem #1: the setting. Picture a small town in the early 1970’s where freshly-scrubbed, short-haired young boys go fishing in the river or cut yards in the mornings,  stop by the diner for a chocolate sundaes in the afternoons while nervously getting up the courage to talk to the pretty girl, and face their biggest struggles dealing with a bully who steals time at the pinball machine.  It’s a gauzy, romanticized view of the world that Christians often long for and seem to want to recreate. But that world didn’t exist, even in the early 1970’s. It contributes to the idea that Christians don’t deal well with reality and have nothing much to say to the world as it is.

            Problem #2: the dialogue. Everyday conversations have a sort of “gee whiz, Wally” quality, like Opie talking with Aunt Bea over chocolate milk.  Too safe, too controlled, too predictable.  In addition, it is talk loaded with “insider” assumptions of Sunday School and church folk.   But even worse is the sense that conversations only happen as a pretense to get to the next moral lesson or “witness about Jesus” moment.  It is a Billy Graham film without the crusade scene.  It is a gospel tract come to life. 

                  Let me hammer on this a bit more. Most far-from-God people will hear this dialogue as unrealistic and struggle to make a connection with it. But even more, this will feel like a bait- and- switch to people who may be drawn, like my dad and I, to see a movie about an old guy and some kids.  But when the old guy suddenly takes the boys to a graveyard and asks them to lean close to the gravestones listen for the voices of the dead pleading “why didn’t you tell me about Jesus so I wouldn’t have to come to hell”; well, that’s more likely to tick people off than draw them into a consideration of the gospel.

            Problem #3:  the teaching.  “Just read the Bible and you’ll see” is the primary approach. I would affirm that the Word of God is primary to nurturing both saving and sanctifying faith. (“Faith comes by hearing and hearing by the word of Christ.”—Rom. 10:13) But the presentation of God’s Word in Jonathan Sperry is a bit too magical and clean.  Part of this is because everything is presented to and for children. Adults who wrestle with the authority or validity of Scriptures will find it very easy to dismiss.

            Now, all this is not to say that Jonathan Sperry has no redeeming value.  The presentation of intergenerational relationships and especially of an older man taking the initiative to mentor young boys is very engaging.  The need for many young men to have a fatherly and Christ-centered influence is certainly true. The impact of one Christ-centered life on a community is clearly demonstrated. And in one final (and underdeveloped) plot twist, the power of forgiveness is beautifully portrayed.

            But Jonathan Sperry is clearly meant for the already convinced. It is an affirmation of a certain brand of Christian values and cultural preferences.  But it really has no business at the multi-plex with other wide-release films.   It should be shown and discussed in church fellowship halls. 

            There are other films—less predictable, less overtly ‘Christian”, more compelling and intriguing in matters of faith (see Henry Poole, Juno, Bella, Babbette’s Feast) We need to discover, find, fund and applaud such films. Even so-called “secular” movies have the potential for huge discussions over coffee about matters of faith and life.  (The Dark Knight, Doubt, Defiance, etc.)

            The redemption of movie media is a fertile mission field that, like any mission of reconciliation, demands that we take the initiative to meet secular people where they are. That’s the loving thing to do.  Jonathan Sperry asks them to come too far to where we are.  That’s just not loving – or effective.

Autumn mornings spread

 Flat and paling sunlight catching

 Leaves caught in death’s throes.

  How does wasting away birth such wonder?

How does death shimmer so?

Words falter, photos fade, explanations fail

 To capture one moment’s reflection

 Off one optic nerve tucked deep,

 Longing for both memory and meaning.

How does wasting away birth such wonder?

 How does death shimmer so?

 No twin deaths, facsimile or duplicate

 Partings, but each a rare and uncommon

 Departure, awe-full in oblivion’s path.

 How does wasting away birth such wonder?

How does death shimmer so?

 Here, a mystery: the Creator designed such

 Breathtaking endings, surprising artistry in

 Last-gasp dancing into rotting.

 Such absurdity speaks a larger

 Promise to souls immersed in a broken

 World, terrified by futile holiness, guilty and

 Always dying by sudden doom or lingering years.

