Thanks to You, Dad!

On Father's Day last year, our pastor shared wonderful anecdotes about his father. He mentioned a few lessons that remained with him over time, lessons for which he had his father to thank. Our pastor, Bryan, said he believes those things also have spiritual implications for all of us today. I couldn't agree more. 

Bryan's dad taught him how to fight. Our Heavenly Father has taught each and every one of His children how to fight. Ephesians 6:10-20 encourages us to be strong, wear and apply and take up that which we have been given, and pray, pray, pray. We are, so long as we remain on this side of heaven, plagued by temptations and sinful urges; they are part and parcel of life in a world that is cursed. Standing fast, in the confidence of all Jesus has done for us and all His Spirit continues to do in us requires us to know and obey Scripture, and cling to our faith in Him, no matter what.  

Bryan's dad taught him how to fish. I imagine his father telling him to be quiet, be patient. In Jesus' Great Commission to His disciples, He sends us into all the world, bringing others to the saving knowledge of Jesus and partnering with them as we walk out this portion of our lives together. As Jesus told Simon Peter and his brother, Andrew, we are to be fishers of men, not beating them over the head with Scriptures and theology, but gently, lovingly, patiently showing them the way, as we powerfully, earnestly pray!

Bryan's dad taught him how to work. They worked side-by-side in the garden and on cars; together they built things. Two things came to mind. First, His father was right there, laboring alongside him, teaching as they worked. Our Father sent us His Spirit; the Greek word is parakletos, One summoned to another's side, to aid, to comfort, and to lead us in our work. And that is the second reflection: we have been given work to do, the "ministry of reconciliation." As we have been reconciled to God through His Son, Jesus Christ, we are to bring others to meet Him that they might be reconciled as well. We are God's ambassadors, proclaiming the good news of His Kingdom.

Lastly, Bryan's dad taught him to run. He made him "feel like he could run like the wind," instilling tenacity and confidence in a young boy who would one day pastor diligently, faithfully an eclectic group of people, moving where God called him to move and serving how God called him to serve. With this lesson, his father taught him to "be the best you can be" -- not necessarily better than anyone else. Our journey is our journey; God has not called us all to the same thing. When God gave His Ten Commandments, they were strict and applied to every one of His people in the same way. When Jesus fulfilled the Law and the Prophets, God's commandments were expanded to two. Don't you mean reduced? No, I do not. Jesus' coming blew the doors off the way we worship our God. The possibilities are limited only by our ability to love, and God says we are to love with all we have. We have the Holy Spirit, the power to "run like the wind" if we are called to do so; and we need not be the best, we just have to obey.

God is gracious to give us earthly shadows of heavenly things. Our relationships with one another should be a sweet foretaste of how we will spend eternity. And we have our Father to thank.

Happy Fathers' Day!

Midweek: NKJV Study Bible for Kids

The wonderful people at Thomas Nelson Bibles have given me the opportunity to review their newly released purple Leathersoft™ edition of their NKJV Study Bible for Kids. This study Bible has been created for children ages 8-12 with targeted helps and a multi-colored interior. My complimentary copy arrived in an eye-catching protective sleeve. Other editions include a hardcover edition, a softcover, and a blue Leathersoft™ edition. All but the paperback have a satin ribbon bookmark and some are available with the words of Jesus recorded in red print. 

A description from Thomas Nelson's website is as follows:

Key features include:

Epic Ideas articles cover key topics and important themes of the Christian life—from sin and death to salvation, forgiveness, God’s promises, relationships, wisdom, mercy, kindness, end times, and more

Action! segments provide practical ways to apply scriptural truths to everyday life by relating to the issues and emotions encountered by biblical characters

Spotlight: sections show how God has worked among his people in Bible times and how He continues to work in our lives today

Starring Roles: show personality profiles of leading Bible characters—from the greatest to the least—and how God used each of them for his purposes

Behind the Scenes: are informative introductions to each book in the Bible, including highlights, key passages, author, dates, and more

In Focus: call-outs showcase definitions and pronunciations of key words

Book Introductions provide an overview and context for each book

On Location Sections are colorful maps displaying a visual representation of Israel and other biblical locations for better context

Helpful headings dot the two-column format between subjects and events. Additional resources include timelines and a dictionary/concordance.

So, what do I think? Well, I like the timelines. They're a great way to piece together the entire picture of events --especially for children who may be preparing to study world history in school. The print is really small, and the pages are pretty thin. Care should be taken when handling or highlighting. I believe the commentary regarding Cain and Abel takes some liberties with regard to why God was displeased with Cain's offering. I've never known anyone to definitively state the reason --until now. I believe the suggestion a third grader (or higher) call Nicodemus "Nick," is a bit uncalled-for. (We're not talking about Methuselah or Mephibosheth, here.) Most children of that age are perfectly capable of pronouncing Nicodemus, and suggesting we make Scripture unnecessarily familiar or edgy can encourage children to irreverence. Likewise, the commentary on John 3:16 and the salvation message seems a bit adulterated. 

Have you ever acknowledged Jesus as your Savior? Lots of people go to church and do all sorts of religious things (even reading the Bible), but have never made this choice that will impact them for all of eternity.

If you've never taken this step, you can do it now! Just thank God for loving you, and tell Him you believe that Jesus' death paid for your sins.

That's it. No mention of a child's need for a Savior; just that Jesus died for us because God loves us. Nothing about following Jesus and all His ways or becoming His modern-day disciples; just the benefit children receive simply by expressing thanks and belief. In designing a Bible study resource, would it not be foundational to establish the purpose and means of accepting God's free gift of salvation? In a commentary on 1 John 5:12, entitled Having Jesus Is Eternal Life, benefits of life with Jesus --eternal life --are mentioned, but there is little obligation to respond outside of, "I want that." Having been raised around church and Bible doctrine that excluded "the cost," even as a child, when circumstances contradicted the "new life" I was told I now had, my response was to believe "it hadn't worked" or I "was too bad to save." A realistic, informed Gospel message is crucial as we evangelize. All this to say, while the features of this Bible might provoke thought and jumpstart important discussions, I can't heartily recommend it as a study Bible --more of an attempt at an application-style resource. I think a study Bible, even for children, should encourage them to deeper dives into Scripture --cross references and further historical background. This Bible may familiarize them with the format of a study Bible, but I am not confident it will provide your child with a clear study guide absent your help.

This Bible retails for $49.99, but is currently selling for $47.86 on Amazon.

A Parable of Pride

"The meeting of Sheep Lodge 625 will come to order! Apparently, we have a special guest visiting with us tonight. Sherwood, would you like to introduce your friend?"

"Sure! This is Bessie, and Bessie is a cow, of course. But she's not visiting. She wants to be a member of our lodge!"

"A member?" someone cried. "But she's a cow! This is a sheep lodge!" Someone seconded the contention.

"Now, now, let's all just calm down," said the lodge president. "It's wonderful to have you, Bessie. And I think I speak for every true sheep here when I say your membership in our lodge would be an absolute blessing! The Pig Pen doesn't allow cows. The Chicken Coop doesn't allow cows. We would be the most inclusive lodge on the farm! Everyone will see how non-judgmental we are!" 

Several sheep walked out. But the others cheered. From the back of the room, one proposed, "In honor of Bessie and her fellow cows, I think the bylaws should be changed. From now on, we should all speak in cow, so no one feels excluded."

"What a fabulous idea!" said the president. "All in favor say MOO!"

A unanimous MOO burst from the flock. "What an honor!" Bessie exclaimed. "But you really don't have to do all that." 

Nevertheless, the bylaws were changed. They were changed again the following week when Millie the mouse showed up. "In honor of Minnie and her fellow mice, I think the bylaws should be changed to make cheese our official snack!" Several sheep and even a few of Bessie's friends who had joined cried out, "But this is a sheep lodge!" The dissenters walked out. But a unanimous MOO, and cheese was indeed the official snack of the remaining sheep, cows, and mice. 

The week after that, Penny the pig joined the group. "In honor of Penny and her pig friends, I think the bylaws should be changed to include mud baths at every meeting." Some of the mice squeaked, "Mud baths! Sheep don't take mud baths." Some sheep walked out, taking cows and mice with them. But those who remained took another vote. MOO! Mud baths, cheese, and speaking in cow were now written into the bylaws of Sheep Lodge 625. 

On and on, species after species. Within weeks the sheep lodge was no longer full of sheep; there were all sorts of creatures milling about doing things unnatural to their design and not really knowing who they were supposed to be. No longer were the laws of the lodge exclusive to sheep but made concessions and demands of every type of animal. Rather than sheep celebrating their unique qualities within their organization, telling others how good it is to be a sheep (as they'd once done), they moo'ed and tried to stomach the cheese and rolled in the muck. 

"This place is worse than the rest of the farm!" some sheep began to cry. "At least out there, you could distinguish friend from foe. How long will it be before the wolves show up looking for a place?" 

Even Bessie the cow, Millie the mouse, and Penny the pig took umbrage. "This doesn't look like a sheep lodge at all! We didn't come here to be like everyone else; we came here to be like sheep. But you all look worse than the farm! What would the farmer say if he saw?"

In the lodge, sheep were forced to be something they weren't for the sake of inclusion. In the lodge, identity for all was lost because assimilation with the rest of the farm became a priority. In the lodge, truth was exchanged for a lie, and things natural for things unnatural. In the lodge, love was not pure but self-seeking, and the body suffered. In the lodge, all were welcomed but none were held accountable. And the lodge itself looked worse than the rest of the farm, because rather than transform their world, they accommodated their world. 

Professing to be wise, they became fools, and changed the glory of the incorruptible God into an image made like corruptible man—and birds and four-footed animals and creeping things. 
~ Romans 1:22, 23

Photo courtesy LuAnn Martin

Putting Marriage to the Test

Marriage is a funny thing. We are joined to this person we want to protect at all costs but seem to spend an inordinate amount of time protecting them from ourselves. We hide what we think are the worst parts of ourselves from them so as not to irritate them or hurt them or scare them off. They're not going anywhere --usually --they're too busy doing the same thing! It is when we allow those rough edges to be worked out with love in the safety of the relationship, that the relationship can really take its true form. We learn this through Peter's denial in Luke 22:1-22. Jesus had just finished instituting for His disciples and, by extension, all of us, a ceremony of remembrance, Communion. He washed their feet, told them of His impending suffering, and revealed one of them would betray Him to the authorities who wish to kill Him. Their response? They begin to argue as to which of them is more deserving of honor. Imagine announcing you are terminal, and your friends start arguing as to who will give the eulogy and who will get stuck working the parking lot. Jesus corrects Simon specifically (Luke 22:31, 32):

Simon, Simon! Indeed, Satan has asked for you, that he may sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, that your faith should not fail; and when you have returned to Me, strengthen your brethren.

First of all, Jesus didn't stop the work of the enemy in Peter's life. He certainly had the power to do so, but He says that Peter was going to be sifted. It was a done deal, a sure thing. As much as Jesus loved His brother, both would submit to this test of their relationship. In part, Peter needed to know where he stood when things got messy, and Jesus, Friend that He is, was willing to take the risk of Peter failing the test. 

Fail he did. In Jesus' final, loneliest hours, Peter turned his back on Him. Imagine the grief! As Peter heard the report that His friend was dead, he would recall their final encounter --a look from across the courtyard as Peter cursed Jesus' name. Imagine the shame! The temptation would come, and with it, fracture. Peter would know exactly who he was. More painfully, Peter would know that Jesus knew exactly who he was. Jesus is omniscient; I don't mean that He didn't know --of course He did; but you know Peter, in his arrogance just as we are in ours, thought he was getting over. He thought there were things about him that Jesus didn't know. Even his response --Lord, I am ready to go with You, both to prison and to death --was not only naive but filled with hubris. When we withhold our true selves from those with whom we are in relationship, not only do we insult their intelligence and deny them the opportunity of showing us grace, but we rob ourselves of the reality check we all need from time to time. Just as Peter was certain he would weather whatever storm made landfall, we take assurance in our performance as spouses or friends, pledging our utmost, but incapable --really --of presenting even a naked conscience.

Secondly, Jesus prayed for His friend. Jesus knew Peter's heart and was, therefore, able to pray accordingly; He knows ours and makes intercession as well. Shouldn't we afford our spouses with the same opportunity? If we are intent on hiding from them the deepest despairs, inadequacies, and vexations of our heart, how can they be enabled to pray? So long as we only show them what we believe to be the "best" of ourselves, how can they be blessed by interceding for us? And interceding for others is a blessing! The opportunity to watch God work in the life of the petitioner and the one for whom they plead is a gift. 

As is the gift of encouragement. In the latter part of Luke 22:32, Jesus assures Peter, "When you have returned to Me..." This means he would depart from Jesus, their relationship would be broken, but only for a time! Peter would return to Jesus. Jesus encourages His friend despite the wound He would receive by his denial. Though our spouses may not know the outcome of every fault or doubt, every wart or scar we reveal, what a blessed fusion it is to have someone encourage you through the worst of times as you endure them together --even if they themselves might suffer injury. 

Lastly, a rising tide lifts all boats. Jesus' words at the end of verse 32, are a direction to Peter to use the experience to strengthen others, a charge that goes beyond the scope of their relationship alone and is designed to edify those around them. Marriage is a picture of Christ's love for His Bride, the Church. As we walk this out, loving and elevating one another, the whole of society is lifted. The ugliness, the forgiveness, the encouragement, the transformation, the trials, the tears, the celebrations --all we experience within the confines of a loving relationship with our spouses is good for all of humanity. Providing we are willing to take the risk, show ourselves, and trust our spouse to love us as they have vowed to do.