 How does wasting away birth such wonder?

How does death shimmer so?

 Here then, this mystery: the Christ who died the

 Bloody death of deaths vacates his tomb and

 Invites we poor dying ones into his life so that

 Flatlined heartbeats and final breaths here

 Simply transform dust to imperishable glory.

  How does wasting away birth such wonder?

How does death shimmer so?

            Secularism is advancing rapidly in our culture.  Those expressing “no faith” are now the third largest religious group in our nation.  Those in the 18-35 age bracket are checking out of church altogether.  Evangelicals are generally not even holding our own children. Evangelicals are often marginalized from the broader cultural conversations, treated as fanatics, idiots, simpletons or crazies.

In the face of that missional challenge / opportunity, the evangelical church has grown increasingly insecure.  Our insecurity is displayed in numerous ways: our chip-on-the-shoulder attitudes, endless programming, church franchising, and how-to/self-help teaching bias. 

But even more subtly, under the surface, our insecurity with secular people shows up in our insistence on certainty in our thinking and discussions.  We begin to twitch when conversations with far-from-God friends veer into ambiguity. Even though we trumpet authenticity in our core values, we get really nervous when friends in our own faith-family express authentic doubts or question God.

That’s why C. D. Baker’s 40 Loaves: Breaking Bread with Our Father Each Day (Waterbrook, 2009) is such a welcome resource.  The book is organized around forty brief meditations, each prompted by a pressing, not-easily-answered question of faith: Why do I want Jesus in my life? Why am I afraid to read my Bible? Why do I get so angry with God? Why can’t I overcome sin in my life? Why am I so discontented?  Why does grace make me uncomfortable? Why do I try so hard to fit in? Why can’t I relax around God?  Why have I stopped dreaming?  Each brief meditation is, appropriately, followed by more questions for consideration and a prayer.

Baker knows the power of question. “Most of us are reluctant to admit we have questions like these.  Many of our church communities have led us to believe that certainty and confidence are proof of true spirituality.  Bewilderment or – worse yet, doubt—is seen as a sign of weakness.  Besides, questions disturb things…many of us feel the need to keep our questions to ourselves.  Ironically, we even try keeping them from God.”  But, “questions invite authenticity.  Questions give us permission to wonder.  Questions open the door for wisdom.  Asking opens our eyes to ourselves.  Asking opens our hearts to the Spirit.’

So, 40 Loaves is written primarily for “Christian strugglers”, those for whom faith never seems to come easy, who can’t stand formulaic religion or for whom “why?” is a part of most conversations. Baker writes in a conversational, non-academic style, using transparent personal stories and humor, which is very engaging.  Thus, he invites the reader to consider the question themselves and enter the exploration.

One of the strengths of the book is the consistent reference point of the gospel. Questions are not allowed to stand on their own, in a self-contained, self-referential world in which presumptions circles back themselves.  The question is placed next to the unchanging gospel and Biblical witness.  But, that is done while respecting the value of the question and avoiding the sort of simplistic  answers or intellectual sneering  that so often shuts down discussion when such a question is introduced. 

While he handles questions with deep grace, Baker is also unflinchingly honest about the root of many questions or doubts. 

+Why do I get so angry with God? “Anger against God is no small matter; at its deepest level it is grounded in the false belief that God is not good.”

+Why am I afraid to read my Bible? “The Bible has been exploited as a weapon and a source of spiritual abuse…legalism so clouded my vision that the gospel had been obscured from view….handicapped by poor instruction, I couldn’t see God’s love.”

+Why am I so angry? “I’m afraid my anger is usually reserved for the cause of me…and all too often I believe in my self more than in truth. It’s when my anger is serving my purposes that it is ungodly.  Too often I demand what I want…My pride drives me…Pride-driven disappointment is what leads to ungodly anger.”  

+Why does God seem silent in my life? “God is not silent, but rather he offers his voice in ways I too often neglect.” 

+Why does grace sometimes make me uncomfortable? “…in its unlimited, unfathomable, unmerited glory, grace is often not good news to control types, cynics or the self-righteous.  It doesn’t affirm their worldviews.”