Midweek: No Longer at War

I just heard someone say that transgenderism is the act of "waging war on your body," and I felt that. I felt that because in my teens and into my twenties, it was safer for me to "be male." I didn't want to be male, necessarily, but it was safer for me to put on an outward appearance of (what I thought were) predominantly male characteristics. I cussed --A LOT --and the more vulgar, the better. I smoked, drank, yelled, fought, and pushed people around as much as I could. I took a job in a male dominated industry. I wore jeans and concert t's; I cut my hair and lifted weights. I hung out with guys my age and learned as much as I could about cars and sports. I was tough. Now, I'd always loved climbing trees and playing in the mud; and when I was choosing to wear male clothing and engage in male activities, I was happy to rock a great pair of heels and match all of my accessories just to go shopping. There was never anyone encouraging me to take the leap, just transition, live in the way that makes you happy. Even if they had been there, I was happy being both! Was I trans? Was I non-binary? Was I --pick a label? No, I was a woman who felt threatened, a woman who had grown up with some untrustworthy people in her life, had no real clue how to choose trustworthy people (Thank God, He gave me some!), and continued, for lack of wisdom, to add untrustworthy people to her life. Additionally, my body type, how I felt about myself, the enjoyment I got out of woodworking with my uncle or hanging out in the bays of an auto repair shop --all of these things made me very uncomfortable in "Girl World." I wasn't safe being vulnerable with men or being equal with women. My solution was to be equal to men.

So many young women today feel the same. They're uncomfortable with the changes in their bodies beginning with puberty. They may not have June Cleaver standing behind them as they gaze into a mirror. You are beautiful! You are going through a difficult process that will make you into a woman. But you are beautiful now! Just hang in there. Since the "sexual revolution," moms themselves have been struggling with the expectation of bringing home the bacon and frying it up in the pan. Assuring our daughters of something of which we ourselves are not sure...well, here we are. Social media and its demonic worldviews are poised to pick up the slack, however. You're uncomfortable because you were made wrong. You are a male trapped in a female body. Medical technology is your friend, my friend! You can transition, and all of this will be fixed! No, no it won't. If these young women don't come to grips with their discomfort, they will go on believing a lie. Changing physical attributes are no more helpful to transforming one's life than they were in the '70s. Do you recall those body building ads of old, the ones from the back pages of magazines? A "90-pound weakling" would cower on the beach as bullies kicked sand in his face. In the following frame, a he-man hero would show up, recommending whatever product the ad was hawking. The advertiser's formula, classes --even wrist cuffs! --would transform a simp into a successful, muscle-bound ladies' man in no time. "Gender reassignment surgery" is nothing more than a disgusting euphemism for profiteering today. Confused, fearful, vulnerable, "at war" people are being mutilated and exploited for financial gain. Praise God I wasn't born thirty years later! I might have purchased the snake oil myself. 

When we choose to believe God is who He says He is, everything else flows from that. When we choose to believe He is truth, we will trust Him at His Word. When we choose to believe He is the perfect Designer and Creator, we will trust the way He created us and the cycles of development in our bodies. When we choose to believe He loves us, we will know that no matter how awkward or misplaced we feel, His love for us demands He remain with us in the worst of circumstances. When we choose to wait on the Lord, we will no longer be at war with our bodies, the place where His image resides, but we will see the beauty of His work as it nears completion. 

Why Jesus?

As a little girl, I heard about Jesus. He died so I wouldn't go to hell. What four-year old wants to go to hell? Tell any four-year old about hell, and they will ask Oscar the Grouch into their heart if that's what it takes. And what did it mean to ask someone into your heart anyway?

As I grew, I heard that God expected those who had His Son in their hearts to act a certain way. I was really bad at it. I didn't pray; I didn't read my Bible --I didn't even want to do those things. What I wanted was to be liked, to fit in. Fitting in with my friends and being a Bible reader didn't seem to go together at all. If Jesus was in my heart, why wasn't He doing anything about it?

By adulthood, I'd given up. Multiple altar calls hadn't changed me. I figured I'd have to wait until I matured or got it all out of my system or something. But there was still that hell thing. Would God grant me time before I died to ask Jesus into my heart? Would He even be willing to come in after all the times I'd disappointed Him?

I was in my thirties when I had a "come to Jesus" moment. I was so sad, felt so rejected, had no direction. So, I said one of those "God, I've made such a mess of my life" prayers. I asked Him to take over. I did pretty well letting Him for a few days; but when my circumstances didn't change --in fact, they got worse --I gave up. It was back to leeks and onions for me. Or, at least, that's what I thought.

Ten years later, and life had gotten waaaay more complicated. But I had offered my life to God, I'd asked Him to change me, and He doesn't take those sorts of conversations lightly. Thank Him! He is faithful even when we are not. Friends "just happened" to recommended books that challenged me. Another friend committed to praying with me regularly. Local radio stations began to irritate my spirit, and I found myself listening instead to Christian radio: the preachers were "so different" from those of my childhood! I developed an appetite for reading the Bible and --better than that --it suddenly made sense! I was going to Christian counseling and Bible study. Little by little, the things I found so difficult to desire, to enjoy, to do when I was a child, were now the moments for which I lived. I wanted better for myself and my children; I wanted to live, where before I'd contemplated how not to. I needed Jesus in a way I never had before. 

We all need Jesus. He is the only way to heaven --like it or not. The message I heard as a little girl is as basic as it gets. Without Him, there is no access to the Father God or to heaven. Without Him the only remaining option is hell. But without Him there's also no reason to want heaven. Heaven is where God is; He is there with His Son whom we know as Jesus. Are there streets of gold? The Bible says there are. Gates made of pearl? The Bible says there are. But would you spend the rest of eternity with someone you have always hated, someone you've always rejected just so you could live in his swanky crib? No, but I don't want hell either. Well, my friend, then you have a choice, and no one can make it for you but you. Who will you serve? 

In serving Jesus, there is such a blessedness, such a growth, such a level of adventure. He has made my life better, richer, bigger. He has placed in my heart a love for others and a peace I could have never achieved on my own. I have vision and direction; a clarity of purpose I never had without Him. And, perhaps, there are those out there who can live better, richer, bigger without Him. Maybe there are those who love without Him and have peace all on their own. Maybe there are people who were just born with vision and purpose and fullness. But there's no one who can have a relationship with their Creator without Him. Though He is more than fire insurance, fire insurance is what we all need. By His grace, however, He grants and calls us to be more than policy holders. He allows us to steward His resources for His glory --not in a dehumanizing, sycophantic way, but in a way that completes us, allows us to be more fully who we were designed to be. So, why Jesus? Why not?      

Packed and Ready to Go!