+Why am I stuck in the past? “…being stuck in the past is not a harmless state of mind.  The past can become like a false god that isolates us, turns us inward and leaves us unsatisfied and fearful.  The past can deny is the wholeness of our lives…. But we don’t need to stay stuck.  If we need to remember something, why don’t we remember Jesus?  Jesus is our Shepherd.”

While primarily aimed at helping Christians grow, 40 Loaves could also be very helpful for conversations with seekers or secular skeptics.  It could help show that evangelicals are unafraid of tough questions and are honestly, even authentically engaged with faith that is still being formed. If we will deal with the questions our own faith raises, I suspect that we could more readily gain a place in the conversations where secularists ask their own questions about the validity of faith in Jesus.

            It has been very gloomy around here for the past few days.  Cold for this time of year, low gray clouds, blustery breezes and rain showers broken only by a constant swirling mist.

            When I ran yesterday, the mist covered over my glasses.  It happened again when I ran from the parking lot into the grocery.  It happened again when I went into the bank.  I couldn’t drive without the windshield wipers on.

            At first that was aggravating. 

            But then I heard Jesus whispering. 

            The mist is composed of thousands, maybe billions, of tiny droplets of moisture. When I walk or run through the mist, my whole body is saturated by those droplets.  I’m completely covered by the mist. There’s no escaping it.

            The Lord says that his steadfast love never ceases, that his mercies never end and arrive new every morning.  (Lamentations 3:22-23).  God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ” is “the Father of all mercies and God of all comfort.” (2 Cor.1:3) His “goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life” (Ps.23:6)—including this one.

            In other words, real, concrete, definite expressions of my Father’s kindness touch my life every day. None of it is deserved. It blows all over my messy, unspiritual, confused, not-together, often faith-challenged self.  There’s no escaping it. These mercies from the Father’s heart are outrageously, mind-bogglingly generous.

            Back to the mist and Jesus’ whispers.  What if, instead of being aggravated, I greet every speck of mist that crosses my vision as a reminder of some aspect of my Father’s mercies?  There’s no way around them and no way to count them all.  

All my days are lived in this atmosphere.  I’m saturated in His mercy in a billion ways every single day.  Most of the mercies I rarely see. I may even try to look around them–but that doesn’t make them less real.  All my ordinary days–including the moments that make Jesus smile and the ones I wish He’d never see –are awash in my Father’s mercy.  

So, tomorrow when I look at the world through my mist-covered glasses, I’ll be looking at everything through the Mercy—and I’ll smile.

“The greatest sorrow and burden you can lay on the Father, the greatest unkindness you can do to him, is not to believe that he loves you.”  (John Owen, Communion with God)

C.J. Mahaney urges us: 

“Stop for a moment and reflect on that sentence—it could change your life. Now, let me ask you three questions: Do you believe in God’s personal and passionate love for you? Are you delighting in God’s unconditional love? Or have you laid a sorrow and burden upon your adopted Father by questioning his love for you or refusing to believe that he loves you?”  (HT: C.J. Mahaney)

If you struggle here– even if you have already trusted Christ as Savior — get someplace quiet  and undistracted, where you can think and listen for the Father’s voice to your soul: 

+ “See what kind of love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God– and that is what we are.”  (1 John 3;1)

+ “This is how we know what love is, that he laid down his life for us.”  (1 John 3:16)

+ “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”  (Rom. 5:8)

+ “You were dead in trespasses and sins…but God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ–by grace you have been saved– and raised us up with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus so that in the coming ages He might show the immeasureable riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.”   (Eph. 2;1, 4-7)

He loves you– and that can make all the difference.

check out these pictures  of autumn and give thanks for our Creator…Here’s a sample…

Tim Chester pastors a network of house churches in England.  He often encourages his people to consider four liberating truths about God—truths that, if believed, foster joy and the abundant life; if disbelieved, they result in sin or loss of joy in the journey.

            The network shorthands these as “the 4 G’s”:

 

+ God is great – so we don’t have to be in control

+ God is glorious – so we don’t have to fear others

+ God is good – so we don’t have to look elsewhere

+ God is gracious – so we don’t have to prove ourselves

Each of those truths are worth meditating and praying over how fully they may define our moods, attitudes, thoughts or actions.