In just a few weeks, our young man will pack his bags for a week of summer camp. As his mom, I will do everything in my power to make sure he has a great experience. I will do my best to anticipate his needs and his concerns. I will read and refer to the camp's publications again and again, passing the appropriate information on to him so he will be informed, but screening the flow of data so he will not be overwhelmed. I will take as much off his plate as I possibly can SO THAT he can go do what he is designed to do (at least, in this context): be a typical growing boy. This is not benevolence or parental responsibility exclusively: this is a way I can free him from the burden of the basics in order for him to reach his potential as a child.

God takes care of the basics, so we are freed up to do the work He has given us to do.

Have you ever thought of it that way? I know God is benevolent. I know He is our Father. I know that, by nature, He is Provider and Creator. As a parent loves on their child, wants to guide and guard them, provides for them and creates an environment in which they can thrive, God does those things perfectly.  

Jesus' words in Matthew 6 are an exercise in simplicity. First of all, He talks about giving and praying, doing those things we, as His followers are expected to do. Keep it simple, He says, just between you and Me. Give as you are led; speak what's on your heart. Then He gives us the framework for prayer. It's not miles long with lots of flowery language and theological gobbledygook. It's simple, to the point. Forgive, He continues. Fast simply and secretly. Commit to pursuing eternal things. Guard your intake and serve the One True God. Then, He talks about the basics: food, drink, clothing, that to-do list that never seems to get any shorter. Don't worry about any of that stuff, He says. For your Heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.

Scripture is chock-full of instructions; instructions that help us remain safe and steadfast, serve God and others, become more Christlike, entice others to want to become more Christlike, live at peace, conquer our old habits, and so much more. It's a lot! We are called to allow the fruit of the Spirit in us to overflow for the benefit of the Church and to the glory of God. Can you imagine being successful at a commission like that if each day was consumed with simply tending to the basics? Many of us can't, because being consumed with the basics is exactly what we are. Traveling around to three different stores just for our brand of mayonnaise. A bank account that's just as empty as the gas tank. Nothing "suitable" to wear to church. What would happen if we skipped the mayo or walked or went to church anyway? What if we weren't so consumed with the basics and allowed God to handle it? What sort of people would we become? What would that accomplish for the Church and to the glory of God? Will God provide the mayo? Will He fill our tank? Will He update our wardrobe? Maybe. Maybe not. But He will handle all those basics for our good and for His glory. If we believe that truth, we are free to do what we have been given to do: reach our potential in the body of Christ to the glory of God!  

Midweek: NKJV Personal Size Giant Print Bible

Thomas Nelson Bible has again given me the opportunity to examine and review a complimentary copy of their NKJV Personal Size Giant Print Bible. If you tend to read where there is insufficient lighting or at the end of the day, a Bible with large print may not be a bad idea. This one, in my opinion, does not disappoint.

Let me, first, say, this Bible has zero bells and whistles. In a time when most of us have access to smart phones and carry volumes of commentary and study tools in our pockets via the internet, that's not a terrible thing. Personally, I prefer minimal notes, as it forces me to really pay attention to the text, first and foremost, reread when necessary, pray What are You telling me in Your Word?, and then resort to Bible helps. Study Bibles, with notes and references nearby allow me to be inattentive and lazy.

So, the edition I received is black Leathersoft™ with gilded edges and a satin bookmark. It measures a comfortable 5" x 8" and is guaranteed for life. The words of Jesus are in red. The text is in a classic double-column layout, paragraph format, and 12-point Comfort Print®. Headings denote subject transitions. Behind the gold-stamped and carved cover is a presentation page, a title page, a short preface, and the table of contents. Seven color maps make up the entirety of the back matter. That's it. No book introductions, cross-references, or concordance.

If you are looking for a basic text with visually friendly type, this is a good choice. Details on the binding give it a classic appearance while the cover is lovely enough for gift-giving at a reasonable price. It typically retails for $49.99, but Christianbook.com is currently selling this edition for $32.99, and offering personalization. 

Memorial Day 2025

Memorial Day. A time to remember and be grateful, and maybe, a bit sad. The vast majority of us have never experienced the loss of a service member --praise God. We have the luxury of observing the day as little more than an extension to our weekend, the beginning of the summer season, and a day for parades and picnics. But what if we took time to remember and be grateful --not just for service members who gave their lives --but used the time to remember and giving thanks for what it took, what it takes to make a nation strong, to make a people free? I don't mean in any way to detract from the significance of the day or the pain and sacrifice of the people, but sacrifice comes in all shapes and sizes. The greatest, of course, is to give one's life for another.

I look around today and see very few statesmen and a lot of politicians. I see very few public servants and a lot of public figures. What if we took some time today and looked back at the folks who made this country what it is. Were they perfect? Of course not, but they were dedicated; they had vision and intention, and they were willing to go to their graves, if necessary, bringing that vision to fruition. They did the heavy lifting and spoke the hard truth. And while today we have men and women in uniform willing to do the heavy lifting, to lay down their lives to preserve the vision of one nation under God, the people who are supposed to be protecting them, speaking the hard truth, seem to be deaf and dumb. They are winking at lascivious behaviors and their own indulgence in them. They have made personal prosperity the objective of their office. They divide and seek to conquer. They encourage the irresponsible conduct of medical and mental healthcare "professionals" for profit. They refuse to protect the weakest of society and, instead, advocate for exploitation and degradation. They serve themselves above all others. Not all of them, mind you, but in service to our country and its people, within a system of elected officials, one is too many.  

This day let's remember those who gave, who sacrificed and lost in many ways. And let us recommit ourselves to looking away from the comfortable and convenient and begin to hold our leadership accountable. Let us become a people worthy of the sacrifice of those we memorialize today.

Dressed in His Righteousness Alone

When my mother left our home to enter a nursing facility, I was given the option of using their laundry service or continuing to do her laundry myself. Knowing I would be to see her frequently, I said I would continue to do her laundry. Knowing items often get lost, even with the best laundry services, I said I would continue to do her laundry. Knowing how much I was going to miss getting her ready for the day and cooking her meals, I said I would continue to do her laundry. There is something about doing the laundry of our loved ones that is intrinsically intimate. Sure, most days it can seem like just another household chore, but when the person is gone, we realize just how special clothing can be. Clothing is personal. It expresses our style, occupation, and budget. It is worn by us and smells like us --even after multiple washings. And the only thing harder than finding items of clothing in the laundry after a person is gone, is not finding them anymore.

I have to wonder about the clothing God made for Adam and Eve after their futile attempts to cover their nakedness. "Tunics of skin", the NKJV calls them. Did they eventually wear out? Did Eve study them so she might craft replacements as well as her Father fashioned the originals? When baby Cain entered the world, did she immediately send Adam to slay rabbits for the layette? In terms of modesty, how much or how little was revealed? Did they feel ownership of their clothing the way we do? That last question there --that's the one. Did they feel ownership of their clothing as we do?