            Chester wrote a song– “Jesus, I Rest in You”  to teach the 4G’s.  Read and soak your heart on this. (One of the G’s gets two verses)

Weary of striving to make it alone,
fearful of failure or trying to atone,
I hear ‘It is finished’, Christ sits on the throne:
Jesus, I rest in you.

Weary of fearing what others may say,
needing approval to feel I’m okay,
when Jesus alone is the Lord I obey:
Jesus, I rest in you.

Weary of chasing the lies of this world,
finding its treasures an empty reward:
my beautiful Saviour, most glorious Lord,
Jesus, I rest in you.

Weary of needing to be in control,
brooding on worries, disturbing my soul:
the Stiller of storms who alone can console,
Jesus, I rest in you.

Weary of memories recalled with dismay,
burdened with guilt that I can’t sweep away,
when Jesus has cancelled what I could not pay:
Jesus, I rest in you.

            The music is here, or you can (sort of) use the tune of Just As I Am.

            Last time, I considered the quietly heroic nature of simply “Going on Through the Troubles” –the power of perseverance or steadfastness in faith. 

Of course, the next question that arises is “How?” How do I nourish a faith that will endure when life is just a mess?  Or maybe another way to ask the question is: what are the qualities of a steadfast faith? Again, I think James is very helpful…

+  A steadfast faith is very aware of its limitations and dependence.   “If any of you lacks wisdom….” (1:5) Have you ever had a moment where you didn’t have a clue what to do? My tendency is to think longer, pedal faster and work harder.  That usually results in anxiety and no real change. 

     But child-like trust in my Abba, my heavenly Father, means that I begin my days by simply admitting what He already knows: I can’t understand this, can’t do it or handle it or understand it or fix it or change it.  I need Jesus. Apart from Him I can do nothing. (John 15:5)

     Steadfast faith focuses on my needy ignorance and God’s gracious generosity. 

 + A steadfast faith is not fogged by life circumstances, but looks with gratitude to God.  Remember the transitory nature of life on earth. It is like grass that withers or flowers that fall. (1:9-11) None of it holds; it’s always changing.  So, “don’t be deceived.  Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father…with whom there is no…shadow due to change.” (1:16-17)

 Steadfast faith looks beyond what is here and now, to delight in the God who is beyond it all.

 + A steadfast faith pursues holiness by battling temptation.  Since “whatever is not of faith is sin” (Rom.14:23), whatever is sin is not of faith.  Sin is not to be trifled with; we are to pay close attention and gauge even the direction of our desires.  Whether what we’re longing for is tracking towards God or away from it. 

 There is only one way to deal with unholy desires: we overwhelm them by the power of the gospel of Jesus.  We linger long at the cross – every day—and meditate on Jesus’ love, His sacrifice for sin, His forgiveness, His grace and our release from condemnation.

   In other words, steadfast faith is gospel-saturated.

 + A steadfast faith is born out of the word of truth.  We don’t have to face the pressure of creating and maintaining our own lives. Keeping up some image of all-togetherness, convincing ourselves we’re really spiritual and working harder to fake everybody else out. 

   Steadfast faith trusts the word of God to nourish that faith by feeding on it every day, for “faith comes by hearing and hearing through the word of Christ.”  (Rom. 10:17)

 Steadfast, persevering faith needs to mark us more often than we realize. How? When life is a mess…

– we confess our desperate need,

– we look beyond our immediate circumstances to a good God,

– we meditate long on the gospel,

– we feed on God’s Word…

                            and just take one more step.

Christians tend to like their reality sweet and sugar-coated.  

            We don’t like the discomfort of talking honestly with one another about the all-too-real mess in which we all-too-often find ourselves.  Marriages are not bliss; strangers share an address and maybe a Sunday School class– and little more.  Kids rebel and don’t come back, even when we claim that promise about “training up a child in the way he should go.”  Depression doesn’t lift, and joy doesn’t come — even when it is morning.  Stress is unrelenting. Jobs are lost. Bosses are unfair and office politics rule the day. Finances stay in the red.  Sinful actions recur. Sickness lingers.  Relationships are continually marked by conflict and anger.  Even churches full of Jesus’ people get infected with the “self flu”—self-promotion, self-protection, self-pleasing, etc. Our lives can be as burdened and broken as any pagan we know.

            That’s our reality.  And yet, we plaster on Sunday morning smiles and echo “God is good all the time and all the time God is good” to each other.  If someone expresses their burden, we tell them to cheer up or stop with all the negative, bitter talk.  Then we quote verses about overcoming victory.

            It’s enough to make you gag.

             And it’s not even true to the Bible most of us claim to believe.  Yes, the Bible does tell us that our God is good and loving.  It is full of encouragement that those who are God’s children will emerge from the difficulties of life as victors and that God works all things together for our good and His glory. (Rom.8:28-39) Yes and amen!

            But that’s at the end of the story.  Many times, it will not be evident until the last sentence in the last chapter of our story.

            In His Word, God is remarkably honest that most of us will walk through the mess of life for most of our lives. There may be long segments of our stories marked by pain, stress, conflict, struggle, questions, sickness, loss and more. The psalmists use the language of lament and talk openly about “walking through the valley of the shadow of death” (Ps.23:4) and having a “downcast soul” (Ps.42:9) and feeling like a “tottering fence” about to tip over. (Ps.62:3) Jesus said, “in this world you will have trouble” (Jn.16:33) and in the ignored beatitude, promised blessing “when others revile you and persecute you and say all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account” (Matt.5:11). Even faith’s Hall-of-Fame records God’s people whose stories include imprisonment, torture, burning, floggings, stonings, destitution, affliction, mistreatment and more.  (Heb.11:34-38)  From what I can tell, the only “get-out-of-jail-free” card to avoid the trouble comes when we stop breathing and go Home. 

            If that is our reality, how do Christ-followers talk about it honestly and encourage one another in the difficult parts of our story? Listen to James:

             Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.”  (James 1:2-4,12)

            I don’t think that means that when life is hard, Christ-followers are called to paste on a smile and sing reggae songs like “Don’t worry, be happy”.  There’s a word for that: schizophrenia.  It doesn’t deal with the reality of the troubles.

            Look closer.  The trials are an opportunity for faith (trusting God).  Repeated moments where faith and trouble intersect produce something very specific in us: steadfastness.  Or as other translations put it: perseverance or endurance.  Or as my dear old grandmother would call it: “stick-to-it-ive-ness”. The constancy of trust in God and His good promises by the gospel has a way of building up in our souls over time.  And that has an effect or impact on us: we are made complete– lacking in nothing. 

            Troubles remind us that life is too big for us and that we don’t have what it takes to handle it.  Constant faith builds hearts confident that our God is big enough and always has what it takes to handle it. And it is this constancy of faith that the Father promises to reward at the end of the big Story, because it shows such deep love for Him.

             Here’s the deal. When we deal with a friend slogging through troubles, sometimes the best thing we can do is to not suggest a solution that will fix it; not spout another verse; not encourage busy-ness to take their mind off it; not encourage another Bible study; not tell a story about somebody who else who faced the exact same thing and got their miracle.

            Sometimes, the best thing we can do is applaud the fact that they simply made it through one more day, trusting God. Isn’t that what “steadfastness” implies? One foot in front of the other, moving forward and trusting, no matter how troubling this chapter of the story is.  Moving forward and trusting, even when we have no clue how this will all turn out.

Steadfastness in faith is more heroic than most of us dream. It doesn’t make the headlines or get the book deals or an interview spot on “Focus on the Family”. But steadfast, simple, day-by-day faith marks loads of teenagers and retirees, boomers and millennials, young parents and empty-nesters. That story is the norm for most Christ-followers.

  So, let’s scrape off the icing and dig down deep into the real stuff of life.  Let go of the pressure to be a “victorious Christian” and assure each other that it’s ok to just make it through another day, trusting God.  It’s ordinary, steadfast faith that makes the Father smile — and changes us in remarkable ways.