Scripture spends quite a bit of time talking about clothing. Do you remember Joseph's coat of many colors given him by his father as a symbol of favor? (Genesis 37:3, 4) Talk about your bad choices:

Now Israel loved Joseph more than all his children, because he was the son of his old age. Also he made him a tunic of many colors. But when his brothers saw that their father loved him more than all his brothers, they hated him and could not speak peaceably to him.

When Joseph's brothers finally decided to take their revenge, they opted for mercy for their younger brother, but showed none toward their father (Genesis 37:31-34):

So they took Joseph’s tunic, killed a kid of the goats, and dipped the tunic in the blood. Then they sent the tunic of many colors, and they brought it to their father and said, “We have found this. Do you know whether it is your son’s tunic or not?”

And he recognized it and said, “It is my son’s tunic. A wild beast has devoured him. Without doubt Joseph is torn to pieces.” Then Jacob tore his clothes, put sackcloth on his waist, and mourned for his son many days.

I can imagine Jacob clutching the tunic in both fists, holding it to his face, weeping and breathing deeply the scent of his favorite boy. Did he return time and time again to that bloody coat, drawing his breath and allowing the images of his son to flood his mind?

And look at the description of John the Baptist's attire:

Now John himself was clothed in camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist; (Matthew 3:4)

Rugged, utilitarian --sort of like John the Baptist himself. His words to the people were simple and direct. Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand! He took a no-nonsense approach to the religious elite in his day, calling them a brood of vipers.

Clothing is personal. Even the most Puritanical tend to feel some sort of ownership, as though clothing were a second skin to us. Skin that became necessary because of sin. It should be a curse to us, right? But even Jesus took ownership of His garments. In Matthew 9:20-22, a woman with an issue of blood had faith she would be healed if only she could touch the hem of Jesus' garment. The hem! She was correct.

But Jesus said, “Somebody touched Me, for I perceived power going out from Me.”

(Luke 8:46) 

"I perceived power going out from Me," yet she only touched His hem (Luke 8:44). That power which flowed from the Messiah, through the hem of His coat, and to a broken but believing woman, did what nothing or no one else could do. It made her whole. And by God's grace, clothing is for us a picture, a picture of the righteousness in which the saints stand clothed through Jesus Christ, and have been made whole. It is personal. We should feel ownership of that righteousness as we yield to the Holy Spirit and immerse ourselves more deeply into God's Word day after day. We should feel it, not as though it were a second skin to us, but a first; our most lovely and our most essential. If you are not clothed with the righteousness of Christ today, I urge you to get a new wardrobe. An everlasting and holy wardrobe. One that, even when you are gone and your favorite shirt is no longer found in the hamper, those who long to breathe in more than memories can be assured you are now whole. 

Midweek: A Cinderella Story (2014)

This month it was seventeen years since my prince and I said our I dos. Not much longer before that I accepted the I do of the Prince and offered my own. Seventeen years is certainly not a record --in either case; but I love hearing of those special, almost lifelong celebrations, especially when the news is accompanied by images of two frail clasped hands in an epic love story, or a litany of souls won for the Kingdom of God. I know it was my reluctance to be made one with the Prince of Peace that caused me to remain in ashes, but praise Him for His mercy and grace, His forbearance and power that has allowed me to celebrate my life with the earthborn prince he gave me!

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Everybody loves a good story. I am no different. I love a good story...and shoes. I love shoes and good stories. Now you combine those two elements, and you've got yourself quite a good thing. In fact, it's been done before -- maybe once or twice -- and quite successfully in the form of my favorite story, Cinderella.

I don't think I'm alone when I say, as a little girl I dreamed of my prince, riding up to take me -- unworthy, common, hidden by ashes -- for his bride. But there is irony here, an irony that the story of Cinderella doesn't capture. Most little girls -- unworthy, common, and hidden away beneath the ashes -- reject at least one prince, and choose at least one troll. I was no different. It wasn't until I felt completely worthless, believed myself to be beneath common, and had made myself quite comfortable among the ashes, that a prince came along who accepted me as I was, but loved me far too much to leave me there.

When I met him, he told me right from the door, "If you're sick of the way you've been living, and you want to make some real changes, then stick with me, but if you want me to treat you the same way you've allowed yourself to be treated your entire life, find someone else." What?! He may have been a prince, but this was a guy who had chased me for months; this was a guy who'd been told "No" more times than a six year-old at Toys 'R Us! And he thinks he's just gonna walk away like that? Yep. And he would have, too, if I hadn't straightened my tail out and made a commitment to be better to myself -- for him.

As parents, one of the greatest disappointments is watching your child do something that is going to hurt them. So many times, as I have corrected my children, their first instinct is to apologize, and mine is to say, "I'm not telling you this because you've hurt me, but because I know how badly this will hurt you." My prince loves me like that. He would have never been able to stand by and watch me self-destruct, and there is absolutely no way he could have helped me in it.

But, you see, my prince is merely a picture of another Prince; the Prince who had been there my whole life, slowly, gently, and despite my greatest resistance, coaxing me out of the ashes and into His arms. But I'd always run. I was sure I wasn't good enough -- and I wasn't, but The Prince accepted me exactly the way I was.

I just never saw it that way.

Being worthy, or being uncommon, or even being clean was where He was dying -- literally -- to take me, not where I needed to be. He wanted to walk me through it, to commit to being better to myself -- for Him.

I just didn't see it that way.

Besides, there were a lot of trolls to go around. And at least a troll was just as filthy and contemptible as I was -- if you stay at the bottom, you never have far to fall. And a troll would never expect me to be anything but unworthy, common, and hidden in ashes -- no grief and disappointment in that. And a troll would always be a troll -- no nasty surprises.

No good ones, either.

Not every day with my prince, or my Prince, is easy, and not everything works out the way I have planned. But whatever befalls, befalls us. And whatever burdens we have, we share. And the good stuff, we enjoy together, happily, and ever after.

Brick by Brick

One of my favorite nursery stories was The Three Little Pigs. I have read kinder, gentler versions, but the one I recall from childhood begins with a mother pig too poor to take care of all her piglets. She sent the oldest three out to build lives for themselves. As the story goes, the first pig was too impulsive and lazy --the Party Pig --to take the time and effort to build something that would last: he built out of straw. The second was a little less reckless but also unwilling to build with eternity in mind. The third, of course, was the oldest child --He must have been! --he was detail oriented, probably controlling, and a little neurotic: he built out of brick to keep the wolf at bay. To his credit, however, when the abodes of his siblings failed miserably against the gale force winds of the Big Bad Wolf's heave, he took them in and sheltered them against their mutual enemy, despite what might have been a very valuable life (or death) lesson.

For a long time, I saw myself in the third pig. Wise, responsible, dutiful, industrious. (I didn't side with him in his decision to show mercy to his lazy siblings, but all-in-all, I thought he was the better of the three. Not like I was full of myself or anything, in those days.) The other day, I realized I was more like him than I thought, but this time, in a different way. You see, he and his siblings built their homes uniquely because, whether you believe it had anything to do with character or not, they were individuals. Maybe Pig #1 was happy with just enough. I'll build my house of straw --enough to keep me warm and dry without investing too much money or taking time from my relationships. Maybe Pig #2 was simply that middle-of-the-road guy, the guy that buys a reasonably comfortable, reliable car but has no need to spend extra on luxury.  And maybe the third pig, the pig like me, was such an over-achiever, was so impersonal with regard to his relationships, was so terrified of danger or threat of danger, he built to ensure nothing would get in or out.

I was a stronghold builder. I built according to the lessons taught me in childhood. What was not my fault --injury sustained --became clearly my fault when I began building monuments to it. Another brick here, another brick there. So high you can't get over it; so low you can't get under it; so wide you can't get around it! The problem with strongholds is they keep everything out --the evil and the love of God, the lie and the Truth. I relied on my own understanding to determine who could and could not gain access to my refuge. I allowed squealing, desperate pigs into my stronghold. The problem was there was nothing desperate in those squeals, only deceit, the deceit of the Adversary. The Big Bad Wolf played cruel tricks on me, and because my strongholds were built well enough to keep out the wisdom and discernment granted by the Holy Spirit, I was ignorant. The walls I built for protection were my greatest undoing.

But as with our fairytale, my story doesn't end there. My story begins and ends with the iron-willed, mountain-moving grace of God. Praise God, for He is merciful! He is my loving Creator and sovereign over all things! He knew the way in. In His kindness and His savage grace, He protected me until such a time, made His way in, brick by brick, moving with expert precision, only as quickly as my condition would allow, and He dismantled those strongholds (He is dismantling still), so that I might bring Him glory, serve Him more effectively, and know the joy of fellowship with others. 

I'd like to just leave you with a few verses today. If you are living behind, on top of, or under a stronghold today, I pray God in His grace will escort these truths in as He begins to dismantle anger, jealousy, grief, despair, pride, fear, or any other thing raised against the knowledge of Him, brick by brick. 

Unless the Lord builds the house,

They labor in vain who build it;

Unless the Lord guards the city,

The watchman stays awake in vain. 

(Psalm 127:1)

Trust in the Lord with all your heart,

And lean not on your own understanding;

In all your ways acknowledge Him,

And He shall direct your paths.

(Proverbs 3:5,6)

For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds, casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ,

(2 Corinthians 10:4, 5)

How Do You Live?

As a society, we are pathetically soft. Even the "most durable" of us are pretty pampered. We have our can't-do-without shampoo and our climate-controlled office buildings. We lose our minds when a detour forces us to add minutes to a commute. We want to know every detail and ensure they are written in stone before we embark on vacation. We have calendars and alarms to keep our days comfortably aligned, and we hide the dirty little secret of our overflow in storage units conveniently located in every town. 

In Mark 6:7-11a, Jesus sends His disciples out with very limited instructions and few customary resources. 

And He called the twelve to Himself, and began to send them out two by two, and gave them power over unclean spirits. He commanded them to take nothing for the journey except a staff—no bag, no bread, no copper in their money belts— but to wear sandals, and not to put on two tunics. Also He said to them, “In whatever place you enter a house, stay there till you depart from that place. And whoever will not receive you nor hear you, when you depart from there, shake off the dust under your feet as a testimony against them."

We're not told if Jesus told them how far to go or how long to stay. It appears He did not. And we are not told how far or how long they actually did go. The fact they were told to take a walking stick, seems to indicate it wasn't a quick trip to the next town over and there could very likely be a predator or two they'd have to knock over the head. No GPS, no debit card, no transit pass, not even a hotel reservation. Mark simply tells us, one day Jesus whistled or waved for His disciples to come to Him and then sent them out. Maybe they came to Him thinking it was time for group prayer and some lunch. Nevertheless, they complied with Jesus' commission and based on Mark's description of their return (verse 30), they had great success. 

I started to wonder if I would be willing to take that trip. How many of us wouldn't ask if there would be WIFI or if we could postpone the trip until our children are back in school? Would friends gather for some sort of intervention to keep us from doing something so impulsive, so reckless? Then I imagined coming face to face with John the Baptist, who set up his ministry in the wilderness with nothing more than one simple camel skin suit and a diet of honey and grasshoppers. Who, in his final days, sat alone in a prison wondering if he'd gotten it wrong, and was eventually beheaded for speaking truth. Or Jeremiah, the "weeping prophet," an empath who was refused the comfort and companionship of a wife, suffered rejection, humiliation, physical pain, and imprisonment, and saw his beloved Jerusalem decimated by heartless Babylonians. 

How did you die? someone might ask them.

Martyred. How did you die? they might ask in return, looking at me.

Crossing against the light while scrolling Instagram.

We are pathetically soft. If we want to go to our death with the full confidence we have carried our cross daily, been poured out, used up, done all we could for the Kingdom of God, the question we need to ask ourselves now is, How do I live? Do I live sacrificially, against the status quo, for God alone. Am I living in imitation of Jesus and those others who laid down their lives for the brethren in His name? Or do I merely exist from paycheck to paycheck, on a quiet cul-de-sac, with neighbors who insist on overhanging my driveway, weary with purposelessness and seeking all I can for myself? Can you imagine explaining the asperity of that sort of suffering to The Apostle Paul?

Photo courtesy LuAnn Martin

Midweek: At the Hands of a Craftsman (2014)

The right tool for the job! Wasn't that the slogan for a tool distributor? Something like that. Bottom line, you don't want to use a chainsaw when a pocketknife will do. Our Heavenly Father is pretty adept at both. Ask me how I know! We don't always enjoy His methods, but we can rejoice in the truth that He knows us better than we know ourselves; Scripture assures us His work is for our good and His glory; and because of His character, we can trust the job will be done perfectly and to completion. Even when the work causes us to wonder, it never causes us to doubt (we do that all on our own accord), because His designs are greater than anything we see from the cheap seats.  

And I don't say that lightly. The person I am today is not the same person who wrote this original article eleven years ago. More often than not, I couldn't see the end from the beginning. More often than not, I wasn't in love with the changes or the means to change God expertly wielded. But I am living proof that trusting oneself to the Master's hands is to experience His best and walk in peace with Him. And I have so much further to go. So, be encouraged today: it will all be worth it. Know that to surrender your life to God is to see it remade at the hand of a True Craftsman!

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What do you like to do? When considering the perfect occupation or weekend retreat, what would you do?

My uncle was a carpenter. His basement was full of enormous power tools -- lathes, saws and all manner of woodworking amenities. The smell of scorched wood, and crackling curls of maple littering the floor --it was captivating. His tools; my foray into craftsmanship.

My nana taught me needlework as soon as I was able to balance a hoop and needle. I loved sitting at her feet, her bag open in front of me. I'd root through embroidery hanks and thimbles --so much potential. Her tools; my toys.

Then there's the unfaithful husband. The drug-addicted daughter. The death of a parent. The bankruptcy. The cancer. No, you haven't turned a page. These are tools also. Not all of them my experience, but close enough. These are the tools God has used to change my life, or the lives of my friends.

Christians catch a lot of flak for worshipping a God who would hurt to heal or tear down to rebuild. And right now, trust me, we are knee-deep in teardown. But I have learned that something good will come of it. Oh, I can't say that I'm gushing about the process, but truth tells me this is for a season.

The Bible contains account after account of folks who, throughout history have experienced the same phenomena as this --God's (sometimes) sharp tools applied to their lives --but this poem says it pretty well and encourages us all:

The Master Weaver's Plan

 

My life is but a weaving
Between the Lord and me;
I may not choose the colors–
He knows what they should be.

 

For He can view the pattern
Upon the upper side
While I can see it only
On this, the under side.

 

Sometimes He weaves in sorrow,
Which seems so strange to me;
But I will trust His judgment
And work on faithfully.

 

‘Tis He who fills the shuttle,
And He knows what is best;
So I shall weave in earnest,
And leave to Him the rest.

 

Not ’til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.

 

The dark threads are as needed
In the Weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.

-Author Unknown

Made New

Recently, a sister in Christ invited a group of us to enjoy a time of fun and refreshing at her home near the beach. As I was going over logistics with my husband, he began looking up directions and mapping out where I would be. No, no, no, I said. That's not where I'll be. I know exactly where I'm going. The house was located minutes away from a place I stayed while I was in my early twenties. The day I was supposed to leave, I set my GPS, and pulled out of the drive, listening to a podcast I'd been eager to hear. About eighty minutes later, the navigator's voice interrupted and directed me to a shortcut, a series of back roads to get me just where I needed to go. A couple of rights and lefts later, I recognized names and landmarks I'd not thought about for thirty years. Memories --some pretty horrible --flooded my mind, and the weight of my emotions caused me to struggle to breathe. This is who I used to be. Let me first say, the things you see and read about when it comes to heavy drug use, they're all true. People who spend their days and nights getting high, who are fully dependent on illegal substances live like hell. Their houses are filthy and falling down around them --or they don't have a place to live at all, in which case they crash at someone else's filthy, falling down house because no one with a shred of sanity and a mortgage is able to sustain the madness drug dependence brings to one's life. Generally speaking, addicts' lives are a mess, their finances are a mess, their clothes are a mess, and their relationships are a mess. And it was my life with an addict, being an addict, and hanging out with addicts that had come back to me as I drove.

A single house, filthy and falling down, of course, was where I found myself one day. Nowhere to sleep or sit but dirty mattresses and a torn sofa. Evidence of drug use lie all around, and the floor was littered with food and wrappers. Little children, barefooted and clothed only in diapers toddled about. Children just a fraction of life older, faces smeared with dirt and whatever they'd fixed themselves for lunch, were keeping watch as "parents" used and argued. Their drug was not my drug of choice, so I was not partaking that day. I was just an observer, quiet and tense, trying not to look uptight, trying not to get called out and coerced into being one of them. But it was the first time I'd ever seen freebasing, and I remember knowing the police had been watching the house. Neighbors had been demanding for months that something be done about the drug use and all the chaos that came with it. What if they come and I'm here? What will I do if I get arrested? Who will come get me? But I didn't leave. In fact, not only did I not leave, did I not do drugs that day, I didn't do anything. I didn't do anything the next time I was there either. Or the next. Or the next. Or the next. I never did anything. Not drugs. Not leave. Not help those children. Not help those adults. Not cry and grieve for their pain and the futile ways they chose to deal with it. I did nothing. But that is not the most egregious realization that arrived with all of those memories: the most egregious thing is that I convinced myself they were all okay. Time after time, as I stayed entire afternoons at that filthy, falling down house, the initial shock of all that was taking place faded. No longer did I notice the smeared faces and littered floors. No longer did I care that people were so destitute of reason they lived this way. No longer did I think they needed to change course --at least for the sake of these sweet little babies. It was okay. They were okay. I was okay. And I was desperately wrong.

This is who I used to be. And I say that not to remain in that place or to punish myself in any way. I say that not to beat my chest and emphasize how far I have come. I say that to bring glory to the God who was with me even in those days, who looked on --How that must have hurt Him! --and kept me safe; not because I was His, but because I would one day be. I say that to bring glory to the One who forgives me for all of that; for my selfishness and my self-medication and my failure to obey Him in those days. I say that to bring glory to the Waymaker and Healer, my Redeemer and Transformer, who pulled me from that life and is every day making me a new creation. I say that to point to the only One who can use a filthy and falling down mess to bring glory to His name --the only name worthy of it --and give me a heart that now aches for people in trouble, a heart that is today praying for all of those I knew back when that was who I used to be.

"3 Cans Buttermilk...Biscuits"

The text was supposed to read: 3 cans buttermilk biscuits. Instead, as I hit SEND I realized biscuits had been sent to one line and the line above simply read, 3 cans buttermilk. I knew things wouldn't end well unless I sent Scott another text. Just a sidenote: I NEVER send my husband to the grocery store with a long list. Pick up milk, please or Could you grab another box of linguine? perhaps, but more than three items? NEVER. When it comes to grocery shopping, I have a system. And, I like to have control. (But that's a topic for another day.) As I was preparing to send that clarifying text, I received an email alert. I made the decision to ignore that but saw someone struggling with some bags. I couldn't let that go. After helping with the bags, I hurried to get unlock the door and turn on some lights. My phone chimed again. Ooo, gotta silence that before Bible study. I tapped the volume off. A voice called from the hall; ladies were arriving, and I hadn't placed chairs at the table yet. Someone asked for a pen and some paper. Another had gotten an important text asking for prayer... Bottom line: I never sent the text. So, while I was teaching on the topic of evangelism, my husband, with our youngest in tow, was going from store to store, soliciting employees to aid him in a snipe hunt. He nor his unsuspecting aids had any idea their search was fruitless. As I said, I was teaching on evangelism, and the irony is not lost on me.

Evangelism, or spreading the good news of Jesus Christ is a huge part of Christianity --or it should be. As followers of Jesus, we are given a clear example of how to do life with others. Jesus prayed for others. Jesus had meals with people. Jesus helped others. Jesus defended people. Jesus attended worship services. Jesus told others the Good News of why He had come to earth in the first place. As if His example is not enough, He directly commanded all those who follow Him to go out into the world and make more disciples. The Good News of Jesus is not for us to keep to ourselves. We are all in need of a Savior --of The Savior, and it doesn't end with the "sinner's prayer." Surrendering our will to Jesus and being born of the Holy Spirit is just the beginning. The remainder of our life on Earth is spent --or should be --seeking to become more like Jesus and inviting others to do the same. It is a lifelong search --not that God cannot be found; He reveals Himself clearly in the pages of His Word --but it is a lifelong search to know Him more deeply, to dig within our hearts and find more to give Him, to discover areas we remain more like our old selves than the new creation we have been made in Christ, to experience His benefits and be satisfied with good things, and to bring others along on the journey to toil and delight and wonder with us. 

But this is no wild goose chase! God promises we will find exactly what we seek. As we open our Bibles and dig into His written Word, we discover things about Him and about ourselves; how He uses people (in a good and transformative way) for His glory, how He makes us into the human beings He before time designed us to be, how He works even the difficult and grievous parts of our lives in such a way as to bring us good and bring Him glory, how all of this is predicated on us being separated from God by our sin but being offered the opportunity to partake of the substitutionary atonement of a benevolent and sufficient Savior. This is the Gospel! And evangelism is sharing that Good News, partnering with others as they embark on a journey to know God, and inviting them to partner with us as we live on our own adventure imitating Christ as well. We draw others in as we navigate life in Christ and explore what it means to trust Him. 

Not for lack of willingness or effort or compassion, my husband and his search party never found 3 cans buttermilk. Because they don't exist. Because the message was not clearly communicated. As evangelists --all of us --it's important the message of God's goodness toward a fallen humanity is clearly communicated. It's not enough to "do good things" and expect people to know it is because of Jesus we do them. We have to tell them. We have to be ready to answer their questions and explain the power of a God whose love toward us has enabled us to love others. That starts with each one of us knowing who He is and what He says in His Word. We have to be sharpened by our brothers and sisters and fueled by the steady influx of Scripture so that we are equipped. We have to be certain those around us receive the message clearly. 

Midweek: HEY, PHILADELPHIA!!! (2013)

Welcome to Wednesday! I hope your week is progressing nicely. Continuing with our little journey into the posts of the past, I found this little gem. In September 2013, I couldn't have known just how crazy the desire for depravity and the level of arrogance within our nation's governments would get.

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Did you know we have a sister city? Yeah, I know! Who knew, right? Well, we do. In fact, we have a few, but it's this little one in Russia that seems to be causing all the flack. It's a cute little town with a population just shy of Philly's. Its name is Nizhny Novgorod, or Nizhny for short.

Now, here is the issue at hand. Mayor Nutter is facing a bit of pressure to cut ties with our dear sister of 20 years because it seems she has banned homosexual literature. Yep. Does it get any worse than that? One of our illustrious former mayors would have probably dropped a bomb on her by now, but that's another story for another day. Anyhoo, certain factions are crusading to dump our disagreeable sister, and I couldn't agree more. Here's my argument:

1) All free thinkers and rubes who have the gall to disagree with popular opinion need to be taught a lesson.

2) Separation of church and state (the current, popular translation - not the one that says the state needs to stay out of the church's business) is obviously the first step in separating sex and state. If Mayor Nutter is called to task and cuts off Sister Russia, there can no longer be any issues amongst folks who wish to see the state recognize gay marriages -- once the state is out, it's out!

3) It's a wonderful thing to have the fifth largest city in America dictate how to run the fifth largest city in Russia. Those poor, ignorant folks in Nizhny need our help! Arrogance is always a good characteristic -- the rest of the world loves Americans for it!

4) Once Nizhny reaches our enlightened status, they can beg to be back in our good graces. Who knows, maybe then they will have surpassed our enlightenment and can tell us how to run our city - sort of like Mother England did with the colonies back in the 1700's.

5) If Philly divorces our little sister over banning certain literature - in its own city - or over any other difference of opinion, that will give a whole new meaning to extortion. You disagree? I want a divorce. You smoke within the confines of your own car? Relinquish your driver's license. You like mind-numbing reality TV? Oh ok, you can stay. But you don't participate in casual Friday? You're fired. You don't speak Russian? You are dead to me (or however they would say that in Nizhny Novgorod). Everyone knows, the best way to woo someone to seeing things your way is to make ridiculous threats. 

6) Lastly, and this is the one I really want you to let hang there a moment...
Philadelphia public schools banned prayer and Bible reading 50 years ago. Who has divorced us?

But whoever denies Me before men, him I will also deny before My Father who is in heaven.

Matthew 10:33

Virtue Signaling or Forgiveness?

Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.

~ Luke 23:34a

"Virtue signaling" is a phrase coined in the early 2000s, and according to Merriam-Webster's is "the practice of conspicuously displaying one's awareness of and attentiveness to political issues, matters of social and racial justice, etc., especially instead of taking effective action." In a world where false piety and hypocrisy existed, Jesus words on the cross may have seemed like virtue signaling: Look how good I am! Look how innocent I am! Look how unjustly I am being condemned! All the while, the Man accused of crimes against God and Rome, hung from His execution stake, unable (unwilling) to free Himself and barely able to speak. Easy to appear good when all opportunities to do otherwise have been removed. But if Jesus' motive for crying out such a request was not self-serving, we have to assume He really meant it! That He was really interceding on behalf of the crowd gawking at His battered body! That He was really asking His Father to pardon everyone before Him!

I think Luke wanted us to know that's exactly what Jesus was doing. Now, the Author of Scripture through the writers He hand-picked did not insert verses and chapters. But the above verse in Luke's Gospel doesn't end there. His very next thought is, "And the soldiers gambled for His clothes by throwing dice" (Luke 23:34b). There is a disturbing scene in the 1984 television adaptation of Dickens' A Christmas Carol. The Ghost of Christmas Future is showing Scrooge what is to be. He takes Ebeneezer to the market where an opportunistic woman has stolen from "a dead man's" home. She presents a broker with silverware and other valuables which Scrooge recognizes as his own. She then shows him bed curtains. The broker asks incredulously, "You don't mean to say you took them down --rings and all --with him lying there?" "Why not?" the misery-hardened woman asks with a smirk. Scrooge is overcome by the lack of compassion and human decency; he fights back his fear by raging at the ghost whose vignettes are meant to transform him. Who is that greedy? That shallow? That disrespectful?

Those whom Jesus forgave. 

The fact of the matter is, not much has changed. We are still a world where false piety and hypocrisy exist. The term "virtue signaling" came into use in our lifetime, not when Christ walked in body, among humanity. We put on smiling faces or use tender words when in the presence of those we wish to impress. We say what we think others want to hear to protect our own position or move ahead. We are champions in word. But inside, behind the closed doors of our homes or hearts, we are in need of forgiveness. Wretches all are we. In need of a true Savior, One willing to die an excruciating and humiliating death so that we might be forgiven. One willing to hang suffocating, bleeding, every bone aching and every muscle straining, and intercede for the most callous of us. 

How does Jesus' cry resonate with you? Are you prepared to forgive as He forgives? Or are you just virtue signaling?